humour, letting her always ken, and always see, that you are naturally her superior, and that you havena forgotten that you are even stooping from your dignity, when you condescend to ask her to become your equal. If she refuse to be your joe at the fair, never either whine or look disappointed, but be sure to wale the bonniest lass you can get in the market, and lead her to the same party where your saucy dame is. Take her to the top o' the dance, the top o' the table at dinner, and laugh and sing, and aye between hauns whisper to your bonny part ner; and if your ain lass disna happen to be unco weel buckled, it is ten to ane she will find an opportunity of offering you her company afore night. If she look angry or offended at you attending to others, you are sure o' her. They are queer creatures the lasses, Wat, and I rather dread ye haena muckle skill or experience in their bits o' silly gates. For to tell you the truth, there's naething pleases me sae weel, as to see them begin to pout and prim their bits o' gabs, and look sulky out frae the wick o' their ee, and gar ilka feather and flower-knot quiver in their angry capers; for let me tell you, it is a great matter to get them to take offence,--it lets a man see they are vexed for the loss o' him.' "If you had ever loved as I do, Jock, ye wad hae found little comfort in their offence. For my part, every disdainfu' word that yon dear lovely lassie says, gangs to my heart like a red-hot spindle. My life is bound up in her favour. It is only on it that I can live, move, or breathe; and whenever she says a severe or cutting word to me, I feel as if ane o' my members were torn away, and am glad to escape, as lang as I am ony thing ava; for I find, if I were to remain, a few mae siccan sentences wad soon annihilate me.' "Ou ay, ou ay, you're a buirdly chield to be sure; but I hae nae doubt ye wad melt away like snaw aff a dike, or a dead sheep weel picket by the corbies! Wow, man, but it makes me wae to think o't! and sae, to save ye frae sic a melancholy end, I shall take in hand to bring her to your ain terms, in three months' time, if you will take my advice.' "O man, speak; for ye are garring a' the blood in my veins rin up to my head, as gin it were a thousand ants galloping like mad, running races.'"-Vol. II. p. 4-8. Proceeding to the Shepherd's stories, illustrative of the superstitions prevalent among that class which he is describing, we hesitate not to say, that we know of none who could impact to them so thrilling an air of authenticity and truth. Hogg has an admirable notion of the best mode of treating the marvellous and the supernatural; and there are stories in these volumes which we certainly would not advise persons with weak nerves to read alone at midnight. "George Dobson's Expedition to Hell" is a splendid piece of diablerie, and so is "The Brownie of the Black Haggs." In Mary Burnet,' there are many passages not unequal to "Kilmeny," of a wild unearthly interest, yet of a sorrowful and gentle kind. "The Laird of Cassway," and "Tibby Hyslop's Dream," are scarcely inferior. "The Witches of Traquair" delighted us much; and “ The Marvellous Doctor," with his elixir of love, is one of the absurdest, yet most exquisite things, we have read for a long while. We had marked for quotation the splendid passage where he is pursued by the cow and the mad bull, on which occasion he made one of the narrowest escapes ever made by man, but we find we can only refer to it. As a specimen, however, of Hogg's quieter and more serious style, we subjoin a short extract on a very interesting subject: THE PHENOMENA OF DREAMS. "There is no phenomenon in nature less understood, and about which greater nonsense is written, than dreaming. It is a strange thing. For my part, I do not understand it, nor have I any desire to do so; and I firm ly believe that no philosopher that ever wrote, knows a particle more about it than I do, however elaborate and subtle the theories he may advance concerning it. He knows not even what sleep is, nor can he define its nature, so as to enable any common mind to comprehend him; and how, then, can he define that ethereal part of it, wherein the soul holds intercourse with the external world? how, in that state of abstraction, some ideas force themselves upon us, in spite of all our efforts to get rid of them; while others, which we have resolved to bear about with us by night as well as by day, refuse us their fellowship, even at periods when we most require their aid? No, no, the philosopher knows nothing about either; and if he says he does, I entreat you not to believe him. He does not know what mind is; even his own mind, to which one would think he has the most direct access; far less can he estimate the operations and powers of that of any other intelligent being. He does not even know, with all his subtlety, whether it be a power distinct from his body, or essentially the same, and only incidentally and temporarily endowed with different qualities. He sets himself to discover at what period of his existence the union was established. He is baffled, for Consciousness refuses the intelligence, declaring, that she cannot carry him far enough back to ascertain it. He tries to discover the precise moment when it is dissolved, but on this Consciousness is altogether silent; and all is darkness and mystery; for the origin, the manner of continuance, and the time and mode of breaking up the union between soul and body, are in reality undiscoverable by our natural faculties are not patent beyond the possibility of mistake; but whosoever can read his Bible, and solve a dream, can do either, without being subjected to any material error. "It is on this ground that I like to contemplate, not the theory of dreams, but the dreams themselves; because they prove to the unlettered man, in a very for. cible manner, a distinct existence of the soul, and its lively and rapid intelligence with external nature, as well as with a world of spirits with which it has no acquaintance, when the body is lying dormant, and the same to the soul as if sleeping in death. "I account nothing of any dream that relates to the actions of the day; the person is not sound asleep who dreams about these things; there is no division between matter and mind, but they are mingled together in a sort of chaos, what a farmer would call compost, fermenting and disturbing one another. I find that in all dreams of that kind, men of every profession have dreams peculiar to their own occupations; and, in the country at least, their import is generally understood. Every man's body is a barometer. A thing made up of the elements must be affected by their various changes and convulsions; and so the body assuredly is. When I was a shepherd, and all the comforts of my life depended so much on good and bad weather, the first thing I did every morning was strictly to overhaul the dreams of the night; and I found that I could calcu. late better from them than from the appearance and changes of the sky. I know a keen sportsman, who pretends that his dreams never deceive him. If he dream of angling, or pursuing salmon in deep waters, he is sure of rain; but if fishing on dry ground or in waters so shallow that the fish cannot get from him, it forbodes drought; hunting or shooting hares, is snow, and moorfowl, wind, &c." Vol. I. p. 131-3. On the whole, we have gone through these volumes with much pleasure. Their strong good sense,-their clear perception of the weak and the ridiculous, and of the manly and the praiseworthy, in rural life, their many admirable specimens of national humour and acuteness, -their very blunders, arising as these frequently do from a goodness of heart and a certain simplicity of dis we find a difficulty in making a selection. We shall, however, lay the following before our readers, as a specimen of what the loyal Jacobites suffered in those days. position, their vivid and impressive glimpses of an unseen world, and of beings in an unknown state of existence, all these things have afforded us gratification, and, to use a hackneyed but not unmeaning word, have THE NARROW ESCAPES OF LORD PITSLIGO. been felt by us to be refreshing, after much of the miserable trash we have been condemned to wade through, "After the battle of Culloden, Lord Pitsligo conpurporting to contain pictures of the drivelling inanities cealed himself for some time in the mountainous district of fashionable life, and a set of dramatis persona, whose of the country, and a second time experienced the kindconstitutions have been shattered by a course of viciously dispositions of the country people, even the lowest, to dissipation, in a manner that even the breezes of Yarrow, misfortune. The country had been much exhausted for or the invigorating waters of St Mary's Loch, could not the supply of the Prince's army, and the people who repair. gave him shelter and protection were extremely poor; yet they freely shared their humble and scanty fare with the unknown stranger. This fare was what is called water-brose, that is, oatmeal moistened with hot water, on which he chiefly subsisted for some time; and when, much improved by a little salt, the reply was, Ay, on one occasion, he remarked that its taste would be man, but sa't 's touchy,' meaning it was too expensive an indulgence for them. However, he was not always in such bad quarters; for he was concealed for some days at the house of New Miln, near Elgin, along with his friends, Mr Cummine of Pittulie, Mr Irvine of Drum, and Mr Mercer of Aberdeen, where Mrs King, Pittulie's sister, herself made their beds, and waited upon them." Thoughts concerning Man's Condition and Duties in We have seldom perused a more interesting little volume than this. Whether as it respects the biographical sketch, or the "Thoughts" of the venerable nobleman, few productions of the kind have issued from the press which have greater claims on the public attention. Alexander, fourth Lord Pitsligo, was born on the 22d of May 1678. He was of illustrious descent. His father was third Lord Pitsligo, and his mother was Lady Sophia Erskine, a daughter of the noble and ancient house of Mar. In 1691, while yet a minor, he succeeded to the estates, and in the nineteenth year of his age he was sent to France, to complete his education. Of a pious and amiable disposition, he became, in France, the friend of the illustrious Fenelon, Abbé of Cambray. At this time the sect of the Quietists had attracted some notice, and Fenelon himself was strongly infected with their enthusiasm. The example of Fenelon was enough to influence young Pitsligo, and he accordingly adopted their opinions. After meeting with many of the distinguished characters of the court of Louis XIV., Lord Pitsligo returned to his native country. He took the oaths, and his seat, in the Scottish Parliament in 1700. From this time forward he was a zealous but conscientious Jacobite, and continued firmly attached to the unfortunate House of Stuart. He accordingly opposed the measures of that party at Court who wished to exclude the illustrious exiles from the throne. He was also one of the Scottish nobles who opposed the Union. In 1715 Lord Pitsligo joined the standard of the Earl of Mar, his relation, and was in the battle of Sheriff. muir. Every one knows how that insurrection terminated. Various attainders followed, but Lord Pitsligo was not among the number. He was compelled, however, to retire to the Continent, where he remained for some time. In 1720 he returned home, and found him. self engaged in some litigious proceedings, which great ly harassed him, and compelled him to dispose of a good part of his estate. These adversities did not lessen his virtue. At Pitsligo Castle, in the remote district of Aberdeenshire, called Buchan, he resided in the most retired manner, devoting himself to literature, and cultivating the study of the mystic writings with which he had become acquainted in France. "It was known in London, that about the end of April, 1746, he was lurking about the coast of Buchan, as it was supposed with the view of finding an opportunity of making his escape to France; and it required the utmost caution on his part to elude the search that was made for him. To such an extremity was he reduced, that he was actually obliged, on one occasion, to conceal himself in a hollow place in the earth, under the arch of a small bridge at Craigmaud, upon his own estate, about nine miles up into the country from Fraserburgh, and about two and a half from where New Pitsligo now is, which was scarcely large enough to contain him; and this most uncomfortable place seems to have been selected for his retreat, just because there was little chance of detection, as no one could conceive it possible that a human being could be concealed in it. At this time he lay sometimes in the daytime concealed in the mosses near Craigmaud, a d was much annoyed by the lapwings flying about the place, lest this should attract notice to the spot, and direct those who were in search of him in their pursuit. "As yet the estate of Pitsligo was not taken possession of by government, and Lady Pitsligo continued to reside at the castle. Lord Pitsligo occasionally paid secret visits to it in disguise. The disguise that he assumed was that of a mendicant, and Lady Pitsligo's maid was employed to provide him with two bags to put under his arms, after the fashion of the Edie Ochiltrees and she long related with wonder how cheerful he was. of those days. He sat beside her while she made them, while thus superintending this work, which betokened the ruin of his fortune, and the forfeiture of his life." "When walking out in his disguise one day, he was suddenly overtaken by a party of dragoons scouring the country in pursuit of him. The increased exertion, from his desire to elude them, brought on a fit of asthIn this manner did Lord Pitsligo occupy himself till matic coughing, which completely overpowered him. 1745. Although then aged and in ill health, his zeal He could proceed no farther, and was obliged to sit down for the fortunes of a fallen house induced him to join by the road-side, where he calmly waited their approach. the Prince's standard. He was out, as it is called, in The idea suggested by his disguise and infirmity was that chivalrous but vain attempt; and being now consi- acted upon, and, in his character of a mendicant, he dered as an inveterate offender, he was not only attaint- begged alms of the dragoons who came to apprehend ed, but a large reward offered for his apprehension. him. His calmness and resignation did not forsake him, Probably, had he been taken, he would have been an- no perturbation betrayed him, and one of the dragoons other victim to the too atrocious revenge of the govern- stopped, and, with great kindness of heart, actually beIt is here that the memoirs of his Lordship's stowed a mite on the venerable old man, condoling with life become most interesting, and from the many anec-him at the same time on the severity of his cough. dotes which his biographer gives of his narrow escape, "On another occasion, Lord Pitsligo had sought and ment. obtained shelter in a shoemaker's house, and shortly after a party of dragoons were seen approaching. Their errand was not doubtful; and the shoemaker, who had recognised the stranger, was in the greatest trepidation, and advised him to put on one of the workmen's aprons and some more of his clothes, and to sit down on one of the stools, and pretend to be mending a shoe. The party came into the shop in the course of their search; and the shoemaker, observing that the soldiers looked as if they thought the hands of this workman were not very like those of a practised son of King Crispin, and fearing that a narrower inspection would betray him, with great presence of mind, gave orders to Lord Pitslige as if he had been one of his workmen, to go to the door and hold one of the horses, which he did accordingly. His own composure and entire absence of hurry allayed suspicion, and he escaped this danger. He used afterwards jocularly to say, he had been at one time a Buchan cobbler." "One of the narrowest escapes which he made from discovery, when met in his mendicant's dress by those who were in search of him, was attended with circumstances which made the adventure singularly romantic and interesting. At that time there lived in that district of the country, a fool called Sandy Annand, a well-known character. The kindly feelings of the peasantry of Scotland to persons of weak intellect are well known, and are strongly marked by the name of " the Innocent," which is given to them. They are generally harmless creatures, contented with the enjoyment of the sun and air as their highest luxuries, and privileged to the hospitality of every house, so far as their humble wants require. There is often, too, a mixture of shrewdness with their folly, and they are always singularly attached to those who are kind to them. Lord Pitsligo, disguised as usual, had gone into a house where the fool happened to be at the time. He immediately recognized him, and did not restrain his feelings, as others did in the same situation, but was busily employed in showing his respect for his Lordship, in his own peculiar and grotesque manner, expressing his great grief at seeing him in such a fallen state, when a party entered the house to search for him. They asked the fool who was the person that he was lamenting thus. What a moment of intense anxiety both to Lord Pitsligo and the inmates of the house! It was impossible to expect any other answer from the poor weak creature, but one which would betray the unfortunate nobleman. Sandy, however, with that shrewdness which men of his intellect often exhibit on the most trying occasions, said, He kent him aince a muckle farmer, but his sheep a' dee'd in the 40.' It was looked upon as a special interposition of Providence, which put such an answer into the mouth of the fool." impression, Mrs Sophia was proceeding to rouse the servants, when her sister having awakened, and enquired what was the matter, and being told of soldiers near the house, exclaimed in great alarm that she feared they wanted something more than hens. She begged Mrs Sophia to look out at a window on the other side of the house, when not only soldiers were seen in that direction, but also an officer giving instructions by signals, and frequently putting his fingers on his lips, as if enjoining silence. There was now no time to be lost in rousing the family; and all the haste that could be made was scarcely sufficient to hurry the venerable man from his bed, into a small recess behind the wainscot of an adjoining room, which was concealed by a bed, in which a lady, Miss Gordon of Towie, who was there on a visit, lay, before the soldiers obtained admission. A most minute search took place. The room in which Lord Pitsligo was concealed did not escape. Miss Gordon's fer the rude scrutiny of one of the party, by feeling her bed was carefully examined, and she was obliged to suf chin, to ascertain that it was not a man in a lady's nightdress. Before the soldiers had finished their examination in this room, the confinement and anxiety increased Lord Pitsligo's asthma so much, and his breathing became so loud, that it cost Miss Gordon, lying in bed, much and violent coughing, which she counterfeited, in order to prevent the high breathings behind the wainscot from being heard. It may easily be conceived what should increase suspicion, and in fact lead to a discovery. agony she would suffer, lest, by overdoing her part, she The ruse was fortunately successful. On the search through the house being given over, Lord Pitsligo was hastily taken from his confined situation, and again replaced in bed; and as soon as he was able to speak, his accustomed kindness of heart made him say to his servant, James, go and see that these poor fellows get some breakfast, and a drink of warm ale, for this is a cold morning; they are only doing their duty, and cannot bear me any ill-will. When the family were felicitating each other on his escape, he pleasantly ob. served, A poor prize, had they obtained it—an old dying man!"" His Reduced to indigence, degraded, and forfeited, this venerable nobleman at length found a retreat unmolested in the house of Auchiries, where he died on the 21st of December 1762, in the 85th year of his age. death was peaceful and affecting, the result of a life of piety and virtue. "His son," observes the author of this sketch, "had the misfortune to be indebted to a stranger, now the proprietor of his ancient inheritance by purchase from the crown, for permission to lay his father's honoured remains in the vault which contained the ashes of his family for many generations." After saying so much respecting this venerable peer, it is impossible for us to give any extracts from his work. We therefore refer our readers to this relic of a noble mind, assuring them that they will find all Lord Pitsligo's "Thoughts," worthy of serious consideration. The Editor who has so ably delineated Lord Pitsligo's life, deserves much praise for the interesting narrative he has given, and the opportunity he has afforded of placing a most excellent little volume in the hands both of young and old. "In March 1756, and, of course, long after all apprehension of a search had ceased, information having been given to the commanding officer at Fraserburgh, that Lord Pitsligo was at that moment in the house of Auchiries, it was acted upon with so much promptness and secrecy, that the search must have proved successful, but for a very singular occurrence. Mrs Sophia Donaldson, a lady who lived much with the family, repeatedly dreamt on that particular night, that the house was surrounded by soldiers. Her mind became so haunted with the idea, that she got out of bed, and was walking through the room in hopes of giving a different current to her thoughts before she lay down again; when Tales of a Voyager to the Arctic Ocean. Second Series. day beginning to dawn, she accidentally looked out at the window as she passed it in traversing the room, and was astonished at actually observing the figures of soldiers among some trees near the house. So completely had all idea of a search been by that time laid asleep, that she supposed they had come to steal poultry,-Jacobite poultry-yards affording a safe object of pillage for the English soldiers in those days. Under this In 3 vols. London. Colburn. 1829. WE must confess that we, in this northern metropolis, are somewhat fastidious with respect to novels. Whether it be that we have dwelt with enthusiasm on the pages of the author of Waverley, or on the different, but no less brilliant productions of the author of "Lights and Shadows,”—whether it be from an honest pride that Scott and Wilson reside among us, or from what cause soever it be, we confess that we are not disposed to be too patient when we meet with a fourth or fifth-rate production of this class. Not that we are exclusively parrial. We can admire the eastern imagery of“ Zillah," the wild but genius-bespeaking extravagance of Salathiel," the clever satire of "Pelham," and the highly interesting "Adventures of a Kuzzilbash ;" but we would no more think of ranking the "Tales of a Voyager" with these, than we would think of classing Zillah and the rest with the works of the two other authors we have named. The "Tales of a Voyager," second series, we are disposed to think a failure, and we are sorry for it; but, like their predecessors of the first series, they possess neither interest, unity, nor design. The author is evidently a man of imagination, but he lacks greatly the faculty of invention. The Tales are supposed to be told by various of the voyagers, to guile away the tædium vita of the Arctic regions, and, most assuredly, they are fit for no other meridian. They partake of the coldness of the climate to a great degree; and they must have been lis tened to, just because our hero or heroes had nothing else to do. We prove what we say from the first tale in the book, entitled, "Bernard Hyde," which is one of the most puerile, absurd, and ridiculous stories we have ever read. Bernard Hyde himself, who is the hero, though a bold smuggler, is below contempt; and as to the heroines, we (being gallant men) shall leave Bernard's worthy mothers and the Misses Wrangham to divide that honour between them without comment. There is an attempt at a plot, which fails; there is an attempt at wit, but so far from exciting a laugh, it never raises even the shadow of a smile. In short, Bernard and the other worthies of this tale are the most brainless and insipid of mortals. The grand design of novel-writing, we presume, is to delineate life and manners, to introduce fictitious characters as they would exist in real life, yet to preserve throughout a regular succession of interesting incidents which do not contradict the well-known unities of time, place, and action. Let the author of the "Tales of a Voyager" look to this. It is a pity he did not burn "Bernard Hyde," for it is literally a piece of nonsense. "Letitia" is prosing, and scarcely better; while the story of the ".-Man" appears to us of a nature which no Christian reader will be able to comprehend or toleWe are neither cynical nor hypercritical; but we shall never compromise our critical dignity by unmerited praise, or shrink, in the discharge of our literary duty, from bestowing censure where it appears to be deserved. The work now before us consists of three volumes, in so far as the paper and printing are concerned; but if all that is worthless were separated from all that is good in them, the three volumes would dwindle down into an amazingly small duodecimo. rate. While we thus censure the "Tales," we do not deny that there is some very fair writing in the book; and it is, indeed, only when our author attempts to tell a Tale," that he decidedly fails. When the "Voyager" tells no "Tales" in the "Arctic regions," the connecting link is supplied by a personal narrative, entitled, The Voyage," which is the best part of the work. We shall leave such of our readers as choose to the free enjoyment of the Tales,” and shall, in the meantime, introduce into our pages a short extract from "The Voyage." Our author had gone on shore, when he was doomed to experience A SUMMER DAY IN GREENLAND. "It may appear paradoxical to speak of the warmth of the atmosphere in the superlative degree, while I am describing the lamentations of our crew at being frozen up in the midst of ice; yet I am unable to avoid the contradictory appearances of my statements, without in fringing the rules of veracity, to which, as a voyage narrator, I am bound. For the last seventy or eighty hours, the weather had been extremely hot, and this day, the 18th of June, was still more sultry. During the morning, I made a long excursion with my usual companion, and some visitors from the neighbouring ships, over the field, in quest of amusement and game; for I thought it incumbent on me to contribute my exertions towards filling sea-pies, since I assisted very efficiently in disposing of their contents. A little advance soon convinced me that summer asserts her powers as triumphantly in Greenland, as in climes more celebrated for her sovereignty. We took our course at first along the flaw edge, to enjoy the varied prospects in the vicinity of the sea, and to obtain more chances of shooting birds, than were afforded by an inland ramble. The water was like glass, clear and smooth, and reflecting the heavens, and the images of a thousand elevations and grotesque variations of the marble shore. Not a breeze played over its brilliant surface, nor did a wave ripple beneath the hollow margin of the floe. We could perceive medusæ trailing their scarlet fibrils deep within the transparent element, while the tongues, or jutting bases of the ice, were seen extending out from the main body in magnificent expansions, full fathoms five' below the spectator. The awful depth to which the sight can penetrate, by the assistance of these irregular projections, is a source of the sublime, to be found only in these regions of grandeur and peculiar beauty. Under a bright clear sky, the alabaster whiteness of the tongues reflects the light, though buried far beneath the surface of the water; and the visual faculty seems to acquire power, as it descends from shelf to shelf, and from point to point, into the profound abyss of the ocean. A stupendous cliff appears reversed, and hanging in dusky air, while the eye glides down its craggy sides, and investigates its obscure recesses. At length it reaches a spot faintly perceptible through the deepening fluid, and remains for a time fixed in wondering contempla tion; but, as it gazes intently on the distant object, an indistinct speck attracts its notice, plunged still deeper in the vast chasms of liquid gloom over which the beholder floats; and the mind becomes wrapped in feelings inexpressible by words. "This view of icy precipices, and crystal grottoes, amid the depths of the sea, though correct to some extent, is greatly increased by the irregularly refractive and reflective qualities of the medium through which it is seen. In addition to the steep tenement of the floe, sunk deeply beneath the surface, and spread out into broad shelves and fantastic buttresses, the images of the upper edge, and the impending hummocks of the floating mass, are mingled with the vision, while all beyond appears a wide chasm of ethereal blue, checquered with fleecy clouds, the counterpart of the heavens above. Abstracting his mind from his real situation, and gazing at the scene before him, the spectator, while hanging over the edge of a floe, may fancy himself at times floating beyond the verge of the earth, and looking down into the unfathomable wastes of space. Observing more closely, he perceives white crags of ice projecting out beneath him, and can faintly trace their connexion to the fabric on which he rests, while yet they seem to form part of the fictitious prospect of sky and clouds over which he seems suspended. But when he places his face almost in contact with the water, and excludes the mirrored picture from his sight, he beholds nothing but the sparry side of the floe sinking into the blue obscurity of the ocean, till only its most prominent reefs are visible, like mighty ruined columns and shattered pyramids, half hidden among the ooze."-Vol. I. p. 29–32. There are some other passages in the "Voyage" which we would quote, did our limits permit; for, al though we do not recommend the "Tales," we rather like the descriptions in the "Voyage." We have read the work with great care; but from what we have now said, it will be gathered that we do not think the "second series" an improvement on the "first," and that we sincerely trust the author will not think of publishing a "third series," which would indeed be a very serious business. Address delivered to the Relief Congregation Kelso, (on peeping in all directions through the foliage. There too, multitudes of good-humoured ruddy faces were beheld stretching forward as far as could be seen, with a more anxious expression as to the result of the projected meeting. At a distance, beyond a narrow arm of the sea, another land was visible, of a bright emerald green, crowded with a disorderly-looking ragged population, their shifting features marked with keen and vehement emotion, and sometimes their hands clutching, with illdissembled fury, at some implements of violence halfseen under their tattered raiment. The Lords and Commons took their seats on their re spective sides of the open space; but the discussion of the point at issue did not commence till the arrival of some other personages, for whom thrones, I saw, were erected. ALTHOUGH this address, which, we are informed is These were three in number, placed at the head of the part of the Funeral Sermon delivered by the Rev. assembly-the one in the middle resembling the throne author, can have only a local interest, we can assure on which his Majesty meets his Parliament; and the our readers that it is well worthy of a perusal. The two others of equal magnificence, one on each side. In clergyman whose character it delineates, was a truly a short time, to the sound of warlike instruments, a amiable man, and Mr Johnston, in this deserved tribute stately female figure advanced to the throne on the left, to a departed friend, has done honour to himself by the and, seating herself, looked round upon the legislative pious and eloquent delineation he has given of Mr Pit- bodies and on the vast concourse of spectators with an cairn's character. To our readers, especially in that eye in which resolution and benevolence were mingled. quarter of the country where Mr Pitcairn was known, She held a spear in one hand, the Magna Charta in the we have little doubt that Mr Johnston's tribute will be other; a chained lion reposed at her feet, and over her peculiarly gratifying; while they who are personally waved a banner, on which were embroidered, in large acquainted with the reverend author cannot fail to have characters-THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. Sacred their respect and esteem for him increased by this spon-music, intermingling the sound of an organ with human taneous testimony to the worth of a departed friend. MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. MORAL & MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS. CATHOLIC EMANCIPATION.-A VISION. Και γαρ τ' οναρ εκ Διός εστιν. Hom. Iliad. Lib. 1. I was meditating nearly a year ago on the great measure of National Policy at present before the two Houses of Parliament, the consideration of the Catholic claims, and on the good results which might be expected from some wise and amicable adjustment, when I gradually fell into a sleep amidst the variety of thoughts which were coursing one another through my mind. The subject, however, of my waking reflections, cid not quit its hold upon me in the midst of my slumbers, but formed itself into a dream, which I wrote down at the time, and now venture to lay before my readers. I do not pretend, indeed, to say with Homer, that dreams are from Jove; but this one which I am now going to relate was so minute in its particulars, and had so soothing an effect upon my own spirit, that I am half disposed, especially as matters have now turned out, to consider it as prophetic, and, at all events, am willing that your readers should partake with me in the benefit of my vision. The conference of the two Houses, at that time projected, running, I suppose, in my head, methought the Lords and Commons of the United Kingdoms were seen advancing to meet each other from the opposite sides of a green valley,-a spacious amphitheatre, for my imagination did not confine itself, it seems, within the walls of the Painted Chamber. On one side were mountains rugged and lofty, and covered in many places by groups of mountaineers, who looked down with thoughtful, but somewhat indifferent countenances on the scen which was to be transacted in the valley. On another side the country spread out into extensive plains, rich in cultivation and woods, with noble mansion-houses, clean white hamlets, and church towers, voices, was now heard stealing along the windings of the valleys; and another female form, of a grave matronly aspect, but of a cheerful benign air, came forward, and occupied the throne on the right. She had a crosier in one hand, a bible in the other, and the banner which was spread over her head displayed these words-THE PROTESTANT ESTABLISHED CHURCH. The two ladies had not long been seated, when the firing of cannon announced the approach of the Sovereign himself. It was easy to distinguish, when he came into sight, the form and features of our present King, and his dignified and royal demeanour. There appeared, however, to be a light of undecaying youth in his aspect, and a permanent elasticity in his limbs, that indicated less the existing monarch than the personification of his dynasty, and the words upon his banner expressed as much-THE HOUSE OF HANOVER. He bowed to the Peers and to the Commons as he passed through their ranks-made a still profounder obeisance to the female personages on each side; and sitting down on the throne between theirs, remained in expectation of the proceedings which were now to open. There first stepped forth from the side of the Peers a person of august presence, with a keen flashing eye, and à countenance animated with the highest fervour of eloquence. He began to speak, and on iny asking his name from one of the people near me, I was given to under stand that he was called, PATRIOTISM. "I appear (said he) as the advocate for the injured Lady on the left of the throne, and to guard her against those perils which are threatening to assail her. Why should she for ever be exposed to the dangers which novelties must carry along with them? And why should we not be satisfied with her known and tried excellence, without running the hazard of destroying, where we aim at improving? She has already weathered many a storm, and I trust she will be yet able to stand out against the unauthorized operations of the innovators of the age. Liberty and Protestantism have always been united in these kingdoms, and God forbid that we should ever see other than a Protestant Church, a Protestant King, and a Protestant Parliament. Can we forget the deadly blows which were struck at that Lady, whom we so much love and revere, by those whom it is now attempted to introduce into all the privileges of her family? Is it right then to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs? |