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from argument to argument, from position to position, resembling the ghosts in Virgil's Inferno,

"Huc illuc volitant, nec certa in sede morantur."

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It is all one whether Phrenologists attempt to answer these Observations,' or remain silent upon them. They may quibble, but they cannot reason themselves out of the dilemma into which they have been brought. They may talk of the distinction between power and activity, or they may dive into all the subtleties and childish puerilities of counteracting combinations, but their logic will not be able to deceive any sound-witted man in the face of what is here established. Their science is either a science of signs, or it is not. If it is, their signs have been proved to be just as uncertain as the signs of an April sky;-if it is not, what is it? -vox et præterea nihil!

The Scots Law Chronicle; or Journal of Jurispru-
dence and Legislation. No. I. To be continued
Monthly. Conducted by Professional Gentlemen.
Edinburgh, published by A. Fyfe, Law Chronicle
Office; the country trade supplied by Stirling and
Kenney, Booksellers, Edinburgh. 1829.

taste) of the feelings and dogmas of a certain learned Theban, who laid down, (previous to the commencement of his enquiries,) that all laws were bad, and all lawyers rogues an assumption which (without entering upon any discussion of its truth) does not seem likely to conduce to unbiassed research.



No. I.

"Stulta, jocosa, canenda, dolentia, seria, sacra;
En posita ante oculos, Lector amice, tuos ;
Quisquis es, hic aliquid quod delectabit habebis;
Trístior an levior, selige quicquid amas."

WE have a pair of old slippers-so old that, as Wordsworth says, it is difficult to tell whether they were them is worn away; and three or four of our toes may ever young. A considerable part of the sole of one of be distinctly seen peeping out from the other. They do not cover our feet; they are mere apologies for slippers, -mere typical and shadowy representations. They were not slippers originally; they were a pair of dress LOOKING at the prospectus of this work, we are in- shoes. In the far vista of the past, we can almost reclined to like the project, and wish it success. It seems member the time when they used to be as bright as a to be an attempt to convey to the public, in a form likely mirror, and chirped at every step we took across a drawto be generally attractive, a condensed view of what is ing-room. We are not sure that we have not danced in going on in the legislative tribunals of the country. We them in our youth, and we daresay they divided the adlike this, because we believe that keeping the law of a miration which was at that remote period universally country continually in the eye of the people increases their bestowed upon our exquisitely turned feet and ankles. respect and affection for it, and by that means gives it a But gradually they fell down in the heels; and, as if more vital and pervading influence on society. At the by a natural disposition, seemed to be transforming same time we would caution the conductors not to allow themselves into slippers. They felt that old age was their desire of becoming popular to carry them too far. coming on, but they had got attached to us, and Law is a science-nay more, it is of all sciences the least were determined to die in our service. And die they attractive for the tyro or the dilettante-and this very shall; or rather, they and their master shall live and circumstance renders it improbable, that the sphere of a die together. We never had, and never will have, anowork avowedly confined to legal discussions can ever ther pair of slippers. We should as soon think of marextend beyond those who are inclined to go a little below rying a second wife. We confess that they have lost the surface. As all such persons must necessarily have their form and comeliness,-nay, that they imitate husome acquaintance with the technicalities of law, the manity most abominably, and that some of our best and promise held out in the following sentence, if meant to dearest friends have even ventured to point against them attract them, was unnecessary;" The conductors will the shafts of a too poignant ridicule. But, nevertheless, endeavour to avoid technicalities, and to express their we remain unshaken in our attachment a noble exviews in a popular manner." We fear, moreover, that ample of the " integer vitæ scelerisque purus." They this promise, if adhered to, will necessarily lead to su have accommodated themselves to all the outgoings and perficiality in the execution of the work. A technical incomings of our feet; there is not a curve or a sinuolanguage is inevitable in every science-it is the necessity, a rise or a fall,-from our instep to our heel, from sary consequence of employing words in a more precise our ankle to the farthest point of our most elongated toe, and definite manner than in common conversation. No with which they are not familiarly acquainted ;-they person ever pretended to teach a science without the aid have known us from our youth,-they have seen us in of a technical language, but one who knew nothing of all our moods, they have been the gentle dumb comthe matter. And in the science of law, the peculiar panions of many a happy and many a melancholy hour; nicety of many of the discussions render such a lan- and who, therefore, shall blame our affection for our guage, if possible, more requisite than in any other.- slippers-peculiar, perhaps, but not the less tender and The enumeration of subjects proposed for consideration lasting? is comprehensive, and seems to us to embrace all that is required in such a work. Perhaps more-for we would beg leave to hint, that the "Sketches of the biography of our eminent legislators, &c." more particularly if we are to take No. I. for a specimen, may be omitted, without any detriment to the publication. We would also suggest, that a Digest of the Decisions in the Courts of Scotland, such as is given of the English cases, is quite sufficient. Considering the very able, it is true, but certainly very full and frequent reports, now published of our Scotch Decisions, we think the pockets of our young and briefless barristers are already sufficiently tasked, even though they are not exactly laid under the necessity of purchasing them twice. Of the manner in which the work is executed we shall be able to speak with more certainty in the course of a month or two. The first article is rather too redolent (at least to our

We cannot help thinking that they have an expression essentially their own, and unlike that of all other slippers. Indeed we have always been of opinion, that, of all the articles of dress, none convey so accurate an idea of the character of the wearer as a pair of empty shoes or slippers. They are a domestic and endearing object, they stand before the fire warming for you against your return home. They have probably been placed there by some fond and faithful friend;-your wife or daughter; they tell a long story of family comfort and household harmony. If a death takes place, what object more melancholy than the vacant slippers of the deceased? They look as if they anxiously waited his return, and are wondering why he has deserted them. That shall never be the fate of our slippers; they shall be buried with us.

When we put on our slippers, we cease to be any

thing to the wide world without. Shoes, and more especially boots, are associated with all the bustle and toil of active life; but around slippers there linger a calm repose a refined selfishness-a careless independence. They imply no exertion; on the contrary, they are full of a soothing consciousness-a mellowed recollection of duties that have been performed. There is in slippers that abandon de soi-même, that dreamy languor, that mild tranquillity, before which all more irritable feelings give way, and even critics become benevolent. No two beings can be more dissimilar than the man whose tight boots pinch his corns, and exacerbate all the tendernesses of his toes, and the man whose free and easy slipper hangs gently upon his foot-gently as a maiden of fifteen upon the arm of her earliest lover. When the boot is on, the world is a stern reality, full of the rubs and whips of fortune; but when the slipper succeeds, the face of nature is changed,-reality is a bugbear that fades into infinite distance, and there is bliss unfathomed in the recesses of an elbow chair, or in the soft siesta of a sofa.

We never can believe ourselves the Editor of one of the most successful periodical publications of the present day after we have put on our slippers. The quantity of labour we have to go through, both physical and intellectual, seems indissolubly connected with the springy elasticity of shoes, or the manly vigour of what are commonly called Wellington boots. In our slipper moments, we are idem et alter. Were we to review a book with our slippers on, the author would be as safe as a mouse running away from a lady. Not that our mind is altogether dormant, but that our heart is overflowing, and we feel an affection for all mankind. We could no more have said any thing severe of Mr Andrew Crichton had our slippers been on that night we wrote our celebrated article for the eighteenth Number of the JOURNAL, than we could have consented to break the legs of a butterfly on the rack. There are only two instances on record of our having given way to anger whilst we were wearing our slippers. The first of these was, when we tossed them both at our favourite cat, Moses, whom we detected eloping with the chicken we had destined for our supper; and the second was, when we found it necessary to take the liberty of making one of them acquainted with a part of a gentleman's person to which it had previously been an entire stranger.

We seldom exert ourself very much in our slippers. We drink coffee, read magazines and new novels, chat in a pleasant and familiar manner with any friend who may happen to drop in, stretch ourself on the sofa and allow all our children to scramble over us, write short letters, cut open the parcels which booksellers and publishers are continually sending us, or, finally, look over the communications we may have received during the day, and make up our mind as to their fate. Few people would believe the quantity of manuscript that passes through an Editor's hands in one shape or other. We confess, for our own part, we like to read manuscript, and we have a pleasure in breaking the seal of all the communications sent to us. We are sometimes wofully disappointed, for we always begin to read with the hope that the writer will turn out a man of talent, and the determination to do him all justice if he be so. quently, we are not disappointed;-the article may not be altogether first-rate, but it contains the germs and indications of genius, and with that we are always pleased. We never destroy a paper where there are a few good thoughts, however dull the rest of it may be. We lay it aside with the intention, as soon as we have time and opportunity, of pruning, condensing, and strengthening it, and then of giving it a corner in the JOURNAL. Thus, even our rejected are not neglected addresses. Our study is full of articles carefully tied up in different parcels, some of which may see the light when their authors are least expecting it.


Let us take up one of those parcels at random, and look over it in a friendly way together. We may probably find both variety and amusement here. What comes first? A "Song" from Glasgow, of which the author in his letter "To the Editor" says, “I have given you a short one to save space-but if it is bad, it is too long; and if it is good, it is perhaps all the better for its brevity." There is sound sense in this, and the song itself well deserves publication : I have loved thee, Mary Jamieson, as bridegroom loves his bride; I look'd nae watch, I lo'ed nae star, when ye were by my side, For my heart was aye your mailin' meet, my love, your ready fee, Though loveless hame, and hameless heart, are a' ye've left to me.

Ye promised me your constancy, ye plighted me your vow, Wi' looks o' deeper tenderness than I can think o' now; But snaw upon the surgy sea, or dew upon the flower, Melts not so soon, fleets not so fast, as fades love's little hour.

At the Cuckoo's time o' comin' ye were wi' me at the well, At the Swallow's time o' flittin' I stood lanely there mysell; Ye hung round me a' the simmer when the bonny braes But broken vows you've left me now, and stormy waves between.


were green,

woman's love, Oh! woman's faith, how fleeting frail ye be !

Wing'd wanderers, bee-like, seeking sweets from every flower and tree, But why should I upbraid your choice? cold hearts are fated well,


plenish'd purse their honeycomb, the halls of eild their cell.

What have we next? A prose sketch, entitled "Pictures of Life, No. I." It is a pity the whole of it had not been as good as the first paragraph ;-it runs thus: "I belong to that numerous class of mortals, who, independent though not rich, doze away their existence pleasantly perhaps, but uselessly. Although a Writer to the Signet, I am but nominally a lawyer; and though I do not refuse business, as little do I push it. No one cares how I live, or what I do; and when I die, I shall be as little missed as if I were a leaf dropping off a gooseberry bush, or a copying clerk starved to death in his lonely garret. There are moments when I think I was born for better things; but the feeling soon gets cold again. I am too indolent ever to make a figure in the bustling world; so I poker the fire till it quivers brightly up the chimney, let down the venetian blinds, draw the sofa a little nearer, and every thing looks so comfortable that I would not change places with a king."

What next?" A Day in Dumfries." This is not an anonymous article; its author is a man of genius; but the too common fate of genius has been his undeserved misfortune. There is power and interest in the following notice of


"Upon enquiring for the house in which the poet had lived, I was shown up a narrow and rather hilly little street, bearing his name, at the farther corner of which the house is situated. In appearance it inclines to the respectable, is whitewashed, and contains a ground and upper story. A decent-looking weaver of seventy, and a robust tanner of fifty, were conversing at the door. Upon enquiring which was the identical house, Just this ane, sir,' replied the tanner; ' an' auld luckie lives in't yet. Belike ye wad wish to see her; I'll tell her a gentleman wishes to speak to her, if ye think proper.' Declining his offer, he continued, Hoot! it's very com

mon; she'll think naething o't. Ye needna be blate, for ne'er a grain o' pride has auld luckie Burns!' I endeavoured to thank him, and withdrew; for the epithet auld luckie Burns! sounded like blasphemy. Heaven and earth! auld luckie! Lovely Jean!the idol of the poet the inspirer of his muse !—whose praise, in his words, has been sung by ten thousand times ten thousand tongues !-who lives as the spirit of music and of love in the imagination of nations! to be in a moment not merely divested of her divinity, and associated with humanity, but familiarly styled auld luckie! luckie Burns! by a tanner! Monstrous-humiliating -unpardonable!

"By a fortunate circumstance, an opportunity of visiting Mrs Burns occurred in the evening. We were shown into a small rather genteel parlour by a servant girl, who, with a young grand-daughter, compose the domestic establishment of the widow. Before me was a dark-complexioned, somewhat corpulent, plain-looking woman of sixty and upwards, dressed in a slate-coloured gown, a lighter shaded shawl, and a common muslin cap. Her manners and appearance were those of an old Scottish farmer's wife, in easy circumstances ;-and this was Mrs Burns. Directing my attention to the original portrait of her husband by Nasinyth, That,' said she, is the only likeness he ever sat for, an' its ower coarse.' Turning to a print of the Cottar's Saturday Night,' over the mantel-piece, Ye'll ken where that's from,' continued she'; it's reckoned an excellent thing.' Then pointing my attention to two miniatures which hang a little lower on each side of the print, You'll not know these,' added she; this in red is my son James, and that in blue his brother William. James, ye'll ob serve, is like his father's folk, but William aye took it o' my side.'

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Beautiful or accomplished Mrs Burns has never been. In person she may have been what in Scotland is termed a likely lass, possessing a good heart, an excellent disposition, and a knowledge of domestic economy. And in making choice of such a woman, Burns showed himself not merely possessed of the feelings of a poet, but the sense of a man. For, however we may admire the genius of that sex which we are born to love, 'All song and no supper,' I opine, would shortly produce a note of discord little in unison with the harmony of wedded felicity."

Ha! art thou there? These lines shall have a place without name or signature, and the reader shall judge for himself whether he ever read any thing by the same author before :

Oh maid, unloving but beloved,
My soul's unchanging theme,
Who art by day my constant thought,
By night my only dream,

Thou think'st not, in thy pride of place,
When gay ones bow the knee,

How bends one distant lonely heart,

In earnest love of thee!

As saints in elder days but knew
One attitude of prayer;

And, turning to the holy east,
Pour'd all their spirit there;

So to thy home inclines this heart,
All distant though it be,

And knows but one adoring art,

This earnest love of thee.

Two letters from "D. V." of Dundee !-the name at full length, but we shall not mention it; for "D. V.'s" letters not having been inserted in the JOURNAL, "D. V." has seen cause to change his opinion both of it and its Editor, and has waxed bitter in the "Fife Herald." We had hoped better things of " D. V." seeing that he wrote to us on the 28th of November, 1828,-"Your JOURNAL has already become a de

cided favourite here: esto perpetua." Mutability, thy name is "D. V."

Here are some poems by Alexander Maclagan; and we think it right that our readers should be told who Alexander Maclagan is. He is a young man in an humble walk of life-a plumber, we believe who, without any advantages or encouragement whatever, felt something of the poet stirring within him; and though forced to struggle against his ignorance, both of orthography and grammar, has devoted many of his leisure hours to putting his thoughts in verse. He has been a reader of the JOURNAL since its commencement; and having taken it into his head that he would like to see the Editor, he called upon us one evening, and introduced himself to us in a modest manner, as a poet was entitled to do. His story and appearance, together with the manuscripts he brought with him, interested us. We lent him some books, and gave him the best advice we could. He has been improving rapidly, and if he writes many things as good as the following, he well deserves encouragement:


By Alexander Maclagan.

Now summer's gane wi' a' her wiles,
Her rays o' gowd, her cheering smiles;
Her sangs o' joy, her hills o' green,
An' bonny winding groves between.
O where are now her happy days,
Her lauching gowans on the braes,
The crown o' flowers upon her brow,
The primrose sweet, the violet blue?
The cauld white foam o' winter's wrath
Has cover'd o'er the winding path
That led me to the birken bower,
Where Love made short the langest hour:
Alas! nae primrose sweet is there,
But trees in frost stand shivering bare ;—
Poor limpin' hare, and cushet doo,
Cauld, cauld maun be your biggin' now!
Saw ye the robin twittering past,
His wee wing riven in the blast?
See! mute he sits on yon auld tree,
An' the snaw-drift steeks his heartless ee :
Deprived o' shelter, food, and rest,
His tuneless bill sinks on his breast;
Cauld swinging on a naked spray,
He spends his weary winter day.
Loud howls the tempest o'er the hill,
On sleeping nature frozen still;
And turret grey frae ruin'd wa's,
Mix'd in the tempests, tumbling fa's:
And living streams, wi' winter's breath,
Hae turn'd as cauld an' stiff as death ;-
How dear would be my humble strain,
Could it bring sweet summer back again!

We must add the following short piece, by the same author, of whom we hope to have more to say ere long, and in whom we should be glad to interest our readers:


Sweet lady! touch thy harp again,

And sing me a soft and soothing lay;

A charm breathes round me from thy strain,
Like sunshine on a winter day.

Sing on, dear maid, though I am one
Who darkly look on all I see;

Mind not my mood, 'tis of a man
Who lives, when life is misery.

There was an eye that watch'd with mine
Each morning's glory-bright and new;
And when I said, "O how divine!"
There was a voice which said so too.
There was a little pulse that beat
Beside the veins where my life play'd;

There were two light bewitching feet,

That tripp'd with me where'er I stray'd.
There was a face-if I was gay-

Reflected back more fond delight;
For if I smiled, we both were day,

And if I frown'd, we both grew night.
There came an hour-a dreadful hour-
An age of woe it proved to me:
The mists of Death fell round my flower,
And wrapt it in Eternity.

Then, lady, touch thy harp again,

O sing me a soft-a soothing lay;
Would that the power were in thy strain,
To free a weary soul from clay!

Two unpublished poems by poor Knox, author of the "Harp of Zion," make their appearance next. The one is "To a Redbreast," and the other is entitled "A Song, or any thing you please." There are some sweet lines in the first particularly, but, as a whole, it is imperfect.

Poems by "T. T. S. ;" and a letter which begins,"Heaven knows what has possessed me; but no man was ever plagued with such horrid ugly fits of dulness. My brain is a perfect pandemonium of somnambulatory Morpheuses, playing fifty tricks with my eyelids." There is often a great deal of vigour of conception about "T. T. S.;" many of his detached thoughts are uncommonly bold and good, but he must cultivate his judgment and his style a little more. At present there is no dependence on him; he is excellent in one line, and in the next he is perfectly unintelligible. There is much hope of future excellence, however, in any one who can write thus:

A maid came blythesome to a racing stream,
On either bank encurtain'd from the eye
With rocks and trees;-a prodigality

Of thunder and of silence-shade and beam!
The dancing mist did whirl and smoke beneath

A mountainous fall, that, rolling down, did shake The fringes of the rock-embowering heath,

As 'twere the breeze. Beyond, a silent lake
Lay mirroring the moon on heaven's breast,
Like to one mighty gem of amethyst.
It was to meet her lover. Starry heaven

Hath seldom spread its arch o'er one so fair;
The dews did cluster on her braided hair,
Like diamonds by the breezeless azure given;
Her cheek was like the latest tint of day,

Streak'd on the fading clouds,-a harmony
Of flush and brightness!-even as a sea
That, lit with moonlight, looks both dark and gay.
Or thus, in a poem called "His first Song:"
'Twas like the mountain eagle's flight,
Leaving his nested throne,

To meet the morning's early light
On the belted horizon!

His brightest song-his eldest-first!
'Twas one ecstatic thrill;

A mighty and a hallow'd burst

Of the deep impassion'd will!

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In fancy I live o'er again, and never can forget;
How every look, and every smile, and every passing tone,
I've treasured up for dreams by day, and musings when

The only paper remaining is a Letter from India. It has had a long voyage across the ocean, and comes from a man of talent and observation. It is dated Bhooge, September 24th, 1828. We shall give an extract from it, which will be read with interest. It treats of


"You have heard much, and read much, of the pu. rity, virtue, and simplicity, of the Hindoos, and that by authors who speak authoritatively, and who, one would have thought, should have known something of their manners. But it appears to me that many of these pictures have been sketched and finished without the authors having once issued from their closets; for they bear not a shadow of resemblance to the original of Indian life that has come under my observation.

"For one instance, female virtue has here no existence. All the women, both high and low, being degraded to the capacity of mere slaves, it is in vain to look for purity or virtue among them; and without this in a country, from whence are the most elevated enjoyments of mankind to spring? In truth, the men here may confine women by the most solemn bonds of which their religion is capable, as well as by locks, keys, and bars, which they may deem insuperable; still, in spite of all their ingenuity, they will give them the slip, and make the best improvement too that they can of their liberty, however transient it may be, and however much danger may attach to their offence.

"The degradation of the tender sex is here so abject, that even when a sepoy deigns to appear in public, accompanied by his wife, he walks in the most stately manner about twenty yards before her, while she is obliged to keep at that distance, or more, behind, creeping along like a slave, not daring to lift her eyes from the ground, or to look either to the right hand or the left. She is close-veiled, and one peep from under it, particularly at a British officer, would cost her dear indeed at the least, a sound beating, in view of the man that was favoured with the glance.

"Honour is the virtuous woman's polar star; but in this country, nothing ever being trusted to the honour of women, they have none; and the more restraints are laid upon their liberty, the more certain they are to break through them. One cannot but wonder at their perversity in this respect, for the punishment attending the discovery of an offence, or even a supposed one, is prompt and dreadful.

"An extraordinary and shocking case of this kind occurred here very lately. It happened that a man

"L. E." of Aberdeen thus begins a poem, which in- brought a young woman to Bhooge, from the other side dicates considerable poetical feeling:

She knoweth not, she guesseth not, what love this bosom feels,

For aye the heart that's deepest moved, its passion most conceals:

The current glitters to the sun, and sparkles in his sheen, While dark in shade the deeper stream flows on, and flows unseen.

But still let her with smiles, among the fair, the fairest


Unknowing of the silent heart that smile hath warm'd to love;

of the Gulf of Cutch. Whether she came as his wife or mistress I do not know, but she was accompanied by her mother. He had given them to understand that he was going to settle at Bhooge; but after getting them to this place, he informed them that he was obliged to go to Synde, an extensive province on the Indus. To this they both objected, and said they would return to Kattiwar. This moved him to jealousy, and he instantly suspected the young lady of having formed some intrigue among the military here, although there appeared to have been neither proof nor evidence of this.

"They began, however, to suspect him of being me

ditating some terrible revenge, and took refuge in one of the temples. For several days he tried every art of dissimulation to draw them from their asylum, making the most solemn oaths that he had no intention of injuring them. But they knew their man too well to trust themselves again in his power, and kept by their sanctuary. When he found that nothing would prevail on them to come out, he entered the temple one morning at the hour of prayer, and just as the worshippers were kneeling before the idols, he drew out his scimitar unperceived, and at one blow severed the young woman's head from her body, and then with a back stroke from the same blow, cut off the head of the mother. Both were done in one moment, for these scimitars are as sharp as razors, and a second stroke is never required from them where there is no armour. The ruf fian made no attempts either at flight or resistance, but suffered himself to be quietly taken and bound on the spot. He was tried for the murder, and condemned to be blown from the mouth of a cannon. When he came to the place of execution, he appeared even less concerned than any of the spectators, and abused the executioner, in no very measured terms, for not tying a knot in the way he wished it. He then ordered him to desist altogether, for he was a bungler, and where was there any necessity for binding him? The man desisted accordingly, and the fellow turned about his face to the cannon, and made a satirical bow to it, as if in mockery, and standing upright, and without fear, saw the match put to the touch-hole, and the next moment was blown to atoms. So much for Hindoo humanity and morality."

Hoping that the reader does not dislike us in our slippers, we shall take the liberty of speedily introducing ourselves to him again in similar deshabillé, and shall proceed in an agreeable and easy manner to make a few remarks on everything.


No. I.

Church of Scotland; the ministers of which, rejecting the doctrine of apostolical succession in ordination, choose rather to derive their orders from the call of the people. The whole system of Presbyterianism must be invigorated by these annual Convocations of its disciples. Once a-year the metropolis of Scotland becomes, as it were, the metropolis of Presbyterianism; and on these occasions college friendships are renewed, old associations revived, new connexions formed; and the minister of some remote and barren parish in the meridian of the Orkneys, or John O'Groat's House, the wilds of Inverness, Argyll, or Ross-shire, meets, and fights all his University" battles o'er again," with his old friend the minister of some parish more favoured by Heaven in the fertile counties of the Lowlands. The opportunity thus afforded, of attending both to the temporal and spiritual welfare of the Church-of exercising the faculties of the mind, and of gratifying the affections of the heart, cannot fail to be attended by the most beneficial results. There is nothing like it in England, and we are sorry for it.

The external appearance, or what we may term the outward man, of the members of the Presbyterian Convocation, generally indicates the district from which they come. The clerical representatives of the Kirk from the North and West Highlands may be easily distinguished as inhabitants of a wild and sterile region, by their weather-beaten cheek-bones, loose black or carroty locks, and the discordant harshness of their voices, when they are emitting the genuine Doric of their own parishes. The air and gait of these conscript fathers point out not only the desolate hills and the bleak fields among which they from nature, they have had to struggle sore in many a vegetate, but that, in addition to their mortifications doubtful combat with some lank and imperturbable Seceder, going under the picturesque name of Burgher or Antiburgher, Old Light or New Light, Baptist, Me thodist, or Independent, and with barefaced presumption erecting his meeting-house over against the manse. The Orkney and Shetland minister, moreover, may be easily seen to have lived on nothing else but fish-keeping one long Lent all the year over, till the time of the Convocation-when, as a sort of duty, that he may support the tabernacle whilst in the body, he makes daily the most ravenous attacks on beef, roast and boiled, mutton, veal, lamb, and similar savoury dainties. The ministers from the more fertile districts are also easily known, but by different marks. We do not in Scotland, as in England, frequently meet with parsons, whose manners at once show that they are more accustomed to preparation a series of sketches of the most distinguished hunt a fox or hare, shoot partridges, and carry fishingclergymen of the Church of Scotland, which will appear under rods, than to trouble themselves greatly about sinners, the general title of "THE SCOTTISH PULPIT."-Ed. Lit. Jour.] wielding the "sword of the Spirit," or poring over those most unpalatable of all languages, Hebrew and THE most remarkable ecclesiastical court in Britain Greek. But the clergymen of the fertile Lowland pais the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. rishes may, nevertheless, be distinguished by their sleek We need say nothing of the Convocation of the Church and smooth appearance, by their tendency to rotundity, of England, which, were it allowed to meet, would of and their smiling, contented faces, which inevitably sugcourse throw the Scottish Assembly into the shade. We gest to the mind of the beholder good wheaten sheaves, must take things as they are; and certainly, at present, a well-replenished manse,a fertile glebe, and a comthe General Assembly is without a rival. It is the ul-fortable sum in cash, with an item for communion eletimatum of the Presbyterian church-courts; and though its members cannot be said to be the representatives of the people with whom they are ostensibly connected, they form so numerous and respectable a body, that none can grudge them the possession of the privileges they enjoy.

[FEELING it our duty to make the EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL as much as possible acceptable to all classes of literary men in Scotland, we have pleasure in announcing a few papers on the interesting subject of the General Assembly, from the pen of a gentleman every way qualified for the task. They will be continued to the conclusion of the approaching meeting of that venerable court. We may also state, that we have in

It is not so much our intention to enquire into the history of the General Assembly, as to offer a few remarks on this Clerical Jubilee, (for such it is,) and its members. No one will deny that an annual court of this description, sanctioned by not a few of the trappings of royalty, yet preserving in a peculiar degree some of the characteristics of a popular tribunal, is of considerable consequence to any legal establishment, such as the

ments. Last of all, the Presbyterian pastors of cities and large towns are known by their air of superior dignity, by the less country-tailor expression of their dress, by their silk umbrellas, and by a certain savoir vivre, which prevents them from staring up at the windows, and gaping at the brass, copper, silver, and golden lions of the Modern Athens.

So much for the general appearance of the clerical members of the Presbyterian Convocation. But what of the laymen the ruling elders, as they are called, who form a considerable part of the Assembly? It must be admitted, unless we be rigid enough to object to the uncanonical practice of admitting laymen to legis. late in church courts, that these ruling elders add

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