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No. II.

peals have been made on both sides to the results of the love of many. The other is the dilettanti spirit of competitions between practitioners of the different sys- some of the younger students. They take fencing among tems. Such appeals must frequently be fallacious, for a host of other athletic exercises, which dissipate and superior individual skill may often give the victory to distract their attention. To be a fencer, there is required, the worse system. The theory of the French artists is a close, and, for a time, a pretty exclusive attention. the more feasible, and the ascendency it is daily gaining, We are happy to see added to the clubs of our city, one in spite of national jealousy, over the other, is a strong which takes fencing exclusively under its protection. It circumstance in its favour.

may do much to arrest this retrograding spirit, and we In England, the art is comparatively of modern introduc- look to it to undertake the task. tion. Not but there have been all along practical swords. men among us, as well as among other nations ; but there MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. were none of scientific eminence. It was about the beginning of last century that any thing like eminence in

THE EDITOR IN HIS SLIPPERS; fencing displayed itself in England. The most distin. guished professors have been either foreigners, or have

A PEEP BEHIND THE SCENES. studied the art abroad. At the same time domiciled in England, they accommodated themselves in some mea.. sure to the national temperament, and, by coming into

“ Stulta, jocosa, canenda, dolentia, seria, sacra;

En posita ante oculos, Lector amice, tuos; more frequent contact with each other, have contracted Quisquis es, hic aliquid quod delectabit habebis; peculiarities sufficient to entitle them to be considered

Tristior an levior, selige quicquid amas." as a school apart. The English style of fencing is less LANGUAGE cannot describe the anxiety which has showy than the French, but perhaps more close and been shown, during the course of the present month, by energetic. Among many distinguished names we enu« all ranks and classes, to obtain one glimpse of those merate the race of Angelos, O'Shaughnessy, and, though Editorial Slippers we were the bumble instrument of last, not least, the Rolands, father and son.

immortalizing in our 25th Number. Not only have de. Much more might be said in detail of the progress of putations waited upon us from all the most considerfencing. The various attitudes which have from time able towns of Great Britain and Ireland, but from to time been adopted, modified, or rejected, according to Paris, Madrid, Florence, Vienna, and other remote the varying opinions of utility and grace, afford room places, where one would have hardly thought there was for curious speculation. The various forms of blades, yet time for the LITERARY JOURNAL of May 2d to guards, and pummels, offer a good theme for the dis- have been received. We have been honoured with let. play of antiquarian lore. But these we must pass over ters, too, from all the savans of the Continent, contain. at present, and conclude our brief sketch by some gene- ing the most pressing solicitations frequently to resume ral remarks on the importance of fencing as an art. our pantoufles, as our correspondents of the French

We are admirers of man in the abstract, and lay lit. Academy call them, and under their influence to ex. tle stress on the modifications which times and circum- tend our literary researches over the whole of Europe. stances superinduce upon him. We are no idolaters of With regard to our friends at home, we have done the ages of chivalry, and are rather sceptical as to many every thing that it was possible to do to gratify their of the moral and intellectual boastings of the present curiosity. Day after day we have sat in our slippers, day. But in every age we can venerate where we find from morning till night, receiving a perpetual succes. them-beauty in form, kindliness in feeling, grasp of in-sion of visitors, three-fourths of whom we never beheld tellect, and vivid daring of imagination. We believe in our lives before, who merely passed through our that every age and every country has been more favour- audience-chamber, as if it had been a royal drawing. able to the developement of one or other of man's facul- room, cast one glance upon our face, beaming with be. ties, and we seek in all of them materials for our opinion nevolence, and then riveted their gaze upon the retiring of man's capabilities. In our research we find there is modesty of our dumb and gentle slippers, who, as if one ingredient which cannot be dispensed with, in the conscious of the notoriety into which they had been person who would claim a high rank in our estimation, thus suddenly brought, clung more closely to our feet, and that is, true courage ; or, in other words, the union clasping our toes and instep in the most affectionate both of moral and physical courage. We know no embrace. As to our foreign friends, we beg to assure means so likely to evolve this quality where it is latent, them that the “ Editor in his Slippers,” or, in the to perfect it where it exists, than an exercise which at softer language of Italy, in his Pianellas, will often aponce cultivates the bodily powers, thus giving us self- pear before them, to make them acquainted with many confidence, and at the same time tasks the intellectual | little literary gems and memorabilia which might other. faculties in no small degree. It may be that no civilian ways pass unnoticed, because they do not float on the in this country may ever necd to use his sword; but the surface of the stream. command of every limb, and the presence of mind gene- We have seldom felt happier in our slippers than we rated by the practice of fencing, are qualities which may feel to-day. It is a glorious day in the first month be called for in every situation. The efforts of the of summer, and we have already seen the greater English masters have produced a body of amateur ta part of the proof sheets of the concluding Number of lent, which has long been in high repute. The exer. the first Volume of the LITERARY JOURNAL. The tions of Mr Roland in Edinburgh have alrcady called success which has attended this publication is, in a forth, in this city, a quantity of amateur talent, which, great measure, to be attributed to our slippers. It is considering the shortness of the time, could scarcely true, that the phrenologists tell us our bump of Ideali. have been expected. We are not inclined to disparage ty alone is large enough to make an ordinary head; but the great merits of Francalanza as a teacher, but there our Ideality would have been of no use without our has been an enthusiasm and a union among Roland's slippers. Without slippers, winter would be merely a scholars, which we have not found in his ; and it is this season of great-coats and sore throats ;-without slipenthusiasm and union which have mainly contributed pers, summer would be nothing but a few months of to place Edinburgh fencing on the respectable grade perspiration and white trowsers; without slippers, liwhich it has attained. At the same time, we are bold terature would be a series of Newspaper reports and ad. enough to say, that the spirit of amateur fencing seems vertisements of Warren's Blacking. To winter, slipfor a couple of years to have been rather retrograding pers impart all its fireside comforts, to summer, all its among us. Two causes have operated to this effect. refreshing coolness, and to literature, all its romance The first gloss of novelty has worn oft, and that cools and poetry-all its free and upfettered genius. Junius,

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we daresay, wrote in boots ; and so, no doubt, did the and we cannot help believing that there is some prospect author of the “ Newgate Calendar,”-probably in top- of our object being accomplished, when ALLAN CUN. boots. But Sir Walter Scott writes in slippers-pale NINGHAM and the ETTRICK SHEPHERD express yellow slippers ; Professor Wilson writes in slippers themselves well satisfied with our exertions. With the bright red slippers ; Moore writes in slippers—dark former we are not personally acquainted, not having blue slippers ; Wordsworth writes in slippers light been in London for several years; but we may safely green slippers ; and We write in slippers - black un. say, that, through his correspondence and otherwise, we brushed slippers. If there be any thing of ours in know him better than we do many with whom we are the LITERARY JOURNAL a good deal superior to personally acquainted. It is not very long since one of aught that has been ever written by any of the illus- his letters to us began thus :-My dear Sir, I like trious authors we have mentioned, it is entirely to be your paper, and I like the Editor, and for the sake of attributed to this cause,—that our slippers are of a suo both I wish these verses were the best I ever wrote. perior quality to theirs; for the more we examine into The verses were excellent; but to us there was more the point, the more we are satisfied that inspiration lies poetry in the two lines of prose we have just quoted. in the slippers.

The Ettrick Shepherd likewise is one to whom our heart Some people told us, when we announced the LITE- warms whenever we name him; and we think it no RARY JOURNAL, that it was not likely to succeed. small thing that the author of the Queen's Wake-a They said, in the politest manner possible, that if it poem which will be read with undiminished delight could succeed under any one, it would suceed under us ; centuries hence should have written to us these words, but that there was no field for the work in Edinburgh ; " I'll defy Great Britain to get up as spirited, as that the London Weekly Periodicals of the same class amusing, and as diversified, a literary paper as yours!" had the start of us; and that Scotland was very slow in We should wish to be believed,--though perhaps there patronising new attempts. We thanked our friends are some who will not believe us, when we say, it is very sincerely for the great comfort they gave us; and, pot vanity which induces us to quote from these two turning upon our heel, we said to ourselves—“ It shall letters; if it were, we might quote from a hundred succeed;", and an Irish echo, in the shape of old Chris- others. We are actuated solely by a wish to express the topher North, boldly replied_“I foretel the book will honest satisfaction we feel in being thus not only laudati prosper." Christopher and we were right. The book a laudatis, but laudati by the two persons whose good has prospered. From the very first number, the LITE- opinion, as Editor of a Scottish periodical, we would RARY JOURNAL bas been a hit. We had no dull and not exchange for any thing else that could be offered us. feeble infancy, hanging on the very confines of life, and The newspaper press, too, has acted nobly, and we owe only indicating that we were not dead by an occasional our best thanks to at least fifty Editors. They have met squeak or squeal. We started into the vigour of youth us with no petty jealousy-they have not hinted doubts at once; and we are not aware that, even in our earliest or hesitated dislike. They bade us be of good cheer at days, we ever had a circulation under fifteen hundred the outset; and, having had an opportunity of judging weekly. The truth is, Scotland needed a LITERARY for themselves, they have come forward manfully and JOURNAL; and the numerous literary friends, ay, and heartily to state the favourable impression we have some of the literary strangers, who rallied round us, made made. We are pleased at this; for, unlike Mr Combe it easy for us to engage the sympathies of our readers, and the phrenologists, we respect the newspaper press and to proceed with an eclat which few weekly periodi- of this country. It is conducted by men of talent and cals have been able to obtain. We refer with pride and learning, and in no country does it go more hand in confidence to the Index to our first volume, which we

hand with public opinion. We suspect, therefore, this day, publish, in proof of the support which our it is only they to whom the praise of the press is as the JOURNAL has received,-support which, whether we bunch of grapes to the fox, who will affect to despise consider its extent and importance, or the handsome it. Nor must we omit to thank, also, many Editors, and liberal manner in which it has been communicated, both in England and Ireland. Thanks, is is true, are has rarely been paralleled, and will certainly never be easily given, and often come only from the lips ; but surpassed. The LITERARY JOURNAL may extend to let them try us when they want a favour at our hands, a hundred volumes ; but, full of improvements as we and may our slippers become cloven hooves if we prove hope each succeeding volume will be, we shall ever look ungrateful ! back with something of the feelings of a first love upon

But let us now be a little less egotistical, for we have the literary intercourse and glad tumultuous hopes which a number of things lying upon our table which we wish accompanied its commencement. We are now abroad to notice. And, first of all, comes an unpublished jeu upon the ocean, and the winds and waves are around d'esprit by the poet Southey. We are indebted for it us, but the friendly hands that flung an adieu to us as

to a friend who has made the tour of Europe, and who we left the shore,--the affectionate voices that said, “God thus describes the manner in which it came into his speed you !”—and the skilful mariners who took a pull possession : at the oar till they had safely towed us from among the breakers and shallows, must not, and shall not, soon be myself of the services of one of the hardy and intelli

“During a summer ramble in Switzerland, I availed forgotten. We name no names, else the Editor in his Slippers out the beauties of their romantic country, and conduct

gent mountaineers who gain a livelihood by pointing would have to write a catalogue, instead of an article, ing travellers to the lofty summits of the Alps. In and would, after all, be obliged to pass over some, who compliance with the usual formality at parting, my con. have, for different reasons, been necessitated to write ductor presented me with his book, that I might certify anonymously, but whose names are not, therefore, the the manner in which he had acquitted himself, directe less eminent, or their writings the less ablc. A compli, ing my attention to a recommendation from Mr Southey, ment, however, has been paid us by two persons of which whose guide he happened to have been on a similar ocwe are proud, because they stand nearly at the head of the casion ten years before. I took the liberty of copying living genius of Scotland, and because they are loved, the Poet Laureat's effusion, which I thought quite cha. both for themselves and for their works, by that country racteristic. It ran as follows : whose approbation it is our chief object to obtain. With Robert Burns, our highest ambition would be

By my troth, this Hans Roth

Is an excellent guide,
for poor auld Scotland's sake

A joker, a smoker,
Some useful plan or book to make;

And a savant beside.

A good geologist,

And when the dews of evening deck the blade,
A better mineralogist,

And the lone redbreast tops the mellow shade,
An able physician,

In love's embrace they'll hail the twilight scene,
And learned metaphysician,

Even in retreats where thou and I have been,
Who scents out how causes proceed ;

While we, to love and all things else unknown,
A system inventor,

Mix our cold dust with generations gone.
An experimentor,

There comes a day, whose dull and dreary close
Who raises potatoes from seed.

Shall see the world a cheerless waste of shows,
He knoweth full well

Whose farewell beam, and setting crimson streak,
The forest and dell,

Purpling yon ancient mountain's lofty peak,
The chalets and dwellers therein;

Shall view the mantle of grímn winter spread
The mountains and fountains,

Even o'er the stones that mark our narrow bed.
The ices and prices,

But these will pass, and ages will roll on,
Every town, every village, and inn.

And we remain unconscious they have flown :
Take him for your guide,

Then comes a day when dark shall grow the sky,
He has often been tried,

The sun in mid-course close his dying eye,
And will always be useful when needed; The sea stand still, deep-smitten with dismay,
You'll be merry together,

And every isle and mountain flee away;
In fair and foul weather,

The heavens evanish with an awful roll,
And shake hands at parting as we did.”

And the last trumpet sound from pole to pole;

Then shall our mortal put th' immortal on, Southey evidently wrote these lines in one of his amiable

And meet Eternal Justice on his throne. and happy moments moments which occasionally come to all of us. It was after dinner, in the inn at Zurich,

We have already introduced Alexander Maclaggan to which looks out upon the lake, and the neighbouring the notice of our readers. He continues to improve ; mountains of Schwitz and Glarus. It was a beautiful and, as we have good hopes of his future achievements, afternoon ; a bottle of cool Rhenish wine stood before we shall report progress from time to time. The fol. him,-probably Johannisberg ; and we will wager the lowing is the last production he has put into our hands, Duchess of St Albans against a bad sixpence that his and it strikes us as vigorous and good : travel-worn feet were lapped in the elysium of slippers.

STANZAS, He felt pleased with himself and with all mankind, and

By Alerander Maclaggan. he therefore gladdened the heart of honest Hans Roth,

The frantic wind is sweeping shrill by inditing the encomium we have given above.

Over the head of the grey-hair'd hill, Shift we the scene from Mr Southey and Switzerland to

Ruin rages in the gale; Mr John Ramsay, weaver in Kilmarnock. “How fleet is

The blasted tree, the bursting rock, a glance of the mind !” and if a man is determined to By earthquake's shake, by lightning's stroke, hunt out genius, there is no saying in these days where he Roll thundering to the vale. may be carried. “Why may not imagination trace thə

'Tis Heaven commands ;-sweep on, ye storms! noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunge

Gather and fight, ye mystic forms ! hole ?” asks Shakspeare. And, on the same principle, Dash down, each swollen cloud! why may not imagination discover genius in a red night- Wheel, earth! thy course, shapeless blot cap, working at the loom in Kilmarnock? We care Of wind and wave,-but, O! wrap not not for the outward casket; it is the gem silently glit- Yon cottage in thy shroud. tering within which we prize. Is the dewdrop less

My Jessie and my cottage spare ! beautiful because it happens to fall upon the humblest

My spring-time and my summer's there, blade of grass, rather than into the bosom of the full- My life, and all life's worth : blown rose ? Genius comes like the dew from the starry Flash far away, dread lightning's power, sky, and dreams not of the conventional distinctions of Blast not my home, blight not my flower, artificial society. Mr John Ramsay may be a weaver Chill not iny cheering hearth! in the sight of man, but he is a poet in the sight of hea

Her sweet smile is my summer's light, ven; and he has his reward in his own heart. We do

My beacon in the darkest night; not mean to say that Mr John Ramsay is another And Oh! ber gentle eye, Burns; all we mean is, that he has the gentler suscepti. It is my morn-my evening star, bilities of genius about him, and that we are, therefore, That shines upon me kindlier far glad to have it in our power to give publicity to one of Than any in the sky. his effusions. It is the latest effort of his muse, although,

Her virtuous mind's my store of wealth, “in the present state of our trade,” he writes, " I must

Her blooming cheek my flower of health, say with Burns,— sma’ heart haé I to sing."

Her mouth my honeycomb;

Her snowy, pure, and tranquil breast,

The down where sinks my head to rest,-
There comes an hour, Eliza, when we must

Rage, storms, but spare my home! Bid all farewell, and sink into the dust;

Let us turn now for a moment from poetry to prose. There comes a sun that shall behold us laid

Here is a letter from as worthy an inhabitant of ScotBeneath the turf, forgotten and decay'd;

land as ever visited London,-a Sexagenarian and an There comes a morning, at whose vernal voice Earth shall revive, and nature shall rejoice,

LL.D., with all the primitive simplicity and strong in. But see us sleeping in the dewy sod,

tellectual vigcur of a gentleman of the old school. He And all unconscious as the kindred clod.

writes precisely as he speaks, disdaining to adapt even There comes a day, diffusing life and light,

his spelling to the modern pronunciation of the ancient With all that summer gives of warm and bright, Doric of his country. His letter is dated a month or And, as away its beams of sunshine pass,

two back, but, as the subject is an interesting one, and They'll shade us deeper in the long green grass." is treated in an interesting manner, we shall give the There comes a day when Autumn shall descend

greater part of it :Dispensing blessings with an open hand; And o'er these fertile vales youths yet unborn

SU'N DAY IN LONDON.. EDWARD IRVING Shall wield the sickle in the waving corn ;

FLETCHER. Join in the jests and simple pranks that goad.

“ Yesterday was Sabbath. I dinna ken how it is, to The hours along, and lighten labour's load;

me the Sunday is like no other day in the week. The

face o' the sun--the fields the streets-he counte- cursa ; and above another, a verse containing a blessing, nances o' men-my ain thoughts, are a' different. It is It is double-galleried nearly round and round, and was ane o' the best blessings of Christianity. There is crowded to suffocation. Through the whole service something that exalis human nature in it, --something, there was a crushing out an'a crushing in, like a coun. that in one day in seven raises the servant to an equal. try Sacrament, and none o' the best o' order about th: ity wi' his master; when tranquillity disperses the stairs. There is naething remarkable about Fletcher's cares an'ansieties o' the world, an' holiness becomes appearance ; he is a stout, good-looking, dark-comples. visible. But it is only in Scotland, -on the green hills, ioned man. His preaching is often eloquent, and contains an' in the lonely glens, o' our native land, that the Sun. sound, excellent sense, but sae confoundedly mixed up day is a Sabbath indeed. Hers, an' throughout Eng. wi' wishy-washy clap-traps, that it is lost in nonsense. land, it is different. The Scottish peasant rises early. This moment he is proving the truth o' revelation wi' offers up his prayer in the midst of his children, and a' the force o' argument, an' the next he breaks away accompanies them to the distant kirk,-returns to his into pitiful whine, about “some poor little boy that he homely meal,-opens his Bible,—gathers his family visited yesterday, and who is to be executed next Wed. around him, and concludes the evening wi' prayer. To nesday morning at the Old Bailey, for the crime of Sab. this there are exceptions, but the example is character bath-breaking and horse-stealing ;” or, " the last words istic. In England there are exceptions, but the excep. and dying confession" of some dear Christian sister, tion is the characteristic, and consists in a good dinner that he had been to visit that morning.

In fact, at the expense of the week, loitering away the evening Fletcher has found the key to unlock the curiosity o at home, or in an ale-house, an' complaining o' the day the multitude. He is a kind o' story-telling Rowland as a weariness. In London, with the majority, it is a Hill the second. day o' pleasure, spent in excursions to Greenwich, Gravesend, the Nore, Richmond, &c.--ane goes a-fish- whose life hitherto has been a very strange and chequer

Next follows a poem of great merit, written by one ing, a second a-shooting, an' a third follows his occu. pation as usual. But still there are thousands, an' tens

ed scene, though we doubt not that, with steady perseo thousands o' Christians in London ; an', generally verance, better prospects are in store for him : speaking, the churches are respectably filled.

AND ART THOU FALSE? I went to hear our countryman Irving. He is not so

And art thou false ? my tried one! much run after in his new chapel in Sidmouth Street,

Thou beautiful and best, as he was at Hatton Garden ; consequently, there is Who, lost in feeling, sigh'd when now no difficulty in obtaining seats; though at a' times,

We parted, and confest even in the middle o' his orations, he manifested anxiety Thy love, while wild emotion for the accommodation o' strangers. The new church

Traced the memory of our youth, is a tolerably handsome structure, but too long for its

When the kiss of fond devotion, width. It is not very large, but neatly fitted up, and

Melting, burning, seal'd our truth ;the windows alternately ornamented wi' Scotch thistles

And art thou fulse ? in stained glass. Soon after I was seated, in came Ed.

Mindest thou at our last meeting, ward,-ane o' the most ungainly-looking figures I ever

Where the ocean weds the Tweed, saw, with his thick, lang, black hair, which he used to

The moon their union greeting, wear à la Nazarene, now hanging about his ears in

Seem'd their marriage vows to read; shaggy profusion. His action is uncouth, but, since he There was music on the river, took to reading his sermons, it is less extravagant. It

And its sweetly blending tone is a kind o' hap weel, rap weel, pell-mell action, swing. Sang their bridal, breathing evering round his arm without mercy ; then crouching to

'T'is not well to be alone; gether, like a tiger ready to spring, he raises his clench

And art thou falso ? ed nieves to the side o' his head, an', springing up wi' a loud, lang burst, discharges a tremendous thud upon

I have not yet forgotten the cushion, that echoes to the very ceiling. It is often

That heavenly, holy hour ;

Nor shall absence place a blot on impressive, always earnest ; unstudied, but frequently

Its remembrance, or its power : ill-timed. His accent is harsh, grating, and national, It liveth, and it burnetb,-unpleasant even to a Scotsman, but adapted to the

It will live, and it will prove rude grandeur o' his eloquence. Irving is an orator, in

The heart thy kindred spurneth, so far as a wild imagination, enthusiastic earnestness,

Yet is worthy of thy love. declamation, an' strang lungs, can make ane-but

And art thou false ? farther I will not venture. Upon the whole, he is a good logician; there is a mathematical closeness in his

A thousand thoughts come o'er me reasoning, but it is like a superstructure weel-fitted to

Recollections of the past; gether in its parts, but falling en masse before the least

Still thy image weeps before me,

All lovely as thou wast, whiff o' wind, from the want o' a good foundation. His

When my burning cheek did borrow composition is a kind o' Ossianic transposition o' verbs,

Tears of agony from thine,adjectives, an' playing wi' participles,--often lofty, sel. Of affection and of sorrow, dom elegant, an' frequently inflated. He bore his os.

Telling fondly thou wert mine, tentatious flattery nobly, but the turn o' the tide appears

And art thou false? to have turned his temper ; and Editors and all con. nected wi' the Press he raves against without mercy, 'Tis true that fate had revellid abusing them for every thing but men an’ Christians.

In my anguish ; it is true. In a word, Irving is a man o' genius,-a visionary cer

It had young ambition levellid, tainly, but sincere,-an enthusiast, but now and then a

Sparing nothing,-saving you ;

Yet, with thy love to light me, sublime one.

Invigorate,-inspire, In the afternoon I took a step down to Finsbury, to

Its blastings could not blight me, hear Fletcher, o' breach-o'-promise celebrity, (another

Wither hope,-nor chill desire;countryman.) His new chapel is a huge, but not in

And art thou false ? elegant, mass of bricks, faced with cement. The doors are marked " Gallery,” like a playhouse ; and over one My faults were spread before thee,is inscribed a passage from Scripture, expressive o' a

Blacken'd, gather'd in a host ;

Yet with the love I bore thee,

to the door, wishing to see him, the heart of the old genThey mingled not,—were lost.

tleman leapt within him, and he instantly sent down his Ah! whatever were their number,

compliments to his respected visitor, begging him to ex. Their turbulence, design,

cuse his own non-appearance, which was only owing to Thy presence bade them slumber,

extremity of illness, but entreating that lie would enter, My heart !--my heart is thine;And art thou false?

and in every respect use the house as his own. Pitcal.

nie grunted out an assent to the last part of the message, Can the ocean clothe the mountains ?

and, being shown into a room, began to call lustily about Can the earth forsake the sun ?

him. In the first place, he ordered a specimen of Sir Can streams from upland fountains

Lawrence's port, next of his sherry, then of his clarit, Change their course, and backward run? and lastly of his champagne. When he had drunk as Can my heart forget the loved one

much as he could, and given a most unconscionable de. Of its being, and its birth?

gree of trouble to the whole household, he staggered off, And art thou, my fond, my proved one,

leaving it to Sir Lawrence to come, next day, to the best Deem'd truest on the earth

explanation he could with the deacon." And art thou false ?

To this amusing anecdote we shall add another from "Tis true this bath been told me,

a different pen, no less interesting, and a good deal This might weaker minds believe;

more important, as it has an indirect connexion with But the heart that thus could hold me,

our present gracious Sovereign. The title will someCannot-never could deceive.

what surprise our readers :-
I have search'd thee, and thy spirit
Is untainted-pure as bliss;

Still thy bosom I inherit,-

“ Previous to the year 1745, the Earl of Glencairn 'Twas an enemy did this;

was Governor of Dumbarton Castle. His Countess was Thou art not false !

sister or cousin of Murray of Broughton, superior of the Of the author of the following anecdote, it has been parish of Annworth in Galloway. At this time, the most truly said, that “ his stock of traditionary lore schoolmaster of Annworth was Mr Andrew Waddel, is not exceeded by that of any other individual in the A.M. (afterwards well known as the translator of Buchaworld.” We consider ourselves very fortunate, now nan's Psalms), who, being a very learned man, was recomthat his attention is devoted principally to works of a mended by Broughton to Lord Glenca rn, as tutor to larger and more important nature, to be able to obtain his sons. In this way, Mr Waddel was translated from so many of his shorter and miscellaneous pieces, full of Annworth to Dumbarton Castle. During Mr Waddell's interest and information as they usually are, for the LI. residence with this noble family, a soldier in the garriTERARY JOURNAL. Mr Robert Chambers is as yet a son, called Sutherland, died. His death was very soon young man; but there is every reason to believe, that, followed by that of his wife ; and they left a son and in the course of twenty or thirty years, his collected daughter totally destitute. The boy, William, entered works will form a body of national and traditionary the army; and Mr Waddel, who was no less remarka. literature of the most curious and valuable kind, ble for his humanity than his learning, though encum

bered with a large family of his own, and having very A LAST CENTURY ANECDOTE.

slender means, adopted the soldier's daughter. 6 Mr Ross of Pitcalnie, an ingenious humorist, who ". The little Margaret Sutherland, as she grew up, bespent his latter years chiefly in Edinburgh, was one night came a paragon of beauty, and was no less admired for (about the year 1780) reeling home in a state of intoxi- the gracefulness of her appearance than she was belocation through St Andrew square, when his fancy sug- ved for her amiable disposicions. Such attractions were gested to him the following amusing hoax upon Sir Law- too well calculated to excite stronger feelings than those rence Dundas. It occurred to his remembrance, on see. of mere admiration. Though no less virtuous than ing Sir Lawrence's fine house, (now the office of the beautiful, this innocent creature becaine the victim of Royal Bank of Scotland,) that that gentleman was then unlawful passions. A Captain Scott of the Artillery known to be engaged in the laudable business of pre- betrayed her unsuspecting confidence, and clandestinely vailing upon the members of the Town Council of carried her off from under the care of her venerable proEdinburgh to elect him their representative in Parlia- tector. It may easily be conceived that the good old ment, and that he had already secured the approbation man was plunged into the deepest distress by this unof so many of these worthy trustees of the public inte principled act. For three long years, notwithstanding the rest, that, but for one recusant deacon, he was certain of

most diligent and unceasing enquiries, he heard nothing his election. It was known that Sir Lawrence had tried of his much-loved protegée. At last a letter came, adevery possible means to bring over this dissentient voice, dressed to him in characters which he himself had taught but hitherto without success; and there was some rea- her to trace. The contents were most consolatory. The son to apprehend, that after all the pains he had expend sweet girl, whose heart revolted at the idea of living ed upon the rest, the grand object would not eventually with Captain Scott on the terms he proposed, had, with be accomplished. Pitcalnie bethought him to assume a degree of spirit for which he was not prepared, in. the name of the deacon, to enter the house of the candi- sisted on returning to the bosom of the family of her date, call for what entertainment he pleased, and final. excellent friend in Scotland, from whom she never once ly, as Sir Lawrence was confined to bed with gout, to doubted, even under such circumstances, of meeting go away without being discovered. No sooner had he with the most cordial reception. The Captain found settled the plan in his own mind, than he proceeded to that to part with her was worse than death; and at last put it in execution. Reeling up to the door, he rung adopted the virtuous resolution of affording her the ihe bell with all the insolent violence which might have only adequate reparation in his power, by making her been expected from so consequential a person as the in- bis lawful wife, which he had now done. dividual he wished to personate, and presently down “We here come to the most interesting part of our stocame a half-dressed lacquey, breathing curses not loud ry. When it hecame necessary to find a nurse for the inbut deep, against the cause of this unseasonable annoy- fant Prince of Wales, the now happy and respectable

* Tell your master," said Pitcalnie, “ that Dea- Mrs Captain Scott (who had by this time increased her

(mentioning the name of the important elect. family) was suggested, and accepted ; and she had or) wishes to see him.” When the man went up, and the distinguished honour of suckling our present most told Sir Lawrence that Deacon. had come drunk gracious Sovereign. The person from whom we have

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