ing is necessarily much limited by their circumstances, is chiefly com posed of oatmeal porridge, bread, potatoes, and milk. Even among them wheaten bread has now in a great measure displaced that of oatmeal or bar leymeal. Their means enable them but seldom to procure butcher meat; but for dinner they frequently make a broth, with barley and green vegetables, in which beef bones, or a portion of butter, of which they consume a considerable quantity, have been boiled, if not with the effect of adding to its nutritive qualities, at least with that of rendering it more palatable. During the season, the fresh herrings afford them a cheap and excellent food; and they at all times consume, with their potatoes, a considerable quantity of salt herrings and salted fish. Fresh white fish, though often cheap, they seem little in the habit of using in their families. The harmless and refreshing luxury of tea is very generally enjoyed; and the number of public houses, and the quantity of spirits consumed, but too plainly prove the extent to which the more pernicious one of dram-drinking is indulged in. It were much to be wished, both on account of the morals and health of the people, that the money expended in this destructive use of ardent spirits, were laid out on the more nutritive and wholesome beverage of malt-liquor. Though, along with whisky, a considerable quantity of inferior ale is consumed in the pub lic houses, it is but little used as a re gular article of diet.

During the last winter, from the difficulty of procuring employment, and the low rate of wages, joined with the high price and inferior quality of bread and corn, and particularly of oatmeal and potatoes, the food of the poor must have been less nutritious, as well as diminished in quantity; and while we cannot but admire the patience with which they have sustained them, it is melancholy to reflect on the privations which the labouring classes of the community must have borne in their fare, which is at all times plain and so little abundant.

With all the advantages which this otherwise favoured town possesses, it is deficient in the most indispensable necessary and luxury of life. It is supplied with excellent water, convey ed, from springs near the Pentland Hills, to two reservoirs, from which

VOL. I.

it is distributed to the older part of the town by means of public wells in the streets, and to the more modern by pipes to each house, or to their areas. As of late years the population has greatly increased, and pipes have been furnished to the new houses, which, from their size, require a large quantity of water, while no effectual means have been taken to provide for this increased consumption, the sup ply of this essential article is never abundant, and, in dry seasons, extremely deficient. In order, therefore, to observe a due and proper economy in its use, it is supplied to the public wells only at times, and it flows to the cisterns of the houses at considerable intervals. To all classes of the community this deficiency occasions a very great privation; but to the poor, when the time and labour which they expend, and the exposure they have to undergo in procuring their scanty supply are considered, it is obvious that it must be an evil of serious magnitude. To this scarcity of water there can be little doubt that the of fensive state of the streets, particularly in summer, so long the opprobrium of Edinburgh, is in some degree to be attributed; and while it continues, it must oppose a serious obstacle to the improvement in the cleanliness of their persons and their habitations, which is so desireable among the poor.

The degree to which the scarcity of water was felt during the dry summer of 1815, and the threatening of it which has already been perceived this spring, has drawn the attention of the Magistrates and of the public to it in a particular manner; and it is now to be hoped, that the town will ere long enjoy the benefit of the advantages which it possesses from its situation, of obtaining a supply of water even to profusion, of which an abundance is so essential to the cleanliness of the city, and to the comfort and health of its inhabitants.

There is no disease which is peculiar to Edinburgh, neither can any of the diseases of this country be said to be particularly prevalent or severe in this town. On the whole, it is remarkably healthful; and I believe, that it may be stated, that the mortality in it is small in proportion to the population, though I have not before me, indeed I do not know if there exists, documents on which an accurate opinion

2 M

upon his heart. His greatest joy was in the wildest impulses of the imagination.

"His spirit, though mighty and unbounded, from his early habits and education, naturally tended to repose; he thought with delight on the sun rising among the Alpine snows, or gilding the peaks of the rugged hills with its evening rays. But within him he felt a fire burning for ever, and which the snows of his native mountains could not quench. He feared that he was alone in the world, and that no being, kindred to his own, had been created; but in his soul there was an image of angelic perfection, which he believed existed not on earth, but without which he knew he could not be happy. Despairing to find it in populous cities, he retired to his paternal domain. On again entering upon the scenes of his infancy, many new and singular feelings were experienced he is enchanted with the surpassing beauty of the scenery, and wonders that he should have rambled so long and so far from it. The noise and the bustle of the world were immediately forgotten on contemplating "The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills." A light, as it were, broke around him, and exhibited a strange and momentary gleam of joy and of misery ming led together. He entered the dwelling of his infancy with delight, and met his brother with emotion. But his dark and troubled eye betokened a fearful change, when he beheld the other playmate of his infancy. Though beautiful as the imagination could conceive, she appeared otherwise than he expected. Her form and face were associated with some of his wildest reveries-his feelings of affection were united with many undefinable sensations-he felt as if she was not the wife of his brother, although he knew her to be so, and his soul sickened at the thought.

"He passed the night in a feverish state of joy and horror. From the window of a lonely tower he beheld the moon shining amid the bright blue of an Alpine sky, and diffusing a calm and beautiful light on the silvery

snow.

The eagle owl uttered her long and plaintive note from the castellated summits which overhung the valley, and the feet of the wild chamois were heard rebounding from the neighbour

ing rocks; these accorded with the gentler feelings of his mind; but the strong spirit which so frequently overcame him, listened with intense delight to the dreadful roar of an immense torrent, which was precipitated from the summit of an adjoining cliff, among broken rocks and pines, overturned and uprooted, or to the still mightier voice of the avalanche, suddenly descending with the accumulated snows of a hundred years.

"In the morning he met the object of his unhappy passion. Her eyes were dim with tears, and a cloud of sorrow had darkened the light of her lovely countenance.

"For some time there was a mutual constraint in their manner, which both were afraid to acknowledge, and neither was able to dispel. Even the uncontrollable spirit of the wanderer was oppressed and overcome, and he wished he had never returned to the dwelling of his ancestors. The lady is equally aware of the awful peril of their situation, and without the knowledge of her husband, she prepared to depart from the castle, and take the veil in a convent situated in a neighbouring valley.

"With this resolution she departed on the following morning; but in crossing an Alpine pass, which conducted by a nearer route to the adjoining valley, she was enveloped in mists and vapour, and lost all knowledge of the surrounding country. The clouds closed in around her, and a tremendous thunder-storm took place in the valley beneath. She wandered about for some time, in hopes of gaining a glimpse through the clouds, of some accustomed object to direct her steps, till, exhausted by fatigue and fear, she reclined upon a dark rock, in the crevices of which, though it was now the heat of summer, there were many patches of snow. There she sat, in a

state of feverish delirium, till a gentle air dispelled the dense vapour from before her feet, and discovered an enormous chasm, down which she must have fallen, if she had taken another step. While breathing a silent prayer to Heaven for this providential escape, strange sounds were heard, as of some disembodied voice floating among the clouds. Suddenly she perceived, within a few paces, the figure of the wanderer tossing his arms in the air, his eye inflamed, and his general aspect

with enchanted ear to his wild and impassioned eloquence, and careless of all other sight or sound.

wild and distracted-he then appear ed meditating a deed of sin-she rushed towards him, and, clasping him in her arms, dragged him backwards, just as he was about to precipitate himself into the gulph below.

"Overcome by bodily fatigue, and agitation of mind, they remained for some time in a state of insensibility. The brother first revived from his stupor; and finding her whose image was pictured in his soul lying by his side, with her arms resting upon his shoulder, he believed for a moment that he must have executed the dreadful deed he had meditated, and hád wakened in heaven. The gentle form of the lady is again re-animated, and slowly she opened her beautiful eyes. She questioned him regarding the purpose of his visit to that desolate spota full explanation took place of their mutual sensations, and they confessed the passion which consumed them.

"The sun was now high in heaven the clouds of the morning had ascended to the loftiest Alps-and the mists, into their airy elements resolved, were gone. As the god of day advanced, dark vallies were suddenly illuminated, and lovely lakes brightened like mirrors among the hills their waters sparkling with the fresh breeze of the morning. The most beautiful clouds were sailing in the air-some breaking on the mountain tops, and others resting on the sombre pines, or slumbering on the surface of the unilluminated vallies. The shrill whistle of the marmot was no longer heard, and the chamois had bounded to its inaccessible retreat. The vast range of the neighbouring Alps was next distinctly visible, and presented, to the eyes of the beholders, glory beyond all glory ever seen.'

"In the mean time a change had taken place in the feelings of the mountain pair, which was powerfully strengthened by the glad face of nature. The glorious hues of earth and sky seemed indeed to sanction and rejoice in their mutual happiness. The darker spirit of the brother had now fearfully overcome him. The dreaming predictions of his most imaginative years appeared realised in their fullest extent, and the voice of prudence and of nature was inaudible amidst the intoxication of his joy. The object of his affection rested in his arms in a state of listless happiness, listening

"She too had renounced her morning vows, and the convent was unthought of, and forgotten. Crossing the mountains by wild and unfre quented paths, they took up their abode in a deserted cottage, formerly frequented by goatherds and the hunters of the roe. On looking down, for the last time, from the mountain top, on that delightful valley in which she had so long lived in innocence and peace, the lady thought of her departed mother, and her heart would have died within hers but the wild glee of the brother again rendered her insensible to all other sensations, and she yielded to the sway of her fatal passion.

"There they lived, secluded from the world, and supported, even through evil, by the intensity of their passion for each other. The turbulent spirit of the brother was at rest-he had found a being endowed with virtues like his own, and, as he thought, des titute of all his vices. The day dreams of his fancy had been realized, and all that he had imagined of beauty or affection was embodied in that form which he could call his own.

"On the morning of her departure the dreadful truth burst upon the mind of her wretched husband. From the first arrival of the dark-eyed stran ger, a gloomy vision of future sorrow had haunted him by day and by night, Despair and misery now made him their victim, and that awful malady which he inherited from his ancestors. was the immediate consequence. He was seen, for the last time, among some stupendous cliffs which overhung the river, and his hat and cloak were found by the chamois hunters at the foot of an ancient pine.

"Soon too was the guilty joy of the survivors to terminate. The gen tle lady, even in felicity, felt a load upon her heart. Her spirit had burned too ardently, and she knew it must ere long be extinguished. Day after day the lily of her cheek encroached upon the rose, till at last she assum ed a monumental paleness, unreliev ed save by a transient and hectic glow. Her angelic form wasted away, and soon the flower of the valley was no more.

"The soul of the brother was dark, dreadfully dark, but his body wasted

not, and his spirit caroused with more fearful strength. The sounding cataract haunted him like a passion.' He was again alone in the world, and his mind endowed with more dreadful energies. His wild eye sparkled with unnatural light, and his raven hair hung heavy on his burning temples. He wandered among the forests and the mountains, and rarely entered his once beloved dwelling, from the windows of which he had so often beheld the sun sinking in a sea of crimson glory.

"He was found dead in that same pass in which he had met his sister among the mountains; his body bore no marks of external violence, but his countenance was convulsed by bitter insanity." P. F.

ACCOUNT OF A MS. HISTORY OF SCOTLAND; BY SIR GEORGE MACKENZIE OF ROSEHAUGH.

from the hands of the merchant, who had purchased it as waste paper. It is a quarto volume, bound in vellum, and written in a fair hand about the beginning of the eighteenth century. Nearly 300 pages of it remain. It is entitled, "The Historie of Scotland from the year 1660; begins with an account of the "happie restauration" of Charles II.; and ends with a letter, dated 27th October 1677, from the Privy Council to the Earl of Glencairn and Lord Rosse, preparatory to the calling in of the Highland Host upon the western shires. The remaining part of the history, extending from 1677 to 1691, is of course a-wanting. In consequence of the mutilations before referred to, there is a large chasm in the MS. including the history from 1663 to 1669. There are also a number of blanks left for the insertion of public papers.

My reasons for thinking that this MS. forms part of Sir George Mac

MR EDITOR,

AT your request, I send you an account of a MS. which lately came into my possession, and which I consider as part of a history of Scotland, by Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh. The fact of Sir George having left such a history is already known. It is mentioned in the following advertisement prefixed to the second volume of his works:

"Whereas, in the list of the Author's manuscripts, there is mention made of an History of the Affairs of Scotland, from the restauration of King Charles II., 1660, to the 1691, which subscribers might have readily lookt for in this second volume, but that manuscript being in the hands of some of the author's relations, who think it not ready for the press until it be carefully revised, they have reckoned it more proper to have it printed by way of appendix to this second volume, how soon they have it revised and transcribed by a good hand."

This is the only notice of the work that I have met with. It does not appear that the author's relations carried their design of printing it into execution; and I have not, upon inquiry, been able to learn that a copy of the manuscript exists in any library, public or private.

I literally found the MS. which I mean to describe to you,

-in vico vendentem thus et odores; and unfortunately it had suffered to a considerable extent before I rescued it

ternal kind, but they are such as leave no doubt on my mind. This might be presumed from the circumstance of its detailing, with great minuteness, those transactions in which Sir George was personally concerned, and giving at length the speeches which he delivered in Parliament. But there is more direct evidence. In the introduction, the author says:

"I may without vanitie promise, that no man hath wrote ane historie who knew more intimatelie the designes, and observed more narrowlie all the circumstances, of these actions he sets down, than myself, having been either actor in, or witnes to, all the transactions which I mention; especially since ye year 1677, at gch time I was made his Majestie's advocat.'

Now, it is known that Sir George Mackenzie became Lord Advocate in the course of that year. It is unnecessary to quote other passages, in which the author is described in a manner which cannot be easily mistaken, although in terms less precise than the above. I shall therefore merely add, that there are a number of marginal alterations, in a handwriting different from that of the rest of the manuscript; and from a comnatures of Sir George, preserved in parison of these with letters and sigthe Register House, it appears that they were written with his own hand: so that the MS. in my possession was corrected by the author himself.