they heard a shot ring again from the same fatal place, and saw the body of one of their comrades sink down on the window-sill of the tower, while his musket, dropping from his relaxed hands, went rattling down the rocky ravine. "All the whigs are come from hell," said one, "to defend this cursed glen-let us march out; place sentinels at the passes; despatch two of our fleetest horses to Dumfries, for an officer to command us, and for foot soldiers accustomed to such warfare,—for my part, I can only fight on horseback." This sentiment, as it promised security, was embraced by all-they retired to the extremities of the ravine-placed sentinels-sent two troopers to Dumfries for assistance-and when the next day dawned, penetrated unmolested to the Friar's Cell ;— but Elias Wilson and his wife and child were gone; they escaped at nightfall, by scaling the almost perpendicular side of the ravine; sought shelter in a distant glen-and, foiling all their enemies, lived till times of peace came, when they returned to their cottage, and lived and died in good old age. Yet, once a year, as the day of their deliverance returned, they went with their children and servants to the Friar's Cell, and sung a psalm, and prayed a prayer and the same was till lately done by their descendants.

A SHORT ARGUMENTATIVE DISSERTATION.

[İntended to adjust the hitherto undecided limits between Prose and Poetry.]

Even to this day, the critics disagree on the class to which they would assign particular kinds of literary composition. Some would rank even comedy with poetry: but, without wasting argument on so judicious an arrangement, I shall introduce Telemachus as an imposing instance; a work, which many assert, and many deny, to be an heroic poem complete. A literary mind, fond of just and necessary arrangement, becomes impatient of such a deficiency in the laws of criticism, as leaves a cause of this nature in a long protracted state of incertitude, and is tempted, even with a diffidence of its own capability, to volunteer its aid in clearing the two kinds of composition from the intermingling confusion. Surely it would prove a satisfaction to the lovers of study, to survey the agreeable prospects opening on each side, with all the advantages of a clear horizon and beautiful boundary. I shall again advert to Telemachus, and must confess, that its plot, construction of incidents, machinery, and descriptions approximate an heroic poem. But, untuned as the language is to the far sweeter key of verse, and charged with the various lumber of prose, I cannot consent to place it in so exalted a rank. By casting a wider glance, we may observe, that the properties I have granted to Telemachus are common to prose, as well as poetry. Every novel of merit has a well con

trived plot, well unravelled incidents, just and refined descriptions. Many authors, professedly prosaic, have adopted a very flowery style, and commonly the most florid figures of speech fall from the lips of the orators. And are we to consider the studied productions of the former, or the extempore effusions of the latter, as poems? The true answer lies in the negative; and in this we are the more confirmed, when we call to mind the many beautiful passages we meet in poetry, which have not, or scarcely have, the aid of trope, metaphor, or figure, to array them. As a proof of this, I shall quote a few of the first lines of Parnel's " Hermit," and mark the only figurative word they contain with italics.

"Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a reverend hermit grew:
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruit, his drink the chrystal well:
Remote from man, with God he pass'd his days;
Pray'r all his business, all his pleasure praise.
A life so calm, of such serene repose,
Seem'd Heav'n itself, till one suggestion rose,
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey;
This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway."

From Goldsmith's "Deserted Village."

"Sweet was the sound, when, oft at evening's close,
Up yonder hill the village murmurs rose:
There as I pass'd with careless steps, and slow,
The mingling notes came softened from below,
The swain responsive, as the milk-maid sung,
The sober herd, that low'd to meet their young,
The noisy geese, that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
The watch-dog's voice, that bay'd the whistling wind,
And the loud laugh, that spoke the vacant mind.
These all in soft confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause, the nightingale had made.
But now the sounds of population fail;
No cheerful murmurs flutter in the gale,

No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
But all the bloomy flush of life is fled,
All, but yon widow'd solitary thing,

That feebly bends beside the plashy spring.
She, wretched matron, forc'd in age for bread
To pick the brook, with mantling cresses spread,
To pull her wintery faggot from the thorn,
To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn,
She only left, of all the harmless train,
The sad historian of the pensive plain."

After looking attentively over the beautiful simplicity of dress, in which the foregoing extracts are clothed, the judicious reader will readily perceive, that the properties common to both prose and poetry can never, by their own influence merely, constitute a poem ; and that, to raise a composition to so exalted a rank, it must be

endued with a property peculiar to poetry,-I mean such an arrangement of words as produce a continuation of sounds far more melodious than those placed in prosaic order.

EXTRACTS FROM THE

JOURNAL OF AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN,

Who travelled through Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Flanders and Italy, at the commencement of the last century. (CONTINUED FROM VOL. II., PAGE 52.)

:

I observed at the entrance into the church of the Twelve Apostles, a picture which represents a singular event. The wife of a consul of Cologn, being buried in the year 1571, with a ring of some price, the sexton, the night following, opened the tomb to steal the ring but I am mistaken if he were not frightened when he felt his hand grasped, and when the good lady took hold of him to get out of the sepulchre. However, he made a shift to disengage his hand, and immediately ran away, without asking any questions. The lady, who was come to life, unwrapt herself as well as she could, and went to knock at the door of her house.. She called a servant by his name, and, in a few words, told him the sum of her adventure, that he might admit her without any scruple. But the man thought her a ghost, and, in a great consternation, ran to tell the thing to his master. The master, as incredulous as the man, called him a fool, and said he would as soon believe his horses were in the garret; and instantly a most dreadful noise was heard in the garret; upon which the man went up, and found six coach-horses there, with all the others that were fast in the stable. The consul, amazed at so many prodigies, was not able to speak: the man was in an ecstacy or swoon in the garret; and the living deceased quaking in her shroud, and expecting to be let in. At last the door was opened, and they chafed and used her so well, that she revived as if nothing had passed, and the next day they made the necessary machines to let down the horses. And, as a confirmation of the story, there is, at this day, to be seen in the garret some wooden horses, which are covered with the skins of these animals. They shew, also, in the church of the Twelve Apostles, a large linen curtain, which this lady spun after her return into the world, in which she lived seven years, after.*

* Who would have expected to find this old story to originate in Germany? Our English version, however, does not contain the fact of the horses' expedition, which is, doubtless, a supererogatory embellishment.-EDITOR.

MENTZ.-As we parted from Baccharach, a furious storm arose, in which a large boat was cast away, and ours was also in some danger. We went ashore, a little before we came to Rudisheim, where the bad weather constrained us to stay awhile, and pass by an old ruinous house, which they said belonged to that wicked Archbishop of Mentz, who was eaten by rats. The Rhine makes in that place a little island, in the midst of which is a square tower, which they call the Tower of Rats: and it is commonly reported, that this prelate, who was the most wicked and cruel man of his age, fell sick in that ruinous house I speak of: (some say it was in another, a little further off, which is not material to the story,) and that, by an extraordinary judgment of God, he was environed with rats, which could by no means be driven away. They add, that he caused himself to be carried into the island, where he hoped he might be freed from them, but the rats swam over the river and devoured him. An ingenious man, whom I saw in this place, assured me that he had read this story in some old chronicles of the country. He said he remembered that the Archbishop was named Renald, and that this accident happened in the tenth century. I would have willingly given credit to his relation, but I fear there is some mistake in it; for, I know that about this time, there was a certain priest named Arnold, who fraudulently dispossessed the Archbishop Henry; and that this Arnold was massacred by the people, which may have occasioned some confusion in these histories. The name of the Archbishop was not Renald, but Hatton II., surnamed Bonosus; and it is said, that, in a time of famine, he caused a great number of poor people to be assembled in a barn, where he ordered them to be burnt, saying, "these are the unprofitable vermin which are good for nothing but to consume the bread which should serve for the sustenance of others." This story is related by a great many grave authors, and generally believed here, though some look upon it as a fable. Some are too apt to give credit to any prodigy, and others deserve to be censured for their obstinate incredulity. Since the holy scripture describes a Pharoah pestered with lice and frogs, and a Herod devoured by worms, why should we hastily condemn an event of the same nature, for a fable? History furnishes us with several instances of more surprising accidents, which were never controverted. And I remember, I have read two such histories in "Fasiculus Temporum." The author says, that "Mures infiniti convenerunt, quædam potenter, circumvallantes eum in convivio, nec potuerunt abigi donec devoraretur;" that is, a multitude of mice compassed a certain man about, strongly assaulting him at a banquet, nor could they be driven away till they had devoured him. This hap. pened about the year 1074. He adds, "Idem cuidam Principi Poloniæ contigit." (The same thing happened to a certain* Prince of Poland.)

Pliny, upon the testimony of Varro, relates, that the isle of Gyara, one of the Cyclades, was abandoned by the inhabitants because of rats. He adds, that a city

The ornaments in which the Electors celebrate mass are extremely rich; and the canopy under which the Host is carried, on certain occasions, is all covered with pearls. I remember, I have read in the chronicles of the Abbot of Usperg, that they had formerly in the treasury in the vestry, a hollow emerald of the bigness and shape of half a large melon. This author says, that on certain days they put water into this cup, with two or three little fishes that swam about in it; and when the cup was covered they shewed it to the people, and the motion of the fishes produced such an effect as persuaded the silly people that the stone was alive.

Every Elector bears the arms of his own house; but the Elector of Mentz quarters, Gules, a Wheel Argent, which are the arms of the Electorate. It is said, that the original of these arms came from the first Elector, who was the son of a cartwright. In the great church there are several magnificent tombs of these princes, who usually are buried there.

FRANCFORT.-In the town-house we took a view of the chamber in which the Emperor is elected, and where they keep one of the originals of the Golden Bull. This Golden Bull is a book of twenty-four sheets of parchment, in 4to., which are sewed together, and covered with another piece of parchment, without any ornament. The seal is fastened to it by a silken string of many colors, and it is so covered with gold, that it resembles a medal. It is two inches and a half in breadth, and a large line in thickness. Upon the seal is the Emperor Charles IV. seated and crowned, holding a sceptre in his right hand, and a globe in his left. The scutcheon of the empire is on his right, and that of Bohemia on his left, with these words round the whole "Carolus Quartus divinâ favente clementiâ Romanorum imperator semper Augustus ;" and on each side near the two scutcheons, "Et Bohemiæ Rex." On the reverse there is a kind of a gate of a castle between two towers, which apparently denotes Rome, this verse being written about it;

"Roma caput mundi regit orbis fræna rotundi.")

And over the gate between the two towers,

"Roma aurea."

The famous treacle of Francfort is made by Doctor Peters, who

of Spain was overthrown by rabbits: one in France by frogs: and another in Africa by mice. The prince above alluded to was Pappiel II., surnamed Sardanapalus, who, with his wife and children, was eaten by rats, Anno. 323. Chron. de Pol. Garon, says-that the rats gnawed the name of Hatton, which was in many places in the Tower of the Rhine. The history of Hatton is related at large by Tuthemius in his Chronicles, by Camerarius in his meditations, and by many others. Calvisius reports, that, in 1013, a certain soldier was eaten by rats. See also, 1 Sam. ch. vi. ver. 4, 5.-EDITOR.

*

Wilegise, or Viliges, the country of Brunswick. The chapter is wholly composed of gentlemen. There are forty-two, of which twenty-four are only capitularies. Two-thirds of their suffrage are required in the choice of an elector. (He's.) The university was founded by the archbishop Oithems, Anno 1482. (Calvin.)-EDITOR.