terrible account of your abashed shades for their servitudepriests of Christ, citizens, cultivators of the earth, Poles, arise— arise as one man!"

The call was responded to; the weak government resigned; Krukowiecki was nominated president of a new one; and General Malachowski was appointed commander-in-chief of the forces. By this time the Russians were within a mile of the capital. There were three opinions in the Polish council: one, that the Poles should give battle to the Russians outside the walls; another, that they should evacuate Warsaw, and push their way to Lithuania, where they could continue the struggle; and the third, that, detaching one-half of the army to procure provisions, they should defend the city. Unfortunately (for one is always disposed to think that the plans which have not been adopted would have proved more fortunate than those which have been tried, and have failed), the third proposal was carried; and the army, diminished by about half its strength, prepared for the assault of the Russians. The besiegers numbered 120,000 men, and 386 cannon; the Poles did not amount to 35,000. Paskevitch, after a vain attempt to treat with Krukowiecki, commenced the attack on the 6th of September 1831. All day the cannonading was kept up on both sides, and numbers fell. The superiority, however, was plainly on the side of the besiegers. The Polish dictator lost courage: at midnight, without consulting his colleagues in the government, he sent to demand a conference with Paskevitch. It was granted: and the consequence was, that a cessation of hostilities for eight hours was agreed to. The news spread through the city; and at ten o'clock next morning the diet assembled in great agitation. Krukowiecki's colleagues resigned, and a turbulent debate ensued, in which Krukowiecki and a few others endeavoured to convince the diet of the hopelessness of resistance, while the majority insisted that they should continue the defence of the city to the last. Meanwhile the armistice expired, and the firing recommenced. Thes only hope of the besieged lay in the return of Ramorino with the 20,000 men who had been sent into the neighbouring country for provisions. There was no appearance, however, of his return; and at four o'clock in the afternoon the diet again met to deliberate, while the flames were rising in various parts of the town. Krukowiecki gave in his resignation; but before it was accepted, Prondzynski, who had been sent to the Russian camp, returned, accompanied by the Muscovite general, Berg, who was empowered by Paskevitch to treat with the Poles. The Russian general had a long conference with Krukowiecki, at the end of which he departed, carrying with him the following letter of submission, addressed to the Emperor Nicolas :-"Sire-Commissioned at this moment to speak to your imperial and royal majesty in the name of the Polish nation, I address myself, through his Excellency Count Paskevitch d'Erivan, to your pa

ternal heart. In submitting unconditionally to your majesty, our king, the Polish nation knows that your majesty alone is competent to make the past forgotten, and to heal the deep wounds that have rent my country.-(Signed) The Count Krukowiecki, President of the government. Warsaw, September 7, six P.M.” When General Berg returned five hours afterwards to complete the treaty of capitulation, he found the members of the diet assembled in arms, and in a state of extraordinary excitement. He was informed that Krukowiecki was no longer president of the government, and that the agreement made with him was null and void. This, however, was the mere expiring spasm of Polish resolution; and on the morning of the 8th of September, the articles of capitulation were signed by Malachowski. The Poles were allowed forty-eight hours to quit the city; but the greater part were afterwards made prisoners by the Russians: a few fragments of the army, however, escaped out of Poland.

Such was the fall of Warsaw-such the end of Poland. The nation now lay prostrate at the mercy of the conqueror. It was hoped that Nicolas would be merciful of his own accord. Nicolas was not merciful. Hundreds of Poles who had taken part in the revolt were sent to labour in the mines of Siberia; many more to serve in the Russian armies of the Caucasus; and those who escaped scattered themselves over Europe and America, everywhere meeting with the commiseration and respect which are due to heroism and misfortune. The constitution of 1815 was formally annulled; the universities of Vilna and Warsaw, and many Polish seminaries, abolished; Polish libraries and museums were carried away to St Petersburg; and everything else done that could extinguish a national spirit.

We have thus sketched, as fully as our limits would permit, the history of Poland-a nation which commands our sympathy for its misfortunes, but also our blame for its manifold errors. The Poles must be convinced that their national degradation is due entirely to themselves, or, more correctly speaking, to their nobles. For these, taken in the mass, it is almost impossible to have any pity. In their later struggles there were, indeed, many redeeming traits of character; and the history of the few years of comparatively free government which Poland enjoyed under the Emperor Alexander, does give evidence that there was an inherent vitality in the nation which, in favourable circumstances, might have enabled it one day to assume an honourable place among the members of the European commonwealth. The hopes to which that glimpse of sunshine gave birth are now, we fear, dashed for ever. Travellers who have lately visited the country, speak of it as generally in an abject condition, utterly prostrated by conquest, nor daring any longer to cherish the hopes of national restoration. Henceforth, therefore, it may be expected to follow the fortunes of the vast empire to which it is annexed.

OM DRYSDALE and ANDREW COCHRAN were both sons of two respectable Scotch mechanics in Edinburgh; the one by trade a shoemaker, and the other a tailor. William, the father of Tom, had, after serving his apprenticeship, repaired to London, with the view of obtaining higher wages as a journeyman, and at the same time a more perfect knowledge of his business. Walter, the father of Andrew, after his apprenticeship, continued in the place of his nativity, and, previous to the return of William Drysdale from London, had commenced business for himself. As they were both industrious and respectable men in their conduct, and lived within a few doors of each other, an intimacy naturally took place; and, getting gradually forward in the world, both married much about the same time, and had each a son born in the same year. The intimacy between the fathers produced of course the like between the two boys; and when the time came when it was necessary to give them instruction, they were both sent to the same school, to attain reading, writing, and arithmetic. Although different in some

*The present tract is an abridgment of a work of the same name, by Hector Macneill, Esq., published in Edinburgh in 1812, and though popular at the time, now little seen.-Ed.

respects, the two boys were both good scholars, and met with the approbation of their teachers; for although one was quicker than the other, it enabled him not to get before the superior attention and perseverance of his competitor, who, with much less memory, and consequently readiness, excelled him not only in application, but in judgment. This difference in the progress of the two boys was partly occasioned by the different manner in which they were brought up by their respective fathers; for, while Walter Cochran contented himself with Andrew's executing things quickly, William Drysdale constantly inculcated this advice to his son Tom-never to do anything he was engaged in superficially. "The quicker you do it the better," he would say, "but never let quickness dispose you to put anything out of your hand without doing it well.”

When the two boys had mastered the elementary branches of instruction, Walter resolved on giving his son a classical education, by a course of study at the High School; such, in his opinion, being all that was desirable for personal accomplishment and advancement in life. William Drysdale, a shrewd, sagacious man, prudent and circumspect in his conduct, and, withal, possessed of an acuteness in his observations on men and manners, differed from his friend on this important subject. Without entertaining any enmity to Latin, and other branches of classical study, he felt it to be his duty to give his son an education of a more useful and practical kind-geography, and the use of the globes; plain and spherical trigonometry; geometry and algebra— these, with a perfect knowledge of English grammar, and instruction in the French language sufficient to enable him to prosecute it at any future period, as occasion might require, together with an excellent hand, and a thorough acquaintance with figures and accounts, William very justly conceived were much more beneficial than Latin or Greek, or anything that classical learning could afford in six tedious years at the High School. What was still more gratifying, and of infinite importance to a tradesman's son, the boy's progress was fully equal to the father's wishes and expectations, and everything mentioned accomplished in the course of three years. But perhaps the most beneficial part of Tom's education was the private instruction of his own father. Convinced of the importance of early impressions, he lost no opportunity to inculcate sound morals, and to imbue the young and ductile mind of his son with everything connected with principle, piety, and rectitude of conduct. For this purpose he selected proper books for his perusal during his evenings at home; and while Andrew Cochran was poring over his Rudiments, and conning his lesson at his father's fireside (who contented himself with constantly telling him "to be sure and get it weel by heart"), Tom was delightfully occupied and amused in reading to his parents stories and histories pregnant with entertainment and instruction, while his father commented on

different passages and descriptions, explaining what was difficult or abstruse, and moralising on what was impressive, serious, amiable, and respectable. By this means the boy not only advanced in useful knowledge and experience, but improved in genius, sentiment, and judgment; while he became the constant companion and delight of his parents. While his mind was imbued with knowledge, and impressed with serious admonition, his heart was warmly attached to the authors of his birth. Both parents were devout, and regularly attentive to the duties of Christianity; but it was that happy species of piety which is untinctured with superstitious gloom and austerity, and totally free from intolerance.

In due course of time young Drysdale, following the bent of his inclinations, was put apprentice to the business of a cabinetmaker and joiner; and to enable him the better to prosecute an art which might at some future period extend to other branches connected with it, his father very judiciously sent him to attend a private natural philosophy class, where, among other subjects of useful knowledge, an acquaintance with the powers of mechanics could not fail to be of material service.

During all this time Andrew Cochran was constantly occupied with his Latin exercises at the High School, where he certainly made no contemptible figure. By the help of his extraordinary memory, he soon surmounted the uninteresting and painful labours annexed to the elementary parts of an unknown language, which generally proves so irksome to boys at the commencement; in consequence of which he ere long outstripped his competitors, and became dux of his class. This, while it procured him the eulogiums of the teachers, operated so powerfully on the vanity of the delighted tailor and his wife, that they did nothing but expatiate on the wonderful genius and talents of their laddie to all their friends and acquaintance around, and looked forward to little less than a professor's chair as the ultimate reward of their son's celebrity. These sanguine expectations, however, were not permanent; for, as Andrew advanced farther, it was discovered by his teachers that some of those boys who at first were left far behind, were now not only approaching him, but treading fast on his heels. In fact, neither Andrew's taste nor judgment kept pace with his memory, and when he arrived at those parts of the language where both were necessary, it was found that nature had not been equally bountiful to him. His teachers did all they could to support their favourite, and maintain him in his wonted station, by explaining to him the principles of good composition, and illustrating passages in the best Roman authors where elegance was conspicuous, and by exemplifying the difference between refinement and vulgarity of style and phraseology; but these distinctions were so obscured from Andrew's sight, that little or nothing was perceived. All he could do was to get the approved passages by rote, and repeat them afterwards to incom