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And Weekly Review;

Forming an Analysis and General Repository of Literature, Philosophy, Science, Arts,
History, the Drama, Morals, Manners, and Amusements.

This Paper is published early every Saturday Morning, Price Sixpence; or 10d. if sent into the Country, Free of Postage, on the Day of Publication
Country and Foreign Readers may also be supplied with the unstamped-Edition in Monthly or Quarterly Parts.

No. 201.

LONDON, SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 1823.

Review of New Books.

Julian; a Tragedy in Five Acts. By MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 8vo. pp. 81. London, 1823.

Price 6d.

being heir to a kingdom, and that should
place the life of a father in jeopardy by I tell thee I have comfort.
elevation to a throne.
being the only person that opposed his

Ann. Oh, it was but a swoon! Listen, dear
Julian,

In justice to Miss Mitford, it must be
acknowledged that many of the scenes
in her play are highly dramatic; that in
which Julian relates to his wife Annabel,
his supposed murder of his father is
of this class. Annabel enquires if it is
certain that his father is dead:-
I saw him fall. The ground
Was covered with his blood.

Julian.

Annabel.

wound?

Tell me the tale.

Jul Annabel, in my eyes that scene will
dwell

WHEN an author has passed the or-
deal of the public, not only without
censure, but with decided approbation,
he has little to fear from any other cri-
ticisms. In this happy state of security,
the audience of last Saturday placed Miss
Mitford, and we not only have too much
gallantry, but too much respect for pub-
lic opinion also, to question the correct-Didst thou-I would not wantonly recall
ness of the general verdict in her favour. That scene of anguish-Didst thou search his
A successful tragedy too, is so great a
novelty in the present age, that we ought
rather to welcome it as a boon, than
to scrutinize it severely. Such being our
feeling, it may perhaps be expected that
we are prepared to give unqualified ap-
probation to Julian; but this our con-
science (for, as Rob Roy says, we have
such a thing about us,) forbids, and if
we acknowledge that the story of the play
is well told and interesting, that the pro-
gress of the action is regular, and the
incidents frequently striking, and that
the fair author has displayed a consi-
derable knowledge of stage effect, we
shall not, we trust, be deemed very spar-
ing of our praise; but when we say that
the language, though free from gross
faults, possesses little dignity, that the
sentiments are often common place, and
that the denouement is an evasion of
poetic justice, we express what we think
must be the feelings of every person who
reads the tragedy of ‘Julian.'

The

whole structure and language of the play are calculated for the stage only, and the effect, though perhaps somewhat too melo-dramatic, which was produced by action on the stage, is almost entirely lost in its perusal in the closet.

I

For ever, shutting out all lovely sights,
Even thee, my beautiful! That torturing
Will burn a living fire within my breast
thought
Perpetually; words can nothing add,
And nothing take away. Fear not my frenzy;
I am calm now. Thou know'st how buoyantly
darted from thee, straight o'er vale and hill,
Between the Albano mountains, I first breathed
Counting the miles by minutes. At the pass
A moment my hot steed, expecting still
To see the royal escort. Afar off
As I stood, shading with my hand my eyes,
thought I saw them; when at once I heard
Of mortal terror. Even in agony
From the deep glen, east of the pass, loud cries
I knew the voice, and darting through the trees
I saw Alfonso, prostrate on the ground,
A dagger over him in act to strike,
Clinging around the knees of one, who held
Yet with averted head, as if he feared
To see his innocent victim. His own face
Was hidden; till at one spring I plunged my

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sword

Into his side; then our eyes met, and he

That was the mortal blow!-screamed, and
stretched out

His hands. Falling and dying as he was,
He half rose up, hung speechless in the air,
And looked-Oh what had been the bitterest
To such a look!
Here, here. He died.

curse

Ann.

Jul.

It smote me like a sword!

And thou;

I could have lain

In another part of our journal we
have given the story, and although there
are many improbabilities in it; yet,
aware that the romance of real life is
often more extraordinary than fiction,
we shall leave it without comment; al-
though we cannot but remark, the sin-
gular loyalty which should bind a son to Remain upon the ground?
And did he, then, the unhappy,
prefer a boy prince, to the attraction of
Alas! he did.

In that dark glen for ever; but there stood
The dear-bought, and the dear kinsman and
prince
And friend. We heard the far-off clang of

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Rustling; one whispering voice. Annabel!
Constance.
Is he one word! Only one word!
Enter Annabel.

Ann.
He lives.'
A still more effective scene, and one
which displays an intimate knowledge
of human nature, and more practised'
dramatic skill than might be expected,
from any person but a veteran writer,
occurs in the interview between Julian
and his father Melfi, when the latter de-
clares his views on the throne. Melfi
proposes to send Julian to Madrid, and
with him the young king, who acts in
the capacity of his page:-

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And for a weak and peevish youth, a faintling,
A boy of a girl's temper; one who shrinks
Trembling and crouching at a look, a word,
A lifted finger, like a beaten hound.

Jul. Alas, poor boy! he hath no other friend Since thou, who should'st defend him-Father, father,

Three months have scarcely passed since thy dear brother,

(Oh, surely thou lovedst him!) with the last words

He ever spake, besought thy guardian care
Of his fair child. Next upon me he turned
His dying eyes, quite speechless then, and

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The unmatch'd in power, the unapproach'd in Of the stern Trappist, digging my own grave. fame;

What could that little word a king do more
For thee?

Melfi. That little word! Why that is fame,
And power and glory! That shall fill the world,
Lend a whole age its name, and float along
The stream of time, with such a buoyancy,
As shall endure when palaces and tombs
Are swept away like dust. That little word?
Beshrew thy womanish heart that cannol feel
Its spell! [Guns and shouts are heard without.
Hark! hark! the guns! I feel it now.
I am proclaimed. Before I entered here
'Twas known throughout the city that I lived,
And the boy-king was dead.

[Guns, bells, and shouts again. Hark, King Rugiero! Dost hear the bells, the shouts? Oh 'tis a proud And glorious feeling thus at once to live Within a thousand bounding hearts, to hear. The strong out-gushing of that present fame For whose uncertain dim futurity

Myself a living corse, cut off from the sweet
And natural kindness that man shews to man;

I'd rather hang, a hermit, on the steep
Of horrid Etna, between snow and fire;

Rather than sit a crown'd and honour'd prince
Guarded by children, tributaries, friends,
On an usurper's throne.
Melfi.

We'll talk of this anon.
Jul.

[Guns without.

I must away.
Where is the boy.
Safe.

Melfi. Trifle not with my impatience, Julian;
Produce the child. Howe'er thou may deny
Allegiance to the king, obey thy father.
Jul. I had a father.
Melfi.
Jul.

Ha!
But he gave up
Faith, loyalty, and honour, and pure fame,
And his own son.

Melfi. Jul.

My son!

I loved him once,

And dearly. Still too dearly! But with all That burning, aching, passionate, old love

Men toil and slay and die! Without a crime-Wrestling within my breast: even face to face;

I thank thee still for that-Without a crime-
For he'll be happier-I am a king.
[Shouts again.
Dost thou not hear Long live the King Rugiero?
Jul. The shout is weak.
Melfi.

Augment it by thy voice.

Those eyes upon me; and that trembling hand

Thrilling my very heart strings-Take it off!
In mercy take it off!-Still I renounce thee.
Thou hast no son. I have no father. Go
Down to a childless grave.
Melfi.
Cold as a dead man's shroud, shadowing thy

Even from the grave

Would the words choak Prince Julian? Cannot | A father's curse may reach thee, clinging to thee

he

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days,

Haunting thy dreams, and hanging, a thick cloud,

'Twixt thee and Heaven. Then, when per

chance thine own

Small prattling pretty ones shall climb thy knee And bid thee bless them, think of thy dead fa

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Did he? Am I that withered, blasted wretch?
Is that the fire that burns my brain? Not yet!
Oh do not curse me yet! He's gone. The boy!
The boy!
[Rushes out.

These extracts will be sufficient to show the talents of Miss Mitford as a dramatic writer, and we will not weaken their effect by quoting a less favourable passage.

Russia, being a Description of the Character, Manners, Customs, Dress, Diversions, and other Peculiarities of the different Nations inhabiting the Rus sian Empire. In four volumes. Illustrated with Seventy-two coloured Engravings. By FREDERIC SHOBERL. London, 1823.

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We suspect that we have only to say that the four volumes now before us, form one of the divisions of that elegant little work, The World in Miniature,' to create a very strong feeling in its favour with our readers. Of two or three of the preceding divisions of this work, we have already spoken in terms of strong but just commendation, and the four volumes of which Russia consists, present as strong claims to approbation as any of their predecessors. which disfigure so many works of this Avoiding the dry and husky details description, Mr. Shoberl's object appears to be, by a collection of facts and anecdotes, to give a faithful picture of the manners, customs, and amusements, which characterize the various classes of people, spreading over an empire twice as extensive as that of Europe, stretching from the Pacific to the Frozen Ocean and the Black Sea-from the most temperate to the most frigid climes.

Mr. Shoberl divides his work into five classes, or different nations, which constitute the Russian empire. These are the Slavonian, Finnish, Tartar, Mongol, and Mantchou nations, together with a mixture of those that are of uncertain origin, such as the Samoyedes, the Koraiks, the Kamtschadales, &c. These descriptions, which are illustrated by seventy-two coloured engravings, are preceded by an introduction, the progress of this mighty empire during which gives a general historical view of the last nine centuries. With a population so extensive and so heterogeneous, Russia presents people in every grade of civilization, from the rude barbarism of the untutored savage to the elegance of modern refinement, hence that variety which makes Mr. Shoberl's Russia' one of the most interesting portions of his very beautiful and popular work. Of the engravings, we cannot easily convey a good idea to our readers, für

ther than that they are neat and characteristic; but of the interest of the letter-press, we shall leave them to judge by the following extracts:

The Russian Carnival. The inhabitants of Petersburg pass the carnival in one continued whirl of merry-making. The streets are filled with men, women, and children, in their gala dresses, and the gay carriages and sledges of the nobility are ever passing and re-passing. As Lent is very strictly kept among the Russians, the people are resolved to enjoy pleasure in its utmost extravagance, before they are obliged to bid it a temporary farewell. This excess, however, is indulged in by the lower classes only, who are at this season seen intoxicated and perishing in the streets, sacrificed to their mad festivity. Such as survive this unrestrained debauch live very temperately during the fast, on herbs, pulse, honey, and fish fried in sil; their beverage, also miserably poor, being nothing but quass, a sort of meagre beer diluted with water.

the cumbersomeness of their dress, and the customary modes of this exercise, have never included any thing more pleasing to the eye than rapid notion.

"The sensation excited by the descent in a sledge is at first extremely painful, but after passing a few times through the keen air, it becomes exquisitely pleasurable.

Even private individuals raise such icehills in their gardens, and the ball-room is often forsaken for the pleasure of gliding down them. To render this amusement more easy and agreeable, large chairs are fixed on skates, and guided by a man standing behind, and also provided with skates. At night, these hills are illuminated with coloured lamps, which greatly heighten the effect of the scene.

'Round these hills are erected wooden stages or booths, in one of which is exhibited a collection of curious foreign animals; in another, rope-dancing; in a third, a puppet-show; in a fourth, phantasmagoria, and so on. The price of admission to these sights is so trifling, that every one may share in the general gaiety.

The Ice Hill. The principal amusement of the Russians during the cold season is the Ice Hill. At Petersburg, when the Neva is frozen over, a temporary stage of wood is erected about forty or 'fifty feet above the surface of the river, from the top of which is a steep descent, like the side of an abrupt rock. Against this are laid blocks of ice, which soon become a united mass, by means of torrents of water that are thrown along them, and harden in a few minutes. On the level, at about two hundred and fifty or three hundred yards distance, stands a simailar erection, only placed a little on one side, in order to leave a clear road for the "It is still the custom in several provinces sledges darting from the opposite stage. of Russia to personify the carnival, which is The people mount the first of these stages frequently represented by a Bacchus escortby means of a flight of steps in the rear, anded by satyrs and bacchanalians. They pafind at the top a sort of sledge, without pro-rade through the streets with a chariot built jections of any kind, but in shape and flat- for the occasion in a grotesque style. The ness like a butcher's tray, most fantastically principal personage is in general a buffoon and rudely ornamented with carving and co- or clown, who displays various sleight-oflours. This is placed on the margin of the hand tricks to amuse the people. Music declivity; the bearded native conductor and grotesque dancing are sometimes introseats himself upon it, very far back, his legs duced, and add much to the variety and extending in front perfectly straight. The pleasure of the entertainment. person to be conveyed takes his place before im in a similar attitude, and both remaining steady glide with inconceivable rapidity down the icy descent. The conductor bebind guides their course with his hands on the same principles as a vessel is steered, touching the contrary side to that on which he wishes to keep. To such nicety do they attain by practice, that they will steer round groups of upset persons without doing the smallest injury.

The nobility and gentry drive about in superb sledges; and the Empress Catherine was often seen riding here among her people. A very large rich sledge was constructed for that purpose, capable of containing the whole imperial family; to which were attached, by chains, fourteen or sixteen smaller sledges, following in pairs, for her majesty's suite. These sledges were drawn by twelve or fourteen handsome horses, magnificently caparisoned, and in the evening illuminated with coloured lamps.

Many go down in these sledges alone; and others, both men and women, on skates, flying forward in a perfectly upright position. Steadiness seems to be the chief accomplishment of the Russian skater, and the velocity of his motion the source of pleasure to the spectator. Here are not seen those graceful motions on the ice in which the skaters of other countries excel: not that the generality of men in this country are incapable of graceful attitudes; but

the occasion, in which each nation amused itself with its own music and dancing, producing thereby a curious confusion of

sounds.

Each had also a dinner prepared and served in its own fashion. The newmarried couple were finally conducted by this same escort to a palace of ice built on the Neva, where all the decorations and furniture were of ice, even to the bed, the chandeliers, and the pieces of cannon, which fired a salute on the arrival of the extraordinary procession, without bursting.'

Epicurism. The Luculluses and Apiciuses of Russia, however, would be exceedingly dissatified, if their tables were covered in winter with such provisions only as the convenience of transport in that season furnishes so abundantly. It is their greatest pride to surmount the difficulties of the climate, and to procure all those superfluities and luxuries which nature has been disposed to deny them. They strive, as it were, to cheat themselves into a belief that they reside in one of the southern countries of Europe. Hence they carry their daintiness to a much greater length than the inhabitants of temperate regions: cauliflowers, spinach, green peas, asparagus, cucumbers, salad herbs, and radishes, are much more common in winter on good tables in Petersburg than they are in London or Paris, with persons of equal rank and fortune. We cheerfully defer for a few weeks a treat which must be purchased at an enormous expense; while the Russians who, according to the regular course of things, would have to wait several months, spare nothing to overcome nature and to anticipate the order of the seasons.

In the month of January, a pound of French beans or green peas, for they are sold by weight, costs, at Petersburg, from twenty-five to thirty rubles, about six pounds sterling; and a single cucumber is sometimes sold for three or four rubles (from twelve to sixteen shillings).

"The nobles of Moscow are not less particular in regard to the supply of their tables: they have them covered in the depth of winter with the fruits of every climate ripened in hot-houses, and vegetables of all sorts produced by artificial culture. A constant heat is kept up by stoves in subterraneous garden's, from which the external air is carefully excluded. Green peas and asparagus are as common at Moscow about Christmas as potatoes and winter cabbages in other countries.'

Geographical Masquerade.-' On one of these occasions, the Empress Elizabeth gave an extraordinary spectacle, consisting of a sort of geographical masquerade. Several months previously to the carnival, she ordered the governors of the provinces to send from each to Petersburg two couple of inhabitants dressed in their national costume, Sunday Market at Moscow. The mar with the necessary accompaniments. Thus, ket on Sunday at Moscow is an entertaining during the carnival of the year 1754, per- spectacle. From five in the morning till sons belonging to more than forty different eight, the spacious Place de Gallitzin is nations were seen riding through the streets filled by a concourse of peasants and people of the capital-the Kamtschadales on of all classes, coming to buy or sell white sledges drawn by dogs; the Laplanders on peacocks, fan-tailed and other curious pisledges drawn by rein-deer; the Buchari-geons, dogs of all sorts for the sopha or the ans on camels; the Calmucks on oxen; the chase, singing-birds, poultry, guns, pistols, Circassians on the finest coursers; the In- in short, whatever chance or custom may dians on enormous elephants;-forming al- have rendered saleable. The sellers, extogether a picturesque group in the nuptial cepting in the market of singing-birds, procession of the empress's jester, who per- which is permanent and very large, have no sonated winter, and was drawn' by bears. shops, but remain with their wares either An immense gallery was built expressly for exposed upon stalls or hawking them about

by rattling beads on their tables of tangible
arithmetic, can make the birds sing at plea-
sure during the day; but nightingales are
heard throughout the night making the city
resound the melodies of the forest.

ed her father by the bed-side, flew out of the little room, and thence into the open air, with a palpitating bosom. She saw no fifiure; but, listening intensely, she heard the sound of hurried steps, which she instantly pursued. She soon caught sight of his shadow, and then discovered her father distractediy plunging down into one of the little broomy glens that intersected the slope of the hill. Onwards she flew as on wings, passionately calling upon him; but he was so lost in the multitude of the miserable thoughts within him, that he heard not his daughter's voice. Of his own accord he stopt abruptly in the little hollow which his children had named "The Lintwhite's Nest,"when Margaret, springing down the bank, haif on her knees, and half clinging round him, cried out,-“O father! father! my dearest father-come back-come back, I beseech you in the name of the Almighty; for my grandmother is dead, and my mother herself white as ashes, and as like death as the dear old woman!"

in their hands. On Easter-day in particular, this market is thronged with itinerant butchers, one of whom is represented in the opposite plate. It should be observed that there are no people who observe Lent with more scrupulous rigour than the Russians. 'The stalls of fruit and food in the streets Clarke informs us, that, while travelling of Moscow prove very beneficial to the from Petersburg to Moscow, if at any time health of the people. At these places they in poor cottages where the peasants appear-obtain a wholesale dinner for a few copecks ed to be starving, he offered them part of A plate of boiled rice, over which is poured bis dimer, they would shudder at the sight a little honey, here costs about a penny of it and cast it to the dogs; dashing out of English. In the spring they sell, at these their children's hands, as an abomination, stalls, apples, which they have a remarkable any food given to them, and removing every method of preserving through the winter; particle that might be left entirely from baked pears; salad, salted cucumbers, their sight. In drinking tea with a Cossack, which are antiscorbutic, and esteemed delihe not only refused to have milk in his cup, cious by Russians of every rank; wild berbut would not use a spoon that had been in ries; boiled rice; quass; honey, and mead. tea with milk, although wiped carefully in a As almost every eatable receives a formal napkin, until it had passed through scalding benediction from the priests before it is water. In proportion as this rigour has considered fit for use, no Russian will touch been observed, so much the more excessive any article of food until that ceremony has is the degree of gluttony and relaxation when taken place. A particular church is set the important intelligence, that "Christ is apart for the benediction of apples; and risen," has issued from the mouth of the this is not given until the first apple drops "The wretched man stood speechless, archbishop. The night before the cere- from the tree, which is brought in great but frowning. He had hoped that he had mony of the resurrection all the markets and form to the priests. A Mahommetan would escaped from the power of that dreadful shops of Moscow are filled with flesh, but sooner eat pork, than a Russian unconse-scene, and was left at liberty to rush into ter, eggs, pigs, poultry, and every kind of crated fruit.' destruction. But as he flew, in distraction, viand. The opposite plate represents one from his mother's curse, he was arrested by of the venders of poultry and feathered his daughter's blessing. The dear, soft, game in appropriate costume. The crowd white, and tender arms of his first-born twined round him-her pale weeping face loving creature's voice penetrated into the was fixed upon him—and the innocent and utter darkness of his soul. He kissed her many times, and held her long unto his heart, that it might feel the last close pressure of that boson which had never cherished one unfilial thought, and which he was now going to leave unprotected amongst all the misery and wickedness of an afflicted and reckless world. And who had cursed him? His own mother, whom, upon the day his father died, he had taken under just and natural protection. The very words, which she had calmly spoken on that day by the bed-side of her dead husband, now recurred to him with horrible distinctness

of purchasers is immense. There is scarce

ly a foot passenger, who has not his hands, nay, his arms filled with provisions, or a single droschki, that is not ready to break down under their weight.

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But to return to the Sunday market at Moscow. The pigeon-feeders are distinguished in the midst of the mob by long white wands, which they carry to direct the pigeons in their flight. The nobles take great delight in these birds: and a favourite pair will sell at from five to ten rubles. It is astonishing to see the feeders, by way of exhibiting their birds, let them fly and recover them again at pleasure. The principal recommendation of the pigeons consist in their rising to a great height by a spiral curve, all flying one way and following each other. When a bird does not keep the line of curvature which the others take, the feeder whistles, waves his wand, and its course is immediately changed. During such exhibitions, the nobles stake their money in wagers, betting on the height to which a pigeon will ascend, and the number of curves it will make in so doing.

In this market, Dr. Clarke fell into a singular mistake. Seeing several stalls apparently covered with wheat, he approached to examine its quality, but was surprised to find that it was in reality heaps of large ants' eggs. Near the same stalls were tubs full of pismires, crawling among the eggs and over the persons of those who sold them. Both the eggs and the ants are brought for sale as food for nightingales, which are favourite though common birds in Russian houses, where they sing in every respect as beautifully as in their native woods. The price of one of them in full song is about fifteen rubles. The Russians,

The description of the inhabitants of the less-known parts of the Russian empire is very interesting, and we shall future number; but, for the present, probably return to these volumes in a we must take our leave, with assuring our readers, that they will find them rich in light and amusing reading, and that they would form an elegant present for such sighing lovers as are hesitating how best to bribe their way into the good graces of their mistresses.

The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay. By
the Author of Lights and Shadows

of Scottish Life.'

(Concluded from p. 161.)

WE left Walter Lyndsay, the father of
Margaret, in prison, on a charge of
treason. Edwards, to his other office of
a spy, sought to add that of a seducer,
and this was one, of the early trials
through which Margaret Lyndsay passed.
Walter Lyndsay was not, however,
brought to trial, it having been disco-
vered that he was the dupe of design-
ing men in a superior station. Walter,
on being released from prison, did not
return to Braehead, but went to a wo-
man with whom he had formed a connec-
tion, resolving to quit the country with
her. He first, however, determined to
bid farewell to his family, and if the
scene had been half as affecting as our
author has described it, the man must
have had a heart of stone, who could
still pursue his unhallowed course. He
however, quits Braehead:-

"Margaret Lyndsay, as soon as she miss

words of love and gratitude-and his own truly filial reply. Was he the same man? And how had Satan entered into and corrupted his heart, till all its best and most deeply-rooted feelings were tainted and withered-root, leaf, branch, and stem-and his whole being given over to profligacy and perdition? He glared upon the creature before him and scarce could believe that it was his sweet daughter Margaret-whom he had loved so entirely-whom he yet loved, not as before, but distractedly, and with the passion of a lost madman; and first stamping upon the ground, and then softly laying his quivering hand upon her head, he muttered,

"Go back, go back, Margaret, and I will follow by and by, a friend is to meet me here whom you must not see-Go back, and tell your mother that I will return to Braehead." Margaret withdrew from his embrace, and, almost incredulous, kept her beseeching eyes fixed upon him; for the lie of his heart dushed his countenance with the

sallow hue of falsehood, and he trembled from head to foot. He knew that he was deceiving her in whom there was no deceit -deserting her whom God had given breaking for ever the bonds which love, virtue, and religion, have made most holy; and all this for the sake of a passion that was almost unmixed misery, and wholly unmixed guilt, for the sake of a being abandoned and excommunicated, whose beauty was a bane, and whose affection had blighted both his and her hopes in this world and the world

to come.

side of the chimney. Before she had time
or courage to speak, her shadow fell upon
his eyes, and he looked towards her with
strong visible surprize, and, as she thought,
with slight d spleasure. "Ye hae got off
your road, I'm thinking, young woman,
what seek you here?" Margaret asked re-
spectfully if she might sit down.
Aye,
aye, ye may sit down, but we keep nae re-
freshment here-this is no a public house.
There's ane a mile west in the Clachan"
The old man kept looking upon her, and with
a countenance somewhat relaxed from its
inhospitable austerity. Her appearance did
not work as a charm or a spell, for she was
no enchantress in a fairy tale; but the tone
of her voice, so sweet and gentle, the sere-
nity of her face, and the meekness of her
manner, as she took her seat upon a stool
not far from the door, had an effect upon
old Daniel Craig, and he bade her come
forward, and take a chair "farther ben the
house."

I am a sinne Fair fa' your bonny faceI'll make the bed soft and sweet, if feathersand thyme sprigs will do't," and forthwith set about her business.'

In the house of Mr. Craig, Margaret had many suitors. Here, she is visited by her brother Laurence; and Daniel Craig, when on his death bed, leaves the two the whole of his property: Margaret to have Nether Place, (his house) and 10001., and Laurence the rest of the property. Among the suitors of Margaret was the Reverend Æneas M'Tagsermons, but wooed in vain, aud she gart of Drumluke, who wooed her in his marries Ludovic Oswald, a wounded ensign who afterwards proves to have a wife and our children living. His first wife dies, and he returns penitent to Margaret, by whom he has two children. He dies also, and Margaret is left a widow, not to be destined for a long life here, but an eternity of bliss hereafter. We have alluded to Mr. MTaggart, and we cannot withhold an extract in which he figures so characteristically :

'He was considered hy himself and some others to be the best preacher in the synod; and, since Daniel Craig's death, had contrived to hold forth more than once in the kirk of Casterton. He was very oratorically disposed; and had got the gold medal at

Margaret knew not, could not know, all the convulsions in her father's heart. But she knew that he whom she had always bonoured, revered, and yet loved with yearning tenderness, was afflicted with a strange sorrow, and abandoned to some incomprehensible sin. She watched his changing countenanec she hung upon the contortions of his frame-and the glitter of his eyes, and the groans that heaved his breast. Again she rushed into his embrace, and sob- "I am an orphan, and have, perhaps, bed out the name of her mother, and Esther, but little claim upon you, but I have venand poor Marian-and then implored and tured to come here-my name is Margaret beseeched him, by her own love and her Lyndsay, and my mother's name was Alice own grief, and by all the undeserved kind-Craig." The old man moved upon his ness and fondness he had always shown chair, as if a blow had struck him, and lookher-at meals—at prayer-and in her bed, ed long and earnestly into her face. Her when he came every night to kiss ber,-to features confirmed her words. Her counreturn to his house, and to be happy, in tenance possessed that strong power over spite of all the misery that had ever afflicted him that goes down mysteriously through him, with her mother and them all, who the generations of perishable man, connectwould live and die for him,-for him who ing love with likeness, so that the child in had supported them all, and who had ever its cradle may be smiling almost with the been and ever would be the best and most self-samne expression that belonged to some loving of all fathers.' Glasgow College" for the best specimen one of its forefathers mouldered into ashes of elocution. This medal he generally carHad not the abandoned woman, to many hundred years ago. "Nae doubt, ried in his pocket, and be had favoured whom Walter had devoted himself, just nae doubt, ye are the daughter o' Walter Miss Lyndsay with a sight of it once in the appeared, he might perhaps have re- Lyndsay and Alice Craig. Never were two Manse, and once when they were alone turned to his home. Distress now faces mair unlike than their's, yet your's is eating gooseberries in the garden of Netherpoured on the fatherless family apace. like them baith. Margaret-that is your Place. The only thing very peculiar in his They were compelled to leave their name-I give you my blessing. Hae you enunciation was a burr,, which might, on house, and take refuge in a narrow lane walked far? Mysie's doun at the Rashy-first hearing, have subjected him to the in the capital, where, by teaching a lit-riggs wi' milk to the calf, but will be in imputation of being a Northumbrian; the school, they obtained a livelihood. shake o' your uncle's hand." belyve. Come, my honny bairn, take a then there was an indescribably ascending A series of calamities follow: Walter tone in his speech, running up eagerly to the top of a sentence, like a person in a hurry. Lyndsay dies, miserably, away from his to the head of a stair-case, that clenched family, his wife does not long survive him, two of the children also die, and Laurence, who had been to sea, and Margaret are the only members of the family left.

Margaret told, in a few words, the principal events of the last three years as far as she could, and the old man, to whom they had been almost all unknown, heard her story with attention, but said little or nothing. Meanwhile Mysie came in an elShe is taken into the faderly, hard-featured woman, but with an exmily of a Mrs. Wedderburn, where dark face not unpleasant. pression of homely kindness, that made her She was the she remains until the son and heir only servant, and after the first surprise, to this ancient house falls in love did quietly what she was bid, and set out with her, and offers her his hand; the evening-meal. While Daniel Craig she determines on leaving the place, closed his eyes, and lifted up his hands to and proceeds to the west, where she bless it, Margaret could not but think the obtains a domicile with Daniel Craig, grey-headed man, in spite of the character her uncle; when she reached the heart that might incline towards her, and she had casually heard of him, must have a house, she stood for a few minutes ir- she partook cheerfully of what was set beresolute and apprehensive of an unkind fore her, and with a good appetite after her reception:niel told the servant, who had ate at the long journey. When supper was over, Dasame board, to get ready the bed for the young woman,for my niece, Margaret Lyndsay." Mysie held up her hands with pleasure. "The dochter of Elspy Craig, as

At last she found heart, and the door of the house being open, Margaret walked iu, and stood on the floor of the wide low-roofed kitchen. An old man was sitting, as if half asleep, in a high-backed arm-chair, by the

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him at once às a native of Paisley, born of
parents from about Tynedrum in Breadal-
bane. Mr. McTaggart was a moral preacher;
and he had one sermon upon sympathy,
which he had delivered before the commis
sioner, wherein were touches equal, or in-
deed superior, to any thing in Logan-and
no wonder, for they were in a great measure
attributable to Adam Smith. This cele-
brated sermon did the pious Encas pour
forth, with mixed motives, to the congrega-
tion of Casterton; and ever and anon he
laid his hand upon his heart, and looked to-
loft, on the left-hand side of the pulpit.
wards a pew near the window beneath the

structive exhibition, Mr. McTaggart, with
A few days after this judicious and in-
up to the door of Nether-Place, like a man
both medal and sermon in his pocket, rode
bent on bold and high emprize. Mysic was
half-afraid to lead his steed to the stable
for he was an exceedingly formidable look-
ing animal, greatly above the usual stature

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