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why might we not see among them orators, statesmen, poets, and warriors? Educate them on the system of Lancaster, Hamilton, or Sheriff Wood, and we feel certain that many of them would make the best wranglers of Cambridge and Oxford look to their laurels.

Without farther preface, we shall present our readers with a few amusing extracts from this work, the whole of which we have read with the highest satisfaction. Our first quotation treats of

THE ENGLISH GREYHOUND.

"We owe much of the superiority of our present breed of greyhounds to the perseverance and judgment of the late Earl of Oxford, of Houghton in Norfolk; and it is supposed he obtained the great depth of chest and strength of his breed from crossing with the bull-dog. At his death his greyhounds were sold by auction, and some of his best were purchased by Colonel Thornton; from one of them, Claret, which was put to a favourite bitch of Major Topham's, was produced the best greyhound that ever appeared, Snowball; although, indeed, he was nearly equalled by his brothers, Major and Sylvia, who were all of the same litter. They were never beaten, and may be considered as examples of the most perfect greyhound. The shape, make, elegant structure, and other characteristics of high blood, were equally distinguishable in all the three; the colour of Snowball was a jet-black, and, when | in good running condition, was as fine in the skin as black satin. Major and Sylvia were singularly, but beautifully, brindled. Snowball won ten large pieces of silver plate, and upwards of forty matches, his master having accepted every challenge, whatever might be the dogs of different counties which were brought against him. His descendants have generally been equally successful. The last match run by this celebrated dog was against the famous greyhound Speed, the property of Hall Plumber, Esq. of Bilton Park, in the West Riding of Yorkshire. He gained the match; and so severe was the run, that Speed died soon after it. This terminated the career of Snowball's public coursing, as the owner, in consideration of his age, then declared he should never run another. This dog was perhaps the fleetest of his race that ever ran, and, like the Flying Childers, which was the swiftest of horses, may never be outstripped in rapidity of movements."-Pp. 109, 110.

One of the most placid, obedient, serene, and grateful members of the canine race, is the shepherd's dog, whose greatest delight seems to be when he is employed in any kind of useful service. Captain Brown has given many anecdotes of this animal's instinctive propensity to industry, and inviolable fidelity; but we have room for only one, which, we believe, has been supplied by Mr Hogg:

THE SHEPHERD'S DOG.

“Mr Steel, flesher in Peebles, had such an implicit dependence on the attention of his dog to his orders, that, whenever he put a lot of sheep before her, he took a pride in leaving them to herself, and either remained to take a glass with the farmer of whom he had made the purchase, or took another road, to look after bargains or other business. But one time he chanced to commit a drove to her charge at a place called Willenslee, without attending to her condition as he ought to have done. This farin is five miles from Peebles, over wild hills, and there is no regularlydefined path to it. Whether Mr Steel remained behind, or chose another road, I know not; but, on coming home late in the evening, he was astonished at hearing that his faithful animal had not made her appearance with the flock. He and his son, or servant, instantly prepared to set out by different paths in search of her; but, on their going out to the street, there was she coming with the drove, no one missing; and, marvellous to relate, she was carrying a young pup in her mouth! She had been taken in travail on those hills; and how the poor beast had contrived to manage the drove in her state of suffer

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ing, is beyond human calculation, for her road lay through sheep the whole way. Her master's heart smote him when he saw what she had suffered and effected: but she was nothing daunted, and having deposited her young one in a place of safety, she again set out full speed to the hills, and brought another and another, till she removed her whole litter one by one; but the last one was dead. I give this as I have heard it related by the country people; for though I knew Mr Walter Steel well enough, I cannot say I ever heard it from his own mouth. I never entertained any doubt, however, of the truth of the relation; and certainly it is worthy of being preserved, for the credit of that most docile and affectionate of all animals, -the shepherd's dog."-Pp. 159, 160.

But, in a state of purity, and uncontaminated, by a mixture with any inferior race, the Newfoundland dog is unquestionably the noblest of all. His docility, his sagacity, his anxiety to excel, the pliability of his temper, his fidelity, and activity, are all conspicuous. We select, though almost at random, a few of our author's anecdotes, illustrative of this animal's character. No one can read them without feeling that the Newfoundland dog has a right to be viewed as a friend and fellow-creature.

ANECDOTES OF THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. "There is another remarkable instance which also came

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under the observation of the owner of the dog just mentioned. One of the magistrates of Harbour-Grace had an old animal of this kind, which was in the habit of carrying a lantern before his master at night, as steadily as the most attentive servant could do, stopping short when he made a stop, and proceeding when he saw him disposed to follow. If his owner was from home, as soon as the lantern was fixed to his mouth, and the command given, Go, fetch thy master,' he would imme diately set off, and proceed directly to the town, which lay at a distance of more than a mile from the place of his residence. When there, he stopped at the door of every house which he knew his master was in the habit of frequenting; and, laying down his lantern, would growl and beat at the door, making all the noise in his power, until it was opened. If his owner was not there, he would proceed farther in the same manner, until he found him. If he had accompanied him only once into

a house, this was sufficient to induce him to take that house in his round."-P. 206.

"A gentleman residing in the city of London was going one afternoon to his country cottage, accompanied by Cæsar, a favourite Newfoundland dog, when he recollected that he had the key of a cellaret, which would be wanted at home during his absence. Having accustomed his dog to carry things, he sent him back with the key; the dog executed his commission, and afterwards rejoined his master, who discovered that he had been fighting, and was much torn about the head. The cause he afterwards learned on his return to town in the evening. Cæsar, while passing with the key, was attacked by a ferocious dog belonging to a butcher, against which he made no resistance, but tore himself away without relinquishing his charge. After delivering the key in town, he returned the same way, and, on reaching the butcher's shop from which he had been assailed, he stopped and looked out for his antagonist; the dog again sallied forth,

-Cæsar attacked him with a fury which nothing but revenge for past wrongs could have inspired, nor did he quit his enemy until he had laid him dead at his feet.”— Pp. 208, 209.

"Mr M'Intyre, patent-mangle manufacturer, Regent Bridge, Edinburgh, has a dog of the Newfoundland breed, crossed with some other, named Dandie, whose sagacious qualifications are truly astonishing, and almost incredible. As the animal continues daily to give the most striking proofs of his powers, he is well known in the neighbourhood, and any person may satisfy himself of the reality of those facts, many of which the writer has himself had the pleasure to witness.

"When Mr M. is in company, how numerous soever may be, if he but say to the dog, Dandie, bring me my hat,' he immediately picks out the hat from all the others, and puts it in his master's hands. A pack of cards being scattered in the room, if his master has previously selected one of them, the dog will find it out and bring it to him.

“One evening, some gentlemen being in company, one of them accidentally dropped a shilling on the floor, which, after the most careful search, could not be found. Mr M. seeing his dog sitting in a corner, and looking as if quite unconscious of what was passing, said to him, 'Dandie, find us the shilling, and you shall have a biscuit.' The dog immediately jumped upon the table and laid down the shilling, which he had previously picked up without having been perceived.

*"One time having been left in a room in the house of Mrs Thomas, High Street, he remained quiet for a considerable time; but as no one opened the door, he became impatient, and rang the bell; and when the servant opened the door, she was surprised to find the dog pulling the bell-rope. Since that period, which was the first time he was observed to do it, he pulls the bell whenever he is desired; and what appears still more remarkable, if there is no bell-rope in the room, he will examine the table, and if he finds a hand-bell, he takes it in his mouth and rings it.

"Mr M. having one evening supped with a friend, on his return home, as it was rather late, he found all the family in bed. He could not find his boot-jack in the place where it usually lay, nor could he find it anywhere in the room, after the strictest search. He then said to his dog, Dandie, I cannot find my boot-jack,-search The faithful animal, quite sensible of what had been said to him, scratched at the room-door, which his master opened-Dandie proceeded to a very distant part of the house, and soon returned, carrying in his mouth the boot-jack, which Mr M. now recollected to have left that morning under a sofa.

for it.'

“A number of gentlemen, well acquainted with Dandie, are daily in the habit of giving him a penny, which he takes to a baker's shop, and purchases bread for himself. One of these gentlemen, who lives in James's Square, when passing some time ago, was accosted by Dandie, in

expectation of his usual present. Mr T. then said to

him, I have not a penny with me to-day, but I have one at home.' Having returned to his house some time after, he heard a noise at the door, which was opened by the servant, when in sprang Dandie to receive his penny. In a frolic Mr T. gave him a bad one, which he, as usual, carried to the baker, but was refused his bread, as the money was bad. He immediately returned to Mr T.'s, knocked at the door, and when the servant opened it, laid the penny down at her feet, and walked off, seemingly with the greatest contempt.

"Although Dandie, in general, makes an immediate purchase of bread with the money which he receives, yet the following circumstance clearly demonstrates that he possesses more prudent foresight than many who are reckoned rational beings.

"One Sunday, when it was very unlikely that he could have received a present of money, Dandie was observed to bring home a loaf. Mr M. being somewhat surprised at this, desired the servant to search the room to see if any money could be found. While she was engaged in this task, the dog seemed quite unconcerned till we approached the bed, when he ran to her, and gently drew her back from it. Mr M. then secured the dog, which kept struggling and growling while the servant wont under the bed, where she found 74d. under a bit of cloth; but from that time he never could endure the girl, and was frequently observed to hide the money in a corner of a saw-pit, under the dust.

“When Mr M. has company, if he desire the dog to see any one of the gentlemen home, it will walk with

him till he reach his home, and then return to his master, how great soever the distance may be."-Pp. 218-22. "The late Rev. James Simpson of the Potterrow congregation, Edinburgh, had a large dog of the Newfoundland breed. At that time he lived at Libberton, a distance of two miles from Edinburgh, in a house to which was attached a garden. One sacrament Sunday the servant, who was left at home in charge of the house, thought it a good opportunity to entertain her friends, as her master and mistress were not likely to return home till after the evening's service, about nine o'clock. During the day, the dog accompanied them through the garden, and indeed every place they went, in the most attentive manner, and seemed well pleased. In the evening, when the time arrived that the party meant to separate, they proceeded to do so, but the dog, the instant they went to the door, interposed, and placing himself before it, would not allow one of them to touch the handle. On their persisting and attempting to use force, he became furious"; and in a menacing manner drove them back to the kitchen; where he kept them until the arrival of Mr and Mrs Simpson, who were surprised to find the party at so late an hour, and more so to see the dog standing sentinel over them. Being thus detected, the servant acknowledged the whole circumstances, and her friends were allowed to depart, after being admonished by the worthy divine in regard to the proper use of the Sabbath. They could not but consider the dog as instrumental in the hand of Providence to point out the impropriety of spend ing this holy day in feasting rather than in the duties of religion."-Pp. 227-8.

A circumstance, indicative of the sagacity of a Newfoundland dog, has come under our own observation, which is perhaps worth stating:-In his early youth, the dog to which we allude had been called Hector, but passing into the possession of a new master, he was re-baptised Nero. He soon got not only reconciled to his new name, but much fonder of it than his old one, seeing that his master preferred it; and what we consider remarkable, is, that when any one, either through mistake or ignorance, still called him Hector, he never failed to testify his displeasure by growling, and sometimes even by more active measures. It was plain that he did not agree with Shakspeare in thinking there was no value in a name.

We subjoin three miscellaneous anecdotes, which are curious, though not more so than many others we are obliged

to omit :

A DRAMATIC POODLE.

"My friend Robert Wilkie, Esq. of Ladythorn, in the county of Northumberland, had a black Poodle, which he had instructed to go through the agonies of dying in a When he was ordered to die, he very correct manner. would tumble over on one side, and then stretch himself out, and move his hind legs in such a way as expressed that he was in great pain; first slowly, and afterwards very quick; and after a few convulsive throbs, indicated by putting his head and whole body in motion, he would stretch out all his limbs and cease to move, as if he had expired, lying on his back, with his legs turned upwards. In this situation he remained motionless till he had his master's commands to get up.”—P. 218.

A PUZZLING DILEMMA.

"There was a French dog which was taught by his master to execute various commissions, and, among others, to fetch him victuals from the traiteurs in a basket. One evening, when the dog was returning to his master thus furnished, two other dogs, attracted by the savoury smell of the petits pâtés that this new messenger was carrying, determined to attack him. The dog put his basket on the ground, and set himself courageously against the first that advanced; but while he was engaged with the one assailant, the other ran to the basket, and began to help himself. At length, seeing that there was no chance of beating both the dogs, and saving his master's dinner, he

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threw himself between his two opponents, and, without further ceremony, quickly dispatched the petits pâtés himself, and then returned to his owner with the empty basket."-P. 472.

THE PLAYER'S WIG.

"Mr C. Hughes, a son of Thespis, had a wig which generally hung on a peg in one of his rooms. He one day lent the said article to a brother player, and some time after called on him. Mr Hughes had his dog with him, and the other happened to have the borrowed wig on his head. The actor staid a little while with his friend, but, when he left him, the dog remained behind. For some time he stood looking the player full in the face, then, making a sudden spring, leaped on his shoulders, seized the wig, and ran off with it as fast as he could; and, when he reached home, he endeavoured, by jumping, to hang it up in its usual place.

"The same dog was one afternoon passing through a field in the skirts of Dartmouth, where a washerwoman had hung out her linen to dry. He stopped and surveyed one particular shirt with attention, then seizing it, he dragged it away through the dirt to his master, whose property it proved to be."-P. 476.

The appendix is not the least, and the wood-cuts certainly not the most, valuable part of this work. We recommend it heartily to all those who take an interest in an animal, which, in the words of Lord Byron, possesses beauty without vanity-strength without insolence-courage without ferocity-and all the virtues of man without his vices."

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Sermons, by the late Rev. John Campbell, D. D., one of the Ministers of the Tolbooth Church, Edinburgh; with an Appendix, containing some Minor Theological Pieces. To which is prefixed, the Sermon preached on the occasion of his Death, by the Rev. Robert Lorimer, LL.D., one of the ministers of Haddington. Edinburgh. Waugh and Innes. 8vo. 1829.

edness of the Christian.
To these is added an Appen-
dix, containing some theological tracts on various sub-
jects, found among Dr Campbell's papers.

Dr Campbell, like his colleague, Dr Davidson, who
died a very short time before him, was a theologian and
a preacher of a somewhat antiquated, but highly respect-
able school. His life was pious, unostentatious, and se-
rene,-passed in virtue and benevolence; his death was
peaceful and affecting. From a note furnished by his
friend Dr Lorimer, the excellent and able editor of these
Sermons, we obtain the following simple particulars.
Dr Campbell 66
was born May 24, 1758, at Glasgow,
and educated at the University of that city; licensed to
preach the Gospel, August 1781; ordained minister of
Kippen, May 8, 1783; translated to Edinburgh, Octo-
ber 1805; appointed secretary of the Society for propa-
gating Christian Knowledge, January 1806; chosen mo-
derator of the General Assembly, May 1818; died Au-
gust 30, 1828,"—thus having obtained the 70th year of
his age, after a life of piety and peace.

Dr Lorimer of Haddington performed the last tribute to his departed friend, by preaching his funeral sermon in the Tolbooth Church, Edinburgh, on the 7th of September, 1828, being the Sunday after Dr Campbell's in

terment.

generous

This sermon, which is entitled "Christ's Dominion over Death and the Invisible World," begins the volume, and has been inserted by particular request. We regret that our limits will not permit us to select a few passages from it. Dr Lorimer is well known as an able, eloquent, and indefatigable minister, and his name is honourably connected with every humane and institution in the vicinity of Haddington, pointing him out as the enlightened friend of science and education. His diligent and faithful editorship of the volume of Sermons now before us, entitles him to much praise; and Dr Campbell's friends will ill acquit themselves, and will be considered wanting in respect for the memory of their late venerable minister, if these Sermons do not soon see a second edition.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

THE PAINS AND TOILS OF AUTHORSHIP.

By the Editor of the Inverness Courier, and of the Poetry of Milton's Prose.

INDEPENDENTLY of the labour requisite to supply the staple materiel of genius or learning, the craft of authorship would seem to be by no means so easy of practice as is generally imagined. Almost all our works, whether of knowledge or of fancy, have been the product of much intellectual exertion and study, or, as it is better expressed by the poet,

"The well-ripened fruits of wise delay."

WHILE the volume before us, as being a memorial of a truly good man, and a most zealous minister, will be duly appreciated by those connected with the congregation over which Dr Campbell presided, as well as by his numerous friends in the church, it is at the same time well worthy of a serious perusal, by all who are interested in the elucidation of Christian truth. The Sermons, as was to be expected, from Dr Campbell's reputation as a preacher and theologian, are faithful, earnest, and affectionate discourses on the Gospel; and as such, written with all that warmth of feeling and genuine devotion which characterized their venerable author. Though this is a posthumous publication, and contains only two sermons by Dr Campbell which were ever before printed, one of which is the tenth, entitled "The Acclamation of the Redeemed," a truly admi- Pope published nothing until it had been a year or two rable discourse, (preached in London in 1808, before the beside him, and even then his printers' sheets were full London Missionary Society,) Dr Lorimer, neverthe- of alterations; and, on one occasion, Dodsley, his publess, informs us, that, posthumous as they are, they do lisher, thought it better to reprint the whole than attempt not labour under all the disadvantages which usually at- the necessary corrections. Goldsmith considered four tend writings of this description, as the author had, for lines a-day good work, and was seven years in beating some time before his death, intended to publish them, out the pure gold of the Deserted Village. Hume wrote and they were fairly written out for this purpose. The his delightful history on a sofa, (not much of a "task" to volume will recall to the recollection of many the in- him,) but he went on silently correcting every edition structions and the admonitions they were wont to hear till his death. Robertson used to write out his sentences from its venerable author; while it will edify and on small slips of paper, and, after rounding and polishing strengthen the faith of all in the doctrines of the Gospel. them to his satisfaction, he entered them in a book, which, The Sermons are eleven in number. 1. The Christ- in its turn, underwent considerable revision. Burke had ian's Confidence. 2. The Christian's preparation for all his principal works printed two or three times at a Duty and Trial. 3. God the Portion of his People. 4. private press before submitting them to his publisher. The Way of obtaining Peace with God. 5. Children Akenside and Gray were indefatigable correctors, labourencouraged to come to Jesus. 6. The Gospel preached ing every line; and so was our more prolix and imagito the Poor. 7. The Faithful Minister's Character and native poet, Thomson. I have compared the first edition Reward. 8. Jesus Christ the First and the Last. 9. of the Seasons with the last corrected one, and am able Christ having the Keys of Hell and of Death. 10. The to state, that there is scarcely a page which does not bear Acclamation of the Redeemed. 11. The future Bless-evidence of his taste and industry. Johnson think

In the quarto edition of Gertrude of Wyoming, when the poet collected and reprinted his minor pieces, this lofty sentiment is thus stultified :—

"Shall victor exult in the battle's acclaim,

Or look to yon heaven from the death-bed of fame." The original passage, however, was wisely restored in the subsequent editions,

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Allan Cunningham unfortunately corrects but little ; his gay and gorgeous genius requires the curb of prudence, excepting, perhaps, in his imitations of the elder lyrics, which are perfect centos of Scottish feeling and poesy. I see, by the Edinburgh Literary Journal, that the Ettrick Shepherd is disposed to place the credit of the "Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song" to the genius of Allan; and he is right. Their publication, as Remains," may have been " a fraud," (as Mr Jeffrey terms it,) but so was the Castle of Otranto-so were the strains of Chatterton—the “Vision” of Allan Ramsay— the sentimental prefaces of the Man of Feeling-and a thousand other productions. The origin of the Remains was as follows:-When a very young man, Mr Cunningham, by the side of his father's fire in the winter evenings, wrote some of the sweetest of his Scottish songs. These were shown to Cromek, when in Dumfries, by a

they lost much of their raciness under this severe regimen, but they were much improved in fancy and delicacy. The episode of Musidora, the "solemnly-ridiculous bathing scene," as Campbell justly describes it, was almost entirely re-written, the poet having originally peopled the "refreshing stream" with three inamoratos. Two of our most ambitious authors, Johnson and Gibbon, were the least laborious in arranging their thoughts for the press. Gibbon sent the first and only manuscript of his stupendous work to his printer; and Johnson's high-sounding sentences, which rise and fall like an Æolian harp or cathedral organ, were written almost without an effort. Both, however, lived and moved, as it were, in the world of letters, thinking or caring of little else, one in the heart of busy London, which he dearly loved, and the other in his silent retreat at Lausanne. Dryden wrote hurriedly, to provide for the day that was passing over him, and, consequently, had little time for correction; but his Absalom and Achitophel, and the beautiful imagery of the Hind and Panther, must have been fostered with parental care. St Pierre copied his Paul and Virginia nine times, that he might render it the more perfect. Rousseau exhibited the utmost coxcombry of affection for his long-cherished productions. The amatory epistles, in his new Heloise, he wrote on fine gilt-relative of the bard; but they found no favour in the eyes edged card paper, and, having folded, addressed, and sealed them, he opened and read them in his solitary walks in the woods of fair Clarens, with the mingled enthusiasm of an author and lover. (Wilkie and his models the “timmer mannies," as an Aberdeenshire virtuoso styled them—are nothing to this.) Sheridan watched long and anxiously for a good thought, and, when it did come, he was careful to attire it suitably, and to reward it with a glass or two of wine. Burns composed in the open air, the sunnier the better; but he laboured hard, and with almost unerring taste and judgment, in correcting his pieces. His care of them did not cease with publication. I have seen a copy of the second edition of his poems with the blanks filled up, and numerous alterations made, in the poet's handwriting: one instance, not the most delicate, but perhaps the most amusing and characteristic, will suffice. After describing the gambols of his "Twa Dogs," their historian described their sitting down in coarse and rustic terms. This, of course, did not suit the poet's Edinburgh patrons, and he altered it to the following:

"Till tired at last and doucer grown, Upon a knowe they set them down." Still this did not please his fancy; he tried again, and hit it off in the simple, perfect form in which it now stands,

"Until wi' daffin weary grown,

Upon a knowe they set them down."

Lord Byron was a rapid composer, but made abundant use of the pruning knife. On returning one of his proofsheets from Italy, he once expressed himself undecided about a single word, for which he wished to substitute another, and requested Mr Murray to refer it to the late veteran editor of the Quarterly. This at once illustrates my argument, and marks the literary condescension of the noble bard. Sir Walter Scott has just evinced his love of literary labour, by undertaking the revision of the whole Waverley Novels a goodly freightage of some fifty or sixty volumes! The works of Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, and Moore, and the occasional variations in their different editions, mark their love of re-touching. The Laureat is indeed unweariable, after his kind-a true author of the old school. The bright thoughts of Campbell, which sparkle like polished lances, were manufactured with almost equal care: he is the Pope of modern bards. His corrections are generally decided improvements; but in one instance he failed lamentably. The noble peroration of Lochiel is familiar to all :

"Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,
With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe;
And, leaving in battle no blot on his name,
Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame."

of the collector of "relics."-" Could the young man," said he, "but assist me in procuring some of the fragments of ancient song, with which the country abounds, he would be much better employed." Upon this hint Allan spake. He soon supplied him with abundance of lyrical antiques, which seemed to be more common in the vale of Nith, than were ever relics of our Lady of Loretto in the dominions of the Pope. The unconscious Cockney adopted the whole as genuine, and, with the help of their author, manufactured the volume which occasioned some surprise and conjecture among the lovers of Scottish song and antiquities. This is the head and front of Mr Cunningham's offending; and there are few authors, we suspect, who would object to being placed in the confessional, if they had no heavier sins to acknowledge or to atone for.

The above are but a few instances of authors' caresthe disjecta membra of literary history. Of many illustrious men, we have few memorials. Shakspeare was in all things a "chartered libertine," and could not have been a very laborious corrector. His free genius must have disdained the restraints of study, and the unities of time and place, as much as his own beautiful, inimitable Ariel would have scorned the fetters of this mortal coil. Milton-the" old man eloquent"-the poet of Paradise Lost and Regained-was "slow to choose," and sedulous to write for immortality; but his great mind, like the famous pool of Norway, embraced at once the mightiest and the minutest things, and his thoughts disdained to appear in an imperfect shape. "What was writtenwas written❞—and was incapable of improvement. Of his gifted contemporary, Jeremy Taylor, few records have survived that "great storm, which dashed the vessel of the church and state all in pieces." When prescribing rules for the employment of their time in the morning, he does not fail to counsel his readers to be "curious to see the preparation which the sun makes, when he is coming forth from his chambers of the east ;" and we know that he was zealous to present "a rosary or chaplet of good works" to his Maker every evening. Such a man would, from taste and genius, be careful of the conceptions of his immortal mind: all that was tender, pious, and true, would be cherished and adorned, while the baser alloy of human passions and infirmities would be expelled from such consecrated ground. Cowper, the lights and shades of whose character have been spread before us almost as plainly and beautifully as the face of nature, in composition had only to transfer his thoughts to paper. He never forgot the man in the poet: he does not, like Milton's sirens, "with voluptuous hope dissolve," but he

more than realizes our expectations, and he bounds them all within the "charmed ring" of virtue. In his Letters, as in those of othér authors, we may sometimes trace the germ of his finest poetical pictures,—

"As yon grey lines that fret the cast
Are messengers of day."

Who does not wish that he had foreseen the splendour of his meridian reputation?

But it is time to close these disjointed notes. However delightful it may be thus to string them together in the silence and sunshine of a Highland glen, every nook and crevice of which is now instinct with life and beauty, they will be read with different feelings in the saloons of the "city of palaces."

RECOLLECTIONS OF A PARSONAGE.

THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY-CLERICAL ORATORY.

Ar the west end of the manse, and immediately betwixt me and the north-east wind, there grew, and there still grows, a small clump of firs. In fact, they were rather useful than ornamental, as they were all of the dull, stupid, leaden Scotch kind, and had been spared when their betters fell around them, on the same principle that some of us have attained to manhood. The crows, however, found them convenient for nest-building. So soon as the snowdrop thrust its snowy point through the softening soil, there they were, morning and evening, hard at work, in spite of wind and weather, croaking, fighting, and choaking. In these crows, however, and their yearly labours, my feelings were interested. They came careering, on the retiring blasts of winter, black and dark as the departing clouds, lively and cheerful as the returning brightness of heaven. And then I could not avoid associating their advent with other convocations, and other contested labours. They reminded me of the General Assembly of our Church, wedded, as it is, to the freshness and the splendour of confirmed spring. When I saw the glossy blackness of their habits, the wayward sagacity of their aspects, and listened to their notes of friendship, contest, debate, and war, I immediately bethought me of the right reverends, and right honourables, right and left of the throne.

Such had been my thoughts, when a few years ago I packed up my trunk with the regular allowance of necessaries, for my General Assembly expedition. It was but spring from the ground to the top of the stagecoach, a careful wrapping of the neck, and buttoning of the coat, till I found myself rumbled and boated into Princes street. By this time the Assembly had met, and a number of the sharp-set lads were down from the mountains, and up from the glens, glossy as the evening cloud, good-humoured as the season itself, and openhearted, fisted, and mouthed, as old recollections and unexpected recognisances could make them. At every corner I met and recognised some friend of the olden time, and mutual exchanges of good-will were made on both sides. The fatness of the once thin man, and the thinness of the once fat man,—the wig, where wigs were formerly unknown, the single tuft in the wilderness of baldness, where hair once flourished bushy and bristly; -all these, and similar circumstances, called forth, and do constantly, on similar occasions, call forth, a great deal of half-jocular, half-mournful chat. And there are the clubs to attend. I do not mean those political convenings where Assembly business is discussed ere it be debated; but the clubs I speak of are very innocent and pleasant meetings of old college acquaintances, who draw upon past reminiscences, as the prodigal does upon the accumulated treasures of his sires; who, in one evening of renewed friendships and tremendous excitement, live over the intermediate happiness of twenty years.

Last of all comes the Monday's, the Tuesday's, and the Wednesday's debat›. "The combat thickens on, ye brave!" and happy he whose voice is of that firm com

manding (tone to secure a hearing, otherwise there are mouths and lungs strong and large enough to convert his incipient efforts into the chirpings of the Robin during the passing of a mail coach. The subject is an old and a tough one-nothing less than the "Plurality question." Doctor Tough is now on his legs, and even the darkness of his eye becomes meaning, mixed with threat, humour, dying into sarcasm. Arguments, lambent with illustration, are mixing and mingling like the merry dancers in the tempestuous north. Anon, his eye is brightened and his brow lighted; he has trode upon the dragon, and, with his foot upon his neck, he flourishes aloft his defiance; and bold is he, and fearless, who dares to accept of it. Snell, cutting, unsparing, reckless, cruel, he moves like an ancient scythe-armed chariot,-his very tread is terror-his every advance is death;-there is a breadth in his devastation, an extension in the zone of his overthrow, which occasions a fearful recoil in the ranks of opposition. Longe fuge!" is the watchword; "fœnum habet in cornu." The victory is his; and in an hour of reckless impetuosity and ungoverned triumph, he may order his victims to immediate execution. After a three hours' infliction, he sits down, having apparently dovetailed every argument, and hermetically sealed up the mouth of opposition.

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But it is not so. He has defied armies,-but he is challenged to single combat-not indeed by little David, but by large Saul;-not by a commoner in the ranks, but by the king himself in his armour.

The voice is, for a time, shrill, tenor, and even peepy ; but there is a mouth, and a face, and a brow of mighty compass and promise; the tenor is suddenly, and even over the accentuation of a single dissyllable, exchanged for the bass,-the rattle of the kettle is exchanged for the solemn rebound of the bass drum,—the warp of sound plays up and down; now the tenor and now the bass, are supereminent, till the opponent's argument is so loosened and unravelled, so twisted and twined into opposite meanings and constructions, that even Doctor Tough is at a loss to recognise the texture of his own workmanship. To mind, all things are possible; and here is mind enthroned on memory, a giant on a rock bobbing for whale. A seventy-four gun-ship does not move more unmovedly, and with greater certainty, over and through the flood, than Doctor Drive does to his mighty, luminous, and unanswerable conclusion.

But scarcely has he resumed his seat, and received the congratulation of his friends around him, when a whisper is felt to travel with a sawing severity, from left to right. The Doctor is on his legs that is he, holding with one hand by the railing on the further side of the throne, the other hand being reserved for action-action-action. With this hand he begins his speech-not with that graceful air with which an outstretched palm is sometimes waved to the admiring multitude-but he is undoubtedly cutting the air into faggots, upwards and downwards— backwards and forwards" punctem et cæsim," it passes. All this while Dr Blast is silent; it is his hand that speaks, and claims for the tongue's work the indulgence of a hearing. Silence gives way to sound,-sound and hand equally at variance with taste and elegance; the demon of embarrassment seems to have fixed his disfiguring claws in the very front of his oratory, and there is every chance that he will not get on. But the waters of the mountain lake have been troubled, and lifted in their level by the descent of the avalanche; and their roar and impetuosity is now in the gullet,-they are struggling, wheeling, hurling, and bursting onward; and so soon as they have overtaken the extension and the freedom of the valley below, they will carry tower and tree, hut and palace, before them. The shepherd, however, has marked their approach, and has betaken himself to his mountain; and the very roar of their approach has con tributed to the safety of all. Dr Blast is now in his ele

ment.

He dives and plunges in the flood; the triton a

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