and pleasure-grounds, which are filled with every variety of valuable exotic trees. The owner of this fine estate has not been here for fifteen years no great argument for his grace's good taste, or justice to his tenants. Some of the most eminent British artists have found ample employment for their pencils in this neighborhood. The loch is celebrated for its fine herrings, which is the chief article of trade of Inverary.

-

MONDAY MORNING. At three o'clock we were awakened for the steam-boat, and were not more than half dressed, when the steam ceased from growling, and the bell from tolling; nevertheless, we caught up what garments remained, leaving a few as wind-falls to the chamber-maid, and fled to the dock. The steamer was off, sure enough, but came to, and sent a boat for us, on seeing our signals. It is now broad day-light, and was, indeed, at two o'clock! The sail down Loch Fine is rather tedious. It is a salt-water lake, from thirty to forty miles in length, and the shores are low and barren as the sea-coast.

We stopped at several places for passengers, and passing between the isles of Bute and Arran, (celebrated in The Lord of the Isles,') we entered the Kyles of Bute, where the shores are verdant and interesting.

At the town of Rothsay, on the Isle of Bute, we saw the ruins of the famous Rothsay Castle; and a few miles farther, we passed the Castle of Dunoon, and several pretty summer-villas on the banks of the water. Entering the Frith of Clyde, we stopped at the flourishing ports of Greenock and Port Glasgow, and the strong fortress of Dumbarton, built on a lofty and picturesque rock, at the mouth of the river Clyde. From here, is a fine view of the Vale of Leven, and the whole outline of Ben Lomond, about fifteen miles distant. The pretty vale in the fore-ground is the scene of Smollet's beautiful ode:

'On Leven's banks when free to rove,

And tune the rural pipe to love.'

In sailing up the Clyde, the most remarkable sight was the immense number of steam-boats which passed us in rapid succession. We met no less than twenty-one, of a large class, on the river, all bound out; and I was told that upward of eighty are owned in Glasgow alone. We landed at Glasgow, after a voyage of twelve hours, during which we had stopped at as many different places. I was surprised at the extent and elegance of Glasgow, as much as at its evident importance as a manufacturing and commercial city. It seems to be scarcely second to Liverpool, and is certainly the third city in Great Britain on the score of population and trade.

It is too far up the river for a seaport, so that Greenock is a sharer in its prosperity. The buildings, like those of the new town of Edinburgh, are nearly all of a handsome free-stone, which is found in great abundance near the city, and is the cheapest as well as the best material they can use. Loss by fire is especially rare. Some of the private residences would do honor to the west end of London.

The streets fronting the Clyde, on both sides, are very imposing, and are connected by four handsome stone bridges, while the banks of the river are substantially walled with granite, surmounted with iron railings. There is a public park, pleasure-ground, and gymnasium, near the river. The streets, particularly the Broadway of the town, Trongate-street, were literally thronged, quite as much so as Cheapside and Fleet-street in the Metropolis. In this street I saw the remaining tower of the Tolbooth, where Rob Roy conducted Frank, and met Baillie Nichol Jarvie. From thence I walked up Highstreet to the venerable University, of which Campbell, the poet, who is a native of Glasgow, was lately principal.* The structure is very antique, and encloses three squares. I passed through college after college, looking as learned as possible, and graduated in the green,' where Frank Osbaldistone encountered Rashleigh. Farther up the street, I arrived at the old cathedral, one of the largest in Britain. It is now divided into three churches for Presbyterians. The pillars which support the great tower are immense. I measured my umbrella twice on one side of a single square pillar. The crypt (basement) where Frank Osbaldistone attended church, and was warned by Rob Roy, extends the whole length of the cathedral, and is the most curious part of it. In the grave-yard I noticed monuments to John and McGavin, author of the Protestant.

The Merchants' Exchange is a splendid Corinthian edifice, and contains a noble public hail, and an extensive readingroom, where I was glad to find the Knickerbocker. I was surprised at the extraordinary cheapness of rents, both here and in Edinburgh, compared with those in our good city of Gotham. The very, best finished three-story houses, of stone, of the largest class, and in desirable situations, may be had for four hundred and fifty dollars per annum. Our New-York landlords would demand for a similar residence, at least twelve hundred dollars. In Edinburgh, as it is not a commercial place, rents are still lower. Very superior houses,

with large gardens, etc., are let for eighty pounds per year.

After seeing Langside, about two miles from Glasgow, where the cause of the ill-fated Queen of Scots was finally overthrown, I rode to Linlithgow, for the sake of a glance at her birth-place; the palace once so famous and 'fair.'

'Of all the palaces so fair,

Built for the royal dwelling,
Above the rest, beyond compare,
Linlithgow is excelling.'

The walls remain nearly entire, but the interior was totally destroyed by fire, during one of the civil feuds. The town, as well as that of Falkirk, a few miles beyond, is dull and gloomy. Some of the old houses in Falkirk were once occupied by the knights of St. John, who had a preceptory near the place. The field where the great battle was fought, in which Wallace was defeated, is a short distance from the town. I reached Edinburgh at ten P. M., in the canal-boat from Glasgow, which goes at the rate of nine miles

VOL. X.

This office, as is well known, is now held by SIR ROBERT PEEL.
7

an hour, and landed under the batteries of the castle; having passed the most of a week, of delightful weather, among the most interesting parts of Scotland. I have been agreeably surprised at the evident marks of industry and prosperity which are almost every where apparent. The Scotch are notoriously shrewd, industrious, and thriving; but we yankees, like other nations, are apt to think ourselves far before the rest of the world in 'inventions and improvements;' and though a foreigner would sneer at my presumption, I have really felt pleased when I have seen any thing abroad 'pretty nearly' as good as we can show at home. It is folly, at the same time, for us to flatter ourselves that we can in no wise take profitable example from our father-land!

SONNETS: BY 'QUINCE.'

ADVERSITY.

WE sometimes strike the madman to the earth,
And mercy deals the pain-inflicting blow,
That body's suffering may give reason birth,
And with slight anguish mitigate much wo.
When 'neath the surgeon's hand the patient lies,
Whose mortifying limb requires the knife,
With fortitude he bears his agonies,

Nor heeds the torture that will save his life.
Thus heaven doth strike us with adversity,

Thus should we bow to its omniscient will;

Then through dark clouds bright sunshine we should see
And sweetest comfort draw from direst ill.
All is not sad, that to us seems to be,
Nor all adverse, we call adversity.

AGES.

AGES! to trace thy path, my curious eye
Pierces the vista of forgotten time:

Ye awe me with your vast sublimity,

Ye moving mysteries, that will consign

The breathing form that wonders at your might,

Like unto myriads o'er whom ye have swept,

To the dark lethe of impris'ning night;

Where I must sleep, and where they long have slept.

Like the majestic ocean's waves ye roll,

Which o'er the sweetest, fondest memories ride,

Slow journeying toward your destined goal,

With all of earth mysteriously allied.

Sweep on, Time's chroniclers! yourselves shall be
Engulphed at last in vast eternity!

ANGELS.

THE infant sleeping on its mother's breast,
Or seeking in her eye a sunny smile-
The heart that boasts as calm and pure a rest,
As spotless, and as free from earthly guile;'

The eye that weeps calamity to see,

The hand that opens in its might to give;
The crushed and sinking heart, that yearns to be
Bathed in His blood who died that it might live;

The pure out-gushings of the fervent soul,

The God-like thoughts that raise our hearts to heaven,
Have each an Angel's spirit; and control
The sordid clay, to shrine our spirits given.
This is all felt- but Nature bids us trace
The Angel in earth's glory-woman's face.

--

1837.]

Wilson Conworth.

51

WILSON CONWORTH.

CHAPTER XII.

I HAVE said, that owing to the aimless, reckless course of life which I pursued, after leaving college, I lost my place in society, and found myself without friends, and a marked man. This began my education. I began to look about me, and to think. What! my acquaintance slight me as unworthy their notice! What could be the cause of this? Could I live under such a ban? I resolved to reform. The effect upon me of this rule in society proves its excellence. I was at first staggered. I knew not that ruin was so near at hand. I was awakened from the trance of years. I determined to make a desperate effort. I collected the amount of my debts, and gave them in to my father, telling him, as coolly as I could, that I had determined to leave the city to retire upon the smallest sum possible for the most secluded life. He paid my debts, enormous as they were. Without bidding adieu to any one, for I did not think myself of consequence enough to take leave formally, I, in a few days after my determination, was on my way to N

I took with me a few books, and they were well chosen. I had Scott and Byron, Mackenzie's works, the British Essayists, Sterne, Shenstone's Essays, Bacon's Essays, Jeremy Taylor's Holy Living and Dying, and Shakspeare. Yes! I took, too, Burns's poems and letters. His letters more than his poems I admired, or loved too read, for we feel more sympathy for Burns, on account of his hard struggles, than because he wrote Tam O'Shanter,' or the 'Twa Dogs.' These were all the books I took with me. I mention them with a feeling of pride, that my taste was so pure at so early a day, and in spite of my idleness and dissipated habits. If I were to select now from the whole field of literature-throwing in the old English prose writers by Young - I would not give up one of these books, supposing I could have no more in number.

The pleasure I received in reading these works the tears I always shed over the Man of Feeling - prove to me that I was not so abandoned as I thought myself at this time, or at least, that we all have some good about us, however low we may stand in the estimation of the world. I think there is a double lesson to be learned from this: first, that all impressions, however trite and unimportant they may appear at the time they are being made, never should be deemed of small weight, because their effects are not seen immediately: and second, that we should be careful lest we do the greatest injustice to our fellow men, by looking on the surface of character only, which, from some accidental cause, may appear rough and disgusting, while the seeds of good feeling and honorable exertion lie hid from our sight, and only want opportunity to command our applause.

With these few silent, voiceless friends, I took up my residence in the village of N, a village of New-England. The pleasantness of the situation determined my location, for the advantages of study can be had in any place. There was a quiet air about this village, which

enchanted me.

It lay several miles from any other, on the banks of a river, upon a table-land. One long street extended through it, in a straight line. This street was very wide. The houses were not crowded upon the dusty path, but placed several rods back, with a green lawn in front, and painted white. It did not look like a business place this was another good point- but it seemed like the residence of old and respectable families. There was fine scenery about it, too; high hills, and deep valleys, watered by swift and clear brooks. There was, and is, and ever will be, an air of easy comfort about this place, to strike strangers and foreigners. There is wealth without ostentation; hospitality without the appearance of obligation; and kindness and benevolence, ever to be remembered. Virtue is natural to a refined mind.

I entered my name in the office of a gentleman of rather retired habits. He had an excellent library, both of law books and miscellaneous reading, and read much himself; but he was considered by the people as rather an oddity, and a book-worm. He rarely appeared in court, and clients never came to his office; yet he had made a fortune by his profession. I will venture to swear that he made his money with clean hands and a quiet conscience. He was rarely seen off of his own territory, and never attended a public meeting in his life, except to hear a sermon. His history is somewhat singular. He was a shoe-maker, until thirty years of age, and then studied law, and supported himself, for the first years of his practice, by making shoes in his garret, as it is said. A man of few words, he never spoke first to any one, but always listened more than he talked, even in the company of a fool. With the coarsest features and roughest skin I ever saw, and the ugliest face, he had the most benevolent smile in the world. He never killed a fly, or trod upon a worm, though a lawyer. He was much respected by the older and better sort of people, and by those of his profession, who were glad to find their opinions supported by his.

Himself and wife constituted his family, and they lived as quietly as two mice. Every thing was kept as neat as wax. The house, and office contiguous, stood upon a slight elevation, opposite the village church and tavern, shaded by umbrageous trees. A stray stick or stone never remained long within ten rods of the place. He was the pattern of order, and neatness, and regularity, in every thing he did or possessed. I never saw an unpleasing expression upon the face of this gentleman, except when some one of the choir got out of key in church; and then his countenance would suddenly be drawn up into knots, that, it would seem, could never be unravelled; for with a coarse body, he possessed the most susceptible soul, and refined tastes in the arts. Retirement and self-examination had made him appear diffident; yet it was far from being an ungraceful kind of bashfulness, but rather that drawing back, as if he mistrusted your power fully to enter into his feelings. But to return.

I commenced the task of study, and stuck to it for a short time; but the feeling that follows the discharge of a duty soon became no novelty, and I began to be quite sick of being so very good. Every thing was too smooth. I always loved contrast; and here are some verses that I wrote, the first week I spent in the country: