6

well-meant expedient of the civic authorities for driving customers away from his store, that he could not comprehend my meaning at all; and instead of expressing any reverence for our institutions, he pronounced an opinion which I should be very sorry to repeat, even at second hand. Mr. Funk then told me that he had given an order for no less than five hundred standards, to be emblazoned with these remarkable words, BEWARE OF HUMBUGS!' But my respect for authority and learning will not admit of my naming the places where these banners were to be displayed. The invention of Mr. Funk could only be equalled by his malignity. What could have been conceived more maliciously inappropriate, than to station a pumpkin-headed effigy, in a black coat, bearing one of these standards painted in harlequin letters, before the residence of Professor? Or to put a man of straw, with a similar standard painted in green capitals, before the office of Dr. — ?

your

It was at least prudent in you, Mr. Funk,' I said, 'not to station any of 'bewares' before the doors of our city presses: the gentlemen who conduct them, you are aware, cannot be abused with impunity

6

Poh! poh! replied this unprincipled person; 'see here.' And so saying, he unrolled a paper which lay before him, upon which was emblazoned in minature a dozen or two of banners, to be paraded before the doors of some of our most highly-esteemed friends. My blood curdled at the sight, or at least it would have done so, if any thing could have caused such a phenomenon. Here was a banner for the Virtuous Vigil,' inscribed with these words: BEWARE OF VENALITY! The Morning Glory' was honored with this wholly unmeaning affiche, BEWARE OF BLUSTERERS!' while the Evening Vesper' was destined to be signalized with this detestable insinuation: BEWARE OF SOFT CRABS!' than which nothing could be more vile, its conductors being universally known as two of the hardest customers about town. The Weekly Wonder' had this entirely unmeaning standard assigned to it, which was to be borne by a gentleman in a clean shirt, with an inflated bladder in one pocket and an empty bottle in the other, the letters in deep blue: BEWARE of FALSE WITNESSES!'

This was too bad. I could listen to Mr. Funk no longer, without losing my self-respect. I therefore rose and spoke to him as mildly as my feelings would allow, as follows:

'I perceive, Sir, that you richly merit the character which you bear in this community. I did believe that you were an injured individual, but the mayor knew you better than I did, when he sent a cohort of paupers into Broadway, with banners to 'beware' simple-minded people from your door. It will be a lesson to me in future to mistrust my own judgment when it comes in conflict with the decisions of those having authority. Let me say to you, beware! Beware how you cast suspicion against respectable citizens who are engaged in advancing their own interests; seek some honest employment, and when the authorities endeavor to undermine your business and drive customers from your shop, remember that they do it for the public

good, and do not seek revenge by depriving honest men of their means of growing rich.'

Contrary to my expectation, this speech, instead of an apology only drew a laugh from Mr. Funk, who lighted another cigar, and exclaimed:

Go it while your young!'

'I have no disposition to be too harsh toward you,' I said, ‘and therefore I will commend you for not uttering a 'beware' derogatory to the clergy, who are generally made a butt of by men like yourself.'

Wait a bit,' said Mr. Funk, leaping from his chair. there can be no harm in quoting Scripture?'

'Of course not,' I said.

'I suppose

'Well, then, what do you think of this, for the Gothic churches?' and he unrolled a large black banner, inscribed with white letters:

'Beware of WOLVES IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING !'

OUR LAST RESTING PLACE.

WHY dread to lay down this frail body in its resting-place, and this weary, aching head on the pillow of its repose? Why tremble at this, that in the long sleep of the tomb the body shall suffer disease no more, and pain no more, and hear no more the cries of want nor the groans of distress; and far retired from the turmoil of life, that violence and change shall pass lightly over it, and the elements shall DEWEY. beat and the storms shall howl unheard around its lowly bed?'

THE ST. LEGER PAPERS.

NUMBER EIGHT.

I HEARD frequently from England during my stay in the Highlands, and each succeeding letter was read with increased pleasure. I had begun to value the privileges and the enjoyments of home, in consequence of my temporary absence from them. Every thing about Bertold Castle was regarded with increased interest, and the slightest incident was charged with unusual importance. From my brother I had not heard directly, but the accounts received of him, through my mother, awoke in my heart something like a spirit of emulation. I felt that I was myself little else than an idle dreamer; but what could a youth of sixteen Do? This question I asked to myself over and over again. Too young for action, certainly, and for that matter, not sufficiently educated for practical effort, yet the preparation seemed but drivelling work. Preparation for what?' I would ask myself; and then Destiny, with her pale face, seemed to whisper: Thy labor shall come to nought!'

Beside, I could not bear to think of entering upon any of the customary pursuits of the world. Political life had no charms for me, for I dreaded to bring its unhallowed intrigues into collision with my moral sense. The law, as a profession, I abhorred, because I perceived that while it sharpened men's minds to a wonderful acuteness, it narrowed their intellects, after a peculiar manner, until no universality remained. I was too conscientious to quarter myself on the church, while I dared lay no claim to genuine piety; and moreover, I did not believe my character adapted to such a profession. A military life I detested more than all. Yet I was a younger son; and although my fortune, in right of my mother, would ultimately be ample, and while I knew my father to be just toward his children, still I must resolve on some course. I always struggled against the doctrine of fatality. Very early in life I took for my

motto:

'SED mihi res, non me rebus submittere conor.'

Yet I felt that without some direct purpose in view, circumstances would control me instead of being controlled by me. And again I pondered over the business of humanity, inquiring what man was made for? Was it for political intrigue and chicanery? -for intricate, acute but belittling special pleading?-for dishonest peculation from the church? - for war and bloodshed? For none of these, assuredly! Then was he made for seclusion; to sit and think and wonder and be still, or to labor and delve and toil like beasts of burthen? And if either, the cui bono? One generation succeeds another, each teaching its successor the tricks and the devices current in the world, while every thing seemed managed badly enough.

Such were my reveries, as I anxiously stole away from observavation, and seated myself in my chamber, in view of the lofty peaks which frowned down upon the earth. I suppose the scenery which surrounded Glencoe to have had a peculiar effect upon my mind. The solemn, awe-inspiring presence of the old hills, so still, so awful in their repose, must have had no small influence upon my sensitive spirit. Yet while I felt a determined repugnance to enter upon any course which did not commend itself to my conscience, I was fast coming to the conclusion that there was no work for man upon earth suited to his true desires and his true capacities. Desiring to pursue a right course, I was insensibly losing all native benevolence of feeling, and giving way to a morbid spirit of faultfinding with the affairs of the world. This made me intellectually selfish, and cut me off from a happy communion with my fellows.

I am now chronicling my feelings as they were when I was about to leave Glencoe. I beg the reader to bear with me patiently as I put down these apparently unimportant changes in my inner life. I trust that before I close I shall be able to furnish an instructive lesson. And let me now say to those who may have followed me thus far, in hopes that my dry detail might lead ultimately into the flowery land of romantic fiction, that they are sure to be disappointed; and unless they can find matter of interest in this very detail, having in view my ultimate object, we had better part company here, instead of voyaging on together, with the certain prospect of disappointment in the end.

It

I had concluded my visit, and was busy packing my portmanteau for my return to England. Having emptied its contents, I was proceeding to assort them, when my eye lighted upon a small package, which till now had been overlooked. I took it up. was the parcel handed me by Aunt Alice when I left Bertold Castle, and which had entirely escaped my recollection. Upon the outside my name was written as follows:

'WILLIAM HENRY,

Youngest Son y St. Leger.'

I opened the package: I came to envelope after envelope, but discovered nothing save blank paper. At length I found an enclosure, which read:

'My Child, deliver these as directed.'

I rapidly unrolled the parcel, till a small but massive ring of gold, curiously wrought, dropped out; and I found that the cover which enclosed it was directed:

'TO THE WŒDALLAH OF ST. KILDA,

'THESE!'

This was the last enclosure, and was unsealed. I took the liberty of seeing its contents, for the exterior certainly gave no clue by which I could discover the object of the writer, or the destination of

the parcel with which I was intrusted. So I opened the last enclosure and read these words:

'To the dweller upon the OCEAN ROCK

Where the storm-sprite rages but harms he not
The Wadallah!

'Hrs heart is lone, his mind is free,
Patient, he sits and waits his destiny;
The Wodallah!'

On the other side I read:

"THIS too is a St. LEGER: receive him,
But poison not his soul, for it may not be.'

I stood contemplating these singular and apparently incoherent sentences in utter astonishment. Although I was ready to expect from Aunt Alice something uncommon and strange, I could not fathom this to me inexplicable jargon. 'Aunt Alice is certainly crazed!' I exclaimed; 'and yet there is something in these lines which puts my brain upon the whirl. St. Kilda-St. Kilda! The Hebrides! the Hebrides! I have it! Have I been nearly three months in their very neighborhood, and never given them a thought? England sees not me till I have seen those storm-isles of the ocean!' Without farther reflection, I ran down to the court-yard where I had left Hubert shortly before, half angry because, as he said, I insisted on leaving them so soon. 'Ho! Hubert,' I shouted, 'what say you to the grand tour of the Hebrides! I have made up my mind. I set off to-morrow morning. Go with me you must, and we shall want old Christie for helmsman.'

Hubert looked at me for an instant, as if he was not quite positive whether I was jesting or beside myself. He soon discovered that it was neither, and believing that a sudden and youthful enthusiasm possessed me for a wild and romantic excursion, he whirled himself round three times, clapped his hands, struck me heartily on my shoulder, and when he could find breath, exclaimed: 'Glorious! glorious! We are off on the instant! Grand idea! capital thought! How did it get into your head? We will get ready at once. But my father?' said Hubert, stopping short; ‘I fear he will not consent to it.'

'I will answer that he will,' said I; 'pray go and ask him directly.' After some ten minutes, he returned with a joyful countenance, saying that the Earl, so far from making any objections to our proposed excursion, expressed his approbation of it, as evincing a love of hardy adventure which he did not like to see altogether laid aside, in the happy change of the times from disturbed to peaceful. The freedom of Scotland had often depended, the Earl said, upon her wild mountain fastnesses and the rude islands which formed a part of her territory. In his day, the youth boasted of their skill in navigating the perilous channels between these islands: he had himself twice narrowly escaped with his life, in passing the dangerous strait of Corryviekan; and doubtless thought it very proper,' added Hubert, 'that his younger son should be exposed to a similar ordeal. But,' continued he, 'I am no novice at channel