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faculties had been coetaneous with my visit to Balmalloch.

I had spent fully two hours in wandering in the valleys, and on the hills, before I thought of returnto breakfast. Exercise had new-strung my nerves, and given more than its wonted edge to my appetite before I reached the house. I found the ladies in the breakfast room, and a considerable congregation of the guests. It was impossible to meet the former without emotions of humiliation and shame, for the condition in which I had been indebted to their good offices on the night before. I stammered something of an apology, which they appeared to consider very unnecessary, and treated the whole affair as a trifle.

Their good nature afforded (some relief to my sensibility on this subject, and enabled me to turn my attention from myself to those around me. In none of them were there observable any marks of indisposition, proceeding from the excesses of the preceding night. It is true, the eyes of several of the elderly gentlemen were a little bloodshot, but this symptom was accompanied by no apparent diminution either of appetite or vivacity.

The appearance of none of the party, however, had improved by their night's sojourn. Little attention had been devoted to the toilet; many had evidently not washed, none had undergone the supererogatory decoration of shaving. Their clothes, too, were unbrushed, and from the wool adhering to them, it was evident that several of the wearers had gone to bed without the ceremony of undressing.

But the breakfast!-Who has not heard of a Scotch breakfast? No one. But till now I had never beheld that (in England) trivial meal in all its native glory and attraction. Surely even the mouth of Apicius or Dr. Kitchiner might venially water at the

following bill of fare. Kipper, herrings fresh from Loch Long, pickled trouts, venison and mutton hams, cold grouse and ptarmigan, oat cakes, barley and flour scones, a large tureen of milk porridge (which appeared in considerable request,) several kinds of sweetmeats, and a huge vessel charged with the genuine mountain dew. Could the eccentricity of human appetite devise any useful or agreeable addition to a banquet composed of such ingredients? I imagine not-to me, at least, it appeared that

"The force of fancy could no further go."

But such a breakfast is a thing to dream of, not to describe; to be treasured up and survive unfading in the memory, not to be obtrusively emblazoned by pen or pica.

Suffice it, therefore, that due honour was done to the repast; that saddle-horses were brought to the door, and the tramontane guests gradually departed, singly or accompanied, till my uncle and myself were once more the only guests in Balmalloch.

CHAPTER XIII.

They say this town is full of cozenage,
As-nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like libertines of sin.

Comedy of Errours.

-Thou now exact'st the penalty,

Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh.

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Merchant of Venice.

THE day succeeding the funeral was spent by my uncle, in obtaining minute and accurate information relative to the state of the deceased Laird's affairs, and concerting the future arrangements of the family. In all matters of business and accounts, he was particularly clear-sighted and acute, and a few hours' application sufficed to furnish him with all the requisite information. Towards Mrs. Spreull and her daughters, his manners and deportment were uniformly benevolent, and unmarked by any of those exacerbations of temper to which he was habitually liable. He showed an anxiety to contribute, by every means in his power, to their comfort, and assured them, his best exertions would in no circumstances be wanting, for the promotion of their interest. Still, I could not but remark, that in his intercourse with these ladies, there was a calmness in his manner, and an utter absence of that warmth and cordiality with which from the first he had distinguished me. To me, who knew him, it was evident, that he considered himself engaged in the performance

of a duty which he was called upon sacredly to discharge, but that he was not urged on to this, by any strong sentiment of personal regard. In truth, the old gentleman was not partial to the fair sex, and had an uncommon aversion to all elderly single ladies, a designation under which his nieces were not without some claim to be included. Yet there was nothing about them calculated to excite aversion. Good-natured they certainly were, perhaps a little vulgar and outré. But ridicule can only be attracted by pretension, and that quality was scarcely predicable of my fair cousins, as I saw them at Balmalloch.

While my uncle was busied in the examination of papers, I mounted a pony which had enjoyed a sinecure since the death of the Laird, and rode forth to enjoy, if possible, a more extended view of the beautiful scenery in the neighbourhood, than had come within the scope of my morning's ramble. Ignorant of the geography of the country, I left the choice of road to the taste and sagacity of the pony, and really the beauties of the one he selected, left me no reason to regret this proceeding. Nothing, I imagine, can be much more sublime than the valley of Glencroe, up which my steed directed his steps; in after life, at least, I have seen no spot which so powerfully excited my imagination. Scenery of features more desolate and gigantick—more indomitable to the influence of man-on which Nature has set more legibly the seal of eternal barrenness--where is it to be found?

Perhaps I have dwelt altogether too long on this short visit to the Highlands, unmarked as it must be to the reader, by any peculiarity of interest, and disproportioned in importance to many of the future scenes in which I must be called on to act and suffer. Yet these are the portions of my life on

which most I delight to dwell. They are armed with no sting, they recall no melancholy remembrance, no deep and poignant regret-such as are too inseparably linked with many of the busier and more active parts of my career. Bear with me, then, I pray you, gentle reader, when you find me dull and prosy, and inditing, for your punishment, long stories ending in nothing. I am given, I confess it, to a little tediousness and prolixity; yet, for the life of me, I can tell my story but in one way, and that way is my own.

The remainder of the day and evening, on my return to Balmalloch, passed heavily enough, notwithstanding the expressive glances of Miss Thomasina's eyes, and the lavished blandishments of her smiles. I remembered brighter eyes, and sweeter smiles, and was proof to the fire of her, artillery. The next morning was fixed for our departure; and after partaking of another breakfast, similar in its attractions to the one already described, my uncle's huge trunk was once more elevated to the roof of the coach, and bidding adieu to the family at Balmalloch, we set out on our return.

The journey was attended with nothing remarkable; my uncle, between his naps, was comparatively pleasant and companionable, and we reached Glasgow shortly after dark. During the greater part of the last stage he had been involved in a sound slumber, to which I afforded no interruption, and it was not till we had passed the long and hideous suburbs by which Glasgow is on all sides surrounded, that his ideas were recalled by the flickering of the lamps, and the noise and jolting of the vehicle, as it leisurely advanced over the rough and ill-paved streets. There was apparently something congenial to the old gentleman's disposition,

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