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THE FAMILY LIBRARY, No. VIII. (being the COURT and CAMP of BUONAPARTE,) is just published. JOHN MURRAY, Albemarle Street, London.

In 3 vols. post 8vo.

OLDCOURT, A NOVEL.

"A book of great intelligence and merit.”—Literary Gazette. "This romance is the work of a very able pen. The characters are strongly, we had almost said pictorially conceived; and the thoughts are condensed and masculine. The story details the loves and sorrows of an Irish beauty, Grace Oldcourt, whose heart has been bewildered by the showy qualities of an Irish soldier, Sir Walter D'Arcy, the last relic of a long line of Irish fox-hunters, and inheriting all their habits of carelessness and luxury, their gallantry," &c.-Court Journal.

HENRY COLBURN and RICHARD BENTLEY, London; and sold by BELL and BRADFUTE, No. 6, Bank Street, Edinburgh.

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STORIES OF WATERLOO.

"An immense popularity may be expected for these volumes; nothing in its way could be better than the design of the work. There is no event in the records of either ancient or modern history so pregnant with the fate of nations and of individuals as the battle of Waterloo. Among the numerous hosts engaged, there was scarcely a man who did not feel a more than ordinary solicitude as to the catastrophe. In chronicling the grand drama, history can only recount the main incidents, while by far the most interesting portions, namely, the detail of private achievement, of private feeling, and of private suffering, is passed over, or consigned to the biographer or the novelist. The author before us unites these two qualifications, and has constructed a series of stories, of which it may not be too much to say, that they will, on account of their subject and their power of narration, be read again and again, like those famous legends to which the battle of Cressy and Agincourt have given immortality."— Morning Paper.

HENRY COLBURN and RICHARD BENTLEY, London; and BELL & BRADFUTE, 6, Bank Street, Edinburgh.

NEW EDITION.

INSCRIBED BY PERMISSION TO HIS MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY. Handsomely bound in one large volume,

BURKE'S DICTIONARY of the PEERAGE

and BARONETAGE of the BRITISH EMPIRE. Compiled from the Communications of the Nobility, with upwards of 1500 plates of Arms, and containing Descriptions of the Armorial Bearings of each House.

WORKS

Nearly ready for publication,

By Messrs COLBURN and BENTLEY, London: And BELL and BRADFUTE, No. 6, Bank Street, Edinburgh.

THE POETICAL WORKS of the Rev

GEORGE CROLY. 2 vols. post 8vo.

DARNLEY. A NOVEL. By the Author of "RICHELIEU, A TALE OF THE COURT OF FRANCE." 3 vols.

TALES of the CLASSICS, a new delineation e the most popular FABLES, LEGENDS and ALLEGORIES, Commemo rated in the Works of Poets, Painters, and Sculptors, Selected and Written by a LADY, for the Amusement and Instruction of her own Daughters. 3 vols. small 8vo.

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TRAVELS in the EAST. By JOHN CARNE Esq. Author of "Letters from the East," printed uniformly with, and in continuation of, that Work. 1 vol. post 8vo, 10s. 6d.

The ADVENTURES of an IRISH GENTLEMAN. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 3 vols.

RANDOM RECORDS. By GEORGE COL MAN, the YOUNGER, Dedicated by Gracious permission to His Mejesty. In 2 small vols. 8vo.

The PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE of DAVID GARRICK with the most Eminent Persons of his Time 1 vol.

The LIFE of MAJOR-GEN. SIR T. MUNRO, Bart. K.C.B. late Governor of Madras, with extracts from his CoRESPONDENCE and PRIVATE PAPERS. By the Rev. Mr GLEIG. 2 vols. 8vo.

LAWRIE TODD, or the SETTLERS in the WOODS, BY JOHN GALT, Esq. Author of " The Ayrshire Le gatees," "Annals of the Parish," &c. 3 vols.

TRAVELS to TIMBUCTOO, and other Parts of CENTRAL AFRICA during the Years 1824, 5, 6, 7, and 8 By RENE CAILLIE. 2 vols. 8vo, with a Map of the Route, a ries of Timbuctoo, and other plates representing the Buildings of that City.

LAW OF ENTAIL. This day is published,

By THOMAS CLARK, Law Bookseller, 38, George Street, Edinburgh,

In Octavo, price Three Shillings,

The Work which Mr Burke has just given to the Public, is CONSIDERATIONS on REMEDIAL MEA

equally well planned and well executed. Great ability is shown in the condensation of all the requisite matter into one thick volume, which, owing to the clear and beautiful mode of printing and engraving, is justly entitled to be called a cheap one, not only in comparison with the tedious and expensive works on the same subject, but in reference to the quantity of reading it contains, and the superior style of its execution."-Examiner.

This work justly deserves to be considered a History of the British Nobility. It comprises a quantity of matter equal, we are assured, to no less than 12 octavo volumes!!"-John Bull.

HENRY COLBURN and RICHARD BENTLEY, London; and BELL & BRADFUTE, 6, Bank Street, Edinburgh.

THE NEW MONTHLY and LONDON MAGA

ZINE for DECEMBER.

CONTENTS:-On the Sonnets of Shakspeare, by Thomas Campbell, Esq.-The British Empire in the Year 1829; the National Debt-What has Emancipation done for Ireland ?-The Catholic Association; The Roman Catholic Church: Maynooth College; Mr Canning; Lord Plunkett; Character of Mr O'Connell-Sketches and Recollections, No. I.; Dick Ferret-Anecdotes of Russia; Russian Prisons, Police, &c.-London Lyrics; Jack Jones; the Recruit-Characteristics of Rossini's Compositions-Recollections of a Göttingen Student; Hanover; the Botanical Garden-Travelling Troubles, No. II.-Dr Edmund Calamy's Historical Account of his own Life and Times reviewed-Walks in Rome and its Environs, No. XX.; the Ghetto degli Ebre.-The Last Song of Corinna-HeroWorship-Love among the Brokers-Similes-Political EventsCritical Notices of New Publications; the Borderers; Stories of Waterloo, &c.-The Drama-Music-The Fine Arts; British Institution-Linnean Society-Royal Society of Literature, &c.-Rural Economy-Useful Arts-New Patents-Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons lately deceased-Provincial Occurrences, &c. &c. Printed for HENRY COLBURN & RICHARD BENTLEY, London; and sold by BELL & BRADFUTE, No. 6, Bank Street, Edinburgh. SPLENDID SALE BY AUCTION.

THE WHOLE of that VALUABLE COLLEC

TION of STATUARY, No. 9, WATERLOO PLACE, comprising, amongst others, genuine Casts of the Apollo and Venus de Medici, Dancing Fawn and Mercury from the Villa Borghese, Flora, Ceres, and Minerva, and many others, too numerous to mention in an advertisement.

In presenting the above to the Public, J. L. begs leave to state, that this is the largest and choicest collection of Statuary ever offered to the Public, and as the whole must be sold off without reserve, early application will be necessary.

Sale to commence on Monday the 21st current, and following days, precisely at twelve o'clock.

Edinburgh, 16th Dec. 1829.

JONATHAN LYON, Auctioneer.

SURES for REMOVING or MITIGATING the EVILS arising from the LAW of ENTAIL in SCOTLAND, in a Letter to THOMAS F. KENNEDY, Esq. M.P.

By PATRICK IRVINE, Esq. W.S.
Edinburgh: THOMAS CLARK: SAUNDERS & BENNING, London;
BRASH & Co., SMITH & SON, Glasgow; SIDEY, Perth; BROWN &
Co. Aberdeen; and K. DOUGLAS, Inverness.

Of whom may be had, lately published,
I. LAW OF ENTAIL.

In one vol. 8vo, price 4s. Ed., the Second edition, enlarged, of CONSIDERATIONS on the INEXPEDIENCY of the LAW of ENTAIL in SCOTLAND.

By PATRICK IRVINE, Esq. W.S. "This is a very short, and a very sensible book, upon a subject of the utmost importance to Scotland."

II. MARRIAGE LAW. In one vol. 8vo, price 6s. boards, CONSIDERATIONS on the INEXPEDIENCY of the MARRIAGE LAW of SCOTLAND. By PATRICK IRVINE, Esq. W.S.

III.

Two vols. folio, price £5, 5s. STAIR'S INSTITUTIONS of the LAW of SCOT. LAND, with COMMENTARIES.

By GEORGE BRODIE, Esq. Advocate. "Brodie's Stair is a masterpiece of editorial precision and industry. The notes are literally crammed with the most valuable mat ter and some of the disquisitions on nice points of Jaw display great vigour of understanding, united with infinite legal acuteness. We would particularly notice the Editor's views of the Marriage Law, and likewise of the Law of Entails, which are really above all praise, exhibiting an extent and variety of learning altogether extraordi nary."-Caledonian Mercury, Art. SCOTCH BAR.

IV. SIGNET LETTERS.

In 4to, price £4, 4s.

A new and greatly enlarged Edition of The Volume of JURIDICAL STYLES, containing SIGNET LETTERS.

Edinburgh: Published for the Proprietors, every Saturday Morning" by CONSTABLE & CO. 19, WATERLOO PLACE;

Sold also by ROBERTSON & ATKINSON, Glasgow; W. CURRY, jun. & Co., Dublin; HURST, CHANCE, & Co., London; and by all Newsmen, Postmasters, and Clerks of the Road, throughout the United Kingdom.

Price 6d. or Stamped and sent free by post, 10d.

Printed by BALLANTYNE & Co. Paul's Work, Canongate.

THE

EDINBURGH LITERARY

OR,

JOURNAL;

WEEKLY REGISTER OF CRITICISM AND BELLES LETTRES.

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SATURDAY, DECEMBER 26, 1829.

The Epistle Bedicatory.

TO THE READERS

OF

IE EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL.

DEAR READERS,-This is our CHRISTMAS NUMBER for year 1829, and in a most especial and particular mando we dedicate it to you. Every thing we write is you; but sorry are we to confess, that thoughts of our -profit sometimes mingle with our anxieties for your usement. It is a weakness incident to mortality, 1 having frankly owned it, we trust we shall be the re readily believed when we declare, that in this, our t Number for the present year, we have thought only securing for you a literary banquet of rich and varied cellence, proportionate to the respect we entertain for a, and not unworthy either of the season, or the land we e in. Thanks to the literary friends-talented and inent as they are who have so nobly and so faithfully lied round us, we are this day able to furnish forth a st, where even the veriest epicure will not fail to find mething to stimulate and gratify his palate. It is for u, dear readers, that it is spread. May you bring to as good appetites as we wish you,-and may you parke of it as freely as it is offered!

In sober earnestness, we are proud of our CHRISTMAS UMBER. We challenge any periodical in the country produce, within the same space, so bright a galaxy of ames;-and not of names alone, but of articles whose trinsic merits bear them up-ponderibus librati suis. Where all are so conspicuous, it would be unfair to parcularize a few. Were we to indulge in much talk conerning our own affairs, a thousand obligations would ocur to us which we might acknowledge, but could not at resent repay. We prefer, therefore, limiting ourselves to eneral expressions of thanks; and wherever we turn, o the south, the north, the east, and the west,-—these have o be conveyed;—to some of the most distinguished of the air sex, (thank Heaven!) as well as to many a manly heart, beating with all the ardour of genius, and a noble ove of literature for its own sake. To each and all, we wish, from the bottom of our souls, the merriest Christmas, and the happiest New-Year!

Nor shall we ever be niggard of good wishes when we think and speak of you, dear readers. Many hundreds of you we have never seen in our lives, nor can we tell how our various lucubrations may individually affect you; yet we know that there is a sympathy between us, —that you are disposed to be lenient to our errors, both of commission and omission,—and that, if ever we have brought a smile to your lips, or a gentle tear into your eye, you love us for those smiles and for those tears. If the suspicion should chance to cross your minds that we are occasionally severe, or hasty, or vain, or foolish, we beseech you to believe that we are ourselves deeply, and, at times, painfully, conscious of our numerous deficiencies, and that it is our earnest desire to amend and purify our character, both in the eyes of the public, and of the friends whom

PRICE 9d.

Heaven has given to us, and whose affection we value above all earthly things.

As critics, we this week give authors a holiday. We shall resume our converse with them on Saturday, the 2d of January, 1830. Nothing but amenity and good humour-" nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles"-shall characterise us to-day; and if, amidst these, a few deeper and more solemn chords be touched, our Christmas gambols will not be the less delightful, that they carry a moral with them.

Dear Readers, we have said our say. Again we offer you our salaam; but instead of wishing, in the language of the East, that you may "live a thousand years," allow us to express the more seasonable, and not less pleasing hope, that you may eat a thousand geese. With this hope upon our lips, we humbly subscribe ourselves,

Yours, with faithfulness and respect,

THE EDITOR.

"THE YEAR THAT'S AWA."

By Dr Gillespie.

A sub

"WHATEVER withdraws us from the power of the senses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominant over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings." So says one, whose language no man can mistake, and whose knowledge of human nature few will be disposed to question. But of these alternatives, the predominancy of the past over the present appears to be the most purifying and exalting. mission of present liking to future enjoyments, is nothing more, in its ordinary acceptation, than an enlarged and calculated system of selfishness. In regard, however, to the predominancy of the past over the present, the case is materially different. To the past, considered merely as such, we can never look from selfish or interested views -our trance into these familiar regions is at once voluntary and uninterested. We lose ourselves in recollections, not that we may relieve the present, or influence the future, but merely because such reveries are engrossing and irresistible. Happiness, indeed, and that of the most intense and purifying character, is the consequence--but not the motive, otherwise happiness would just be diminished in proportion to the extent of the previous calculation.

The future often looks up upon us, from the darkened distance, with a forbidding aspect. In spite of the most sanguine and happy temperament, there will be formed, in the distant obscurity, faces and forms, contingencies and possibilities, any thing but pleasing or inviting. But the past is a vast storehouse of good and evil, from which, at will, we can select such materials as we choose. The frost-works of futurity are too frequently like the icy palace of the Zarina, whilst the past is a permanent, though a dilapidated structure. Happy, then, is the man, who can make the enjoyments of the past predominate over the sufferings of the present,-who can select such passages from the volume of experience, as will cheer and relieve the present gloom.

Say what we will, and even think as we may, youth is the sun of our being, to which the soul, in its travel, turns from time to time to gaze with renewed and invigorated earnestness. Nay, in proportion as the distance increases, our attachment strengthens ;

tion, to make sure of the usual holidays. His tens and his brow brightens over verb and partic? with Horace in one hand, and a Gradus ad Para in the other, he dovetails phrase, idiom, and vom! a regular petition, on which the Christmas past the whole school depend. Jack still keeps an e

“We drag at each remove a lingering length of chain." the old corner, and purposes to spend his holidar

"Scenes that soothed

Or charm'd us young, no longer young, we find Still soothing, and of power to soothe us still;" till, on the utmost verge of old age, we cast a tearful eye, and present a quivering lip, towards that distant horizon from which the bright sun of our being ascended. Over the deep, and, in fact, indelible impressions of youth, other and more recent characters may from time to time be traced; but Memory, even down to the latest period, will be enabled to renew the original impressions. The Manuals and Psalters of riper years will not be able to unveil from her eye those latent, but still existing characters, which form, in fact, the classical page of her record.

At the commencement of a New Year, in particular, when we are about to ring those changes over again, which have been so often, it may be, and unprofitably, rung before, it is scarcely possible for the most heedless to escape reflection. It is at this season, in particular, that memory acts the " Old Mortality" with our early thoughts and feelings, giving them a distinctness, which, at other times, they do not possess. In the midst of company and engrossing enjoyments, it is delightful to revert to our boyish" New Years."

The sunny days of summer are exceedingly pleasant, particularly betwixt sunset and midnight, when the bat (like the schoolmaster of late years) is abroad, and the voice of the invisible land-rail is loud and harsh in the furrow, and the night-clock is booming on the breath of twilight; but then this is the season of repose, and, in fact, all sensible and well-disposed animals, with the exception of owls and lovers, are now sound asleep. Sunrise, too, about the twenty-first of June, is, I have been informed on good authority, exceedingly splendid and refreshing; but then, again, it passes unheeded and unappreciated by all whose consciences or evil deeds will permit them to sleep. Upon the whole, then, summer, after all that has been said and sung about her, is in fact but a sorry substitute for the snug evenings and social comforts of winter-for their multiplied and diversified enjoyments,--over which "woman," in all the magic of her presence, over which, lamp, candle, and fire-light, are wont to preside. From the heats and oppression, from the listlessness and langour, of a summer day, it is in vain to attempt an escape; whilst the snows, and frosts, and blusterings of winter,

"But bind us to our cheery hearth the more !" The storms without "may rage and rustle," and may "define the day delightless ;"-what is that to you and me, over our Christmas pie or our New-year's goose? Put but the poker a second time into that bleezing, sportive fire, and we shall make even winter himself, under the snows of age, sing, and loudly, to

"The year that's awa!"

"The year that's awa!" Ay, thereby hangs a tale, as long as any of Canterbury,-a tale which links the cradle to the sod-the joys of childhood with the sorrows of age-a tale which takes up "little Jack Horner," sitting in his corner, amazingly snug, eating his Christmas pie! And what lady or gentleman is there in this merry Christmasparty who does not envy Jack?-the little rogue, how knowingly he puts in his thumbs and pulls out the plums, congratulating himself all the while on his good conduct, which he evidently substitutes for his good fortune, "Oh! what a good boy was I!"

But Jack has now entered upon his teens. Associated with his fellows, he is now busy penning a Latin peti

the kindly faces and the warm hearts of home. of consequence, stares him from every line, a the sluggish and torpid pain of prose into ** the herd's" trot of verse.

But Jack is now transformed into John, and he been humanized into Joannes. He has commer academical course, and is now spending his first at college. His mother, ever more than careful favourite, has stuffed his trunks with luxuries, unce designation of necessaries, and his father has not sparing of money or good advice. November has s melted into December, whilst the dreary increase of ness has made our young collegian dream again and of home. But Christmas, though it comes but a year, never forgets its appointment. windy-yet to him it is brighter and calmer than a c mer eve. It comes intrusted with a mother's ar and a father's cordial welcome, with the cheerful and merry sisterhood, and with the indefinite and culable enjoyments of the season.

It is we

"Joannes Horner, in classi prima,” is now a bet and agitated youth, on the eve of his departure for b -for that fairyland of promotion and treasure, which men return with castles and commissions in pockets. He is engaged in spending his last C mas previous to his departure for the East. The e colonel is now in full feather of boyhood, and ac him are collected those whom friendship and a have endeared to him. Amidst the festivities of evening there is an overruling spirit of sadness, and mother is often observed withdrawing from the view. those very gambols which her experience and goods ture had suggested. There is, besides, one of this p who, though she can lay no claim to consanguinity perhaps dearer to him than a sister!

Captain-Major-Colonel Horner, has now, afte protracted absence, returned to his home and his friend but the one is in the possession of a stranger, and 2 fond mother and the provident father of his youth now sleeping under a marble slab, whilst that warm be which beat so forcibly, almost so audibly, at his parting has long ceased to experience joy or disappointment.

The present Christmas has arrived. "Colonel Horner hall is filled with guests, and the hours trip gaily aiset yet still, as from his elbow-chair he casts his eyes on the merry group that now is, and recalls that which a was, he sighs for the "year that's awa!"

The day it is short, and the winds they are chill, And the mountains are whiten'd wi' sna'; Then fill up your glass wi' a hearty good will, And, "here's to the year that's awa!”

THE FROSTY DAY.

By William Tennant, Author of “ Anster Fair,” §t
Now the skies are clear and fair,
Not a cloud doth harbour there;
Thrilling frost doth purify
All the rheum-engendering sky;
Now heaven's jasper joists are seen,
Now the sun, from ocean green,
Doth his princely head unfold,
Tiara'd with more burning gold,
And, as we sit at breakfast all,
Flings our blithe shadows on the wall.

Now his steeds, with lazy leap, Seem to slant along the deep;

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Now the sun is setting fast,

See! his disk, how broad and vast!
Gilding every chimney-head
With his arrows, fiery-red;
Whilst, in contrast with his beams,
Dusky smoke each chimney streams;
Up it rises straight and high,
Pillars joining earth and sky:
Now the sun is down; and all
Curlers court their dining-hall.

Come, my friend, and dine with me,
Or let me banquet it with thee;
Or let us seek some neutral room,
Where fire and candles chase the gloom;
With simple cates and mod'rate wine,
Where Plato's sapient self might dine;
With speech of unprepared flow,
And hearts of ne'er-abating glow,
And childhood's gladsome, guiltless glee,
Mix'd with divine philosophy.

And ever and anon our theme

Be the great Dead, of mind supreme;
The sense of Plutarch, Homer's fire,
Anacreon's feast-rejoicing lyre;
Luxuriant Livy, Tully sage,

Or Shakspeare's passion-painting page;
Wild Ariosto's buxom bloom,
Or Dante's hell-depicting gloom :
(His gloom will but the more up-light
Our spirits with celestial light.)

But should our supple souls unbend,
And Laughter's jolly star ascend,
A thousand themes, as bright as morn,
By every passing day are born;
There's little doubt, I think, we'll find
Rich funds of laughter to our mind;
That Horace' self, were he alive,
And knew he how our humours thrive,
Would leave his Sabine farm to be
The third glad soul with you and me!

A STORY OF THE FORTY-SIX. By the Ettrick Shepherd.

On the 17th of July, 1746, there was a tall raw-boned Highlander came into the house of Inch-Croy, the property of Stewart Shaw, Esq., in which there was apparently no person at the time but Mrs Shaw and her three daughters, for the Laird was in hiding, having joined the This Mackintoshes, and lost two sons at Culloden. Highlander told the lady of the house that his name was Sergeant Campbell, and that he had been commissioned to search the house for her husband, as well as for Cluny, Mrs Shaw Loch-Garry, and other proscribed rebels. said, that she would rather the rudest of Cumberland's English officers had entered her house to search for the Prince's friends, than one of the Argyle Campbells—those unnatural ruffians, who had risen against their lawful Prince, to cut their brethren's throats.

The Highlander, without being in the least ruffled, requested her to be patient, and added, that at all events the ladies were safer from insult in a countryman's hands, The lady dethan in the hands of an English soldier.

nied it, and in the haughtiest manner flung him the keys, saying, that she hoped some of hers would yet see the day when the rest of the clans would get their feet on the necks of the Campbells. He lifted the keys, and instantly commenced a regular and strict scrutiny; and just as he was in the act of turning out the whole contents of a wardrobe, the lady, in the meanwhile, saying the most cutting things to him that she could invent, he stood straight up, looked her steadily in the face, and pointed to a bed, shaking his hand at the same time. Simple as that motion was, it struck the lady dumb. She grew as pale as death in a moment, and both she and her eldest daughter uttered At that moment there loud shrieks at the same instant. entered an English officer and five dragoons, who hasted to the apartment, and enquired what was the matter.

"O, sir," said Mrs Shaw," here is a ruffian of a sergeant, who has been sent to search the house, and who, out of mere wantonness and despite, is breaking every thing, and turning the whole house topsy-turvy."

"Oho! is that all ?" said the cornet: "I thought he had been more laudably employed with your ladyship or Desist, you some of the handsome young rebels there. vagabond, and go about your business;—if any of the proscribed rebels are in the house, I'll be accountable for them."

"Nay, nay," said the Highlander, "I am first in commission, and I'll hold my privilege. The right of search is mine, and whoever are found in the house, I claim the reward. And moreover, in accordance with the orders issued at head quarters, I order you hence." "Show me your commission then, you Scotch dog; your search-warrant, if you so please?"

"Show me your authority for demanding it first." "My designation is Cornet Letham of Cobham's dragoons, who is ready to answer every charge against him. Now, pray tell me, sir, under whom you hold your commission?"

"Under a better gentleman than you, or any who ever commanded you."

66

"A better gentleman than me, or any who ever commanded me?—The first expression is an insult not to be borne. The other is high treason; and on this spot I seize you for a Scotch rebel, and a traitor knave."

With that he seized the tall red-haired loon by the throat, who, grinning, heaved his long arm at him as threatening a blow, but the English officer only smiled contemptuously, knowing that no single man of that humiliated country durst lift his hand against him, especially He was misbacked as he was by five sturdy dragoons. taken in this instance, for the Highlander lent him such a blow as felled him in a moment, so that, with a heavy groan, he fell dead on the floor. Five horse-pistols were instantly pointed at the Highlander by the dragoons, but

he took shelter behind the press, or wardrobe, and with his cocked pistol in one hand, and drawn broadsword, kept them at bay, for the entrance ben the house was so narrow, that two could not enter at a time; and certain death awaiting the first to enter, none of them chose to run the risk. At length two of them went out to shoot him in at a small window behind, which hampered him terribly, as he could not get far enough forward to guard his entry, without exposing himself to the fire of the two at the window. An expedient of the moment struck him; he held his bonnet by the corner of the wardrobe, as if peeping to take aim, when crack went two of the pistols at his bonnet, his antagonists having made sure of shooting him through the head. Without waiting farther, either to fire or receive theirs, he broke at them with his drawn sword; and the fury with which he came smashing and swearing up the house on them appalled them so horribly, that they all three took to their heels, intending probably to fight him in the open fields. But a heavy dragoon of Cobham's was no match for a kilted clansman six feet high; before they reached the outer door, two of them were cut down, and the third, after a run of about thirty or forty yards. By this time, the two at the west window had betaken them to their horses, and were galloping off. The Highlander, springing on the officer's horse, galloped after them, determined that they should not escape, still waving his bloody sword, and calling on them to stop. But stop they would not; and a grander pursuit never was seen. Peter Grant and Alexander M'Eachen, both in hiding at the time, saw it from CraigNeart, at a short distance, and described it as unequalled. There went the two dragoons, spurring on for bare life, the one always considerably before the other, and, behind all, came the tall Highlander, riding rather awkwardly, with his bare thighs upon the saddle, his philabeg flying about his waist, and he thrashing the hind quarters of his horse with his bloody sword, for lack of spurs and whip. He did not appear to be coming up with them, but nevertheless cherishing hopes that he would, till his horse floundered with him in a bog, and threw him; he then reluctantly gave up the chase, and returned, leading his horse by the bridle, having got enough of riding for that day.

The two Highlanders, M'Eachen and Grant, then ran from the rock and saluted him, for this inveterate Highlander was no other than their own brave and admired Colonel, John Roy Stewart. They accompanied him back to Inch-Croy, where they found the ladies in the greatest dismay, and the poor dragoons all dead. Mrs Stewart Shaw and her daughters had taken shelter in an outhouse on the breaking out of the quarrel; and that which distressed her most of all was, the signal which the tremendous Highlander made to her; for, beyond that bed, there was a concealed door to a small apartment, in which her husband, and Captain Finlayson, and Loch-Garry, were all concealed at the time, and she perceived that that door was no secret to Sergeant Campbell, as he called - himself. When the pursuit commenced, the ladies hasted to apprise the inmates of their little prison of the peril that awaited them; but they refused to fly till matters were cleared up, for they said, that one who was mangling the red coats at such a rate, could scarcely be an enemy to them. We may conceive how delighted they were on finding that this hero was their brave and beloved Colonel Stewart. He knew that they were concealed in that house, and in that apartment; and perceiving, from the height where he kept watch, the party of dragoons come in at the strait of Corry-Bealach, he knew to what place they were bound, and hasted before them, either to divert the search, or assist his friends in repelling the aggressors.

There was now no time to lose. Mr Shaw, Captain Finlayson, Alexander M'Eachen, and another gentleman, whose name I have lost, mounted as King George's dragoons, effected their escape to Glasgow through a hun

dred dangers, mostly arising from their own frie particular, the very first night of their flight, in » woods of Athol, at the dead of the night, ther rounded by a party of the Clan-Donnach, and w been sacrificed, had not Stewart Shaw called e lach! Cardeil Cearlach!" or some words to tis which awakened as great an overflow of kindnes lonel Roy Stewart and Loch-Garry escaped on fled towards the wild banks of Loch-Erriched, wi remained in safety till they went abroad with Charles.

It is amazing how well this incident was ke as well as several others that tended to the disgns, royalists, owing to the control they exercised press of the country; but neither Duke Will one of his officers, ever knew who the tall red-bar À geant Campbell was, who overthrew their six en The ladies of Inch-Croy did not escape so wej Cumberland, in requital for a disgrace in whi were nowise influential, sent out another party plundered the house and burnt it, taking the lan custody, and every thing else that was left on the of Inch-Croy and Bally-Beg-an instance of th and ungentlemanly revenge for which he was se ous.

THE SEA-BIRD WANDERING INLAND

By Mrs Hemans.

Thy path is not as mine:-Where thou art blest
My spirit would but wither-my own grief
Is in mine eyes a richer, holier thing
Than all thy happiness.

HATH the summer's breath, on the south wind borz
Met the dark seas in their sweeping scorn?
Hath it lured thee, Bird! from their sounding caps
To the river shores where the osier waves?

Or art thou come on the hills to dwell,
Where the sweet-voiced Echoes have many a cell?
Where the moss bears print of the wild deer's trens,
And the heath like a royal robe is spread?

Thou hast done well, oh! thou bright Sea-bird!
There is joy where the song of the lark is heard,
With the dancing of waters through copse and dell,
And the bee's low tune in the fox-glove's bell.

Thou hast done well:-Oh! the seas are lone,
And the voice they send up hath a mournful tone;
A mingling of dirges, and wild farewells,
Fitfully breathed through its anthem-swells.

The proud Bird rose as the words were said:
The rush of his pinion went o'er my head,
And the glance of his eye, in its bright disdain,
Spoke him a child of the haughty main.

He hath flown from the woods to the ocean's breast,
To his pride of place on the billow's crest!
-Oh! who shall say, to a spirit free,
"There lies the pathway of bliss for thee!"

CHRISTMAS IN OUR OWN LAND.

By Dr Memes, Author of " Life of Canova," "His" of Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture," &c.

Yea, Truth and Justice then

Did down return to men,

Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
Mercy did sit between,

Throned in celestial sheen,

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering,
And heaven as at some festival,

Did open wide the gates of her high palace hall. CHRISTMAS!-mysterious, but wise and beneficent f ming of the heart, over which a single sound can th call into power and efficacy countless sympathies, and

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