How faint the light! how thick the air! Lo, armed with whirlwind, hail, and frost, Fierce Winter desolates the year.— Deserts of snow fatigue the eye, Black storms involve the low'ring sky, And gloomy damps oppress the soul.

Akenside.

DELIGHTFUL as is the aspect of nature, under the warmth, and splendour, and genial influence of a summer sun, most persons look forward with pleasure to those seasons, when the falling leaf or drifting snow draws closer the family circle, and ushers in that social and intellectual intercourse which constitutes the dearest charm, and, next to religion, the highest privilege of human existence. When all without is wrapped in darkness, and the freezing blast howls eager for entrance round your dwelling, with what enjoyment do its inmates crowd to the cheerful hearth, and, as the flame grows brighter on their cheeks, listen, with a sensation of self-gratulating security, to the storm that shakes their solid roof. It is here that the power of contrast is experienced in all its force; not only in reference to the exposure, fatigues, and hazards, which may have been actually incurred ere the daylight closed; but imagination is at work to paint the lot of those less fortunate than ourselves, and who, still exposed to all the horrors of the storm, feel the bitterness of their destiny augmented by intrusive recol2H ATHENEUM VOL. 10.

lections of domestic ease and fire-side. enjoyments.

The pleasures and gratifications which flow from the Fire-side, may be considered as almost peculiar to these islands. In warmer climates the aid

of fire is demanded for little else than culinary purposes; whilst in the northern regions of continental Europe, the gloomy and unsocial stove forms, in general, the only medium through which the rigours of winter are mitigated. To the enlivening blaze, and the clean swept hearth, and to all the numerous comforts, which, in this country, so usually wait upon their junction, they are perfect strangers.

Winter, thou daughter of the storm,
I love thee when the day is o'er,
Spite of the tempest's outward roar;
Queen of the tranquil joys that weave
The charm around the sudden eve;
The thick ning footsteps thro' the gloom,
Telling of those we love come home;
The candles lit, the cheerful board,
The dear domestic group restored;
The fire that shows the looks of glee,
The infants standing at our knee;
The busy news, the sportive tongue,
The laugh that makes us still feel young;
The health to those we love, that now
Are far as ocean winds can blow;
The health to those that with us grew,
And still stay with us tried and true;
The wife that makes life glide away,
One long and lovely marriage day.
Then music comes till-round us creep
The infant list'ners half asleep;
And busy tongues are loud no more,
And, Winter, thy sweet eve is o'er.

Of the uses of snow, we have spoken at large in our former volumes; of its beautiful appearance, and of its attendants, frost and ice, we will now add the description in the language of an elegant writer. The very frost itself is a world of pleasure and fairy beauty. The snow dances down to earth, filling all the airy vacancy with a giddy whiteness; and, minutely inspected, every particle is a crystal star. The ice (hereafter destined to temper dulcet creams for us in the heat of summer) affords a new and rare pastime for the skaiter, almost next to flying; or suddenly succeeding to rain, strikes the trees and the grasses into silver. But what can be more delicately beautiful than the spectacle which sometimes salutes the eye at the breakfast-room window, occasioned by the hoar frost or frozen dew? If a jeweller had come to dress every plant over night to surprise an Eastern sultan, he could not produce any thing like the pearly drops, or the silvery plumage. An ordinary bed of greens will sometimes look like crisp and corrugated emerald, powdered with diamonds.'

Of all our animals called vermin, none seem more admirably fitted for their predatory life than the martin cat (mustela martis ;) it is sufficiently strong in body, remarkably quick and active in all its motions, with an eye so clear and perspective, and so moveable in its orbit, that nothing can stir with out detection; and is apparently endowed with a sense of smelling as acute as its other faculties. Its feet are beautifully formed, not treading upright on the ball, like the domestic cat, or fox, but sloping to the ground, having the balls deeply imbedded in the softest and most elastic hair, that the tread of the animal, even upon decayed leaves, is hardly audible; and it steals upon its prey without any noise betraying its approach. The fur is remarkably fine, apparently filled with a medullary matter; the skin unusually thin and flexile, impeding none of its agile movements, and all combining to render the martin a most destructive creature. In winter it lives in hollow trees, warmly imbedded in dry foliage: in the more genial seasons he often sleeps by day in the

old nest of a kite or a buzzard, where his dormitory is occasionally betrayed by the chattering of magpies and crows. Their numbers are but small, our woods in England being too easily penetrated to afford the martin any thing like permanent shelter; and the race is only continued, with probably an annual diminution. We have heard that the sum of three shillings has been offered for his pads only! probably to be used by the gilders.

The utility of worms in manuring the soil is so obvious, that perhaps we might venture to say that land frequented by them in any number could hardly be barren; they not only draw into their holes from the surface decayed vegetable matter, which thus rots and nourishes the roots of plants, but the substance which they eat is returned from their bodies (forming what is called 'worm casts') in a state peculiarly fitted for vegetable aliment; this being pulverized by frosts, and washed by rains, is readily received into circulation; and as worms cast almost every night in the year, except during hard frosts, they produce a never failing supply of this manure. Worms are furnished with small inverted spines upon the under surface of their bodies, enabling them to draw various light substances into their holes. It is admirable to observe the economy of Nature in keeping creation in due limits, and the provision she makes for the removal of encumbrances; trees, which from their magnitude appear indestructible by less than human violence, we yet find are by the agency of a seemingly feeble race speedily consumed: the several species of lucanus, cerambyx, vespa, ptinus, &c. clear away these forest wrecks, reducing them to dust, which serves as oil for the production and support of other vegetation. If we lift up the bark of an old tree, what a colony of labourers we disturb!

In no part of the habitable globe, is the New Year ushered in with more mirth and hilarity than in Scotland; devoid of the mummery and intrigue of a carnival, broad mirth and unrestrained freedom reign triumphant upon this occasion. It is not under a mask that the sports of the season are enjoyed.

The honest, undisguised countenance
appears clad in smiles; the hand of
friendship is everywhere as open and
as light as the heart; grave features
relax; stiff and starched manners un-
bend;
and the haughty master and ob-
sequious servant lose their constrained
representations.

Let mirth abound; let social cheer
Invest the dawning o' the year;
Let blithesome innocence appear,
To crown our joy;

Nor Envy, with sarcastic sneer,

Our bliss destroy.

The commencement of the year, as we have just seen, is a season most frequently devoted to mirth and amusement; but should it not be a season of reflection also? Such it must be to those who are intent on husbanding and improving their time.

Come, melancholy Moralizer, come!

Gather with me the dark and wintry wreath;
With me engarland now
The Sepulchre of Time!

Come, Moralizer, to the funeral song!
I pour the dirge of the Departed Days;
For well the funeral song

Befits this solemn hour.

But hark! even now the merry bells ring round With elamorous joy to welcome in this day, This consecrated day,

To mirth and indolence.

Mortal! whilst Fortune with benignant hand
Fills to the brim thy cup of happiness,

Whilst her unclouded sun
Illumes thy summer day,

If thou hast wealth to gratify each wish,
If power be thine, remember what thou art-

Remember thou art Man,

And Death thine heritage!

Hast thou known Love? does beauty's better sun Cheer thy fond heart with no capricious smile, Her eye all eloquence,

Her voice all harmony?

Oh, state of happiness! hark how the gale
Moans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove:
Winter is dark and cold-

Where now the charms of Spring!
Sayst thou that Fancy paints the future scene
In hues too sombrous? that the dark-stoled maid
With stern and frowning front
Appals the shuddering soul?
And wouldst thou bid me court her fairy form,
When, as she sports her in some happier mood,
Her many-coloured robes

Dance varying to the sun?

Ah! vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road
Leads o'er the barren mountain's storm-vexed height
With anxious gaze survey

BORDERING clans, like neighbouring nations, were never upon terms of hereditary concord; vicinity produced rivalry, and rivalry produced war: for this reason, the Mac Donells and the Mac Kenzies were never long without some act of hostility or feud; firing houses, driving herds, raising rents, and slaughtering each other's clansmen, were feats of recreation which each was equally willing to exercise upon his neighbour; and if either was more deficient than the other, it was more from want of opportunity, than lack of

good-will. Among all the exploits which were thus occasioned between the two clans, none was more celebrated, nor more fearful, than the burning of the Cillechrist (Christ's Church); it gave occasion and name to the pibroch of the Glengarrie family, and was provoked and performed in the following manner. In the course of a long succession of fierce and sanguinary conflicts, the Mac Lelans, a race who were followers of the Mac Kenzies, took occasion to intercept, and assassinate, the eldest son of Donald Mac Angus of

Glengarrie. Donald died shortly after, and his second son, who succeeded to the chieftaincy of the clan, was too young to undertake the conduct of any enterprise to revenge the death of his brother his cousin, however, Angus Mac Raonuill of Lundi, acted as his captain, and, gathering the Mac Donells, in two separate raids swept off the rents from the greater part of Lord Seaforth's country. Still, this revenge seemed to him too poor an expiation for the blood of his chief: the warm life of the best of his foemen was the only sacrifice which he thought he could offer as an acceptable oblation to appease the manes of the murdered; and he, therefore, projected a third expedition, resolving in this to fill the measure of vengeance to the brim. In the prosecution of his design he awaited a favourable opportunity, and, gathering a small band of men, penetrated into the country of the Mac Kenzies early on a Sunday morning, and surrounded the Cillechrist, while a numerous congregation were assembled within its walls. Inexorable in his purpose, Angus commanded his men to set fire to the building, and slaughter all who endeavoured to break forth. Struck with despair when the flames rushed in upon the aile of the church, and they beheld the circle of bare claymores glancing beyond the door, the congregation, scarce knowing what they did, endeavoured to force their way through the weapons and the flames; but, pent within the narrow pass of a single arch, they were not capable to make way over each other, far less to break the ring of broadswords which bristled round the porch men, women, and children, were driven back into the blazing pile, or hewn down, and transfixed at the gorge of the entrance; the flames increased on every side, a heavy column of livid smoke rolled upward on the air, and the roar of infuriated men, the wailing of suffering infants, and the shrieks of despairing women, rung from within the dissolving pile. While the church was burning, the piper of the Mac Donells marched round the building, playing, as was customary on extraordinary occasions, an extempore piece of music: the pibroch which he now played was

called, from the place where it was composed, Cillechrist, and afterwards became the pibroch of the Glengarrie family. At length the flames poured forth from every quarter of the building, the roof fell in, there was one mingled yell, one crash of ruin; the flame sunk in smouldering vapour, and all was silent. Angus had looked on with stern unrelenting determination, but the deed was done, and recollection now warned him of the danger of delay; he immediately gave orders to retreat, and leading off his men, set off with the utmost expedition for his own country. The flames of the church had, however, lighted a beacon of alarm which blazed far and wide: the Mac Kenzies had gathered in numerous bodies, and took the chase with such vigour, that they came in sight of the Mac Donells long before they got to the border of their country. Angus Mac Raonuill, seeing the determination of the pursuit, and the superiority of its numbers, ordered his men to separate, and shift each for himself: they dispersed accordingly, and made every one his way to his own house as well as he could. The commander of the Mac Kenzies did not scatter his people, but, intent on securing the leader of his foemen, held them together on the track of Angus Mac Raonuill, who with a few men in his company fled towards Loch Ness. Angus always wore a scarlet plush jacket, and it now served to mark him out to the knowledge of the pursuers. Perceiving that the whole chase was drawn after himself, he separated his followers one by one, till at length he was left alone; but yet the pursuers turned not aside upon the track of any other. When they came near the burn of Alt Shian, the leader of the Mac Kenzies had gained so much on the object of his pursuit, that he had nearly overtaken him. The river which was before them runs in this place through a rocky chasm, or trough, of immense depth, and considerable breadth: Angus knew that death was behind him, and gathering all his strength, he dashed at the desperate leap, and being a man of singular vigour and activity, succeeded in clearing it. The leader of the Mac Kenzies, reckless of danger in the ar

dour of the pursuit, followed also at the leap, but, less athletic than his adversary, he failed of its length, and slipping on the side of the crag, held by the slender branch of a birch-tree which grew above him on the brink. The Mac Donell, looking back in his flight to see the success of his pursuer, beheld him hanging to the tree, and struggling to gain the edge of the bank: he turned, and drawing his dirk, at one stroke severed the branch which supported the Mac Kenzie ;-"I have left much behind me with you to-day," said he, "take that also." The wretched man, rolling from rock to rock, fell headlong into the stream below, where, shattered and mangled by the fall, he expired in the water. Angus Mac Raonuill continued his flight, and the Mac Kenzies, though bereft of their leader, held on the pursuit. Checked, however, by the stream which none of them dared to leap, Angus was gaining fast upon them, when a musquet discharged at him by one of the pursuers, wounded him severely, and greatly retarded his

speed. After passing the river, the Mac Kenzies again drew hard after him, and as they came in sight of Loch Ness, Angus perceiving his strength to fail with his wound, and his enemies pressing upon him, determined to attempt swimming the loch: he rushed into the water, and for some time, refreshed by its coolness, swam with much vigour and confidence. His limbs would, however, in all probability have failed him before he had crossed the half of the distance to the opposite bank; but Fraser of Fyars, a particular friend of the Glengarrie family, seeing a single man pursued by a party out of the Mac Kenzies' country, and knowing that the Mac Donells had gone upon an expedition in that direction, got out a boat, and hastening to the aid of Angus, took him on board, and conveyed him in safety to the east side of the loch. The Mac Kenzies, seeing their foeman had escaped, discontinued their pursuit, and Angus re turned at his leisure to Glengarrie.

JAN.

IF F it were not that critics are proverbial for having no bowels, we should hesitate at entering the paradise of pies and puddings which Dr. Kitchener has opened to us; for the steam of his rich sentences rises about our senses like the odours of flowers around the imagination of a poet; and larded beef goes nigh to lord it over our bewildered appetites. But being steady men, of sober and temperate habits, and used to privations in the way of food, we shall not scruple at looking a leg of mutton in the face, or shaking hands with a shoulder of veal. "Minced collops" nothing daunt us; we brace our nerves, and are not overwhelmed with "cockle catsup!" When Bays asks his friend, "How do you do when you write ?" it would seem that he had he Cook's Oracle in his eye-for to men of any

mastication, never was there a book that required more training for a quiet and useful perusal. Cod's-head rises before you in all its glory! while the oysters revolve around it, in their firmament of melted butter, like its wellordered satellites! Moorgame, mackarel, muscles, fowls, eggs, and forcemeat-balls, start up in all directions, and dance the hays in the imagination. We should recommend those readers with whom dinner is a habit, not to venture on the Doctor's pages, without seeing that their hunger, like a ferocious house-dog, is carefully tied up. To read four pages with an unchained appetite, would bring on dreadful dreams of being destroyed with spits, or drowned in mullagatawny soup, or of having your tongue neatly smothered in your own brains, and, as Mat