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inviter at the door of the houses of those who are invited.

When at length the day of the marriage has arrived, the strangest ceremony of all takes place. The tailor's services are now again put in requisition. Early in the morning, the bridegroom, with his relations and his tailor, present themselves before the door of the bride's house, on the threshold of which, her friends and her tailor are assembled to receive them. Then ensues a long dialogue in verse between the two tailors. The gentleman's spokesman represents his party as travellers who ask for hospitality. The poet retained on the lady's side replies that the roads are full of vagabonds, that he has nothing to say to them, and that they had better pursue their way. A good deal of bantering then succeeds. At last the man's tailor declares the real object for which he has come, and sets forth the good qualities of his employer-how he can plough as much in a day as three hired labourers, how he can alone replace a cart which has been overturned. He recounts his triumphs at wrestling matches, and adds, that in his hand the penbas' is more powerful than a sword in that of a soldier.

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The other champion retorts by enumerating the perfections of the lady. She is light and supple as the blossom-covered branches of the broom, and when the dance begins, she, timid virgin as she is, holds in one hand the hand of her mother, and in the other that of a female friend. But this paragon, he concludes, is not here; she has long since left her father's

house.

"You deceive me,' replies the other. The yewtree is made for the churchyard, the rose for the garden, and young girls to grace the home of a husband. Do not throw us into despair! Lead hither by the hand her whom we desire, and we will place her at the wedding-feast near her bridegroom, under the eyes of her friends.'

'It seems we must yield to you, friend, you are so pressing,' says the lady's poet. He then goes into the house, and, returning with an old woman, says, ' Is this, then, the rose you are seeking?"

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'From the venerable appearance of this woman,' replies the other, I judge that she has well fulfilled her task in this world, and that she has conferred happiness on him who has loved her. But she has ended that which the other must now begin. She is not the woman I seek.'

The other returns again to the house, and leads forth a young married woman, saying, 'Here is a young girl, beautiful as the morning star. Her cheeks are

I had a heart so ardent! Neither for gold, nor for silver, would I have given my poor heart! Adieu, my companions, adieu for ever!

Alas! I have given it for nothing! Alas! I have placed it where joys and pleasures are no more. Adieu, my companions, adieu for ever!

Go, maidens! run to fairs and to pardons; but for me, I must do so no longer! Adieu, my companions, adieu for ever!

For me, see you not that I must remain here! Henceforward I am but a servant, girls; for I am married. Adieu, my companions, adieu for ever!" Our readers need scarcely be told, we believe, after these citations, that there is much pleasing matter in a "Summer in Brittany."

UNINVITED CONTRIBUTIONS.

IN a late article entitled "Correspondents," we held forth a promise that we would take an early opportunity of presenting some specimens of the contributions which have from time to time been submitted to us for insertion in the Journal. This promise we are now about to redeem. One remark alone do we deem it necessary to make by way of preface, namely, that the importance of great failings in literature, as illustrations of the workings of the human mind, is perhaps greater than might be at first supposed. The effusions of a powerful or a brilliant, and at the same time well-disciplined intellect, have their well recognised value, for they go directly to the effect of either pleasing or improving. We are less apt to see that the effusions of the weak and undisciplined mind have also their value, as showing how such a mind works when it tries that for which neither natural nor acquired gifts have prepared it. With regard to the mere comic effect of these effusions, we say not a word, that being a point which we believe may be safely taken for granted.

We begin with prose—and, first, let us give a specimen of the class essay. It is entitled, "A short Essay on Good Temper;" and certainly if it has any merit whatever, it is that of brevity :

couple wended their way by the margin of a flowing and magnificent river, that, like a mirror, spread its glossy surface to the sky, reflecting therein a thousand variegated and sparkling hues. By the side of this placid stream, silently moving, but, like a mighty avalanche, to its fall, gay gardens, redolent in beauty, and full of sweetest odours, formed the rich framework in which the picture was encased. Of the two persons thus met, the one was a youth, of a carriage not positively noble, but yet dignified sufficiently to indicate an education and bearing above the ordinary walks of life-of a moderate stature, and of a pleasing countenance. The other, a fair-haired girl of eighteen, an age universally admitted to be the most productive of attractive qualifications, and not less so in the subject of whom we are at present speaking.

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'And so, Walter,' she said, 'you are determined to be married, are you? Well, if you will, you must &c.

A sentimental tale, dated from London, is less dulcet, but perhaps more amusing. It commences with a fine Sterne-like abruptness :

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fifteen.

When I first knew her, she was scarce

You sometimes meet with female beauty that charms and captivates the eye, but how rare to find the mortal creature that does not know if nature has graced her above her fellows. But such was not our heroine (though heroine she was not); there was have their models of female excellence to possess; she none of that masculine firmness which some would

was a child of nature-one that knew not the arts of

some, or, I should say, most of our women. She said what she meant, and did what she said (what a rare quality among mankind!) Concerning her personal appearance, suffice it to say, it was all that God could give, or man desire; when she was of the age at which my story begins, she was watched over by one that was bound to her by the dearest natural tie the her little tales of pleasure or of care. How different earth affords-a mother it was to whom she told all with most of her age! Indeed, few friends she had

save one who knew that

There is many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bare,

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on desert air.

their cottage, where I was sure to find two at least to Often have I taken a stroll involuntarily towards welcome me, and sometimes four, if the cat and dog were

like roses; and her eyes are of crystal. One glance and serene temper; and it has such advantages of cool in the way; but those happy hours will never come

from them can render a heart sick for ever! This must be the fair one you want.' Certainly this soft cheek, and youthful freshness, look like those of a maiden. But this finger, bearing the marks of rubbing has it not often been rubbed

with pap for an infant to suck?'

Nothing escapes your notice! Tell me, then, at once, is this she whom you want?'-bringing out a little girl of ten years old.

That is exactly what she whom I seek was eight years ago. Some day this pretty child will make the happiness of a husband. But she must remain yet a long while on the espalier. The one I want waits but the gardener's basket to carry her to the table of the nuptial feast.'

The bride's spokesman then yields. He leads her from the house, saying, 'It is enough. You deserve her whom you ask for.'

The two families then enter the house together, and the tailor says, Behold the girl you have chosen! Your hands, children! Man! you have now a wife to defend and to make happy. Let us not ever see her weeping at the door of thy house, like a stranger; for God avenges the weak who weep.'

Then a prayer is said. All present are invited to the wedding; and the man's poet says, 'Come, maiden ! bend your knees, and bow your head beneath the hands of your father, which bless you. You are weeping! Look at your father and your poor mother! They are weeping too; but how much more bitter are their tears than yours. They are about to be separated from a daughter whom they have cradled, and danced in their arms! Whose heart would not melt at the sight of such grief! Yet these tears must cease! Tender father, see there your child. Look upon her. Her arms are stretched out towards you! Poor mother, put your hands upon her! A prayer and a blessing for the child who is about to leave you! Enough, now! You have obeyed the commandments of God. Rise, maiden! embrace your parents, and arise in strength, for henceforward you belong to a man.' After the service of the church, to which they then repair, they return immediately to the feast. This is in some cases provided at the house of the bridegroom, but more ordinarily at some 'auberge' in the neighbourhood. If the former is the case, every guest brings some present to the new-married couple. If the latter, every one pays his own share of the feast." Being thenceforth banished from all festivals and pardons (something like the Irish patrons), the Breton bride considers her change of life as a matter

for sorrow, not for joy, and so it assuredly is in many respects. She accordingly sings on the occasion a song of lamentation, and the following is the customary form:

"In other days in the days of my youth-how warm a heart I had! Adieu, my companions, adieu for ever!

faithful index to a generous heart; it hushes in its That"A good temper is a delightful thing, and is a and bears no rancour or feelings of animosity. To the bosom every unkind prejudice, every malicious intent, the wretched, and the demolition of persecuted innoweak failings of human nature, the misfortunes of cence, it turns a pitying eye. The stormy and turbulent passions of the soul are subdued by a placid reflection and self-determination, that it overcomes things seemingly unconquerable to the hasty and petulant. This happy unanimity of temper and feeling it will soften the sterile heart to pity, and at other can work miracles on the human frame; sometimes times it awakens the callous soul to a sense of its own corruption, and imbibes in the unfeeling and stoical a more just sense of unanimity and true friendship."

The following second specimen might be supposed to proceed from the same writer; but it does not, being in a different hand, and addressed from a different part of the kingdom. The subject is " Self-confidence." We look upon both papers as curiosities, but the second particularly, for not only is there in that instance an equal triteness, but the ideas are in a state of imperfection which no able mind could

simulate :

again, and it is no use lamenting what we cannot remedy-the mother of this cherished fair one did not live long after I knew them, and she that had whom she clung, was left like the ivy that clings to been used to be fondled and caressed by the one to the oak, and droops as soon as its only support is removed."

We receive great numbers of contributions in the ments on subjects which have been discussed in the epistolary form, generally presenting additional comJournal. Some of these are in a style of earnestness quite edifying. One gentleman writes in such a strain to be quite consistent, he must put his body into a of indignation respecting the expense of funerals, that, codicil to his will, bequeathing it to the doctors. Another is not less emphatic on the subject of tight lacing. The latter gentleman, moreover, adds to the effect of his invectives by a mode of spelling apparently peculiar to himself, as a speaker sometimes gives character and force to his orations by a peculiar two passages, preserving the original spelling, but stutter or burr in his speech. We shall select one or adding points, and giving capital letters to the first words of sentences:

-The writer is avowedly aganst Tight lacing, and has his owen Reasons for being so disposed; first, that there is an absulate want of Self preservation in it, which in all ages has Constuted the first law of nature.

"There are two things, of which one or the other is generally more prominent in a young beginner. The first, a deficiency of conceit, or an indifference concerning confidence in one's self; the second, and much the worst of the two, an overwhelming conceit, or a degrading pride, which tends to unfit a person for any capacity where any resemblance of learning or meekness may be the object. The former may be defined in the following manner :-A young beginner may be naturally subject to this peculiar turn, which too frequently exposes him to ridicule, from an inward knowledge or sense of his comparative minuteness, Secondly, that they are not in any way hesitating carried to the effect of rendering him timid in his to alter or to amend the workmanship of Gods owen behaviour and expression, which may be worthy of hands. It would not only be unfair of the writter to the highest merit. The latter, more difficult to eluci-settil such a falt upon the femel Seck in general, but date, on account of the many improprieties which Truley Treacherous on the Male part, they are worthy attend it, hardly admits of being explained definitely; of Bearing the wone half of the Blame. It has been the following are a few of the many evils which in long a vain and a folish part of young men, to flatter variably accompany it :-ambitious of empty eulo- and hiley to appriciate the neatness and smallness of giums, without the energetic powers necessary to gain there Lovers, even in their owen ears, Converting there them real; a sham show of knowledge, easily detected minds into Pride, rendering themselves more objects by conversation; dress and gaudiness appear to be of petty than of real usefulness in any society of life, more attended to than that which tends to improve ether as Servents or as Mothers. If men in General the mind; the person, by such ignorance, being totally would be so kind to themselves and others, as to alter blind to his mistakes, naturally shuns conversation; there Tone of Flatterry to the Revers, it would have the last stage is then had resort to-he is solitary, and as powerfull an effect to bring the lacing Reform to keeps perfect silence, forgetting the words of a valu- the desired point, as any wone thing that I am to able writer, Though silence is sometimes the mien of think off. wisdom, it is yet too often the mask of ignorance.'

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If the writter was as able, as what I am willing, to Publish a Lacing Reform, there is only wone point that I would Treat upon. I would Intreat Gentleto listen to the well Garrentend Statements frequentley men of every description, and of every calling of life, given by Emenent Fesisions, Frequently given Regarding Tight lacing. Men and brethren, and fellow-Siti

sens, the evil refered to has now gone its linth. What shall we do in order to prevent it every Man amongst us, lett us teach Wone and all of us, that if we ar so blindfolded as to enter into any Contract of Matteromony, that we ought to be sure and take a house

near to a Seck nurss or Fesecion. Every attempt that man can make will be useless and vain to radicate the Prevaling evel, untill wonce the Femeals begin to learn that men of sence and humanity disaprove of the System of lacing to that extent. That they will not Involve themselves into a Fameley of Sekness and unfirmity, where a complaint is sett before the Industerous Husband almost every morning of a Shortness of Brath, a Pane of the side, a headack, or some other mallady Which she, the Spouse, have procured to hirself with her owen hands, throw the Meadiem of Tight Lacing during the former days of hir Courtship, which she is obliged to retain throw life as a Famely Peace, untill she is obliged to say that she is become sister to the Earth and to the Worm. Suffer me to exort you never grow weary in well dowing. If you Persevear, you will obtain. Never lett won_man Dispare. While there is life, there is hope. Thow you did fale in the attempt, you could loss nothing, but show to an inlightened woreld your love and affec

tion for mankind in General.

Sir, pirmit me to make a singel remark or Two upon Tight lacing. It is unbecoming in the church, as it has a tendency of keping up a Contenual Bussel of attendence with dor-kepers, lousing lacces, some services of drinkes of watter, to the disscomotion of the whole house, or rather Church. It is now come to such a hight, that a fall is quite Expedent. Now active ie* can be deceived in it, where ever it is, as it has a Publick Tendency to show in there Countenances, that there is some that is disscomoding either there

persons or mindes.

If learning and language would permitt me to make a Comparison regarding Tight, lacing, I would then say that it is a pestelance wethin and wethout, which do Require much assistance to wash and Sweep, till every resemblence of it quite dissapear. It is now Drawing on to a peread of Three years Since the writter first began to agetate the quastin amongst my owen Cless of Society, and still wethout proper effect; I do Rejoice that much abler is begun to Sprade it to many Distant Isels. It will Doutless Reach every Sity, town, vilige, and hamelet in the kingdom of Great Britan. I think I hear the whole Inlightened Seck of femeals saying, 'we would be Glad to see a Reform of this kind, as we are growing weary of the old Punishing System of Tight Lacing, which we have Incured upon ourselves to Supporte Pride and to Procure Ruen to ourselves and our Succeding Generations; but we have never yet been able to procure a proper Plan to accomplish our desires. We most appear on the Streats and at Balls like others, and at the Theater Royel, or other wies we would become quite Comspecious. Will some now even Come to the Resaulution, and say we will now make up our minds, and resolve to Invent Some sort of a Dress in order to give Some Satisfactian to our associates, least we get out of there estimation altogether, and than we will have a worse Risk to runn. You know to a Sertenty, the Cace is quite deferent that what it was onley a feew years ago, when the Tighter that we wer Bound in our fetters of Steal, Bone, and cotton lace, that we wer the more admired," &c,

We have only room on the present occasion for one further specimen; but it is one well fitted for a conclusion, the narrative being, as the newspapers say, " curious, if true :"_

you

*

"Having lately read in the 368 number of your journal, an artical entitle absurdities, one of the maney enumerated was, 'Praiseing the beauty of a woman's hair before know whether it did not belong to another person. My occupation being that of a hair-dresser, I have frequent oppertunity of observing the reality of many absurdities too tedious to enumerate. About two years ago, a respectable Jewler in this city, got an order for a gold broach with a clasp, intended to contain a peace of hair, which at the same time was produced, with instructions to plait them neetly up, stateing that they ware cut out of the head of Sir W. Scott. They got them as a great favour from a very respectable person Intimately aquented, and Both known to Sir Walter when in life; therefor they ware ansious to preserve this Small remnent of his hair, the only Memorial of the Great Unknown She had in his posession. The Jewler in the mean time opened up the parsol to exeman the hair, when, to his astonishment, he beheld three soletarey hairs, one eighth of an Inch Long, perfectly uselese for the purpose for which they ware intended. He thought he would apply to me, to see wither I could match the culour with a peace Long enough to plaite. I had nothing to sute at the time. White hair is allways a very scarce Culour, and rarely long enough to plait. I told him it would be some time before I could precure it for him. He waited with painfull anciety for 6 or 8 days, calling 2 or three times every day During that time. Fortunately a Gentleman, who has a Large newfoundland dog, came to be dressed every day at my shop. The dog is of a Black and white culour, with a Large Bushey tail, the white hair of which I thought would match that of Sir Walter Scott. I mentioned the circumstance to the gentleman, at the same time requesting permission to cut a Loke of hair from off his dog, which was imediatly granted: the eissers in a moment severed the fur from his tail, close to the Skine, and Level with his rump. In the meen time the person had calld at the Jewler to see if the

Apparently, no active eye

Broach was compleeted, whech was answered in the
Negitive. The person then left, promising to call an-
other day. The Jewler came to aprise me of his visit,
when I informed him of my success in procureing the
hair, which gave great Satisfaction to the Customer,
but more so to the Jewler, which will be afterwards
proved. Not a month after, he received from two
more Individules an order of the same kind as the
above, and recomanded by his first employer; all which
he undertook to perform, also provoiding the hair for
them, knowing by this time whare it was to be found
growing. The outrageious attacts of the Jewler Upon
the old dog were soon noticed by the boys of the
Nabourhood, by the grotasque and Naked appearance
given him by his Shorn tail, which afforded them
ample Sport for many a day; but his haggerd appear
ance at last excited the simphies of the more humane,
being Imployed in watching a Shop. He was removed
by his master to a quiter retreet, there to spend the
remainder of his days, in that ease and quiet comfort
his Long and Valuable Services mirited, and is always
the reward a faithfull Servent is entittled to receive,
Sir Walter Scott (for that was the dog's name), paid
the debt of nature about two years ago; the Jewler
has also gone to his fathers."

NATURAL TERRACES ON THE EILDON

HILLS.

A LATE paper, entitled "Changes of Level in the
Earth's Surface," gave a brief view of certain natural
terraces in various parts of the globe, particularly in
South America and in Glenroy in Inverness-shire,
which are now esteemed by geologists as the remains
of ancient sea-beaches, which had been formed when
the land was on a lower level than at present, and
subsequently were raised into their present elevation
by upheavals of the crust of the earth, such as have
taken place on various occasions within the memory

of man in Chili.

A recent paper on the Glenroy terraces, by Mr Darwin (published in the Philosophical Transactions), has had the effect, within the last twelve months, of calling the attention of a private individual, resident in the town of Galashiels in Selkirkshire, to certain appearances of the same kind on the hills around that town; and the result has been a series of observations and measurements, making it quite clear, as we apprehend, that here also we have a most interesting memorial of those changes which have fitted our country for becoming a habitable land. The observer in this case is Mr William Kemp, manager of the gas-works in Galashiels, a person, we believe, of limited education, but considerable natural penetration, and the leader of a local geological society. The writer of the present paper has, in company with Mr Kemp, gone over the whole ground, and satisfied himself that the appearances really are, as far as he can judge, of the same character with those of Glenroy, though in general less conspicuously marked.

The town of Galashiels stands on the bank of the Gala, at a point where the vale is broad and open, and within a mile of its junction with the vale of the Tweed. The site of the town resembles an irregular amphitheatre enclosed by hills, the continuity of which is broken in upon at two main points, where the Gala enters above from the north-west, and where the

Tweed flows in below from the south or south-west.

About two miles below the junction of the Gala and
the Tweed, the treble-peaked Eildon seems to close up
the scene on the east. The hills bounding the Gala
shiels vale on the northerly or right bank of the Gala,
are Buckholm Hill and Appletree-leaves Hill; on the
The hollows between these heights are wide and deep,
southern or left side, Galashiels Hill and Meigle Hill.
with streamlets flowing at the bottom. On the north
and south sides of the Tweed, between the influx of the
Gala and the Eildons, there are also several bordering
hills. On the south are the Abbotsford Hills, with
the Cauldshiels Loch behind them; and on the north
is Housebyre Hill and others. All these are hills
visible from each other, and lying within a space of
five or six miles in diameter.

On the encircling sides of these hills (as well as on
others to be pointed out), there are traceable distinct
terraces or beach-marks, to the number of fifteen, rising
one above another like the steps of a stair.* On no
one of the hills are the whole fifteen distinctly visible
in succession at any given point, but on various parts
many of them are clearly discernible, existing in a
regular series. All of these beach-marks run in a per-
fectly horizontal line, are parallel to one another, and
agree in level with corresponding members of the
series on the adjoining hills. The Eildons, as the most
prominent eminences of the district, merit our first
consideration in descending to particulars. The middle
been found to stand at the height of 1330 feet above
peak of the three, which is the most elevated, has
the level of the sea, and the peak to the east or north-
east stands but fifteen feet lower. The third hill is
much lower, and retired from the view. Looking at
the two first-mentioned heights from a little distance,
lines or tracks are seen on each, agreeing perfectly in
level, and so well marked, that, when the attention is
once called to them, one cannot but wonder that they
should never before have arrested notice. Fifteen feet

* Mr Kemp has discovered a sixteenth terrace, lower than any of the preceding ones, and almost equally well defined. The calculations in the paper, however, were completed before this could

be added.

below the apex of the eastern hill, a line appears, which, when examined close at hand, proves to be a fine grassy shelf or plain, surrounding nearly the entire eminence; and on the middle hill, at the same level, we find a similar plain, stretching at some points to a breadth of 160 feet. Being thirty feet below the summit of the middle or highest hill, this terrace, which is No. 1 of Mr Kemp's series, stands at a height of 1300 feet above the sea. Meigle Hill, to the southwest of Galashiels, nearly equals the Eildons in altitude, and on it, around a central rocky crown, we find a shelf distinctly marked, and corresponding perfectly, when the level is taken by instruments, with those on the two Eildons. It is remarkable, that on the eastern side of this shelf on the Meigle hill, there is a large boulder of greywacke, well rounded, and with a number of cup-like cavities in it, giving it the sp pearance, altogether, of having been long exposed to the action of water. It is called, by the people of the district, Wallace's Putting-stone.

Terrace No 2 of Mr Kemp's series is equally well seen on the Eildons from a little distance. It lies fifty feet lower than No. 1, and is particularly marked on the west front of the eastern hill. On the western and northern sides of Meigle hill, it is also visible, the northern shoulder presenting a plane 300 feet in diameter at some points. No 2 is also visible near the summit of Williamlaw, a very remarkable hill on the course of the Gala, and which is high enough to fall within its scope. Terrace No. 3 stands fifty-eight feet lower than the preceding one, and is beautifully marked on the middle Eildon, as well as more slightly on the eastern one. It likewise appears in the shape of a plain of greater or less breadth on two sides of Meigle, and on the south and north of Williamlaw. No. 4, lower by fifty-two feet, is but slightly apparent on the Eildon hills, but perfectly distinct, at an accordant level, on Meigle and on Williamlaw. No. 5, again, lies sixty-four feet below its predecessor." At this level (says Mr Kemp, in the notes which he has been good enough to communicate,) a very great mass of the hill, upon the south side of the eastern Eildon, has been swept down and planed, forming a beautiful shelf of about three and a half acres, with the rock rising bare and precipitous above; and upon the northern sides both of the same hill and the middle one, the same shelf is distinctly defined, and about 160 feet in breadth. It is also very well marked upon Meigle and Williamlaw." Between this terrace and No. 6, there is an intervening space of forty-five feet. Though barely visible on the Eildons, No 6 is well seen on Meigle and Williamlaw. The terraces now begin to be marked on other and lower hills of the district, but, to save confusion, we shall allude afterwards to the corroborative evidence derived from these, and confine our present account of the series chiefly to the hills already named. No. 7, fifty-five feet lower, is pretty well traced on the Eildons, and extends to a breadth of 120 feet on some portions of Meigle. On range of magnificent terraces, forming a shelf 120 feet the southern exposure of Williamlaw, it commences a broad in some parts. No. 8, fifty feet beneath the preceding, is discernible with case upon portions of the Eildons, Meigle, and Williamlaw. Mr Kemp found considerable difficulty in making out No. 9 (fifty feet lower), but tracked it ultimately to his satisfaction on Meigle, Buckholm hill, and Williamlaw.

Terrace No. 10, which stands fifty-five feet beneath No. 9, is every way a remarkable one." It was that (says Mr Kemp) which first attracted my attention. The Eildon hills assume their conical form immediately above this shelf, which is about 300 feet broad around nearly the whole of their northern sides, and on Galashiels hill, and forms around the north-eastern slopes gently downwards. It is the highest of a series summit of that eminence a fine level plain 110 feet broad. On the south-east side of Buckholm hill, it has the appearance of a perfectly horizontal road for a long way round the height. On the west side of the same hill, on Williamlaw, and on others, it appears very distinctly, varying in breadth from a slight trace up to 300 feet. I have traced this terrace where no

other was to be seen, and nowhere was it absent where the level admitted of its presence, and where others were to be found." Along the sides and indentures of the hills, on the Tweed, Gala, Ettrick, and the Cadon (both of which latter streams join the Tweed three or four miles to the south of Galashiels), Mr Kemp observed this terrace, and he continues to remark that the sea seems to have swept so long round the hills at this level, as to have washed down their sides to a great extent, carrying away the traces of the superior beach. On this supposition, at once ingenious and rational, he accounts for the scanty traces existing of terrace No. 9. No, 10 stands at a height of 821 feet above the sea.

of which lies 285 feet below No. 10, and 536 above the level of the sea, are found on the cultivated parts of the country around Galashiels, and, in fact, form the broad arable hill-slopes of the district. Culture with the plough, and wooding, certainly interfere with the distinctness of their appearance in some respects, but Mr Kemp holds these inferior shelves, and even a still lower one, to be well made out, and equally unambiguous in their character with the upper ones.

Terraces No. 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15, the lowermost

Thus the observations of Mr Kemp give us (at least) fifteen well-marked lines of terraces in this district, the highest 1300 feet above the level of the sea, and the lowest 536, which gives an average interspace,

in the case of each pair, of fifty-four and a half feet." At so many different and successive land-levels must the sea have stood for long periods during the ages of the past, if these conclusions be correct; and it is to be observed that Mr Kemp, with indefatigable patience and industry, has accumulated a body of evidence on the subject, which almost clears it from all doubt. Besides his observations in the immediate vale of Galashiels, he has examined the vales of the Tweed, the Ettrick, the Gala, the Cadon, and other lesser streams which permeate the hills of the district, to distances of five, six, seven, and eight miles, and in all he has found these terraces present in greater or lesser numbers, according to the character and altitude of the hills examined, and always at parallel and corresponding levels. It is equally creditable to his powers of observation, and corroborative of his argument, that he has, as he says, found "no errors to correct" during his whole course of inquiry. He has used an accurate instrument in taking his levels, and has carried his examinations from hill to hill, across valleys, and in all possible directions. In whole, he has examined a circuit of country fully ten miles in diameter. Anxious to have a satisfactory view of these wonderful natural phenomena, and at the same time to subject them to the test of impartial observation, the writer of the present paper, as previously mentioned, travelled over a considerable portion of the Galashiels district in company with Mr Kemp. The hill first visited was Williamlaw. The southern front of this height, which is the side most exposed, presents some appearances, which seemed at first completely contradictory of the theory of the horizontal marine beaches. A regular and nearly parallel series of broad and

strongly marked ridges are there seen, but these are not horizontal. They are clearly and undeniably inclined, and at a considerable angle, occupying and crossing the whole front of the hill from summit to base. Viewed at a distance (says Mr Kemp), the sloping aspect of these terraces appeared inexplicable; but on a closer inspection, the mystery vanished." The hill is composed, in that region, of successive beds of hard blue grey wacke, alternated with layers of soft blue slate. The strike of the stratifications corresponds with the slope of the superficial ridges, and these ridges, as a close inspection shows, must have been produced by the action of the sea at its successive levels, the softer intervening materials being washed out, and the hard stratifications left comparatively bold and prominent. This is made perfectly apparent when the hill is examined in profile. Then do we find distinct protuberances, running horizontally across the sloping ridges at nine different elevations, which correspond in their respective levels with the terraces on the neighbouring hills, from No. 7 to No. 16. That these are the traces of sea-beaches is beautifully proved on rounding the hill, where, in the absence of the same superficial strata, the waters have produced their usual effects, in forming horizontal beaches at the same levels as the protuberances mentioned. With a good pocket spirit-level, Mr Kemp not only demonstrated that these terraces were horizontal, but by turning the instrument to the shelves on the opposite side of the vale, and in fact to all the hills around, showed the existence upon them, at various points, of terraces, at the identical levels of those on Williamlaw. This bill, therefore, instead of forming an anomaly among its neighbours, is in reality a curious and striking proof of the accuracy of Mr Kemp's conclusions; and the mode in which its sloping ridges are to be accounted for, may yield a useful lesson to all future inquirers into this subject. The examination of the strata will in all probability remove every similar difficulty.

On a visit, also, to the Abbotsford hills, and the Eildon district, the writer had the advantage of receiving ocular satisfaction with regard to the terraces upon these and the surrounding heights. It is unnecessary, however, that he should do more here than add his testimony to the accuracy of Mr Kemp's observations and deductions. One hill only may be mentioned, as affording peculiarly beautiful specimens of these terraces. It is a hill named Cathie, immediately below the village of Stow, and on the line of the Carlisle road along the Gala. Six or seven terraces, perfectly horizontal, and running parallel to one another, may there be observed by any passing

traveller.

It is only by actual personal inspection, perhaps, or at all events by the aid of drawings, that the existence of these terraces can be fully demonstrated. But believing, as we do, that almost every district of Scotland, to go no farther, will be found to present similar traces on a close examination, conviction will ere long be forced upon every one. The cause, most certainly, of their having remained so long undiscovered, is the comparative irregularity of their extent and appearance. Every spot has not been so favourable for their regular formation as the Glenroy vale, and those around it. Many causes must have contributed to

prevent the beach-marks of the sea from being uniform in their aspect in ordinary situations. In the first place, ere the hills were raised step by step from the ocean, their sides were probably irregular in form and inclination, to a considerable extent. Again, their composition was most certainly of a varied kind, harder or softer as it might be, and, of course, liable to diffe

*These calculations of Mr Kemp, it is proper to say, were based on the altitude of the Eildons, as computed by previous observers.

bushes, near the shore; and on reaching the top, we came in sight of the carcass of another of the elephants, and the young one standing by it. At a few paces' distance, we saw a large elephant browsing among the low bushes. hill; and throwing up his trunk, and spreading out his He smelt us as soon as we appeared on the top of the huge ears, uttered a most discordant cry. "Gownatsi!" ejaculated Jan Wildeman, "that's the rascal that gave me so much trouble yesterday; he's as cunning as the devil.""

rent degrees of attrition. Thirdly, an archipelago of islands, such as Scotland must have been during the formation of these terraces, would be liable to strong and numerous currents, calculated greatly to affect the deposition of beaches. The same agents would also cause the frequent obliteration of beaches previously formed, by the undermining influence of the waters when in active motion. Rains and storms, also, must have had their effect in producing similar results. In short, if we consider the subject well, we The dogs instantly assailed the animal, and after several shall find little difficulty in accounting for the irre- ineffectual attempts to seize them with his trunk, he gular extent and appearance of these beaches of the made off. The dogs now attacked the young elephant, ancient seas, as well as for their entire absence in and chased him up the steep sandy hill where we were many cases. Where they occur in a peculiarly regular standing. My visiters, who were unaccustomed to large series, as on Williamlaw Hill, they are nearly of a game, were exceedingly agitated. They had brought a uniform breadth and extent. The hill there is regular gun with them for form's sake, but had neglected to load in structure, and one beach has not been enlarged at it. One of them, who was a Scotsman, seized me by the the expense of another. On those hills and portions coat, and cried out in great agony, "Eh! man, whaur'll we rin ?-whaur'll we rin ?" It was no use telling him of hills, however, where some members of the series are wanting, or nearly so, we usually find those pre-of me, saying, "What, nae danger, man, and the beest that there was not any danger, for he still kept fast hold sent to have the form of broad and ample shelves, two comin' right up amang us! I say, man, what'll we do? or more having been run into one by the action of whaur'll we rin?" The women instinctively ran and the waves; as, for example, in the case of No. 4 and squatted themselves down behind the bushes. No. 5 on the Eildons, and also No. 9 and No. 10 every As soon as I could break loose from the grasp of my where. The average distance between each pair being countryman, I ran to endeavour to seize the young eleonly fifty-four and a half feet, it is perfectly reasonable phant by the trunk, and Speulman took his stand on the to suppose that the undermining of one beach by opposite side for the same purpose. I was astonished at another, and the consequent union of the two, must the nimbleness with which the animal ascended the steep have been of frequent occurrence. Some terraces have hill. As he approached the spot where we stood, we been mentioned, that extend to a breadth of several found he was much older than we expected, being nearly hundred feet. After this explanation, their irregulaas large as an ox; and, after making an ineffectual atrity and amplitude will excite less wonder than it tempt to get hold of his trunk, we were obliged to give him a free passage between us. I now picked up my might otherwise have done, in the minds of those who remember the comparatively limited and regular breadth of the Highland terraces.

It was remarked that the discovery of these seabeaches in a district never suspected to contain them, involved a new step in geology. It has long been suspected, and particularly since Mr Lyell made public his extraordinary labours both in the path of original research and of generalisation, that our present lands had been elevated from the waters of the ocean; but, if phenomena analogous to those of the Galashiels district prove to be discernible in other parts of Britain, we shall have gained a novel insight into the manner in which the process of elevation has been accomplished. We shall possess what may be called absolute proofs, that the land has been raised by successive stages, and with intervening periods of rest, from the bosom of the deep, presenting ultimately to man the firm platform necessary for him to move upon, and whereon to work out the great problem of his existence.

ELEPHANT-HUNTING AT THE CAPE.

LIEUTENANT MOODIE, in his amusing "Ten Years in South Africa," gives the following account of his elephant-hunting:

Some months after forming my new settlement, I engaged a Hottentot to shoot elephants and buffaloes for me, on condition of receiving half of the profits. This man, who was called Jan Wildeman, was a most expert hunter, rarely failing to kill on the spot whatever he fired at. He was a complete wild man of the woods, and had he was daily exposed. His activity was most extraoras many wiles as a fox in escaping the dangers to which dinary; and I was often surprised with his nimbleness in climbing the highest trees to get at the wild vines growing over their tops. While I was considering how I could get up, he would take hold of one of the "baboon's ropes," as they are called, which hang in festoons from the branches, and in a few seconds he would be perched like a crow on the top, enjoying my surprise, and flinging

down whole bunches of the fruit.

Though naturally timid, he had acquired by long practice such entire confidence in the correctness of his aim, that he would go right up to an elephant in the woods, and bring him down with the first shot. Sometimes, however, his gun would miss fire, when he had to betake himself to his heels, and, by his agility and address, never failed to effect his escape. His adventures of this kind would fill a volume.

Wildeman came to inform me one evening that he had shot three elephants and a buffalo; and that there was a young elephant still remaining with the body of its dead mother, which he thought might be caught, and brought home alive. There happened to be two friends with me from the district of Albany, who had never seen an elephant, and whom, therefore, I persuaded to accompany

me.

accompanied by Jan Wildeman, my Hottentot Speulman, As soon as we had finished our breakfast, we set off, and their wives, to assist in cutting up the buffalo, and carrying the flesh home.

Entering the forest, Jan first brought us to the carcass of the buffalo; but the fellow was so lazy that he had not taken out the entrails, and, the weather being warm, the flesh was unfit for use. He next led us to one of the elephants he had killed, and showed us the spot whence he had fired. The ball had entered the shoulder in a slanting direction, and passed through the heart. This was an exceedingly difficult shot, as he required to be very near to hit the right place, and for the ball to penetrate through such a mass of skin and flesh.

with balls made of an equal mixture of tin and lead, as In shooting elephants, it is necessary to be provided lead balls generally flatten on the skin or bones. Our ignorance of this circumstance at Fredericksburg, accounts for the trouble we experienced in killing the elephants there.

After following several of the paths made by these animals, and struggling through the tangled mazes of the forest, we ascended a steep sandy ridge, covered with low

gun, and gave chase to him; but he ran so fast that I

could not overtake him.

I was well pleased we had not succeeded in seizing him, as, in all probability, he would have done us some serious injury with his tusks, which were just appearing at the root of the trunk. When they are only a few days old, there is no difficulty in catching them, and they become docile almost immediately. Several attempts have been made to rear them with cows' milk, but with

out success.

It is remarkable that the young of the elephant, when but their bodies are rounder and more bulky. It is also a a few days old, are not much higher than a young calf; curious circumstance, that the carcasses of elephants which have died a natural death, are never found by the natives in the woods where they are most abundant.

*

On

From thence

A CANADIAN EMIGRANT'S LETTER. [The following plain matter-of-fact letter of a Canadian emigrant, from the parish of Beith in Ayrshire, appeared lately in a respectable provincial newspaper, the Ayr Advertiser.] WE had an excellent, I may say pleasant, passage of thirty-three days to New York, whence we sailed up the Hudson to Albany. About thirty miles farther, I left my family at the house of Mr James Holms from Beith, and set out on a tour to the west, resolving to have a view of those fine prairie lands described by Stewart and others in such a flattering way. I travelled by the Erie Canal, passing through many thriving towns to Buffalo. This is also a busy place, and rising fast. From thence I took a steam-boat to Cleveland, in Ohio, and travelled through that state, sometimes on the canal to the Ohio river. On my route, I saw some excellent land and fine thriving towns; but the land where I travelled, in a general way was rather broken and rather poor, and apparently not very good for wheat, but good pasture, and in general the cattle were good. Saw some places there that pleased me well; but they were rather dear for me to purchase, rating from thirty to one hundred dollars per acre. arriving at the Ohio river, took a steam-boat for Cincinnati, which is a fine city, and rising fast. From thence sailed down the river for Louisville, the prettiest little city I have seen in America; but the curse of slavery is there. sailed for St Louis, in Missouri, on the banks of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. The land is very rich, but the people look unhealthy; and I found that bilious fever and ague prevail in those flat places a good deal. St Louis is an excellent city for business, but inhabited by a rough people. I was much disgusted with the practice that generally prevails in these slaveholding states, of carrying what are called bowie knives; and it is not at all uncommon that fights take place, and people are killed. The common people wear those knives in a sheath at their side. to pocket-knives, and have a blade about six inches at the point. Those carried by gentlemen are similar They are like those used by fleshers, but rather sharper long, which, when opened, will not shut without pressing a spring on the back. From St Louis I sailed up the Mississippi, passing the mouth of the Missouri and Illinois rivers and the city of Alton, which stands on a rugged limestone height, or bluff, as they are called, on the Illinois side of the river, and near the mouth of it. Alton is increasing rapidly. Numbers of the houses are built of stone, which is not the case in many places I have seen in America, where they are generally built either of brick or wood. I kept sailing up the Missistravelled across the state of Illinois a considerable sippi upwards of a hundred miles farther, and then distance. The quality of the soil, and the general appearance of the country, pleased me much, except in places where the land is flat and swampy, which is often the case near rivers; and, in general, so far as I travelled in Illinois, the land is rather level; but still these prairies were inviting to the eye of people accustomed to live in an open country. Wages for work

men of all kinds are very high, and people may get a living with the half of the labour they will do in Scotland. In the neighbourhood of Jacksonville, fine land in cultivation could have been got, for from six to ten dollars an acre. The principal crops raised in these western states, so far as I travelled, were Indian corn, some oats, and a little wheat now and then. Potatoes also grow well; but the farmers depend most on cattle, hogs, and corn. Some of the farmers have several hundred hogs, part of which they fatten with corn in the fall, and dispose of for slaughtering. I had the offer of an excellent farm of 600 acres, for six dollars an acre, 400 acres of it prairie, and the rest woodland-250 acres of it fenced and improved, and situated in a good place for markets, being not more than twelve miles from the Illinois river, and about the same distance from a town of considerable extent; but the sickly appearance of the people frightened me. They appeared either to be indolent, or unable to labour; and, so far as I saw in these new countries, they had a very bilious appearance; and from what I have since learned from people that have resided in them for some time, my conjectures were right. Although I cannot say that Stewart has exaggerated the beauty of the country and goodness of the land, he has not told all the truth; he has not alluded in the way he ought to the sickliness of the country. Fever and ague prevailed to a considerable extent in Illinois last fall, so much so that the medicines used for the cure of the disease became scarce, and rose to an enormous price. Stewart gives too favourable an account of the American people. I admit there are many very intelligent, respectable people in the United States; but, generally, the working-people I fell in with were haughty, proud, and insolent; and if you asked any thing of them, the general answer was, "I don't know," in a manner not to be misunderstood. Considering the unhealthy appearance of the people in the new states, where land could not be got at a price to suit me, and not yet being so much of a republican as to wish to live in a country where the mob govern, I made up my mind to settle in Canada, as I there found the people and manners more agreeable to me than in most places of the States. On the morning after my arrival at Toronto, I was accosted by Mr John Somerville, from Beith. He kindly invited me to his house, where I was treated in a very friendly way both by Mr and Mrs Somerville. Mr Somerville appears to be getting on well, is a man of good abilities, and well qualified for the situation he fills in the bank. I remained in Canada about ten days. Before leaving it for the States, I saw some fine farms for sale, which would have suited me well, and were selling for twothirds of their value. Numbers of the people that were disaffected to the government, and suspected of having a share in the rebellion, were anxious to sell their property, and go to the States; but, after all, nothing would satisfy me till I had a better view of the States. I went to Hamilton, from thence to Paris, a distance of about seventy miles, and staid two nights with Dr M'Cosh. I also staid a night with a Mr Dickie; he and his family have 400 acres of good land, and say they have done much better than they could have done in Scotland. On returning to Canada, I got a farm that pleases me very well; although, had I had the sense to have purchased a farm which was offered me when I first arrived in the country, I could have had a property worth £200 more for the same money I paid for the one I got. Still we have not much reason to complain. Farms have sold since we came here that would let to pay ten per cent. interest. The general rate is from two to three dollars of rent per acre for the land cleared on the farm; and if the tenant chooses to clear more of the woodland, he may do so without paying any more rent. Property has sold better this season than last; still many respectable people are leaving the province for the States, in despair of the grievances of the province being redressed without a separation from Britain. So far as I can judge, the people are generally loyal to the British government, and have a strong wish to continue under her protection; but [Here the writer enters on the field of politics, explaining the cause of existing distresses in Canada. On this topic we have neither the power nor the inclination to intrude; and, in conclusion, only offer one piece of advice to intending emigrants, which is, to abstain by all means from proceeding to any part of Canada till its affairs are settled fully to the satisfaction of its inhabitants. The fevers and bowie knives in some parts of the states, to which the writer adverts, are not more distressing in their effects than incessant political broils and the prospect of civil warfare.]

HINTS TO DANCERS.

We go to a ball. Mercy upon us! is this what you call dancing? A man of thirty years of age, and with legs as thick as a gate-post, stands up in the middle of the room, and gapes and fumbles with his gloves, looking all the time as if he were burying his grandmother. At a given signal, the unwieldy animal puts himself into motion; he throws out his arms, crouches up his shoulders, and, without moving a muscle of his face, kicks out his legs, to the manifest risk of the bystanders, and goes back to his place puffing and blowing like an otter, after a half-hour's burst. Is this dancing? Shades of the filial and paternal Vestris! can this be a specimen of the art which gives elasticity to the most inert conformation, which sets the blood glowing with a warm and genial flow, and makes beauty float before our ravished senses, stealing our admiration by the gracefulness of each new

motion, till at last our soul thrills to each warning movement, and dissolves into ecstacy and love? Maiden, with the roses lying among the twinings of thy long red hair, think not that the art of dancing consists merely in activity and strength. Thy limbs, which are none of the weakest, were not intended to be rivals with a pavier's hammer; the artificer who trimmed thy locks had no idea that his labours were to be lifted three feet higher than thy natural height from the ground; spare thyself such dreadful exertion, we beseech thee, and consider that thine ankle, though strong and thick as St George's pillars, may still be broken or sprained with such saltations.--Blackwood's Magazine.

THE TWO ROSES. WHEN summer has given a golden hue to the corn waving in our fields, flowers of all kinds abound in Paris-the variegated carnation, the proud-stalked tulip, the fragrant lilac, are to be bought at every corner, and lend their beauty and their fragrance alike to the duchess or the grisette, for then nature in her abundance is rich enough to supply the desires and caprices of both.

In the first few fine days of spring, when the frost still spreads a frozen mantle over the verdure of the field, the case is far different flowers then are scarce, and many a bud is nipped before its hour-and roses and camelias belong to the rich alone, for they are worth their weight in gold.

We now proceed to explain how two roses could bring two ladies before a court, and why Madame Gallien, a dressmaker of note, should claim thirty francs damages from Mlle. Flora Minnett. But Madame Gallien shall speak for herself.

Madame Gallien.-About two months ago, the Prince of C. T. married Mlle. Leontine de C. The corbeille and trousseau were to be magnificent. I received the order for making the ball-dress of the bride it was to be a chef-d'œuvre. Lace and pearls, and guypure, were to unite and bring out something lovely but even those rare materials were not reckoned sufficient; something still rarer was to be added, viz. -a white rose at the end of February.

The Magistrate.-I suppose it was Miss Flora who promised to procure you this rare production? Madame Gallien.-It was, please your worship. She has long been in the habit of cultivating flowers, and supplies all the great modistes of the capital with the choicest and rarest articles. I went to her, explained the purport of my call, and she promised to give me one of the two roses that she was rearing, on my giving her twenty-five francs [one pound] on delivery. relied on this promise, but she did not fulfil it; no white rose came, and the wedding-dress was refused as the rose was wanting.

The judge here inquired of the defendant why she had not sent the rose as she had agreed to do.

Mlle. Flora (timidly).—I can assure you it was not my fault. On the very eve of the day on which I had promised to send the rose to Madame Gallien, a shower of rain having fallen during my absence, a few hours after nothing but the stalk remained. What I have just said is truth itself.

The Magistrate.-I believe you speak the truth, but why did you not send the other rose?

Mlle. Flora.-Oh, that one was not promised. Had I promised it, Madame Gallien would have doubtless accepted it, for it was the finer of the two ; but I would not offer it, for it was destined to my mother.

The Magistrate. It was perhaps her fete day. Mlle. Flora. No, sir; it was the anniversary of the day of her death. Every year I take to her grave at Montmartre a white rose, for she greatly loved that flower. This year I did as I had hitherto done. I said to myself, the bride will be as handsome, notwithstanding her having a flower less, and my mother will have her accustomed homage. In saying this, the affectionate girl burst into tears, and Madame Gallien hastened to console, while the audience seemed deeply affected.

Madame Gallien then addressed the magistrate thus Have the kindness to quash this case, for I have acted wrong in having attempted to punish this sweet child for having done a good action. Dry up your tears, Mlle. Flora, and let the business drop; and may I one day have a daughter like you.

The magistrate, who seemed much affected by the scene, ordered the case to be quashed, and the two females left the office together. From a newspaper.

66

DEAN SWIFT.

An instance of the bold and decisive measures which

sprung from the proud ardour and defiance of Swift's character, is vividly sketched by the pen of Dr Sheridan: During the publication of the Drapier's Letters, Swift took great pains to conceal himself from being known as the author. The only persons in the secret were Robert Blakely, his butler, whom he employed as his amanuensis, and Dr Sheridan. As Robert was not the most accurate transcriber, the copies were always delivered by him to the doctor, in order to their being corrected, and fitted for the press, by whom they were conveyed to the printer in such a way as to prevent a possibility of discovery. It happened that Robert Blakely, the very evening of the day on which the proclamation was issued, offering a reward of L.300 for discovering the author of the Drapier's fourth letter, had staid out later than usual without his master's leave. The dean ordered the door to be locked at the accustomed hour, and shut him out. The next morning the poor fellow appeared before him with marks of great contrition; when Swift would listen to none of his excuses, but, abusing him outrageously, bid him strip off

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all his livery, and quit his house that moment. Whatyou villain,' said he, is it because I am in your power, you dare take these liberties? Get out of my house you scoundrel, and receive the reward of your treachery. Mrs Johnson, who was at the deanery, and greatly alarmed at this scene, immediately dispatched a messenUpon his arrival he found Robert walking about the hall ger to Dr Sheridan, to come and try to make up matters. in great agitation, and shedding abundance of tears; inquiring into the cause of this, he was told that his master had just discharged him. The doctor bade him be of good cheer; for he would undertake to pacify the dean, and that he should still be continued in his place. is not what vexes me,' replied the honest creature; to be sure I should be very sorry to leave so good a master; but what grieves me to the soul is, that my master should of betraying him for any reward whatever.' When this have so bad an opinion of me, as to suppose me capable was told to the dean, struck with the generosity of such pardoned him, and restored him to favour. He also took a sentiment in one of his low sphere, he immediately the first opportunity in his power of rewarding this man for his fidelity. The place of verger to the cathedral soon after becoming vacant, Swift called Robert to him, and asked him if he had any clothes of his own that were not a livery; to which the other replying in the affirmative, he desired him immediately to strip off his livery, and put on those clothes. The poor fellow, quite astonished, begged to know what crime he had committed, that he should be discharged. Well-do as I ordered the dean called the other servants into the room, and you,' said Swift. When he returned in his new dress, told them they were no longer to consider him as their fellow-servant Robert, but as Mr Blakely, verger of St Patrick's Cathedral, which place he had bestowed on him as a reward for his faithful services. The grateful creature poured forth a thousand blessings on him, and begged, as the greatest favour he could confer on him, that he might still be continued in the same station without fee or reward, as he was sure no one could give such satisfaction to his master in the discharge of it as himself. As he was an excellent servant, and was accusbut be very acceptable to the dean; and Mr Blakely actomed to all Swift's peculiarities, the proposal could not cordingly continued to officiate in that capacity for some time as a volunteer, without any of the badges of servitude. But the master was too liberal to accept the generous proposal made by the servant; for, though he paid him no wages, he took care, by handsome presents, to make him a full equivalent.”—Dublin University Mag.

STONEBYRES.

SONNETS ON THE FALLS OF CLYDE.
Words! ye are powerless-at this scene of power,
Feebly and idly from the tongue ye fall:
Heart! bear me witness how I felt that hour-

The dim lone hour, when, night with veiing pall
Deep'ning its wildness, Stonebyres met my sight.
The white foam, flashing through the gulf profound,
Made e'en stern midnight wear the smile of light,
And the huge tumbling mass shook all around.
I look'd below; each hand, a rocky steep
Guarded the calm'd and wider-bending stream:
Wild trees, their love revealing e'en in sleep,

Bent o'er the wave, whose murmurs bade them dream.
There Peace might joy to watch the peeping flower-
Above, reigns one sole thought, which speaks in thunder-
power.

CORRA LINN.
Thou speak'st with tongue of tempest, Corra Linn!
Shaking the heart; thou tell'st in awful tone
How frail earth's tenant, proud, tho' slave to sin-
How grand is He, who hath uprear'd his throne
On the firm hills; who utters forth his word,

The voice of many waters; bids the tree
Bloom o'er the stream that feeds it, and the bird
Blend with thy roar its fainter melody.
Who bids the drops which on the mountains fall,
Commingling, deep'ning, valeward force their way,
Thundering through cliffs, till occan swallows all,
Whence rich-dew'd clouds the debt to earth repay:
Who in that bow,* at anger smiling still,
Paints, in the sun's own light, the pledge of Heaven's good will
THOMAS LISTER, Barnsicy.

The rainbow in the basin of the fall.

MANNERS AND TASTES OF NATIVE INDIAN SOCIETY. Childish and barbarous as we must admit a large portion of the amusements of the native society of India to be, yet there can be no question of their capability of enjoying much more intellectual pleasures. There are, it is true, whole castes and classes of persons so extremely ignorant as to appear to be guided by instinet rather than by reason, and whose natural stupidity seems to render improvement perfectly hopeless; but the major portion are intelligent and of cultivated tastes, which in many parts of Europe, and certainly in England, are confined to persons of a superior grade. It is but very lately in this country that the lower classes have begun to relish the refinements of music, or that the street ballad-singers have given way to minstrels of higher pretensions. But in Hindostan the same air that delights the prince is the solace of the peasant, and the tale that is told in the palace is repeated under the thatch of a cottage. It will perhaps be a very long time before any Asiatics of any rank can be taught to appreciate the divine compositions of the great masters of the art, since they have no such thing as connected music-the greater the number of instruments employed, the greater being the discord; but the simple melodies, consisting of a few sweet wild notes, struck upon a guitar, and perchance accompanied by a voice richly gifted by nature, comes home to every feeling heart. These popular airs are common all over India, and are often heard in the most remote and unfrequented places, breaking the silence of the summer night on the banks of lonely rivers. -Asiutie Journal.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W.S. ORR, Paternoster Row; and sold by all booksellers and newsmen.-Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

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CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,"

"CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

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NUMBER 445.

PEEPS INTO THE WORKSHOPS OF LITERARY MEN.

LITERATURE, though it never can be practised with success except by men endowed with peculiar and suitable faculties, is also to be regarded as an art, which, no more than any other, can be exercised without a certain degree of acquired skill. It stands, however, in an uncommon position as an art, for it has no apprenticeships, no recognised academies of instruction, no grades of teachers and scholars, but is usually taken up by each isolated student at his own hand, and with only such aid as he can derive from what he chances to know of the habits of others, or as his native good sense may lend to him. Such being admitted as the case, it becomes a somewhat important as well as curious subject of inquiry, what have been the ways and modes assumed or followed by the first masters of the art.

Sir Walter Scott was a rapid writer. We have his own testimony that the second and third volumes of Waverley were written in three weeks, and Mr Lockhart states that twice the time sufficed to produce the whole of Guy Mannering. He composed a large part of his Life of Napoleon at the rate of sixteen printed pages per day, which would give a volume of that work in little more than the time taken to fabricate a volume of Guy Mannering-a wonderful effort, when we consider the necessity of referring to authorities. On the other hand, it must be acknowledged that Scott was not a correct writer. In his manuscript, sentences were often left unfinished; awkward peculiarities of phrase, including Scotticisms, abounded; and it is evident that the Life of Napoleon would have been at this day a better authority, if it had been written more deliberately. Much of his poetry is as slovenly as his prose. The manuscripts of Scott were all latterly first draughts. He did not even read over what he had written, before sending it to the press. It was also remarkable of him, that he wrote his novels without plan or premeditation of any kind, one scene or combination of characters suggesting that which was to follow, until he was called upon by the printer to close in the work. The press following close at his heels, it was impossible for him to go back and accommodate any past part to that for the moment under his hands. It is wonderful that, in such circumstances, he has written in general so happily; but it must also be owned that the conclusions of his works are usually hurried and unsatisfactory. We believe that, in at least one instance, he found himself compelled to change the original destination of an important character, by concluding "the Fair Maid of Perth" with the marriage of the heroine to the blacksmith. Taking the first description of this person in connexion with the contemporary burnings for the Bohemian heresy, it is evident that he designed her for martyrdom.

The Telemachus of Fenelon was written in three months, and there were not ten erasures in the original manuscript. The author, says D'Israeli, had previously "formed his style, and his mind overflowed with all the spirit of the ancients." "The same facility," adds the same writer, "accompanied Gibbon after the experience of his first volume; and the same copious readiness attended Adam Smith, who dictated to his amanuensis while he walked about his study." Yet Gibbon had spent seven years in preparing for his work, and the Wealth of Nations, one way and another, was the labour of ten years.

It is remarkable, considering the mercurial character of the French, how slowly and carefully many of them have written. Malherbe, usually called the father of their poetry, composed with prodigious tardi

SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 1840.

ness, and racked his brains to correct what he had written. He used to say that a poet, after writing a hundred good verses, ought to repose for ten years! The style of La Fontaine's tales conveys the impression of easy and rapid composition; but in reality these tales were written and polished with the most laborious care. Beranger is also a slow writer, "frequently laying aside the subject on which he is employed for several weeks, and patiently waiting until, by dint of long reflection on the subject, and careful polishing, by the selection of the happiest allusions, by the studious exclusion of every phrase or illustration that appears recherché or ornate, he has given to the whole that unity and appearance of ease and simplicity at which he constantly aims."" Madame Dacier translated some parts of Homer six or seven times, and would, after all, add on the margin of her copy, "I have not done it yet." Pascal, writing his Provincial Letters, spent twenty days on some one of the number, and re-wrote the beginnings of several six or seven times before being satisfied.

It has been somewhere insisted on as a curious fact, that the writings of Rousseau, in which simplicity of language is so prominent a feature, were written with vast care the author sitting, too, in full dress, and using the finest gilt-edged paper-while the papers of the Rambler, in which the style appears so cumbrous and laboured, were thrown off with great rapidity, and sent in hot haste to the press. This is apt to lead to some misconception of Johnson's literary habits. He certainly wrote rapidly, the Rasselas being the composition of the evenings of a week, while it is true that the Ramblers were mostly composed immediately before they were printed. But Johnson was also a great memorandist, and a laborious corrector. Even his rapidity was allowed by himself to be the result of early self-discipline. "He told him [Sir Joshua Reynolds] that he had early laid it down as a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in every company; to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he could put it in; and that, by constant practice, and never suffering any careless expressions to escape him, or attempting to deliver his thoughts without arranging them in the clearest manner, it became habitual to him."+ At least thirty papers were written from prepared memoranda. His mind also contained a vast store of unwritten observation and thought, which he was ready to pour forth as it was required. While these circumstances are to be taken into consideration, it might also, we think, be shown that a rolling, measured style, like that of Johnson, requires less time than a simple style like that of Rousseau and Beranger. For the latter, it is necessary that the mind should be chastened down, which requires time. Johnson's corrections on his compositions were not known to the literary world, till elucidated by Mr Alexander Chalmers in his preface to the Rambler. It was shown by that gentleman, that, between the sheet edition of these essays and the first reprint of them as a book, thousands of corrections had been made by the author, indicating a thoughtful regard for propriety of expression, and productive of an inconceivable improvement in the work. Mr Chalmers produces some specimens of the original papers, marking in italics the words which had been altered. We shall copy one passage from the 180th paper, along with the corresponding passage in the corrected edition-thus presenting what, short as it is, must, we conceive, be a very instructive lesson on the subject of composition.

* Article Poetry, Encyclopædia Britannica, 7th edition. + Boswell.

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

"It is somewhere related by Le Clerc, that a wealthy trader of good understanding, having the usual ambition to breed his son a scholar, carried him to an university, resolving to make use of his own judgment in the choice of a tutor. He had been taught, by whatever intelligence, the nearest way to the heart of an academic, and soon after his arrival opened his purse with so little reserce, and entertained all who came about him with such profusion of plenty, that the professors were presently lured by the smell of his table from their books, and flocked round him with all the importunity of awkward complaisance. This eagerness completely answered the merchant's purpose: he glutted them with delicacies, he cheered them with wine, he softened them with caresses, and by degrees prevailed upon one after another to open his bosom, and make a full discovery of his schemes of competition, his alarm of jealousy, and his rancour of resentment. Thus after having long endeavoured to learn each man's character, partly from himself, and partly from his acquaintances, he at last resolved to find some other method of educating his son, and went away, fully convinced that a scholastic life has no other tendency than to vitiate the morals and contract the understanding. Nor could he afterwards bear with patience the praises of the ancient authors, being persuaded that scholars of all ages must have been the same; and that Xenophon and Cicero were nothing more than professors of some former university, and were therefore mean and selfish, ignorant and servile, like those whom he had lately visited and forsaken."

"It is somewhere related by Le Clerc, that a wealthy trader of good understanding, having the common ambition to breed his son a scholar, carried him to an university, resolving to use his own judgment in the choice of a tutor. He had been taught, by whatever intelligence, the nearest way to the heart of an academic, and at his arrival entertained all who came about him with such profusion, that the professors were lured by the smell of his table from their books, and flocked round him with all the cringes of awkward complaisance. This eagerness answered the merchant's purpose; he glutted them with delicacies, and softened them with caresses, till he prevailed upon one after another to open his bosom, and make a discovery of his competitions, jealousies, and resentments. Having thus learned each man's character, partly from himself, and partly from his acquaintances, he resolved to find some other education for his son, and went away, convinced that a scholastic life has no other tendency than to vitiate the morals and contract the understanding. Nor would he afterwards hear with patience the praises of the ancient authors, being persuaded that scholars of all ages must have been the same; and that Xenophon and Cicero were professors of some former university, and therefore mean and selfish, ignorant and servile, like those whom he had lately visited and forsaken."

Pope, as might have been expected, was a slow and painstaking writer. In translating the Iliad, he considered fifty verses a-day as good work. The first draughts of that poem, which are preserved in the British Museum, show many erasures and interlineations, and, besides these, many passages which the author had altered before the poem was published. Parts of the first draught have been published by Johnson and D'Israeli, and may be referred to as very instructive examples of the labour of a literary artist of the first order to give finish to his work. We can only afford space for a very small specimen, namely, the passage in which Hector takes his child from the arms of Andromache. As published by the poet, it is as follows:

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