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and to prove this, played a rhapsody humour completely restored. upon it with no small effect. After L- St-gf-d finally mollified the applause had subsided, he inform- every body, by breathing some Portued us however, in a rather transcen- guese airs, with much sweetness, dental tone, that the cinder came from through a third flute. I observed by a subterraneous fire in Abyssinia, and the way, that his L-dsh-p played the hair from the tail of a black horse with a "mouth-piece"-which, somewith green eyes, of a mysterious breed, body told me, he had found amongst preserved by a certain German baron, the remains of Camoëns, when in à friend of his, and a descendant of those parts. In emulation, I presume, Dr Faustus, on his domain in the of L-ds Bến and St-gf-d, L-d Harts mountains; a piece of informa- T-w next essayed ; but whether some tion which seemed to excite as much mischievous wag had greased his fidmerriment as wonder in some of his dlestick, or how it happened I cannot hearers.

tell, but he produced only some unAfter Mr C-ledge, Mr M-re couth noises, that hardly amounted to was universally called upon, who, as tones ; so that the ensign, who now soon as he had recovered from his took Mr M-re's place as joker, relaughing, played us an exquisite old commended him to the barrel organ Irish air on the flute, with a pathos on the stairhead. P-cy B-she that brought the tears into my old Sh—11-y succeeded better in out eyes. He then attempted a grand B-ning Bến; for, with a trombone, Turkish march, with the aid of Turke he horrified us with some of the most ish bells, which he jingled as an ac- terrific passages I ever heard. They companiment; this, however, by no became, at last, perfectly disagreeable. means accorded well with the genius The next performer, to my great of his instrument. So, suddenly lay- delight, was Sir W-r S-t. He ing down his flute, he seized a dan- blew a clarionet; and whether the eing master's kit, which had belonged mood was “ Marcia,” “Fieramente," to the famous Bath Guide, Anstey, on or “ Pastorale,” this fine bold natural which he rattled off a humorous diver- player made all ring again. He contimento with infinite spirit. Elated cluded with a most spirited reveille on with the success of this piece of gayety; the patent bugle. I could not help he produced a mail-coach horn, and remarking the strong hankering that proceeded to amuse the audience with Sir W-r seemed to have after a pair a burlesque of Mr S-th-y's grand of huge old bagpipes, which had last trumpet flourish, in which he at last belonged to Allan Ramsay, but which got so personal as to raise a terrible now lay dusty and neglected. Many tumult in the gallery. Some groan- a joke was launched at this unfortued, some applauded, some hissed, nate instrument. M-re called it, some catcalled, and some roared slily, a green bag—and of the worst "go on.” Mr J-f-y, who took his sort ;” and c-ledge, a “ doodle part, had like to have got to logger sack,” which he said was

" the Gerbeads with our friend Mr Bl-k-d, man name, and, like all other Gerwho was sitting next him. There was man names, highly expressive.” Sir no saying how matters might have W-r stood stoutly up for them; and ended, had not Ensign Odoherty, who proved, by some Roman sculptures, the had chosen to pack himself in a snug venerable date and good estimation of corner of the gallery, luckily hit upon the instrument. In fine, after rethe expedient of volunteering “ the gretting the absence of A-l-n Humours of Glen" through a pocket Cragh-m, who, he said, would comb, in a most stentorian voice, ac- play them better than any man in companied by himself, with a pewter Scotland, he called upon Mr H-g, the pot and two tobacco-pipes, by way of Ettrick Shepherd, to rub up his old kettle-drum, which at length drown, craft, and give them a lilt; which he ed the clamour. But when the ensign did in a style that set little M-re a proceeded with a thumb in each side dancing, and drew a flood of tears of his mouth, and a finger on each nos- down C-le-dge's cheeks. After Mr tril, in order to produce the swells and H-g had laid down the bagpipes, he falls like a pedal, to whistle a Polo- pulled out a pandean pipe, and played noise, (which he called “his Pulley, some strains of extraordinary power nose,") with original variations-good and execution, as wild and resonant

if they had been echoed by a hundred able-looking instrument. Next to it hills. They were only exceeded in was a gigantic double bass, with a bow fancy by Mr W-n, who, on the like that of Ulysses, which, it seems, hautboy, breathed a lay so soft and used to be played upon by Dr Young, imaginative, that I never heard the Beside it stood an antiquated harp of like. It was the very moonlight of great dimensions, on which was carved, sound. He suddenly passed into a EDMUND Spenser; bụt the greatest tone of terror, sometimes amounting curiosity of all, in my mind, was a almost to a scream, mingled with unique, ebony, old English flute, as snatches of plaintive lamentation. It big as a blunderbuss, and not very un, reminded me forcibly of the massacre like one. It was the flute of Chaucer, of Glencoe. I took the liberty of ask- and as, Mr W- -n said, it had not ing Mr W

-n if he played it ? He been touched in the memory of man, said he did not. On which I begged the precise gamut was probably lost. to recommend to him Frazer's High, I was contemplating this venerable old land tunes, amongst which that ex, relic with profound attention, when I traordinary air is to be found, and got a terrible start with the most hi. made bold to assure him, that his deous noise I ever heard in my life. hautboy would make more of it than This, upon examination, I found to all the other instruments put together; come from Mr F-tzg-d, who insist. at which he smiled, and shook his ed upon treating the company with head.

“ God save the King” upon a Chinese We were interrupted by a wonder- gong. The din was so great that I fully striking, expressive, and even can't say I made much tune out. It sweet ditty, which, on turning round, was no small relief to hear Mr Cr-kI found to proceed from an elderly play " Lord Wellington,” with some clerical-looking personage, who was variations for the fife. He also gave playing on the hurdy-gurdy. When us the “ Death of Nelson" very fineI saw it was Mr Cabbe, I was not ly. Mr R-g-rs then warbled a surprised at the pleasure which even beautiful little“ dolce” on the double this monotonous, not to say vulgar, flageolet ; and Mr Sp-nc-r, a mainstrument afforded me. But what drigal on the French flageolet. Mr cannot genius do? It is reported Mr M-g-m-y played the “ German Cbbe has some thoughts of training Hymn" on a celestina, and Mr Fr-re a band of marrowbones and cleavers, a most ingenious capriccio on the tri. and every body says it would be the angle. finest thing that has been heard for a These having ended, my attention long time. Mr W-n informed me, was attracted by a rather conceited Lonthat the reverend gentleman sung a don-looking gentleman, who was strum. ballad to admiration, the which he has ming, with some execution and a good been known to accompany with his deal of affectation, on an old-fashioned thumb on the great kitchen table, very spinnet, or rather virginal; when he successfully, by way of bass. Just as turned round I discovered him to be the word ballad was mentioned, a dis- MrL-gh H-nt, who, when the compute fell out with Mr C—bbe, Mr pany congratulated him, informed us Šth-y, Mr C-le-dge, and Mr that his spionet was of the true Ita. W-dswth, whether “the Cobbler of lian

make, and had probably belonged Bucklersbury," “ the Bloody Gardi- to Tasso. He had himselt, however, ner,” “ Giles Scroggins' Ghost," or been obliged to refit and add a good “ the Babes of the Wood," was the many strings. Upon some one doubtmost sublime piece. I thought Mring this pedigree, and saying that, afe Cbbe seemed to have the advan- ter all, the extent of what was known tage.

with any certainty about the matter Whilst this argument was going on, was, that the spinnet had been found happening to turn my eyes towards the in an old house in little Britain, in side of the room, I saw an old musical the occupation of Mr Peter Prig, late instrument or two, which I went and eminent pawnbroker, deceased, to whose examined. There was a violoncello father it was pawned by an Italian which, MrWn informed me, had toyman, I thought Mr H-nt seemonce been Dryden's, and which, he ed more piqued than the occasion seemsaid, they were very shy of touching ed to require. However, he soon renow-a-days. It was a strong formido covered himself, and taking L

B-p aside, with a jaunty and fami- time, who were thus 8. sort of liar air, held him by the button, and outdone, enjoy the joke, and clap, whispered in his ear for some minutes, and vociferate, as zealously as any of us. during which I overheard the words, This it would seem was the con"mere malice” and “political ran- cluding performance, and I was still cour," repeated once or twice. Mr laughing and clapping my hands in H-nt then introduced a young gen- ecstasy, when I found a circle round tleman without a neckcloth, of the me, politely begging me to favour name of K--ts, who played a sort of them with a stave or two. I was une Sappbic ode, in the metre dicolos pe luckily in high glee; and, oh! Mr trastrophos, upon a lyre, which he North, how. longed for my Nore said was exactly modelled after that thumberland small-pipes, with ebony given by ancient sculptors to Apollo. and silver drones, and ivory chanter! Nor was I displeased with the music, I felt as if I could have given them notwithstanding the eccentricity of the “ Over the Border,” or “ the Peainstrument. Indeed Mr K-s hardly cock follows the Hen," with all the had fair-play. The lyre being of his fire of Jamie Allan, or Fitzmaurice own manufacture, and not put toge- himself. As I had owned myself a ther in the most workmanlike manner, musician, however, they insisted upa string or two got loose during the on my playing something, and forced performance, which marred the effect an instrument into my hands--but sadly. After him Mr B-rr-y whether it was flute, clarionet, pipe, C-rw-U favoured us with a sere or whistle, I am sure I cannot tell. Dade on the Spanish guitar, and sung One imagines, in a dream, that one a madrigal of Shakspeare, set by the can do every thing so I put it to my celebrated old composer, Bird, accom- mouth, and produced some notes of panying himself, and giving this an- what Pope says is “ harmony not uscient harmony great effect.

derstood,”-that is to say, discord. Our applauses were suddenly in- Maugre the contortions of the counterrupted by a most extraordinary tenances around me, I was still pere phenomenon. This was a young gen- severing, and getting from bad to cleman of the name of Sm-th, who worse, when suddenly a voice with a professed to play after the manner of strong Scotch accent, and a tone of the famous Signior What-d'ye-call- most irresistible humour, exclaimed, em, upon ten instruments at once; “ Lord safe our lugs--what a guse's which he did, to the admiration of thrapple.” The whole assemblage all present. I never heard such burst out a-laughing at this ejaculathunders of applause and laughter; tion of the shepherd, and I awoke in and when, like a full band all playing a cold sweat, with my tobacco-pipe in in concert" sackbuts and psalteries, boch hands, like a fute, and the -he struck up, and introduced, as fi- candle just expiring in the socket, at nale, the grotesque old ballad-tune of a quarter to one in the morning. I “ Jingling Geordie,” I thought the am, &c. &c. &c. house would have come down. What

Josian SHUFFLEBOTHAM. pleased me as much as any thing, was Gowks-hall, Northumberland, Sept. to see the most popular poets of the 20th, A. D. 1820.


Kelso, September 29th. MY DEAR PRIEND, You may remember, that the last time we had the pleasure of spending an evening together, part of our conversation was concerning some of the most remarkable topographical localities of Scotland—of scenes rendered interesting by natural beauty, or celebrated for being the haunts of historical or legendary recollections. You spoke with delight of the splendid achievements of the pencil, which the exertions of a body of admirable artists were massing to. gether in that beautiful work, “ The Provincial Antiquities,” and wished that a series of illustrative sonnets might yet be added by some of our patriotic bards to the topographical illustrations; to which, from the alliance of the sister arts, you thought they would form a fine addition. For my own part, my good friend, I shall not even throw out, whether I approve of your plan or not; I shall only say, that it is far from my intention, the ever presuming to take upon my shoulders any such elaborate task. The difficulty of managing such a subject is obvious enough; yet I could adduce an instance where the thing has been achieved with the most complete success, in the Sonnets of Wordsworth, published in your own work, on Westall's pictures of the Yorkshire caves.

You may also remember my telling you, that in rambling over our fine country, where one is constantly bursting into romantic landscapes, or "stumbling into recollections," I had occasionally indulged myself by throwing my feelings or reflections into “fourteen lines of sensibility:" Half a dozen of these sonnets I have sent you, “ would they were worthier"_but you will excuse their faults. If your good nature should tempt you to think them “beautiful exceedingly,” I strongly advise you to attempt the converse of your plan, and set some of your friends, the artists, to illustrate them for you ; so that next time I have the pleasure of paying my devoirs to you personally, I may have the agreeable surprise, in entering your parlour, of beholding over the mantle-piece a splendid picture of an old soldier firing a mortar at Queen Mary on Loch Leven, in juxta position to the genius of poetry, with a good whip, lashing six Celtic barbarians, with axes on their shoulders, from cutting wood on the Trosachs. I remain, dear Christopher, your friend and servant to command,

A, To Christopher North, Esq.




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“ Wandering about in forests old,
When the last purple colour is waxing faint."

BLUE is the bosom of the sunless lake,

O'er which the laden pinnance gently glides ;

The living waters sparkle round its sides,
As if instinct with spirit, and awake;
In crimson light the peak of Benvenue

Is mantled o'er; the wooded Trosachs frown,

And throw, with cumbrous gloom, their shadows down,
Like giants girt with sackcloth : softly blue,

A beauteous canopy of sky impends ;
While, 'mid the temple of the glowing west,
Piercing the cloudless element, ascends

Benlomond's conic spire and lordly crest,
And nought disturbs the breathless silence, save
The night breeze murmuring thro' the goblin cavě.

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On! who would think, in cheerless solitude,

Who o'er these twilight waters glided slow,
That genius, with a time-surviving glow,
These wild lone scenes so proudly hath embued !
Or that from “ hum of men" so far remote,

Where blue waves gleam, and mountains darken round,
And trees with broad boughs shed a gloom profound,

A poet here should from his tractless thought
Elysian prospects conjure up, and sing

Of bright achievements in the olden days,

When chieftain valour sued for Beauty's praise,
And magic virtues charmed St Fillan's spring;

Until in worlds, where Chilian mountains raise
Their cloud-capt heads, admiring souls should wing

Hither their flight to wilds, whereon I gaze.

1815. No one can feel sufficient indignation at the outrage against nature, which has recently been committed in the sale and destruction of the wood on the Trosachs. For a few paltry pounds, one of Scotland's classic scenes, and one of her most romantic, has been defaced. Public subscription would have given ten times as much to have saved it.



Un arbre, le dernier adieu de la vegetation, est devant sa porte; et c'est à l'ombre de son pale feuillage que les voyageurs ont coutume d'attendre.

A Light breeze curls the Leven's silver tide,

Spread like a sheet around yon rocky isle,

Whereon, in ruined hoariness, a pile
Uprears its massy walls in castled pride ;
The sunbeams, shooting o'er a morning cloud,

Fall on it, and display the shrivelled trees
Blasted and tall, their thin leaves in the breeze
Fluttering, like plumes above a funeral shroud:
The blue-winged sea-gull, with a wailing shriek,

Sails round it; and, on high, the sable rook
Perches in peace-no more 'tis doomed to brook

Man's domination-but, with aspect meek,
Crumbles to ruin, year, and month, and week,

Voiceless, and with a melancholy look !
July 1815.

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A spirit hath been here the dry bones live

A magic halo round these towers is spread ;

Each tree uprears a green and branching head;
And bells to the evening wind their curfew give-
Lovely, in Recollection's gifted eye,

Sits Mary-while, around, her faithful train,

To cheer her prisoned solitude, in vain
Many an artifice unwearied try.
'Tis night-the postern gates are locked, and lo!

A crowded small boat stretches for the shore
The warder, turning to the flood below,

Listens, and starts to hear the plashing oar
The gun rebounds and by its flash is seen,
Upon the midnight lake, the escaping Queen!

September 1820.

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