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undistinguishing sway, the mind becomes firmer. We tinguished himself by his inclination for learning; and, learn to look on the tyrant with less fear on finding be- what was remarkable in a Jew, he confined not himself fore us immediate proof that all must submit to his de to his own contracted sphere of Hebrew literature; but, crees. Familiarity with what may at first terrify, weans boldly bursting through the prejudices that fettered his us from an undefined fear. Thus, so far from being countrymen, he expatiated abroad into the more ample and frightened by a visit to which I had looked forward as | diversified fields of Greek and Roman science. He made too much for her, my companion gradually became more himself an eloquent master of the language of Athens, and cheerful. She talked gaily of the past, thought hopingly | became thereby enabled to defend, and do justice to, his of the future. The fears which once dwelt upon her country, and to celebrate, in the universal and harmonious mind disappeared-like the clouds imperceptibly dispelled language of Homer and Herodotus, the institutions, manby the sun from the landscape at our feet. The sluggard ners, and achievements, of his sublime and extraordinary Seine shone more brightly to the beams, now glittering countrymen. He was not only an accomplished scholar, along its surface, and gilding at the same time the majes but an ingenious and accomplished general ; he, for a long tic dome of the Invalides. Througbout the vast wilder time, checked and baflled, by his talents, the victorious arms ness of buildings stretching indistinctly in the distance, of Vespasian; and when, at last, necessity compelled tower after tower successively stood out more boldly to him to philosophize on the advantages or the expediency the eye, till, as we loitered on the chapel steps, the whole of submission, he had already secured the esteem and adof that wide-spread city was displayed to our gaze, with miration of his noble opponents, who knew virtue too well scarce a speck to conceal the heights beyond. A view in themselves not to value it in at once an accomplished more imposing can scarcely be enjoyed. There lies the and undaunted enemy. Like the Grecian General Polyimmense capital of one of the greatest nations of the bius, to whom his character and circumstances bear coisworld, lulled, as it were, to rest,—for little but a low con- siderable resemblance, he, after fighting bravely against fused hum reaches the ear. Yet, even from this point, the conquerors of the world, and sharing at last the fate some of its darkest as well as brightest features are seen ; of a captive, was at once admitted into their friendship though the princely Tuileries fills some of the landscape, and most familiar confidence; and, at last, with his pen, it scarce attracts so much attention as that humble bridge, commended that magnanimnity and skill in arms which at near which stands the last receptacle of misfortune, that once had extorted his admiration and compelled his subgloomy charnel-house of guilt, the foul Morgue, which I inission. Happy had it been for his countrymen had they could never pass without a shudder, thinking by what been influenced by his excellent counsels, as the Greeks crimes it was filled. The assassin's steel, the gambler's were by those of the virtuous general of Megalopolis ! despair, the wretchedness of his ruined children, ever rose The works of Josephus are voluminous, and bear testito view as I glanced at the loathsome structure. These mony to his diligent and persevering genius. His largest, associations were less endurable than all we had felt though not his best, work, is his Archæology, or Jewish while moving through the silent tombs of the dead, and Antiquities, in twenty books, wherein he deduces the hiswere only effaced when our eyes fell on an edifice devoted tory of Judea from the creation to the age of Nero, and to nobler purposes, the Salpetrière, where aged females which is chiefly valuable from its filling up the chasm that are comfortably sheltered from the ills of poverty and separates Old and New Testament History. His Jewish years. The excited feelings were soothed by reflecting War, in seven books his most eloquent work-details, on this more grateful subject, and we resumed our sur | along with some preliminary recapitulation, the terrible vey with renovated strength. The spirits of my compa-| incidents of that singular war that commenced under Nero, nion improved with the day. She talked cheerfully of and terminated in the extirpation of the Jews, and deall we had seen, and looked calmly to the time when she struction of their capital by Vespasian and Titus. .

t dwell in this house of death, which was now It is only of the style of the Jewish historian that the deemed so sweet and inviting, that the prospect of repo- | writer of these remarks means here to speak, and not of sing within its precincts was no longer unwelcome. The the credibility of his statements as compared with the opening buds that gemmed each grave carried her for- Bible, and as inducing or justifying against their author ward to’a land

a charge of credulity or of incredulity. The style of Jo“ Where souls do couch on flowers ;"

sephus in his Archæology is somewhat irregular and dis

crepant. His mind and his pen seem to vacillate between and a few leaves were gratefully plucked, to be cherished the redundancies of Grecian eloquence, which, being faas memorials of this interesting visit. She had got over sbionable in his day, he rather affected, and the simplicity a secret unacknowledged fear of beholding the grave, and of Hebrew narration, as presented to us, unadorned and her mind became serene. We departed alınost reluctantly unaffected, by the historians of the Old Testament, to from a spot which I had dreaded to approach in her com. which his mind, as it necessarily resorted to them for in. pany. From that hour her health improved ;—such was formation, had also a propensity to adhere, as a native, in the happy effect of contemplating that which at a dis

laudable imitation. There is a perpetual conflict, as it tance seemed so forbidding! The cause of this improve

were, between the concise simplicity of Judea and the ment is obvious. Imagination was no longer on the

splendid exaggeration of Greece ; a heterogeneous mixture stretch, and another proof was thus afforded, that of the splendid with the simple in writing, as, in archi66 To please the fancy, is no trifling good

tecture, the intermixture of Palestine plainness with GreWhere health is studied; for, whatever moves

cian magnificence in the tombs of the valley of Jehoshaphat. The mind with calm delight, promotes the just

Accordingly, the naked narrative of Moses is in many And natural movements of the harmonious fraine." | places spoiled, as it passes through the hands of this hisMorayshire, March, 1830.

torian, by unnecessary exuberance. The story of Joseph, so exquisitely impressive by its touching and forcible sim

plicity, where every word is, as it were, a weapon ; the JOSEPHUS AND HIS STYLE OF WRITIXO. dedication of the temple by Solomon, one of the finest By William Tennant.

passages to be found in any writing, are vitiated and re

duced in their effect by the cumbersome and spurious elo. JOSEPHUS, of all the Jews the most celebrated for his quence with which the sentiments are overloaded. It is genius and learning, was the son of Matthias, an honour in the history of times less ancient, and of transactions able citizen of Jerusalem, who was connected, by descent, | within the compass of his own experience, that his mind, both with the regal and priestly branches, and hence making no reference to the simple annals of Judea, and transmitted to his son a twofold honour, that was doubly left free and unfettered to its own scope of splendid illus. dear in the eyes of his fellow-citizens. His son soop dis-i tration, manifests its peculiar power. In his Archæology,

too

his account of the divisions that rent, tormented, and dis- I heard the thunder growling in the skirts of night, and peopled the palaces of Herod ; of the death of King rolling its burden round on the dark heavy rooms of the Agrippa ; in his Jewish war, his description, most mas- | west. Gross white mists were detached from the low. terly in its kind, of the siege of Jotapata ; of the attack hung clouds, and crept lazily up the channels of the in the streets of Gamala ; of the entrance of the Idu- streams. Then came the sound of rain from over the means by night, during a storm, into Jerusalem ; of the southern fell, rushing and sonorous. It was altogether naval battle on the sea of Genesareth ; of the captures of such a night as makes the traveller spur on to reach his the fort of Masada ; of the bloody conflicts in and round inn, while he fancies, in the low-hung shadows, relieved about Jerusalem; of the triumphal entry into Rome of by the incessant twinkling in the air, those shapes that Vespasian-are not surpassed either by Livy or any other blast the unwholesome night by blue forest or cave, or Greek or Latin historian. He is undoubtedly the most wide moorish fen, and his heart quails beneath the broodsublime of all historians; his genius being decidedly Jew-ing sense of mysterious danger, of things dim and unreish, and partaking largely of that fervency and soaring conciled, the helplessness of night, and the angry spirit superiority which characterise the writings of his extra- of the storm. ordinary countrymen. Perhaps he is too sublime for his- | Admonished by the above signs of the coming storm, I tory : his narrative flows along in epic pomp and dignity, made for the door of my little hostelrie, and was on the broken sometimes into bursts of tragic vehemence : it is point of entering, when the nearing voice of some one like the long and richly-flowing river of gold and silver, crying bitterly made me pause and turn. The person in to which he himself likens the triumphal entry of Ves | distress I soon saw to be a little bareheaded and barepasian. As his narrative part is thus splendid, the ar footed boy, who came running along the twilight road, gumentative portion, consisting of his orations, is, in a and who, as I questioned him of the cause of his crying, corresponding degree, eloquent; more discursory, per gave me to understand that he had seen the fire in the haps, but not displaying less ratiocinative invention than west, and was horribly frightened, as he had yet two miles the speeches of Livy. Indeed, of the Greek or Roman to run to get to his home. He had been sent, he farther historians, Livy is the only one that may pretend to rival told me, to a town some miles off, to fetch a surgeon for him in vivacity or splendour ; and, if the Roman histo- a gentleman who had fallen from his horse, but had been rian at all exceeds him, it is in the compression, the con-unsuccessful in his quest, as the only practitioner of the densed force and invigorated majesty, of the language, ra place was not at home, nor would be at home that night. ther than in the brightness and inagnificent flow of the On hearing this, I instantly determined, as I had instruimages. Of modern historiads, or of modern writers, ments in my pocket, to follow the boy, and see the bruised there is only one great living name that can aspire to an gentleman, to whom I might be of some service. To saequality with him, or with the historian of Rome, in tisfy my hostess, lest I should not return to her house vivid expansion of imagery, all-illuminating splendour, that night, was the work of the same minute; and inand graphic energy of language.

stantly I was off with the boy, who, though the steepAs connected with the Old and New Testaments, and down rain now began to smooth his dun and weatheras throwing light on the incidents, characters, manners, bleached hair, and almost in the same moment to drop and localities noted in Scripture record, the works of from bis long forelock, whilst the fire-haunted shadows Josephus cannot be too much valued by a Bible student. | darkled against his face, yet seemed so glad at my accomThey are by far the best commentary and expositor one panying him, as to have forgot all his fears. Despite can use in reading the Old and New Testaments.

the horrors of the storm, we soon reached a small range Devongrove, Clackmannanshire,

of thatched cottages, near which, the boy told me, the ac· 26th February, 1830.

cident had happened ; and a horse tied at the door of one of them, led us at once to the proper place. On entering,

I saw my patient, a gentleman apparently about thirty THE APOLOG Y.

years of age, leaning back pale and exhausted upon a bed, IN THREE PARTS.

and ministered to by a woman far advanced in life, whose By Thomas Aird, Author of Religious Characteristics,"

appearance, notwithstanding the visible poverty of her

present habitation, seemed to speak of better days that GC.

she had seen. I introduced myself as a graduate in meSpeak of me as I am: nothing cxtenuate,

dicine, who, having heard of the accident, and their mesNor set down aught in malice.-Othello.

senger's want of success in procuring the aid of a surPart I.

geon, had volunteered his services if necessary. The genOve afternoon in May last, being on a pedestrian ex- | tleman, on hearing this, sat up and tendered me his arm, cursion through the south of Scotland, I was overtaken which I instantly bled. I then bound up his head, which by a violent thunderstorm, which drove me for shelter to I found bruised on one side almost to a fracture, and cut a small village inn. It was evening ere the tempest by the stones of the road, upon which he had fallen. The ceased, and judging it inexpedient to pursue my walk storm bad now subsided, and my patient, contrary to fartber that night, I set myself to look for some amuse- my advice and the earnest entreaties of his hostess, exment to help me to beguile a tedious hour or two. After pressed his determination to ride home without delay, as watching from my window awhile the village children, bis house was distant only three miles. After giving the some of whom busied themselves in damming up the little little messenger, who lived in the next cottage, his due water-courses by the wayside, while others churned with guerdon, he turned to the kind old woman, who fluttered their bare feet the puddles on the road, I sauntered forth, over his departure with an earnest blessing, and an enand found my way into a small garden behind the house. treaty to know of his welfare on the morrow, and said to The warm reeking rains had freshened and broadened her—“I will not offend you by speaking of remuneration, every leaf; plant and tree stood surcharged with moist- but God bless you for your kindness; I will see you often.

ure, and seemed perceptibly to vegetate into more luxu- | Yet, meanwhile, may I request to know to whose motherly - riant growth; the lizard rustled through the green fresh care I have been so much indebted at this time?" grass, and the loathsome toad trailed his lazily stretching “I was proud of the name of Bonnington," was the old limbs from the fat loamy bed of rank weeds. By degrees, woman's answer," when I was a wife, and the mother of however, I became unobservant of outward things, and my own Harry and Emily ; but they are all gone from fell into a revcrie of “sweet and bitter fancies," which me long ago." kept me pacing, I know not precisely how long, the oozing! At this her wounded guest started as if he had been walks of that remote garden. I was startled and aroused struck to the heart with a barbed arrow, and, trembling by a gleam of lightning, and, after listening a few seconds, like a leaf on a high tree, he turned half round imploringly to me; then, fixing his gaze on the old woman before him, ] “My name is Bremner," said my companion, “and we he gasped forth,“ Good God! what has brought me into are brothers, it seems, in the profession. But I trust you this house! Do you know who I am, my kind hostess ?” will never need my services as you have kindly given me

“I think not, sir. But I am afraid you are yet very yours to-night. As for your proposal to accompany me unwell."

home, it is exactly what I wished, and I trust we shall “ No wonder-no wonder, if you be indeed his mother

er, if you be indeed his mother | not part so soon." --that boy Harry Bonnington's. Dare you guess who is I made it my farther duty, as we proceeded, to keep my in your house this moment ?"

hand upon his horse's bridle, lest any of the occasional Mysterious Providence !" said the woman, returning flashes which were yet visible far off might provoke the his gaze with equal intensity; " who is this one before spirited animal to any sudden plunge, which his rider, in me?"

his present exhausted state, was less able to guard against; “My name was Hastings once; do you know me now?" and in this way we went on till we reached Mountcoin, cried my patient, sinking back on a chair, and covering the place of Bremner's residence. his face with his left band, whilst he extended the other. On the morrow, instead of taking leave of my new “ There is the bloody right hand," he added, " which made friend, I agreed to stay with him a month; before the you childless.”

expiry of which term, I had the pleasure of seeing Mrs There was here a deep pause. The unhappy man sat Bonnington's first scruples yield to his generous solicitawith both his hands upon his face. Before him stood the tions, and her rest set up for life at bis house. It was a bereaved mother, perplexed in the extreme, yet evidently lofty and heart-touching sight to see him act towards ber struggling to overcome her strong emotions.

in all respects like a good son; and his attentions were "If God has brought about this meeting, unhappy man, specially valuable, as her health was very feeble. to me," she at length said, “ let us each be wiser and bet- On the evening previous to the proposed day of my deter by it. This cannot be without perfect repentance and parture from Mountcoin, Dr Bremner voluntarily opened forgiveness, and we must mind our respective parts. up to me the following particulars of his life. What would you have me say to you else ?"

(Part II. in our next.) “ In truth, I do not know," was his answer. “I could tell you, indeed, why my face has long been pale; but it

STEPHEN KEMBLE AND THE SON OF NEPTUNE. more becomes me to go out of your presence without any parade of repentance. It was an awful deed, thou poor

AN ANECDOTE. mother! But yet the blow that has ruined us all was KEMBLE was perhaps the best Sir John Falstaff which not meant for him."

the British stage ever saw. His fine countenance and his “ So she told me, my child Emily, when she pled for commanding figure fitted him admirably for the part, for you before this heart, and gave a mitigated name to your Sir John was a “proper man;" while the nalural protuoffence. We are two in a strange relation to each other; berance in front made him the very beau ideal of the inbut if both may find the same mild Judge in Heaven at veterate sack-drinker. The following anecdote was told last, why should we farther distress each other on earth ? me by a person who frequently heard Kemble tell it himYours is the guilt of dreadful rashness, and mine is the self. sore bereavement."

Kemble was performing with a company in a seaport “Will you give me a pledge of your forgiveness ?” asked town somewhere on the coast of England, when a ship, he eagerly.

which had been long at sea, came into port, and sent her “ Name it," said the woman, evidently surprised. crew on shore, with plenty of money, and full of fun and

“I have no mother," proceeded the unhappy gentleman; frolic, to enjoy themselves, after their long cruise, accord" and never knew a true mother's care; I have no rela ing to their various tastes and pursuits. “ One of this tives; I am a desolate man; and would have you become kidney” found his way to the box office of the Theatre, a mother even to me. And if I might be something like which at this time was open only three nights a-week, a son to you, it would give me a taste of happiness, and and, enquiring for the Manager, told him, with all the I owe the duty to you a thousand times. I have wealth characteristic bluntness of a British sailor, that he “ want. enough, and I think I could fulfil some offices of kind at- ed a play!"-“ Very well,” replied the Manager, “come tention. Now, if you judge me aright, if you care not to-morrow evening, my good fellow, and you shall have over much for the opinion of the world, if your heart can two plays.” This, however, did not at all accord with bear the sad memorial which my presence must ever be, Jack's fancy. He was not disposed to wait till to-morrow will you become a mother to me? Will you give me a evening ; he wanted his play performed that night. After chance for a little joy, by allowing me to redress some a good deal of wrangling, and seeing that the sailor was what the wrongs I bave done you, in cutting off the na-bent on having his own way, the Manager touched upon tural stay of your age?”

the expenses, telling him that it would require a consider“ You are strangely generous,” said the old woman, after able sum of money. “Money!” said Jack, with a look of a pause; “yet I believe not the less truly so. Your pro the most infinite contempt, “ Damme, * how much will posal, however, is so striking, that I confess myself afraid it take ?"_" About thirty pounds," answered Stephen. to take it."

Jack said not a word, but, drawing his purse from his “I dare not urge you farther at this time," said the bosom, counted down thirty guineas in the calmest mangentleman; “ but will you permit me to see you again ner possible. The bargain was now of course fairly conere long, and renew my request ?”

cluded, but a question remained to be asked. “What “God's best peace be with you, sir!" said the old woman, play should you like performed, sir ?" said the obsequious in a kind voice, yet not answering his question directly. Manager, as he pocketed the gold pieces with evident sa

“ Amen,” said the gentleman, and added nothing far- tisfaction. “ Play!” said Jack, chuckling at the idea of ther, beyond taking a simple leave of his hostess, who fol-being “sir'd.” “Let me see. Ay, ay, give us Falstaff, lowed us to the door, and assisted me in helping him to Sir John Falstaff-You have a fellow here who does that his horse.

devilish well. Ay, ay, sir," said the tar, with increa“And now," said he, turning to me with a kind smile, sing good humour, as he ran over his theatrical reminis* what must be done with you? whither shall we dismiss you ?" I believe I must see you safely home," was my reply;

# I have written the expletives with which the sailor garnishes his * or, in other words, I must tax your hospitality fora night.

discourse in full, as I dislike the glaring and shamefaced modern

manner of printing them thus"d me." At the same time, I My name is Calvert, and, if you please, Doctor is a good tra

regret, in common with all who think rightly on the subject, that velling addition,"

the general character of the British sailor should be so interwoven with this invctcratc habit and degrading vice,

cences, “ let me have the old boy with the round fore- | Nature have begun “ their work of gladness to contrive," castle, built like a Dutch lugger, and lurching like a Spa- who would sit still within doors, nor hasten, at the earliest nish galleon in a heavy sea. Damme! give me Sir John call, to participate in the general joy? Not IFalstaff! What a prime commodore the old fellow would

• For I have loved the rural walk, through lanes have made had his worship lived in them times. Shiver

Of grassy swarth, close cropp'd by nibbling sheep, my timbers! but I could have sailed the whole 'varsal

And skirted thick with intertexture firm world with him, and stood by him in wreck or fight,

Of thorny boughs; have loved the rural walk damme, to the last plank !” Having pronounced this eu

O'er hills, through valleys, and by rivers' brink, logium on the character of stout Sir John, the affair was

Eer since a truant boy I pass'd my bounds." closed, and all the arrangements made to Jack's complete satisfaction. One clause in particular was most pointedly Dear as are the inland scenes of merry England, which urged, that not a single soul was to be in the house but none knew better to paint than her beloved Cowper, himself! “Remember," said Jack,“ not a lubber of them with all her happy homes “bosomed high in tufted trees," must be scen, either in the hold, the shrouds, or the tops, -her rich, level meadows, enclosed by well-kept hedges, or, by the Diomede! I'll have him keelhauled by the and bounded by brooks, cottages, and alder-trees what fiddlers !" So saying, the tar departed, mightily pleased are they in the power to soothe, to elevate, and purify the with his bargain, with himself, and with the whole world. soul, compared with the silent majesty and sterner beauty

Night came; a few of the orchestra people took their of Loch Ness, now spread before me, with her vast exaccustomed places; the house was well lighted, and every panse of deep and waveless water, her towering and vathing in readiness, when, just at the hour, Jack burst into riegated rocks, her numerous glens, opening up like narthe lower gallery, and, running across the seats, much in row gullies or ravines, yet filled with smoking huts, fallthe way in which he would have run along the jolly boat, ing streams, and waving trees-a wild, and beautiful, and he placed himself, with hat on one side, and arms akimbo, populous solitude ! in the centre of the front bench. By way of overture, he The scenery of the IIighlands is usually described after called for “ Jack's Delight" and the “ Sailor's Hornpipe;" the style and fashion of British painters, by pourtraying and these being played to his liking, he bawled out, “Now, the most striking and prominent objects, without regard my lads, clew up your mainsail, and pipe all hands aboard !" to those minor graces and embellishments which soften The curtain immediately drew up, and the play of“ Henry and adorn, if they do not individualize, the scene. By a few Fourth, Part First," commenced. Jack sat out the first powerful and masterly touches, the leading traits are'bodied scene with a good deal of patience; but when his fa- forth," a general resemblance is attained, and neither artist vourite made his appearance in the second scene, along nor author seeks for more. One splendid exception, inwith the Prince,

deed, is to be found in our literature—the poetry of Sir “ Three cheers our gallant seaman gave !"

Walter Scott, which has familiarized thousands with every

bush, and brake, and dell within the range of the Troin a tone which would have drowned a dozen Brahams. sachs. But there the spell rests it extends not farther Sir John bowed low to this token of marked approbation, north. Hence, though strangers, visiting our scenery, are and the play proceeded, while Jack sat with his whole prepared to gaze upon mountains, capt by mist or snow, soul in his eyes, enjoying the rare humour of the “unimi. Land to luxuriate bý the side of lakes and wa

and to luxuriate by the side of lakes and waterfalls, few tated and inimitable Falstaff." He continued in evident | anticipate wandering through wildernesses of native birch · delight as long as Sir John remained on the stage, but and oak, or of witnessing the myriads of Alpine plants and whenever he made his exit, the play was performed in shrubs which here climb the loftiest steeps, and lend an dumb show, and amid a torrent of reproaches from “the indescribable sweetness and beauty to the landscape. Standaudience," who kept bawling at the top of his voice to his ing by these lonely rocks at sunrise, or in a calm summer Grace of Northumberland and other distinguished cha- | evening, and contrasting their bare and rugged peaks with racters.-“ Avast there! sheer off, ye lubbers! Belay | the profusion of green, glossy plants, flowering shrubs, and your jawing tackle, you there with the carving knife! | tangled brushwood, which clothe their sides and cluster Sheer off! sheer off! Bring Falstaff in, and be damned round their bases, a fresh wild fragrance is breathed from to you!" Thus did Jack alternately applaud and condemn cliff and dell, a thousand times more delicious than the during the whole performance. When it was finished, richest perfumes. This exuberance, though most predoand the green “mainsail" had been once more dropped minant in the inland glens and passes, is seldom far dis“ on deck," he rose and was preparing to depart, when one tant. Even in the most dreary and desolate tracts, Naof the players met him at the door of the gallery, and in- ture, as it were, redeems herself, and nooks and slips, formed him that all was not over, for that the “ After-watered by some solitary rill or spring, blossom forth, like piece" was yet to be performed. “Is Falstaff to be in the “happy island” amidst the Sands of Lybia, to humanit ?"_“ No, sir.”_“Oh! then, damn the afterpiece ! |ize the desert. In the midst of the gorgeous fertility of Good night, good night!" And so saying, he walked out, the south, these oases of the wild would bloom undistinperfectly satisfied with his thirty guineas' worth.

guished, but here their soothing and vivifying power is Stephen Kemble used to relate this anecdote with in- deeply felt. They are (speaking fancifully) like the finite glee and humour; and it certainly affords an amu- dews and flowers of Milton's genius sprinkling the hoar sing trait illustrative of the character of a class of men austerity of his creed ; or like that exquisite touch of ten whose equals in bravery and absurdity cannot be found onderness and beauty with which Shakspeare relieves the the face of the globe.

dense horrors brooding over Macbeth's castle

“ This guest of summer,

The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
HIGHLAND SCENERY AND PEASANTRY.

By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breast
By the Editor of the Inverness Courier.

Smells wooingly here." Who has not felt his heart expand and his fancy kin One only drawback is felt in traversing these moun. dle at the first warm suns and cloudless skies which tell tain scenes. Go where we will, we meet with the low us of the coming spring ? Rough and variable as the | black huts of the peasants,“ murky dens," as Johnson season has hitherto been, we have now a glimpse of “bet calls them, which never fail to convey a dull and painter days.” The snow has disappeared from all but the ful feeling to the mind. How different from the snug, loftiest mountains and deepest dells—the sun is not only cleanly, white-washed cottages of England! Nor is this visible, but is felt. A new spirit has gone forth, as cer- impression illusory. The condition even of the crofter, or tain of our reformers say; and when all the powers of small farmer, is inferior to that of the English peasant, and he is destitute of the consolation, poor as it is, which and, what is worse, not one of the artists, as far as I can the latter possesses, that his old age will be sheltered, or learn, has yet availed himself of it. his offspring reared, by the humane institutions of his The old house of Gosford, where the noble proprietor recountry. In winter, too, his exertions are paralyzed by sides, is a large irregular building, with all that air of the rigours of the climate, and during this stern blockade, | neatness conveyed by white-washing, surrounded by confined day after day in a dark smoky hut, destitute of various small enclosures formed by tall clipped hedges, the means of employment, and often of the necessaries of that give an appearance of snugness to the whole. Imlife, his situation must be deplorable in the extreme. Very mediately in front, on the opposite side of a lawn, of no frequently, in such cases, if money can be begged or bor- great extent, stands the main body of the new house a rowed, or raised by joint contribution, smuggling is re- | building of inore architectural pretensions than beauty. sorted to; and though much has been done to suppress | It was built by the late Earl, but never completed ; and, this illegal traffic, it still holds undisputed sway in the | as there is some defect about the materials, probably never wilder straths and glens. The nature of the country offers will. The length of the house is too great in proportion such facilities for carrying it on, and all classes of the to its depth ; the eastern façade is plain and heavy; the people, high and low, are so partial to the beverage, that western more ornamented, and, but for the excessive one need not wonder at its continuance. In many places, slenderness of the pilasters and antae, well designed. The the exciseman dare not venture his neck among the cliffs old house, plain as can well be conceived, but massive and dens where Donald is at work; frequently, too, like and solid, on the one hand, and this unsuccessful attempt the mole, he labours under ground, and in winter the at something fine on the other, are no unapt representaheights and fords are impassable. The only chance of tions of our British noblemen in the earlier and later peseizure which the revenue officer has, is to intercept the riods of last century. The former proud and dignified, yet men and women as they sally forth from the “ bothy,” | withal affecting a sturdy deportment, that distinguished to vend the spirits,--a mean catchpoll employment, yet the wealthy independent baron from the empty-pocketed, one which the noblemen and gentlemen of Scotland, of a title-gilded creature, whose only element is a court. The former day, thought not unsuited to the genius of Burns. latter more highly educated, and attempting to superin

With all his left and right-handed policy, Donald grows duce upon himself that Continental polish, of which God not rich " with all his thrift he thrives not." The and Nature never meant an Englishman to be susceptible. elder cottars, and those burdened with large families, may The two houses stand there as monuments of a change in be said to vegetate rather than live, and hundreds are at the tone and manners of society. this moment, I am persuaded, suffering hardships and The new house is, of course, not inhabited; and the privations, at which, in the sister country, Captain Rock three large public rooms, which constitute almost the and his followers would rise en masse. Still they are whole body of the house, are occupied by the late Earl's large strongly attached to their native hills : let them but re- collection of paintings. These rooms three in number main in their huts, and they ask no more. The feudal are very large and beautifully proportioned. Left, as they chain is broken, but the force of habit and early associa- now are, it is difficult to say how they might look with tions bind the Highlander as firmly to his native strath the necessary additions of carpets, ottomans, chandeliers, as if it were impossible for him to gain a subsistence clse- and all the other requisites of magnificent apartments. where. Perhaps this is but another proof of the abject- At present their bare floors and white ceilings bave rather ness of his condition ; so low has he sunk, that even the a desolate appearance; and the gilding along the springs desire to rise, to enjoy, or to excel, is dead or stagnant. It of the arches contrasts tawdrily with the whole. The is only, however, in large crowded cities, that the poor pictures likewise suffer from each room having a large are truly miserable. When men are congregated together side window instead of a top ligbt. in large masses, and every avenue to labour scems closed, It would be absurd, or worse, to pretend, on the strength then the wretched being whom want is staring in the of one visit, to appreciate such a numerous collection of face, feels the utter helplessness of his situation, and be- paintings. Some pictures there are which arrest us at comes the prey of despair. Then it is that the iron en once, and impress us more deeply the longer we examine ters his soul, and deeds are sometimes done at which hu- them. Some there are which blind even the most pracmanity shudders. But the Highlander is never so wholly tised connoisseur at first to their inherent emptiness; destitute. On the hill-side, bleak though it be, he sees and others, at first rather repulsive, win upon us insenaround him the means of future subsistence the ele sibly, like a homely but amiable woman. Besides, some ments of humble comfort. Spring will again unlock the thirty of the best pictures have spent a winter in town, stores of the earth, and winter withdraw the last of his and have not been unpacked since their return. If, how. lingering forces. Then, when our burns and streams, ever, the reader do not think an old man's prattle tedious, instead of being choked with snow-wreaths, and silenced he may follow me through the different apartments. I by frost, are again murmuring by bank and brae—when begin with the dining-room : the larch and birch trees are full of leaf, and every! The first painting that arrests the eye, which, on first “ broomy knowe,” moistened with genial showers, is re- entering a room where there are a number of works of dolent of spring, the poor Highlander forgets his load of art, wanders in uncertainty from one to another, is a cru. suffering, and, hoping all will yet be well, exults in the cifixion by Imperiali. On closer inspection, we find it a change which scatters joy among the rational and irra- respectable, but by no means a masterly painting. It is tional creation.

only when we return to the door, that we discover it is the Inverness, April 2d.

prominent manner in which the crucifix stands out from the dense body of darkness, that struck us. It is a kind

of panoramic painting. The next is a painting by GenGOSFORD-HOUSE AND ITS PAINTINGS.

tileschi, over the fire-place- Bathsheba in the bath. It Our readers probably are not aware that the Earl is in the bold, unsubdued style of the Italian masters, of Wemyss, with a spirit and liberality worthy of his where no one colour fades into another. The drawing is rank, has intimated to the artists of Edinburgh, through less powerful. There is a finicalness in most of the atAllan, that they are welcome to visit, and even to titudes. Even Bathsheba, although the trunk is finely take copies from, his pictures. Had he refused such a drawn, and truly coloured, is not quite exempt from this. permission on application being made for it, or had he The easiest figure is the negro standing behind her. even waited to be requested, we should have heard enough There is in this room a picture of the triumph of Conof innuendoes about wealthy men who shut up from the stantine, attributed to Julio Romano; but, to judge by man of taste treasures they themselves cannot appreciate the style and execution, it must be the work of some earAs it is, scarcely any one knows of the generous offer; lier artist. There is also a " stag-hunt," by Snyders, re

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