nassian gold, which, though it will never bring food and raiment to this perishing thing of clay, yet it may help to feed and clothe that which is immortal. Whether the following simple lay be a star, a gem, a flower, a drop of dew, or a foam-bell, I cannot myself decide. In this critical dilemma, the Muse laughs at me; yet, at the same time, spiritedly says, "Submit the song to the eye of the Right Worshipful Grand-Master of the Mysteries of Poesy, and tell him, that I advise him to receive it kindly." Here it is: THE BRIDE'S SONG. By John Nevay. As ony wee lily that gems the lea, As the dulcet note of soft melody, When she feels she is gazed on by love's own eye; And wasting their useless charms. Then peace seek in her arms. As the bee the first bloom of spring to see, As rainbow that spanneth earth and sea, THE EDITOR. With your leave, I shall now close our symposium, by reading six short poems, all by different persons, and bearing the dates of Oban, Birmingham, Dunfermline, West-Houses, Edinburgh, and Forfar. I think each possesses merit sufficient to entitle it to be heard, even in such a presence as this. (The EDITOR reads.) VERSES WRITTEN DURING A NIGHT WALK. By Thomas Brydson. The past-it is a schoolboy tale But o'er each future moment lie Portions of those dark clouds, which veil THE FORSAKEN. By R. Shelton Mackenzie. How beauteous, in her happier hours, Ere the deceiver came, With silvery words of feigned love, And looks of passion-flame! A heart more pure, a form more fair, But, now, the lustre of her eye Her charms are dimm'd by tears; Proud hopes beyond the tomb ! She seems, in her pale beauty's sheen, What flower is born to live? And still, while nature throbs, she breathes But one wish-to forgive! The pang of woe-the love-sick dreamThe wrathful look-the bitter tear! Not thus may to my memory rise What now I think-what now I do Great Ruler of the starry skies! Oh, bless my unseen days-the fleeting and the few! Oban, SONG. By James Miller. When love was a wee thing, New lodged in the breast, 'Twas timid and fearfu', And never could rest; 'Twixt gladness and sorrow, 'Twixt pleasure and pain, Was waukrife and wearie, Was shy and was fain. It dwelt among roses, It sigh'd in the grove; It blush'd when it fancied Its name might be love; At last it turn'd dizzy, Was light in the head; At last it turn'd crazy, And vow'd it would wed. Then clean out o' reason, It wanton'd in dreams, And swore aye that woman Was just what she seems : The silly chield trusted The transport would last, But he married a wife, and The vision was past. East Barns. A SKETCH. Thanks had been offer'd up, and blessing ask'd, Now heavenward steadfastly, as though, like Stephen, A sunbeam flamed among his locks; his brow Lofty and radiant as the mind within A shrine of high and holy thoughts appear'd, Or shining seat of an immortal crown; A flush of triumph mantled on his cheek; And from his lips, just parted, breathed a spirit TO MARY. Whene'er I think on thee-ah, then! The days I loved so well, In all their brightness, come again, Whene'er I think on thee! Whene'er I think on thee, sweet maid! To know that love so soon will fade-- What thou wert once--what thou art now—— Still, still recurs to me, With aching heart, and burning brow, Whene'er I think on thee, I bless Thy form and face so fair; The source of all my happiness— The cause of all my care; For pain and pleasure both are there, In one tumultuous sea, And angel hope, and black despair, Whene'er I think on thee! Forfar. W. F! Mr Green. I am sorry indeed to say any thing to break up a meeting so full of intellectual enjoyment; but I have been studying the wind for the last twenty minutes, and I am strongly inclined to think, that if it continues to blow steadily, we have some chance of getting back to the earth by availing ourselves of its assistance. THE EDITOR. I hope we shall be able to prevail upon our illustrious entertainers to accompany us. What a sensation will their re-appearance create in the world! Lord Byron. Alas! it is impossible. We are bound by laws, the precise nature of which we cannot explain to you, but which link us inseparably with the moon for at least a hundred years to come. But the recollection of this visit will remain indelibly impressed on our memory; and we can assure you, that we shall now take, if possible a deeper and more anxious interest in the prosperity of the LITERARY JOURNAL, the success of which implies the success of all the talent and high feelings to be found in the Modern Athens. (The EDITOR bows; Burns embraces him; and Shelley turns away to conceal his agitation. Lord Byron conducts them into the lawn, where the balloon still hovers in the air, attached to the ground by the grappling irons.) THE EDITOR. I should have been glad to have had. time to see a little more of this beautiful and wonderful planet; but I have been already too long absent from the earth, and am anxious to allay the national anxiety which will already exist on my account. Shelley (solemnly.) "Fare-thee-well, and if for ever, Then for ever fare-thee-well!" Burns. Farewell! farewell! What would I not give to see Ayrshire once more! If you ever go to Dumfries, tell Jean that I have been faithful to her ever since I left her. I believe you are acquainted with Clarinda, now Mrs M'Lehose-I beseech you to present her with my dearest remembrances. Give John Gibson Lockhart my best compliments; he has written nobly about me, and made a great deal of a bad cause. THE EDITOR, I shall attend to your commissions most punctually. Shelley. I have but few friends on the earth, and I confess I do not look back to it with the same enthusiasm as Burns. I was but indifferently treated there. Some of the happiest days I spent on it were in your own city of Edinburgh, where I wrote my first poem, the Wandering Jew," which is now in your hands, and from which you have done me the honour to publish numerous extracts. I was happy, too, with my wife in Italy. Tell her that I often think of her. I have not read her "Perkin Warbeck," but I doubt not that it is full of talent. 66 Lord Byron. Talking of wives, I am not particularly well pleased with mine. She has tried to blacken my character, by pointing to something horrible which led to our separation, although she knows well enough that there was nothing in it more horrible than incompatibility of temper. As for her champion, Master Thomas Campbell, I should take the liberty of telling him a little bit of my mind if I had him here, but it is needless getting angry at this distance. He has raised a strange coil about a dead man's ears. Had I been living, I have a notion he would have sung a good deal smaller. Give him my compliments, and tell him so. Mr Green (to the EDITOR). The balloon, sir, is now ready. [The EDITOR steps into the balloon, followed by Mr Green. The grappling irons are taken up, and the balloon rises majestically. Lord Byron, Shelley, und Burns, take off their hats, and wave them, with three cheers. The EDITOR and Mr Green return the compliment. Mr Green then occupies himself with the conducting of the balloon. The EDITOR takes out his tablets, and writes intently. Four and-twenty hours elapse, at the conclusion of which LITERARY CRITICISM. Cunntas Aithghearr mu Bheath agus Bhinthas, Jan A Literary Hoax Exposed, in a Letter addressed to the The power of apprehending the more delicate nuances of sound. The broad open vowels, almost any man can distinguish ; but there are in some languages (and in the Gaelic, in greater quantity than in any other western language) a number of half or stolen vowels, which add greatly to the liquidity and musical character of the words. introduction of many of Munro's new modes of spelling, would bring us to this dilemma, that either the written must become an inadequate representative of the spoken language, or the latter must be new-modelled, to harmonise with the former, to the confusion of all etymological relations. In the second place, Mr Munro does not seem to be aware, that one of the principal uses of a written character, is to give greater permanency and consistency to language. Mere organic causes are constantly at work, altering and modifying the vocal representatives of thought to such a degree, that fifty years are sufficient, in nations ignorant of writing, to render two tribes, living apart, though sprung from the same source, unintelligible to each other. But if we are to alter the written language with every change which folly, fashion, or organie defect, induces in the speaker, we are once more afloat. We lose sight of the strict etymological signification of our words, and introduce a vagueness into our language most detrimental to habits of correct thinking. Upon these grounds, we deprecate all such sweeping reforms of the present system of Gaelic orthography, as are proposed in the first of the works whose titles are prefixed to this article. It is true, that the Gaelic language has suffered from the adoption of the characters of an alien tongue; of one, in particular, which represents its sounds by characters and combinations so vague and fluctuating as the English. But in adopting this character, it trode in the footsteps of its more cultivated sister—the Irish dialect; to say nothing of the advantage gained by two races, so closely connected as we and our Celtic brethren, possess THESE pamphlets have been elicited in the course of a dispute regarding Gaelic Orthography, which has been carrying on for some time back in the West country with true Celtic vigour. Had we stood within the reach of the contending parties, we know too well the nature of a "redding straik" to have exposed ourselves to a blow from either of their "tails." But considering ourselves as surrounded by a circle with a radius of some forty miles, within which a well-regulated police protects using one common character. Above all, whether the adfrom the vivacity of Highland retribution, we adventure to raise our voice, albeit, even here, not without fear and trembling. 39 66 vantages, or disadvantages, of the Anglo-Celtic orthography predominate, it has been adopted and used for half a century; it has become identified with the language; and all attempts at a radical change are now childish and futile. Triflers alone discuss the fashion of a swordknot,-men use the weapon. We have not, in these remarks, adverted to the private motives which have been attributed to Mr Munro,-for with them, as public journalists, we have nothing to do; of them as private individuals, we know nothing. Several of his desperate attempts to attain notoriety have come to our knowledge, but they have proved abortive, and we leave them to repose. The Life of the Rev. John Love is avowedly a specimen of an attempted innovation upon the present system of Gaelic orthography. In an address to the reader, which is printed in English, the author seems to have felt that the prejudices of the Gael, as he chooses to term them, were too inveterate to leave him any chance except with those who were ignorant of their language. He describes the system in vogue as a masterpiece of absurdity;" as causing Gaelic, in its present written form, to assume "an unintelligible and revolting aspect, to many who thoroughly understand it, and sincerely love it as a spoken language.' This style of complaint reminds us strongly of a lady whom we heard in our youth reply, to the representations of a friend that the word snuffer had two ff's in it," That it was a most absurd way of spelling, and wasted a deal of ink besides." The appeal of "Le Jan Munro" is equally absurd with that of the venerable matron, whose shade he has conjured up in our imagina- WE had occasion, not long ago, in noticing the Part of tion. It is made to those who "thoroughly understand Mr Pitcairn's Criminal Trials which appeared last, to Gaelic as a spoken, but find it unintelligible" as a writ-advert to the tragical story of Mure of Auchindrane. The ten, language; that is, either to those who cannot read at all, or to those who, reading nothing but English, find it " very foolish" that the same characters should in another language express different sounds. Historical and Genealogical Account of the principal Fa- present publication, by the same indefatigable editor, throws much light, not only upon that mysterious tale, but upon the domestic history of the time and district in which the character of that bold and reckless man was formed. The manuscript, now for the first time given to the public, is evidently the work of one who had seen and participated in the feuds he describes. There is a raciness in his delineations of character, a graphic power in his descriptions of broils and frays, which no man ever But we evinced except when narrating scenes with which he had become conversant through the impressions of sense. He tells his story, too, with all the keenness of a violent, though not ungenerous partisan, and the openness of one who, having been familiarized to the scenes he narrates, never dreams that their violence could need an apologist. It is not our intention to deny that the present system of Gaelic orthography has its defects, in common with that of every language with which we are acquainted. Our object is to point out the ridiculously querulous, yet sweeping manner after which the would-be reformer seeks to place it under his ban and anathema. will go farther, and shew that the specific objections which he brings against it, and the emendations he proposes, of themselves demonstrate his inadequacy to the task he has undertaken. In the first place, many of his proposed alterations show, that his ear is deficient in the As a specimen of his brief and pithy mode of sketching character, we select the following: "Now it pleassit God, on the sewint day of Nouember, to tak the Laird of Bargany in his mercye; quba wes the mobillest manne that ewer was in that country in his tyme. He was indewitt with mony gude wertewis. First, he feiritt God, and was fra the beginning on the rycht side of religioune. He was wyse and courteous, and thair with stoutt and passing kynd; and sik ane nobill spendar in owttings, with the best halding hous at hame that ewer was in the land. He was never behind with na pairty, and keipitt him selff ewer to the foir with his leiwing. He had ewer in his houshald xxiiij galland gentilmenne, doubill horsitt, and gallantly cled; with sic ane repair to his hous, that it was aue wonder quhair the samin wes gottin that he spendit." We quote this account of Bargany to show the kind of man who was at that period most sympathized with and admired by the bold and stirring spirits of Scotland. The principles of justice were not, in these unpolished times, very clearly apprehended. There was a rude tone of generosity to which men's hearts were open; but the admiration of power and energy in a character, was a far more vivid feeling. The first requisite in their ideal character was, activity and strength to win power and riches; justice and generosity were merely regarded as complementary graces. This stage of moral feeling is one through which all rude nations pass in their progress to refinement. We take the description of the battle in which Bargany fell, as a specimen of the author's talents for that species of narrative: "The Lord (of Cassillis) thairwpone sent for all his freindis and serwandis, and keipitt thame with him fra Tysday to Fryday, heaffand ewer intelligence and spyis in Air, to try quhane the Laird wes to cum out of the samin. The Laird of Bargany heaffand intelligense thairoff, wold not send for his friendis and seruandis; bot the toune of Air, heaffand thair teindis of him, he thocht that thay wald tak his pairtt; and heaffand sum friendis with him, he thocht me Lord wald nocht impediment him to ryd to his hous. And, contrair all his friendis adwyise, on the xj day of December, he reid out of the toune of Air; the quhilk wes sik ane day of snaw, as the same wes werrie thik of drift, sa that thair was nane culd seine the lenthe of ane lanse befoir him. The Lairdis number wes neuer fourscoir of horse and feitt. The Lord had send tua of his seruauidis to cum befoir to him to mak him foirseine quhan the Laird com by. Thay war callit William Cuninghame and Hew Pennandgow. The Laird of Auchindrayne, kuawing thame, com and schew the samin to Bargany, and said, Sir, I pray yow stay, for your friendis is not heir, and ye will be soir to heiff ado with menne; for thir tua is heir, quha will nocht feill to mak your number and your cuming playne; and thairfoir, gif ye do weill, ye stay; giff ye will nocht, I will ryd and stay thame, that they do no wrang: But I tak God to my witnes, I haiff na will of this dayis wark; foir I se nocht the menne I wald see to do your turn!" And sa Auchindrayne reid to the Brig of Done, and first tuik William Cuninghame, and nixt Hew Penandgow. Thay send William Cuninghame, ou his word, bak to Air; and brocht Hew Penandgow with thame, as ane fre freind; for he was of bluid to the Laird of Auchindrayne. The Laird of Bargany comis to the Brig of Done, quhair he stayit, and calling all his freindis and seruandis thair togidder, he said in this sortt, Sirs, I am heir to protest betoir God, I am nocht to seik the bluid of me Lord, nor his dishonour, in na sortt; bot ryd hame to my hous, And gift me Lord be to in peace, giff he will lat me." persew me, I hoip ye all will do your dewitties as becomis mente; and he that will not be willing to do this, for my luiff and kyndnes, he will ather say he will tary with me to the end, or leaff me now at this present! And thay all ansuerit, We will all die in your defense, giff ony will persew yow! And so reid forwartt, dewyding his horse men in tua cumpanyis; takand ane with himselff, and giffand the young Laird of Cairitoune the wther. Thair wes with himselff the Lairdis of Auchindrayne and Clonkaird, his broder Thomas, and Gilbert Kennedy of Knokda, with ane seruand of Auchindraynis callit James Kennedy, with tua wtheris, Edwart Irwingis his peadge, and Thomas M*Allexander, and sum ma, quhom I neid nocht to expres. The rest war all with Cairltoune; sa thay com ford wairtt to the Brochloche neir the LadyCorse; and thair, me Lord, coming out off Mayboll, with his houshald seruandis, to the number of tua hunder men on fuitt and horse, with xx muskatteires with him; and wes at the Lady-Corse befoir the Laird: Quhair thay being all reddy to meitt, the ane on the Teyndknow, and the wther on the nixt, within the schott of ane maskatt, thay beganne to flytt; and Patrik Rippitt cryit, Laird of Bennand! Laird of Bennand! This is I, Patrik Rippitt, that taik thy hagbuitt! Come down heir in the houm, and brek ane trie, for thy luiffis sake!' Bot the wther gaiff na ansuer, albeit he had gewin the Laird steiff counsell to ryd ford wairtt befoir. "Now the menne of Air wald hef beine at schutting at this tyme; bot the Laird of Bargany stayit thame, and said, I will nocht persew me Lord, bot I will eschew all cummers alse far as I may.' And thairwpon left the way, and raid doune the Bogsyd of Dinhame, thinking be that deid to eschew me Lord. Bot he, in the contrair mynd, followitt downe the uther syd; and at the fut of the bug thair wes ane cumpany of feall dykes, qubairto the hagbutteris raid on bayth the sydis; and wes the ane at the head of the feallis, and the wther at the futt. And thair, me Lordis menne with the mwskattis schott first; and thane the Laird, seeing that his hagbutteris wes neir me Lordis horsmenne, he cam and wald not heff his menne in danger. Me Lordis mwskatteris, seing him cum fordwartt, schott at him, and the horsemenne that wes with him. Now, at the futt of the bog thair wes ane small burne, quhilk the Laird and his had to corse; at the corsing of the quhilk, Gilbert Kennedyis horse wes slayne; and also the Lairdis broderis Thomas brydell was schott in tua; quhairby his horse kaist him, and straik his airme out of juntt in the schudder. So thair wes nane that corsit the same burne bot the Laird him selff, the Lairdis Auchindrayne and Clonkaird, James Bannantyne, and Edwartt Irwing. Thir corssit the burne, thinking that all the rest wes cummand efter thame; bot quhane thay wer na ma, he turnit aboutt, and said Gude sir, we are our few!' "The Lordis men, seeing the samin, schott first at thir five; and than me Lordis horsemen, perseifling that thay war na ma, gaiff the charge, led be Captain Foster, but wes mett be the Laird and the fyff that wes with him, in sik sortt, as the young Laird of Grinak was strukin throw the chin, and he and horse bayth strukin to the eird; and Row Cunninghame, Polqubairnis broder, was strukin in at the knie with ane lance, and out at the buttok. Captain Fosteris horse wes hurtt with suordis, and his pistolatt strukin out of his hand; him selff heaving ane steil hatt, wes dyverse tymis strukin on the heid, bot the sam preservit him. Richart Spense, maister of houshald to me Lord, wes slayne be the Laird of Clonkaird; and sundry horse, was hurtt. And on the Laird syd, the Laird wes slayne himselff, Auchindrayne schott and hurt in the kernellis of the thie, and his horse also; James Bannatyne's horse was slayne; Edward Irrwing, the peadge, was slayne be ane straik of ane lance; John M'Alexander was hurt with ane schot in the thie.' " We have preferred enabling our readers to judge, by means of quotation, of the style and manner of this old fragment of history, than to attempt to analyse its contents. The arrangement is, as in most contemporary manuscripts, rather confused, and the events, except where they happened in the author's own time, are narThe chief value rated in a manner little to be relied on. of the work consists in its internal evidence, that it is a picture drawn from the life, flattered, it may be, in some traits, exaggerated in others, but bearing, on the whole, a good bold resemblance to the original. We cannot leave this subject, without adverting to the admirable manner in which Mr Pitcairn has discharged his office of editor, in consequence of the judg ment and industry with which he has selected his illustrative documents. Taking this present work, in connexion with his valuable selections from the Records of our Criminal Court, we consider him as having done more, in his own modest and unobtrusive department, to throw light on the ravelled history of Scotland, than any We exhort him to persevere, for of his contemporaries. there is yet a wide field before him. The records of our burghs-the charter chests of our nobility--all must be ransacked, before we can consider ourselves in possession of materials whereon to base a true history of our country. Many natural and praiseworthy prejudices must be overcome, before access can be obtained to the sources we now point at,-the access, when obtained, should be employed with delicacy and discretion-but it must be afforded. The Advancement of Society in Knowledge and Religion. By James Douglas, Esq. 3d Edition. Edinburgh. Adam Black. 1830. Pp. 320. No work that is not rather above par comes to a third edition. Mr Douglas is a man both of erudition and good sense. We rarely review third, or even second editions of books, and we have no intention to break through our rule in the present instance; but as we have been much pleased with the following passage in perusing the volume, we shall give it a place here, as a favourable specimen of our author's style : THE FUTURE PROSPECTS OF EUROPE AND AMERICA. "Throughout Europe, there is no less a revolution in the relative position of the nations towards each other, than in the interior condition of each. The French and the Russians have changed situations in the political scale; Petersburgh has become the centre of aggression, and Paris, that of resistance and defence. The invasions which Europe has now to dread are from the north, and the hope of its ultimate freedom rests upon the energy and the prosperity of its southern states. The position of Russia is eminently favourable for successful and limitless encroachment, and possesses within itself ample space for ever-increasing numbers. It has no enemy behind it, to distract its attention or divide its efforts; it has only opposed to it a weak and broken frontier, without any one commanding defence, and with vulnerable points innumerable, from the Baltic to the sea of Japan. The Swedes, the Turks, the Persians, the Turcomans, and the Chinese, are unable to cope with the Russian armies, and must yield at the first shock of the invaders. Austria and Prussia hold their Polish provinces in some measure at the mercy of Russia, and France is the only nation which, single-handed, could afford an adequate resistance. As France has changed from the attitude of aggression to that of defence, England, the supporter of the independence of the Continental nations, becomes the natural ally of France, instead of being its natural enemy;' and henceforth it is manifestly the interest of this country, that the French should be great, powerful, and free. It is certainly for the advantage of England, that the seat of aggrandisement and danger should be removed from the banks of the Seine to the shores of the Baltic; and an Attila, whose troops are encamped in Poland, and along the frontiers of China, is less to be dreaded than an enemy of inferior power, who has the occupation of Boulogne and Brest. The wide separation of Russia and England, leaves no adjacent field of combat, on which they might measure their forces, and decide the contest; and England, it is now evident, can best preserve the independence and prosperity of Europe by preserving peace; and her surest weapon is the communication of her own knowledge and liberty; before which, barbarisin, however potent, must bow, and stirred up by which, vassals, however depressed, will rise up and shake off the yoke. While Britain counterbalances the ascendency of Russia in the west, she will divide with her the supremacy of the east, and have for her share the fairest, if not the most extensive, portion of Asia. They are the two great antagonist powers in the old world, opposite in their nature as in their influence-the one physically, the other morally great-the one at present retarding, the other accelerating, the march of European society; but both ultimately destined to be instruments of political changes, which will give a new face to the institutions of the ancient Continent. As the balance of power is shifting among the nations that compose European confederation; it is changing also in the component parts of each individual state; and the struggle for political liberty is begun, which can only terminate with the general acquisition of free institutious. This tendency to freedom it is every way the interest of Britain to foster and protect. Despotic kings are truly her natural enemies, who must inevitably wish to destroy those institutions which are of so bad example to their own subjects; and it is only from freemen, actuated by a similar spirit, that she can expect cordial sympathy and co-operation. "Freedom, which far more than doubles the force of states, derives a new value from the energy it would communicate to the nations, in resisting the attacks of every aggressor; and the new life and additional permanency it would infuse into the states of the Continent, who require every aid, in their present circumstances, and every amelioration in their condition, to enable them to resist the presgrowth of the Russian empire. sure which they must soon feel, from the vicinity and the "If the fate of Europe were different from the expectations that are formed of its rising prosperity, and its free and civilized states should fall before a new irruption of barbarians, America would soon fill up the blank, and take the lead in the advancement of society. The enlightened and the brave of the old world would withdraw from the slavery of their native lands, and, with the same ardour, on another side of the globe, would follow the pursuit of truth, and enlarge the boundaries of science. America, no longer receiving the supplics of knowledge from abroad, would commence an original literature, and, beginning where the Europeans had ended, would enter a fresh career of improvement, and explore new riches of mind. In less than 25 years the American states double their population, and more than double their resources; and their influence, which is even now felt in Europe, will every year exert a wider sway over the minds of men, and hold out to them a more illustrious example of prosperity and freedom. In little more than a century the United States of America must contain a population ten times greater than has ever yet been animated by the spirit and energy of a free government; and in less than a century and a half, the new world will not be able to contain its inhabitants, but will pour them forth, straitened by their overflowing numbers at home, upon the shores of less civilized nations, till the whole earth is subdued to knowledge, and filled with the abodes of free and civilized men. But the spirit and the imitation of American freedom will spread still more rapidly and widely than its power. No force can crush the sympathy that already exists, and is continually augmenting, between Europe and the new world. The eyes of the oppressed are even now turning wistfully to the land of freedom, and the kings of the Continent already regard with awe and disquietude the new Rome rising in the west, the fore shadows of whose greatness yet to be are extending dark and heavy over their dominions, and obscuring the lustre of their thrones." Journal of a Voyage to Spitzbergen and the East Coast of Greenland. In his Majesty's ship Griper. By Douglas Charles Clavering, Esq. F. R.S., Commander. Communicated by James Smith, Esq. of Jordanhill, F.R.S. E. With a Chart. THIS interesting paper was first printed in a recent number of the Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal, but now fully reappears in a separate shape. The journal lay for a time at Jordanhill, until the proprietor gave it to the world in its native simplicity, although, had book-making been aimed at, a goodly octavo might have been wrought out of it. We must confine ourselves, at present, to merely transcribing the interesting, but melancholy, biographical sketch with which it is prefaced : "My late lamented friend Captain Clavering, previous to his departure for the coast of Africa, drew up, at my request, a journal of his voyage, and left it with me, with permission to publish it in any manner I saw proper. I delayed doing so, in the hopes that, upon his return, he might make it more fit for publication; but that event was destined never to take place. He sailed from Sierra Leone in the summer of 1827, and it is conjectured that, soon after, his ship was lost, and all on board perished; part of the wreck was found on the coast, but no other tidings were ever received of the unfortunate Redwing, or her gallant crew. In her commander, whose short but bright career was thus prematurely terminated, his country lost an offcer who, by his zeal in the performance of his duty, and high professional acquirements, gave every promise of future eminence; and his friends, one who was not less distin |