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that this work, so much entitled to our commendation, is

dedicated to our respected townsman and indefatigable The Life of a Lawyer. Written by Himself. London. natural historian, Patrick Neill, Esq. 1830.

The Adventures and Feelings of a Griffin. In two volumes. Edinburgh. James Kay. 1830.

GRIFFIN, it appears, is the cant name for a young man about to proceed to India, or newly arrived there. The present work is twofold; consisting partly of the adventures of such a person, and partly of a story called" Henry Frankfort," introduced by way of episode, but extending over a considerable portion of both volumes. The author is evidently inexperienced as a writer, but entertains a great admiration of Fielding and Smollett, and has endeavoured to model his style after them. He is fond of describing night adventures in inns, stage-coaches, and public waggons, and he spices these with some humour, though not unfrequently with a little too much coarseness for the fastidious taste of the present day. He has seen a good deal of life, has a fair stock of natural cleverness, and has picked up a pretty familiar acquaintance with the classics, which he displays, perhaps, rather ambitiously. We have read many duller books; and though we do not exactly know what good the “Adventures of a Griffin” is calculated to effect, we see no reason why the work should not have been written by the present, or any other Griffin, who took it into his head so to do. Though in general inclining to what we may term the rattling style of composition, the author is at times graver and more sedate; and as we can find room for only one short extract, we prefer representing him in the latter mood:

THE ISLAND OF SAN ANTONIO.

"At sea, trifles are productive of much interest. Land, a sail dimly discerned, a shoal of flying-fish, a whale, shark, albatross, or Mother Carey's chicken, each affords a day's food for amusement; nor, fortunately, was the monotony of our voyage unfrequently broken by such auxiliary reliefments to tedium. The first object which excited great admiration was the island of San Antonio. We came within sight of it during the forenoon; but even at supper, though not far off, on account of the haziness of the sky, and lightness of the wind, it could but be indistinctly descried. At about half past twelve, the quarter-master, as I had previously directed him, knocked at my cabin door, and told me to get up, if I wished to see a fine sight. This I did instantly; nor were my slumbers broken for nothing. We had just approached as near to the island as we could do. It stood directly fronting us. I never can forget the state of my feelings as I sat, for nearly an hour, without taking my eyes off what time and circumstance rendered a sublimer spectacle than I shall ever again behold. Lonely-loftyand deeply furrowed by the hurricanes of ages-it raised its unclouded head, silvered by a flood of the richest moonbeams. All was still, save the breeze which bore us imperceptibly along. There stood in the unruffled deep what fancy might have deemed the throne of a spirit of the watery wilderness; the gloomy pall of its shadow extending far over the mirror at its feet; its sides scathed by innumerable thunderbolts, impervious in darkness, whilst every towering abutment streamed with glorious effulgence. What an altar, thought I, is here to offer sacrifice upon to the Most High!-how pure, how acceptable ought to be the incense of adoration, when offered on so awful a handiwork of the Creator! How humbled must be the man of pride-how debased in soul the minion of ambition, when, kneeling on that summit, he turns his thoughts to heaven; when he sees himself encircled by ocean, shut out from all the vices and follies of his race! What a situation for the infidel, or the ravagers of the earth! One more sublime, one more awfully moral, I could not possibly conceive! A cloud now slowly stoled the moon; and that was all I ever beheld of San Antonio."

A higher tone of feeling pervades the above passage than our Griffin commonly cares to aim at. His book, taken altogether, leaves an impression upon us, that he is what in the army they call "a devilish good fellow."

Saunders and Benning.

THIS is the work of a sensible man. It is such stuff as the day-dreams of a young barrister, likely to rise in his profession, are made of. There is nothing of romance in it, and yet many young hearts will beat at its perusal, at the enquiry, whether such a career may not lie before them? The Lawyer's cases are (as a matter of course) all well conducted; but what, to the reader in search of amusement, is more to the purpose, the author has succeeded wonderfully in communicating to some of them the same riveting interest which attaches to the unroll. ing of a real complicated plea. Our Lawyer turns reformer, too, in his old days; but the Courts of Chancellors in posse are, like bachelors' families, proverbially well managed.

A Brief Outline of the Evidences of the Christian Religion. By Archibald Alexander, D. D., Professor of Theology in the United States. Edinburgh. Waugh and Innes. 1830. 24mo. Pp. 192.

tions within one year in America, and has been introduTHIS little work has already gone through three edi. ced as a class-book into many of the public and private schools of that country. It is likely, therefore, to be favourably received on this side of the Atlantic, and may safely be put into the hands of young persons of either sex, for their instruction and improvement. It is pub lished in a neat form, and at a cheap price.

Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopædia.

We have received copies of the following documents, in refutation of a ridiculous charge made against Dr Lardner by an anonymous writer in the Times newspaper. We wonder the Doctor condescended to take any notice of it; but as he chose to do so, the letters which it has elicited will amuse our readers, and are worth preserving, as more or less characteristic of their different writers:

DR LARDNER TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES.

"Regent Street, 16th July, 1830. "Sir, It is with the greatest reluctance that I am compelled to claim the public attention by the paragraphs respecting me, which have lately appeared in the Times. What you consider a hint of a charge against my Cyclopædia,' work and to myself (though not so intended by you) than was, according to my view, infinitely more injurious to the any explicit inculpation could have been. The charge was declared to be of such a nature that you could not give credit to it without the strongest evidence. Surely any reader must have inferred from this, that some accusation of a disgraceful kind had been made; and no other course could have been pursued by me except that which I adopted, viz. to request that the charge might be disclosed. I found that I was accused of having conspired with some of the most illustrious literary men of the age, to practise upon the world an unparalleled act of fraud, by publishing a series of works as theirs; such works not being written by them; and that these distinguished persons had merely hired out their names for this unjustifiable purpose. I confess that I did think that no individual could for one moment entertain a supposition of such measureless absurdity, and therefore conceived that an answer was unnecessary. The accusation, however, being reiterated, and an answer clamoured for, I am obliged-I trust for the last time-to occupy, profitably than in such discussions. in your paper, a space which might be employed much more

"I have communicated the particulars of the charge to the first five persons who appear on the published list of contributors, viz. Sir Walter Scott, Sir James Mackintosh, Campbell, Esq.; among whom are included the two perRobert Southey, Esq., Thomas Moore, Esq., and Thomas subjoin their answers; and should your readers require any sons more specifically charged by your correspondent. I more such disavowals, they can be easily procured.

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"If men of bigh literary or scientific attainments can be found, who would prostitute their names in the manner which your correspondent describes, I, with all humility, claim for myself sufficient honesty to save me from being a party to such a transaction. I fling back the charge with the indignation which it must excite in every right-minded man, and with the contempt which a reptile-spitting its venom from the shelter of an anonymous signature-merits. "The publishers desire me to say, that they feel gratified and flattered that the number, rank, and talent of the men by whose aid their undertaking is supported, are such as to have excited either the incredulity or the envy in which this strange accusation has originated.

"I take this opportunity of stating, that the objection lately urged by you, on account of the narrow limits imposed upon the distinguished persons who have undertaken to write the volumes of the Cyclopædia, had been foreseen, and the ground of it removed. The History of England will extend to eight volumes; and Mr Moore, Mr Southey, and the other contributors, have as much space as they think desirable for their respective subjects.—I have the honour to be, sir, your obedient servant, DION. LARDNER."

SIR WALTER SCOTT TO DR LARDNER.

"Abbotsford, Melrose, 12th July, 1830.

"Dear Sir, I am favoured with your letter of 10th July, and the copy of the Times newspaper expressing, so far as I am concerned, the false and calumnious allegation that I am not the author of the work going under the name of the History of Scotland, published as mine in your Cyclopædia. Nothing can be more false than such an assertion, as I either wrote with my own hand or dictated every line in that History.—I am, with regard, dear sir, your most obedient servant, WALTER SCOTT."

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SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH TO DR LARDNER.

"Battersea Rise, July 15th, 1830. "Dear Sir,-When I first read the assertion in the Times, that the persons named as authors of the historical portions of the Cabinet Cyclopædia were not the real writters, communicated, as it is said to be, by an unnamed correspondent, and professedly disbelieved by the editors who publish it, I thought it needless to contradict a statement so improbable and unsupported. As, however, the proprie tors of the Cabinet Cyclopædia think a contradiction necessary, I have no hesitation in declaring that every word in the part of that publication which bears my name, was written by me.-1 am, dear sir, most faithfully yours, "J. MACKINTOSH."

eno

ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. TO dr Lardner. "Keswick, 12th July, 1830. "Sir,-Your letter gives me the first information of the charge concerning the Cubinet Cyclopædia, which has been put forth through the medium of the Times newspaper. The publishers will do rightly in giving a prompt and decisive contradiction to a charge as false as it is absurd, and as injurious as it is impudent. They will do also a public service, as well as an act of justice to themselves, if they bring person who has advanced it before a court of law, where he may be taught, that not every kind of slander can be published with impunity.-I remain, sir, yours faithfully, "ROBERT SOUTHEY."

the

THOMAS MOORE, ESQ. TÓ dr Lardner.

"Bury Street, St James's, July 15th, 1830. "Dear Doctor Lardner,-Your note finds me in all the bustle of departure. I should have thought it hardly worth your while to notice this foolish charge, which is but one of the many brought forward from time to time, for no other purpose, it would seem, than to give somebody the trouble of contradicting them. I only wish that they had informed us who are those persons that write under the names of Sir Walter Scott and Sir James Mackintosh; such impostors are worth knowing.

Should you really think it necessary to take notice of this imputation, I can have no objection to your adding my testimony to that of the many other more distinguished witnesses you can produce in disproof of the charge Yours, very truly THOMAS MOORE,"

THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. TO DR LARDNER. "Middle Scotland Yard, Whitehall, July 16th, 1830. "My dear Lardner,-I have seen the paragraph in the Times newspaper in which you are called upon to contradict the assertion, that you have announced literary charac ters as contributors to your Encyclopædia, who do not intend to be the authors of the productions which they per mit to be published under their names. As far as I am concerned, I can testify that I have promised you my as sistance in the Cabinet Encyclopædia; and though I am unable, from my present literary engagements, to pledge myself precisely as to time, yet it is my intention to fulfil my promise. As to the idea of such men, as you mention, lending their names to articles not written by themselves, it is a calumny that brings its own refutation. I remain, dear Lardner, yours truly, T. CAMPBELL."

One thing might be remarked on these letters, that, could we for a moment suppose it possible that such men as Dr Lardner's contributors would lend their names to an imposition on the public, their merely denying the charge would not be held as a proof of their innocence in any court of justice in the kingdom; and this just puts in a stronger point of view the absurdity of taking the trouble to contradict an anonymous slanderer.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF EMINENT PERSONS
OF ALL COUNTRIES.
No. I.
DESCARTES.

RENE DESCARTES was born at La Haye, in Louraine, on the 31st of March, 1596. His family was noble. His mother died a few days after giving him birth, of a pulmonary complaint; and his pale complexion, together with a dry cough, which teased him till his twentieth year, induced several physicians to prognosticate that he would not enjoy long life. He has himself attributed the falsification of their prediction to a buoyant and happy disposition, which prevented disagreeable reflections of any kind from preying on his mind. It is not improbable that the habits of the military life, which he embraced, tended likewise to strengthen his constitution.

Here,

He was sent, at an early age, to the college of La Flèche, which had been founded a short time before by Henri IV., and intrusted to the management of the Jesuits. Here he commenced a friendship with Mersennius, which terminated only with his existence. too, he formed those connexions, and nourished those predilections, which enabled him, while indulging in bold and novel speculations, to remain always on good terms with the order of the Jesuits, notwithstanding their uni form and inveterate opposition to innovation. His tutors grounded him in the knowledge of languages and mathematics; and he himself took pleasure in works of poetry and eloquence, but seems to have considered both arts rather as sources of amusement, than as objects of study. His active mind, not satisfied with the performance of prescribed tasks, urged him to dip into the books of every science; but nowhere did he find precisely what he sought. and in 1616 he gratified his longing, by entering upon He longed to read the volume of the world for himself, the only career which was at that period thought suit

able to his birth-the career of arms.

He served as a volunteer in the troops of Holland, and afterwards under the Duke of Bavaria. But he confesses, that if he found books meagre, contradictory, and unsatisfactory, he found the minds of men still more so. Disappointed, in this manner, in his application to what he

had conceived to be the two great fountains of human wisdom, he felt himself thrown entirely upon his own resources. He retired into his own mind, to collect and arrange the powers with which he now determined to

conquer that knowledge, which he found nothing external could give him. A sceptical spirit, and the conviction, that whatever he acquired must be the fruit of his own exertions, must, from the account he gives us of his dissatisfaction with the perusal both of books and men, have been maturing themselves for years. But it was not till the year 1619-20, when, in the retirement of winterquarters, at leisure from the importunities of business and passion, and confined by the inclemency of the season to his chamber, that he commenced the task of concentra. ting his thoughts upon the best method of obtaining that knowledge his soul so thirsted after.

He set to work in a manner that showed him to be impressed with a full consciousness of the magnitude of his undertaking. On examining his stock of acquired knowledge, he found it extensive, and comprehending much that is valuable, but he found also much that was ill-arranged and ill-digested. He perceived, that many of his opinions, having been embraced in childhood, before the thinking faculty was fully developed, or gathered from books without a very narrow scrutiny, were incapable of demonstration. He inferred that his simple reasonings upon the objects which presented themselves to him, would afford a more substantial and trustworthy system of knowledge, although less extensive, than what he had so superficially picked up. He resolved, on this account, not to throw aside all that he had previously learned, but to remain sceptical regarding it, until, in the prosecution of his enquiries he should find it susceptible of demonstration. He laid down four rules to aid him in carrying this resolution into effect. The first was, to admit the truth of nothing which did not present itself to his mind with the clearness of demonstration: The second, to divide all difficulties that occurred into their component parts, with a view to their easier solution: The third, to examine all matters systematically, assuming the existence of order even where he could not discover it: And the fourth, to take such comprehensive views that he should be sure to omit nothing.

ency to meditation.

He acquired, before he was aware of it, the character of a philosopher; and, unwilling to bear an undeserved honour, he thought of means to justify his reputation.

In the year 1629, he looked round him for a retirement in which he might mature his reflections into a work of sufficient importance to be published. His native country enjoyed at that time an interval of comparative repose. But the power of the nobles had not yet been sufficiently broken, and the disquiets which shortly after broke out, were seen gathering on the horizon. Holland, on the contrary, offered to our philosopher the prospect of a country," where the long continuance of war bad introduced so excellent an order, the armies maintained served only as a more effective police; and where, amid a crowded, active, and laborious people, a man might enjoy at once the conveniences of a populous city, and the retirement of a desert." He took up his residence at Egmond, a small village near Alcmaer, in the province of North Holland; and there he continued to reside, except for a few brief visits to Paris, Amsterdam, and the Hague, till near the close of his life.

We have been enabled to trace him hitherto, by the accounts he has given us of his early life in his "Discours de la Methode;" and by the additional light occasionally thrown upon them in his letters. His history during the next five and twenty years, is almost identified with that of his publications. Between 1629 and 1637, he had prepared for publication a "Traité du Systême du Monde," which he, however, suppressed, lest he should share the fate of Galileo. After his death, a fragment of this work alone was recovered and published by Clerselier, under the title "Tractatus de Homine." He continued to pursue his speculations in silence, contenting himself with touching upon isolated points of science in his conversations or correspondence with his friends. In 1637, he published his " Discours de la Methode;" in which he gives an historical detail of his mode of philosophizing, and the process by which he arrived at its invention. As specimens of the results to be attained by this new method, he subjoined two treatises—one on Dioptrics, the other on Meteors.

trines. The Jesuits followed their example. The University approved of them in part. It was among the high Calvinistical party in Holland that he found opponents, persecutors, and traducers. The history of the controversy is sufficiently instructive to serve as an apology for inserting it here.

With regard to the conduct of his life, it soon occurred to him that the scepticism which he recommended in matters of reflection, would be here out of place. Action requires promptitude and decision. He adopted, there- In the winter of 1640-41, he submitted to his friends fore, to use his own expression, a provisory system of six Meditations, in which he evolved his metaphysical morality. (Je me formai une morale par provision.) This principles. These were shortly afterwards published, system rested upon three grand maxims. The first was along with the objections made to them by Mersennius, to conform in all things to the laws and customs of his Arnauld, Gassendi, and Hobbes. It is a fact worthy of country, and to adhere to the religion in which he had attention, that the Catholic clergy took little or no part been educated; renouncing, at the same time, all extremes in the discussions excited by Descartes' bold and novel of opinion, and reserving a right to discard such judg-speculations. The school of Port Royal adopted his doċments as he might afterwards find had been too hastily adopted. His second maxim was to be firm and resolute in all his actions, and to act upon dubious opinions if he had once determined on them, as constantly as if they were self-evident. This principle he defends upon the analogy of a traveller lost in a wood, who finds it most advisable to continue in one direction, even though he is not quite certain that it is leading him in the right way. His third maxim was to aim at overcoming himself rather than fortune, and to seek to alter his wishes, not the course of events. His next object, after submitting his conduct to the government of these three laws, was to examine which of the multifarious occupations embraced by men were most in harmony with his disposi-attacked by Gisbert Voet, Professor of Theology, and tions; and his ultimate resolution was, to devote his life Rector Magnificus of the University. A series of letters to the cultivation of his reason, and to furthering to the from Descartes to Le Roy is still extant, in which we utmost of his power the knowledge of truth. Nine years, see, that although he did not exactly approve of the turn however, elapsed before he expressly dedicated himself to given to his doctrines by the latter, yet he tolerated it as science. He passed them ostensibly in the same manner not inconsistent with the latitude allowed to Theses, as the better class of men of the world, who, having no which were in general regarded more as provocatives to further desire than to live peaceably and innocently, sur- discussion, than deliberate avowals of their supporter's render themselves to harmless amusement. During this opinion. In this view he aided his friend with his ado period he visited most of the courts of Europe. It was vice as to the best mode of carrying on his controversy impossible, however, that those who habitually conversed with Voet. Le Roy, however, proceeded to give to the with him should not discover his native powers and tend-public a work entitled" Fundamenta Physices," in which

Le Roy, Professor of Medicine at Utrecht, was a friend and admirer of Descartes. It would seem, however, that he had not correctly apprehended the doctrines of his teacher, but had attributed to him, without sufficient reason, many fancies of his own. Le Roy had promulgated some of the Cartesian opinions in two Theses which he offered to maintain. They were violently and abusively

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the contradictory and immature character of his notions were so broadly displayed, that Descartes could no longer acknowledge him as the expounder of his sentiments. Voet now proceeded to attack the French philosopher in person; but he did it under the protection of a false name. Descartes refuted his accusations, and the Rector, instead of continuing the controversy, accused him to the magistracy of being a libeller and atheist. The process was carried on with great secrecy, and Descartes was only informed, by two anonymous letters, of the danger in which he stood. He claimed from the French ambassador the enforcement of his rights as a subject of that nation. On the mediation of this functionary, a letter was addressed by the Prince of Orange to the States of Etrecht, commanding them to give satisfaction to Descartes. This letter was not a moment too soon: Voet had already fee'd the hangman to gather a large pile of wood in anticipation of the sentence which was to order | the works of his adversary to be burned.

In June 1647, Descartes published his “Principia;” but the recapitulation of his metaphysical dogmas contained in the first part of that work, excited against him a new persecution on the part of the University of Leyden. He complained, in a letter to the curators, of the false aspersions that had been cast upon him. They replied, in an epistle of the utmost politeness, that they willingly acceded to his proposal that no mention should be made of his writings in the University, upon condition that he dropped the controversy. He answered, that he had made no such proposal, and showed the injustice of thus condemning him unheard. Here the correspondence seems to have ended; but he was now thoroughly disgusted with Holland, through the machinations of the same intolerant sect which had murdered Barneveld and banished Grotius. A natural daughter (he never married) to whom he was warmly attached, had died in her infancy at Amersfort, in 1640; and almost his only consolation for some years, had consisted in his correspondence with the Princess Palatine Elizabeth, in whom he found a docile and intelligent scholar. Some hopes held out to him of royal patronage in his native country having been frustrated, he was induced, under existing circumstances, to listen to the offers made him by Christina of Sweden, through the medium of his friend Chaunt, at that time ambassador from France at her He arrived at Stockholm about the close of the year 1649. Christina, anxious to enjoy his conversation, but too much occupied with the details of business during the more advanced part of the day, requested his presence every morning at five in her library. The unwonted cold to which he was thus exposed in a climate new to him, and at so early an hour, operating upon a constitution predisposed to pulmonary complaints, caused an inflammatory attack. The fever went to the brain, and, to judge of the reports of those who attended him, the remembrance of his leading metaphysical doctrine, the immateriality of the soul, seems to have given their hue to the ravings of his delirium. He spoke incessantly of the approaching deliverance of his soul from its material prison. The fever left him in a state of extreme debility, and a strange alteration being apparent in him, the ambassador's chaplain was sent for, but he was already speechless. Being desired by the priest to testify by a sign whether he comprehended his exhortations, he turned his eyes with a placid expression to heaven. Soon after he breathed his last without a struggle.

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seems to have possessed warm feelings, and a powerful will, but dispositions rather inclined to quiet and repose. He was not a subtle dialectician, and was all his life averse to controversy; for, in addition to his unwieldiness in such subtle contests, the feeling of not being able to defend his convictions on the spur of the moment, acting upon his vivacious temper, excited a disquietude extremely painful to his habits of mental repose.

A knowledge of his philosophical opinions may best be gathered from collating his "Discours de la Methode," in which we have the history of their genesis, or their analytical statement, with his " Principia," in which we have them synthetically arranged. His "Meditationes de Prima Philosophia" throw additional light on his metaphysical tenets; and the reader will find his power of appreciating them materially aided by the appended objections of Hobbes and Arnauld. His treatise, "De Passionibus," first published after his death, and his collected letters, are indispensable towards forming a just estimate of his scientific labours.

us.

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His system may be divided into two parts-the metaphysical, in which he attempts to establish the truth of human knowledge; and the practical, in which he seeks to extend its limits. In the first, he sets out by assuming, that, as he is conscious of thinking, it follows necessarily that he at least must exist. The next step is to ascertain whether those ideas that present themselves to his mind have corresponding realities in the external world. He distinguishes two classes of ideas with regard to the one, we are merely conscious of their existence in the mind; but to the other, there attaches a necessary belief of a corresponding external existence. Thus, when we call up the ideas of a triangle or circle, we do not feel any conviction that either the one or other exists without our mind; but assuming their existence, the relations of their sides and angles have a necessary existence independent of According to Descartes, there is but one idea which possesses to its fill extent this quality of necessary and independent existence; and that is the idea of God. But the idea of God comprehends truth as one of its essential attributes; and a being with such an attribute cannot lead us into error. From this, he infers that every clear and distinct idea must have a corresponding reality. The only effect of this first part of Descartes' philosophy upon the practical part, is to make him more scrupulous in regard to the clearness and distinctness of his ideas. The remainder of science he divides into physical and moral. In the former, he is a cautious and judicious observer of all that lies within his sphere of observation, an acute mathematician and mechanician. The experimental science was then in its infancy, and he laid too little stress upon it. In moral investigations, he is more timid, and shuns, with over-anxiety, every public expression of his opinions. There are, however, detached passages in his letters, which show him to have been quite adequate to the task. And there is something peculiarly noble in all his general statements upon this subject. What he is most deficient in, is a practical knowledge of the business of life. Our moral faculties are only evolved in action, and we cannot observe them in a dormant state. To the mere spectator of life, more than half of the powers and feelings which nature has given him must ever remain unknown. We have sought rather to depict the leading features of Descartes' mind and philosophy, than to repeat his errors, which every schoolboy knows by rote. The sway he exercised over the minds of his immediate successors is also known to all.

"BEAUTIFUL DONALD."

The life of Descartes is almost entirely destitute of what is called incident. He was purely a thinking being, -he mixed among men only to study them,-and what chiefly awakens our interest in him as an individual, is the picture we have in some of his writings of the growth of his mind. He tells us himself that he was not remarkable either for precision of thought or promptitude of apprehension. The most prominent features of his intel- As I was taking my accustomed walk a few days ago lect are its extensive capacity and solid strength. He along the sea-shore, a heavy shower of rain obliged me to

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AN ADVENTURE.

By Thomas Brydson.

seek shelter in the nearest cottage. I raised the latch, and had half uttered my first word of apology and explanation, when I found there was nobody to receive it. Fortunately, however, the grate hailed me with a cheery fire; so, pulling in a chair, I sat down, partly pleased, partly puzzled, with my situation. I had not spun the yarn of conjecture to any considerable length, when a suppressed sob reached my ear from a dim corner of the apartment. "Who's there?" said I, forgetting every thing in the start of the moment. A female figure rushed towards me, and exclaimed, “Gracious Heaven! Where is he? Where is he? Where's my beautiful Donald?" I was about to make the most natural, and most stupid of all answers, namely, that I did not know; but the woman anticipated me. "Pardon me, sir," said she, and the tears ran down her cheeks; " you do not know who it is I am asking for. It is all over with him and me!" Having uttered these pathetic words, she covered her face with her apron, and wept aloud.

I felt in the situation of one who had a part to act; and yet, owing to the suddenness and indefiniteness of the scene, my feelings were not sufficiently interested to prevent me from devoutly wishing myself a hundred miles away. "She is perhaps deranged," was, moreover, among my thoughts. Hence it was, that in the most forced and awkward manner possible, I asked her to state the cause of her grief. She gave me to understand, that her husband had been out a-fishing in his small sail-boat, and that, only a few hours since, she had seen him returning home, when a squall coming on, he all at once disappear ed behind some rocks near the opposite side of the bay that her friends were now in search of him—and that she, during the interval, had, as she supposed, fainted, having been quite insensible from the time of their departure till roused by my voice. From my knowledge of the coast, I was led to believe that her husband might have merely found shelter where she fancied he had found a grave, and endeavoured to show her, by every argument in my power, the probability of this. She listened, and assented; but the wild picture which frighted fancy had drawn, again glared upon her mind; and again screaming out the name of her "Beautiful Donald!" she fell senseless at my feet.

yet at times I bear him something like a grudge, and
were it not that at this moment I hear Nancy frying
some excellent fish he sent me yesterday by way of peace-
offering, the public should know better about it.
Oban, July 20th, 1830.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

"SPEAK OF ME SOMETIMES TO YOUR SISTER.”
COME hither, my sweet sister, come hither unto me,
And let me kiss thy guileless eyes as thou sit'st on my

knee;

No thought of sin has ever dimm'd those little worlds of blue,

Where many a glad and gentle thought for ever sparkles through;

No early sorrow yet has given thy voice a deeper tone,No shade of care upon thy cheek its paler tint hath thrown;

Thou lovest every thing on earth, and every thing loves
thee,

And thou dost carol all day long in the fulness of thy
glee :
But rest thee, Margaret, for a while, and press thy cheek
to mine,
And as the golden sunset skies through our sweet lattice
shine,

I'll talk to thee of one whose name at this subduing hour
Falls on my heart, and glitters there like dew within a
flower,-

Of one I love too tenderly to make that love a joy,
For many a passionate fear doth rise my rapture to de-
stroy.

But if unto the morning sun the bright flower opes its

leaves,

And if unto the silver moon the plaintive night-bird grieves,

To whom could I more fitly tell what most refines my mind,

Than unto thee, in whose young breast sits innocence enshrined?

And will it not endear thee more to hear thy artless praise

care,

With thee to build, at little cost, bright castles in the air? Thou art too young to know why thus so hotly burns my cheek,―

Strangely unfeeling as it may seem to such a lady as Miss Fanny Bird, whom veritable history declares to have wept herself almost blind" about the national debt," Of her whose nobleness of soul my inmost spirit sways? -so it was, I got perfectly enraged to find my argu- And will it not for one brief hour half win me from all ments followed by a second fainting fit. "It is all a sham," said I to myself, and resumed my seat; "all a sham, and a poorly-acted one. Let me be off-but no; the fire is good, and my clothes need drying. I shan't budge though every woman in the parish were to faint." Having formed this magnanimous resolution, I put my arms a-kimbo—stuck a foot on each side of the chimney -knit my brows, and in a very bitter style sung out, "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled."

I was just giving forth, "See approach proud Edward's power!" when my throat was grasped as in a vice, and I presently joined company with my fainting friend on the floor. Another such squeeze would have deprived the world both of myself and of this interesting narrative. How long sensation was suspended I know not. On opening my eyes, I beheld two persons bending over me. I rose to my feet, and who should bow himself into my acquaintanceship and forgiveness but "beautiful Donald" himself, a cur-faced, bandy-legged creature, somewhere about four feet high, now restored to" friends and sacred home." He it was who administered the squeeze to my throat, under the belief that I had actually murdered his wife" on her áîn floor-head;" and he would have murdered me too had she not revived in time to prevent so melancholy a catastrophe I have little cause to hug myself upon this adventure; and though the fisherman did no more than would have been proper in the circumstances he falsely conceived to exist,

Too young to know what mean the words I sometimes wildly speak;

But thou art not too young to see that there exists but

one

To whom my thoughts, even as a stream, in ceaseless current run.

I would that she were here to-night, as she has been of
yore,
When moments pass'd too rapidly, which now are pon-
der'd o'er;

And words, perchance, were gaily said to others or to her,
As if her presence had not power each nerve of mine to
stir,-

As if I held in easy sway, and under light control,
Each quick emotion link'd with her, and rooted in my
soul.

Why is it that we fail so oft to catch the hour that flies,
And feel not half the wealth of joy till it be chased by
sighs?

Why is it that the days on which the memory loves to dwell

Too often went like common things, though cherish'd now so well?

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