each story formed a separate lodgement, capable of being held out for a considerable time. On such occasions the usual mode adopted by the assailants was to expel the defenders by setting fire to wet straw in the lower apartments. But the Border chieftains seldom chose to abide in person a siege of this nature; and I have scarce observed a single instance of a distinguished baron made prisoner in his own house. The common people resided in paltry huts, about the safety of which they were little anxious, as they contained nothing of value. On the approach of a superior force they unthatched them, to prevent their being burned, and then abandoned them to the foe. Their only treasures were a fleet and active horse, with the ornaments which their rapine had procured for the females of their family, of whose gay appearance they were vain.

Upon the religion of the Borderers there can very little be said. They remained attached to the Roman Catholic faith rather longer than the rest of Scotland. This probably arose from a total indifference upon the subject; for we nowhere find in their character the respect for the church which is a marked feature of that religion. The abbeys which were planted upon the Border neither seem to have been much respected by the English nor by the Scottish barons. They were repeatedly burned by the former in the course of the Border wars, and by the latter they seem to have been regarded chiefly as the means of endowing a needy relation, or the subject of occasional plunder. The Reformation was late of finding its way into the Border wilds; for, while the religious and civil dissensions were at their height, in 1568, Drury writes to Cecil-Our trusty neighbours of Teviotdale are holden occupied only to attend to the pleasure and calling of their own heads, to make some diversion in the matter.' The influence of the reformed preachers, among the Borderers, seems also to have been but small; for, upon all occasions of dis

pute with the kirk, James VI. was wont to call in their assistance.

But, though the church, in these frontier counties, attracted little veneration, no part of Scotland teemed with superstitious fears and observances more than they did. The Dalesmen,' says Lesley, 'never count their beads with such earnestness as when they set out upon a predatory expedition.' Penances, the composition betwixt guilt and conscience, were also frequent upon the Borders. These were superstitions flowing immediately from the nature of the Catholic religion; but there was, upon the Border, no lack of others of a more general nature. Such was the universal belief in spells, of which some traces may yet remain in the wild parts of the country.

We learn from Lesley, that the Borderers were temperate in their use of intoxicating liquors, and we are therefore left to conjecture how they occupied the time, when winter, or when accident, confined them to their habitations. The little learning which existed in the middle ages glimmered, a dim and dying flame, in the religious houses; and even in the sixteenth century, when its beams became more widely diffused, they were far from penetrating the recesses of the Border mountains. The tales of tradition, the song, with the pipe or harp of the minstrel, were probably the sole resources against ennui during the short intervals of repose from military ad

venture.

The more rude and wild the state of society, the more general and violent is the impulse received from poetry and music. The muse, whose effusions are the amusement of a very small part of a polished nation, records, in the lays of inspiration, the history, the laws, the very religion of savages. Where the pen and the press are wanting, the flow of numbers impressed upon the memory of posterity the deeds and sentiments of their forefathers. Verse is naturally connected with music; and, among a rude people, the union is seldom broken. By this natural

alliance, the lays, 'steeped in the stream of harmony,' are more easily retained by the reciter, and produce upon his audience a more impressive effect. Hence, there has hardly been found to exist a nation so brutishly rude as not to listen with enthusiasm to the songs of their bards, recounting the exploits of their forefathers, recording their laws and moral precepts, or hymning the praises of their deities. But where the feelings are frequently stretched to the highest pitch, by the vicissitudes of a life of danger and military adventure, the predisposition of a savage people to admire their own rude poetry and music is heightened, and its tone becomes peculiarly determined. It is not the peaceful Hindoo at his loom, it is not the timid Esquimaux in his canoe, whom we must expect to glow at the war-song of Tyrtæus. The music and the poetry of each country must keep pace with their usual tone of mind, as well as with the state of society.

The morality of their compositions is determined by the same circumstances. Those themes are necessarily chosen by the bard which regard the favourite exploits of the hearers; and he celebrates only those virtues which from infancy he has been taught to admire.

Hence, as remarked by Lesley, the music and songs of the Borderers were of a military nature, and celebrated the valour and success of their predatory expeditions. Rasing, like Shakespeare's pirate, the eighth commandment from the decalogue, the minstrels praised their chieftains for the very exploits against which the laws of the country denounced a capital doom. An outlawed freebooter was to them a more interesting person than the king of Scotland exerting legal power to punish his depredations; and when the characters are contrasted, the latter is always represented as a ruthless and sanguinary tyrant.

For similar reasons, flowing from the state of society, the reader must not expect to find, in the Border ballads, refined sentiment, and far less elegant expression; although the style of such compositions has, in modern bards, been found highly susceptible of both. But passages might be pointed out, in which the rude minstrel has melted in natural pathos, or risen into rude energy. Even where these graces are totally wanting, the interest of the stories themselves, and the curious picture of manners which they frequently present, authorise them to claim some respect from the public.

SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, one of the most popular novelists! of the present day, the youngest son of the late General Bulwer of Hayden Hall in Norfolk, was born in the year 1803. In 1826 he published a volume of poems, entitled 'Weeds and Wild Flowers, and in the following year a poetical tale, 'O'Niel or the Rebel.' Bulwer does not appear to great advantage in poetry, but some of his novels exhibit unusual skill. In the year 1827 he published his first romance called 'Falkland,' in which it is plainly to be remarked that he had taken Byron for his model. He next appeared before the public in 'Pelham,' which is a lively picture of the life of a fashionable gentleman, written in a brilliant, witty, and slightly sarcastic style. In 1828 appeared the 'Disowned, and in the following year 'Devereux,' a novel in which the English and French manners of the last century are gracefully depicted. In 1830 Mr. Bulwer brought out Paul Clifford, which although interesting as a novel, is rather unnatural, as sentimental pickpockets and highwaymen declaiming upon the vanity of human wishes, and satirically criticising the present state of society, make their appearance in it. In Eugene

Aram, Bulwer's talents develop themselves in quite a different manner; he there soars into the higher regions of metaphysics, and converts a murderer into an amiable though unhappy hero. In 1833 appeared his 'England and the English,' which consists in remarks on the manners of the English. "The Pilgrims of the Rhine,' a beautiful and fanciful work, was immediately followed by The last Days of Pompeii, one of Bulwer's most successful romances: but perhaps the finest of all his novels is 'Rienzi," which was published soon after his 'Last Days of Pompeii.' In 1837 appeared 'Ernest Maltravers," forming the beginning of the third period of Bulwer's writings, and after publishing several dramas which display considerable merit, he resumed his pen as a novelist and wrote Night and Morning," Day and Night,' 'Glimmer and Gloom.' His last work is entitled: 'My novel.' In 'Eva,' 'The illOmen'd Marriage,' and other Tales and Poems he attempted, but without much success, to obtain for himself poetical honours. In romance Bulwer excels most of his contemporaries, both in language and imagery, but in almost all his works it can be

perceived, that he follows Byron closely although he has not particularly well succeeded in his imitations. His language shows him to have had much experience

RIENZI.

It was on a summer evening in the earlier half of the fourteenth century that two youths might be seen walking beside the banks of the Tiber, not far from that part of its winding course which sweeps by the base of Mount Aventine. The path they had selected was remote and tranquil. It was only at a distance that were seen the scattered and squalid houses that bordered the river, from amidst which rose, dark and frequent, the high roof and enormous towers which marked the fortified mansion of some Roman baron. On the one side the river, behind the cottages of the fishermen, soared Mount Janiculum, dark with massive foliage, from which gleamed, at frequent intervals, the grey walls of many a castellated palace, and the spires and columns of a hundred churches; on the other side, the deserted Aventine rose abrupt and steep, covered with thick brushwood; while, on the height, from concealed but numerous convents, rolled, not unmusically, along the quiet landscape and the rippling waves, the sound of the holy bell.

Of the young men introduced in this scene, the elder, who might have somewhat passed his twentieth year, was of a tall and even commanding stature, and there was that in his presence remarkable and almost noble, despite the homeliness of his garb, which consisted of the long, loose gown and the plain tunic, both of dark-grey serge, which distinguished, at that time, the dress of the humbler scholars who frequented the monasteries for such rude knowledge as then yielded a scanty return for intense toil. His countenance was handsome, and would have been rather gay than thoughtful in its expression, but for that vague and abstracted dreaminess of eye which so usually denotes a propensity to revery and contemplation, and betrays that the past or the future is more congenial to the mind

of the world; it is expressive and free, and seems to flow without causing him any effort. He died on 18th January 1873.

than the enjoyment and action of the present hour.

The younger, who was yet a boy, had nothing striking in his appearance or countenance, unless an expression of great sweetness and gentleness could be so called; and there was something almost feminine in the tender deference with which he appeared to listen to his companion. His dress was that usually worn by the humbler classes, though somewhat neater, perhaps, and newer; and the fond vanity of a mother might be detected in the care with which the long and silky ringlets had been smoothed and parted as they escaped from his cap and flowed midway down his shoulders.

As they thus sauntered on, beside the whispering reeds of the river, each with his arm round the form of his comrade, not only in their manner and gait, but in their youth and evident affection, there was a grace and sentiment about the brothers-for such their connexion-which elevated the lowliness of their apparent condition.

'Dear brother,' said the elder, 'I cannot express to thee how I enjoy these evening hours. To you alone I feel as if I were not a mere visionary and idler when I talk of the uncertain future, and build up my palaces of the air. Our parents listen to me as if I were uttering fine things out of a book; and my dear mother, Heaven bless her! wipes her eyes, and says, "Hark, what a scholar he is!" As for the monks, if I ever dare look from my Livy, and cry, "Thus should Rome be again!" they stare, and gape, and frown, as though I had broached a heresy. But you, sweet brother, though you share not my studies, sympathize so kindly with all their results-you seem so to approve my wild schemes, and to encourage my ambitious hopes-that sometimes I forget our birth, our fortunes, and think and dare as if no blood, save that of the Teuton Emperor, flowed through our veins.'

'Methinks, dear Cola,' said the younger brother, 'that Nature played us an unfair trick to you she transmitted the royal soul, derived, though obscurely, from our father's parentage; and to me only the quiet and lowly spirit of my mother's humble lineage.'

'Nay,' answered Cola, quickly, 'you would then have the brighter share, for I should have but the Barbarian origin, and you the Roman. Time was, when to be a simple Roman was to be nobler than a northern king.-Well, well, we may live to see great changes!' 'I shall live to see thee a great man, and that will content me,' said the younger, smiling affectionately; 'a great scholar all confess you to be already: our mother predicts your fortunes every time she hears of your welcome visits to the Colonna.'

'The Colonna!' said Cola, with a bitter smile; the Colonna-the pedants! -They affect, dull souls, the knowledge of the past, play the patron, and misquote Latin over their cups! They are pleased to welcome me at their board, because the Roman doctors call me learned, and because Nature gave me a wild wit, which to them is pleasanter than the stale jests of a hired buffoon. Yes, they would advance my fortunes-but how? by some place in the public offices, which would fill a dishonoured coffer, by wringing, yet more sternly, the hard-earned coins from our famishing citizens! If there be a vile thing in the world, it is a plebeian, advanced by patricians, not for the purpose of righting his own order, but for playing the pander to the worst interests of theirs. He who is of the people but makes himself a traitor to his birth, if he becomes a puppet for these tyrant hypocrites to lift up their hands and cry-"See what liberty exists in Rome, when we, the patricians, thus elevate a plebeian!" Did they ever elevate a plebeian if he sympathized with plebeians? No, brother; should I be lifted above our condition, I will be raised by the arms of my countrymen, and not upon their necks.'

'All I hope, is, Cola, that you will

not, in your zeal for your fellow-citizens, forget how dear you are to us. No greatness could ever reconcile me to the thought that it brought you danger.'

And I could laugh at all danger, if it led to greatness. But greatness— greatness! Vain dream! Let us keep it for our night sleep. Enough of my plans; now, dearest brother, of yours.'

And, with the sanguine and cheerful elasticity which belonged to him, the young Cola, dismissing all wilder thoughts, bent his mind to listen, and to enter into, the humbler projects of his brother. The new boat, and the holiday-dress, and the cot removed to a quarter more secure from the oppression of the barons, and such distant pictures of love as a dark eye and a merry lip conjure up to the vague sentiment of a boy. To schemes and aspirations of which such objects made the limit, did the scholar listen, with a relaxed brow and a tender smile; and often, in later life, did that conversation recur to him, when he shrank from asking his own heart which ambition was the wiser.

'And then,' continued the younger brother, 'by degrees I might save enough to purchase such a vessel as that which we now see, laden, doubtless, with corn and merchandise, bringing-oh, such a good return, that I could fill your room with books, and never hear you complain that you were not rich enough to purchase some crumbling old monkish manuscript. Ah, that would make me so happy! Cola smiled as he pressed his brother closer to his breast.

'Dear boy,' said he, 'may it rather be mine to provide for your wishes. Yet methinks the masters of yon vessel have no enviable possession; see how anxiously the men look round, and behind, and before; peaceful traders though they be, they fear, it seems, even in this city (once the emporium of the civilized world), some pirate in pursuit; and ere the voyage be over, they may find that pirate in a Roman noble. Alas, to what are we reduced!'

The vessel thus referred to was speed