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The Statesmen, who preside They knew their duty too well at the helm, knew too well their to allow any one individual of duty to give the least informa- the prying parties to get even a tion of their intentions.
momentary peep behind the cur
tain, &c. Not only the details were ut- None could tell the extent of it. terly unknown, but the general None knew how far the measure outline was as much kept in the was to be carried. dark as the most minute of the shadings and fillings up. No man could tell in what direction it went, or to what ertent.
That the great Towns would Whether large Towns, before be endowed with the elective fran- unrepresented, were to be fachise, and that something would voured by the extension of the be done with some of the decay- franchise to them, whether roted Corporations—was, no doubt, ten boroughs were about to be confidently expected.
totally denuded of the privilege. Had any one, of known opi. So far well as the reserve on Dions, shewn the least symptom of the part of any of those in the his satisfaction, or dissatisfaction confidence in the prime movers, with the measure, a slight de- by evincing any symptom of ungree of reflection would have led easiness, might have given some to a pretty accurate notion, at idea of the extent it went, and least of the extent to which it have excited suspicion, if not went.
disclosed the important secret. No one had tbe least know
Nobody, however, ledge even whether the plan was knew whether it was extensive, large and sweeping, or a mode- moderate, or imperfect. rate, or an imperfect kind of Reform.
At length, the important pe- The eventful day at length riod of disclosure arrived arrived, and the developement and the communication of the of the scheme gave as great and plan produced a more universal unbounded satisfaction as the proand a more heartfelt satisfaction mulgation of any meusure ever than ever yet attended the pro- brought before a British public. mulgation of any measure.
All agreed, that the Ministers Ministers had done their duty had redeemed their pledges. nobly. They had fulfilled the
pledges they had made to the
country. The first remarkable effect The promulgation of the meaproduced by the promulgation of sure had the important and rethe measure, was the complete markable effect of reconciling and reconcilement and union of all uniting all classes of Reformers. classes of Reformers.
P. S.--I might go on making many similar quotations, but I fear you will be sick enough with wbat you have got. So adieu, for the night.
3000 individuals in Britain, and, although it is a disease that re. quires the medical practitioner to visit those who are affected with it by night and day, to hang over them for a greater length of time-lo touch their bodies more frequently than in almost any other disease, yet there has been reported only a single case of its affecting practitioners. Compare this with typhus fever :--- Since the 15th August, 1831, out of the 12 district surgeons of this city, four have been affected with fever, of which one has died, and the other three have bad a most narrow escape for their lives. Now typhus requires only to be visited during the day-time—the practitioner needs not remain more than five minutes at the bed. side, and the touching that is necessary is trifling indeed. This is a siinple statement, but we think it every way sufficient for our purpose. If no person in this city thought of barricading their houses, of refusing to take in the work of the weavers of Calton and Bridgeton, of clouding the gaiety of social intercourse. Although typhus, the most contagious of diseases, was raging to such an extent, that, for several months, between 20 and 30 persons affected with it, were daily refused admittance into the Infirmary-why all this unmeaning and unmanly conduct about the invasion of Cholera, wbich is very far from being so infectious ? Conduct which, by refusing to come in contact with the lower classes, and to furnish them with means to earn a subsistence, must add tenfold to the extent and virulence of the disease.
There is another consideration which ought to lessen this dread, viz. :-Cholera dues not attack persons indiscriminately; for it is only those whose mode of life is of a peculiar kind that it singles out as its prey. Those who are most addicted to intemperance in eating or drinking, who live in damp or ill ventilated houses, who keep their persons in a state of filth, who expose themselves to the night air, who are ill clothed, and exhausted from any cause, are most liable to be affected with the disease.
When these are the circumstances under which an attack may be dreaded, surely the middle and upper ranks of this city bave little occasion for such an unbounded alarm, as they have it in their power to shun them all. By so doing, it fortunately happens, that no disagreeable restraints are imposed, but that enjoyment, arising from health and personal comfort, is the natural result. Viewing the disease in these aspects, let it not be said that any of us would forsake the poor, who seem to be its devoted victions. We would blame no man for a regard to his personal safety—this is natural, but when this oversteps the limits which are warranted by cir. cumstances, this over-regard assumes the appearance of heartless selfishness which has no other effect than to aggravate the distress of bis suffering fellow-creatures who might be benefited by his assistance. A friend of ours informed us, of an extensive manu. facturer in this city, who, being wondered at for giving employment to the weavers of Kirkintilloch, said, “What! do you think this is a time to act in such a way- to be adding famine to pestilence ; I consider it every man's duty to be found at his post, ready to do all the good he can." We would like that this praiseworthy example were followed by all, and that the apprehensions of danger which are so misplaced, were thrown aside, and that only active exertions were made to feed, clothe, and lodge the poor.
We are led to make these remarks, after perusing the small tract which the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge has just published, and which stands at the head of this notice. It is so very moderate in its price, and so lucid and accurate in its information, that we think it ought to be in the possession of every
The work in question contains a complete history of the disease, from its commencement in the East, down to its arrival in England. The symptoms, and the preventive and curative means are so plainly pointed out in it, tbat he who runs may read.
Tue WORKING Man's COMPANION.— The Physician, No. 1.
Cuolera, Charles Knight, London, 1832. Now that Cholera bas actually made its appearance among us, the upper and middle classes of our inhabitants are thrown into a state of considerable alarm. Anxiety is depicted in many a counte. Dance, wonted amusements are neglected, or engaged in with fear and trembling, the social meetings of friends, after the business and toils of the day are over, are dull and uninteresting. Whether in the street, the counting-house, or the parlour, the whole conversation turns upon the progress of Cholera, and the most approved means of preventing and treating it; and, although the same story may have been repeated twenty times to the same persons, yet, such is the strength of their evil forebodings, it is listened to with the most marked and breathless attention.
Whoever has paid any attention to the subject, cannot fail to feel a dread at the visitation of that disease which has so unceremoniously launched thousands into a world of spirits ; but we would ask, has it not happened, in too many instances, that this dread has been allowed to overstep the boundaries of reason, benevolence, and even of self enjoyment? We are afraid the strict seclusion which many families are adopting—the active preparations which others are making to flee into the country—the discontinuance of employment to those who have the misfortune to reside in, or near the affected districts—the desertion of innocent recreations—too plainly tell us that this is, really, the case. So far as we can judge, this illiberal and irrational dread bas arisen from mistaken Jiotions of the contagiousness of the disease, and the particular kinds of person that it is most apt to affect. That the Cholera is not so contagious as the typhus fever, which, of late has so extensively and fatally prevailed in this city, may be learned from
very simple statement :- The Cholera has now affected above
FareweLL WALTZES, composed by the late R. A. Sutu, during
his last illness, and Dedicated as a Parting Memorial to his Friends.
We think it was Mozart who devoted his last hours to Music, and whose love of musical composition did not forsake him until the band and the eye refused to do their office.
Here are three Farewell Waltzes, written in circumstances nearly similar, and forming a melancholy, yet pleasing memorial, of their modest and meritorious author.
The remembrance of R. A. Smith is now identified with Scottish song, and will not readily be forgotten, as long as our countrymen shall relish pure, simple and touching melody; while, we are bappy to understand, his anthems have recently become popular, and, we are confident, wherever they shall be known, will add to the high character of their composer.
But, a memorial not less honourable to Smith, will be more especially found in the bosoms of those who had the pleasure of sharing his friendship and of knowing his worth.
We are happy to speak favourably of the Farewell Waltzes, more especially as we observe the object of the publication. In hurriedly looking over them, we recognise a favourite air gliding smoothly along in the first, some very effective modulations in the second, and, in the third, a very pleasing specimen of its peculiar style of music.
We can heartily recommend the publication as a useful lesson for the young performer on the piano-forte, and as equally well adapted to accompany the gaieties of the ball-room.
THE CHOLERA.—It has been remarked in Bohemia, that the animal kingdom has suffered great mortality since the prevalance of the Cholera ip that quarter.
Vast numbers of fish and hares, in particular, bave been found dead, and these species have consequently been banished from all Bohemian tables.
Cobeert's Opinion in 1797 of the Scottish Nation.— They are a nation I respect above any other, except my own. For prudence, perseverance, integrity, courage, and learning, they are above all praise. And as to loyalty, by no means the least of virtues, the great body cf the nation are far more loyal than their neigbbours in the South.-[How often bas this writer made declarations the very reverse ! ]
A man, whose reputation is suspended, and who is conscious of bis innocence, does not waste bis precious time in the pointing of a thought, or the rounding of a period. Truth needs no embellisb. inent.—Cobbett.
Bonaparte in 1795.--- At that period of his life, Bonaparte was decidedly ugly. He afterwards underwent a total change : I do not speak of the illusive charm which his glory spread around bim; but I mean to say that a gradual physical change took place in him in the space of seven years. His emaciated thinness was converted into plumpness, and his complexion, which had been yellow, and apparently unhealthy, became clear and comparatively fresh. His features, which were angular and sharp, became round and filled out. As to his smile, it was always agreeable : the mode of dressing bis hair, which now has such a droll appearance, as we see it in the prints of the passage of the bridge of Arcola, was then comparatively simple ; for the muscadins, whom he used to rail at so loudly at that time, wore their hair very long. But he used to be careless of his personal appearance, and his hair, which was ill combed and ill powdered, gave him the look of a sloven. His little hands, too, underwent as great a metamorphosis as any other part of his body. When I first saw him, they were thin, long, and dark; but he was subsequently vain of the beauty of his hands, and with good reason. In short, when I recollect Napoleon entering the court-yard of the Hotel de la Tranquillité in 1795, with a shabby, round hat drawn over his forehead, and bis ill powdered hair hanging over the collar of of his grey great-coat that great coat which afterwards became as celebrated as the white plume of Henry IV.without gloves, because he used to say they were a useless luxury, with boots ill made and ill blackened, with bis thinness and bis sallow complexion-in fine, when I recollect him at that time, and think what he was afterwards, I do not see the same maa in the two pictures.—Mad. Junot.
A letter from Palermo of the 3d ult. states that in the place of the volcanic island which had existed for some months between Sciacco and Pantelleria, and disappeared lately, is now seen a column of boiling water about twenty-four feet in diameter, rising from between ten to thirty feet above the surface of the sea, and exhaling a strong bituminous odour.
UNNATURAL CHARACTERS IN Fiction.—No character can enter a human imagination which is not within the compass of Nature's possibility, but there is such in nature which has never entered the imagination. What imagination ever conceived any thing so outrageous as Jack Mitford's acknowledgement that his love of gin was so great, that if his soul were on one table and a gin-bottle on the other, he would barter the former for the latter ?
FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.
It is intended to form an Ethnographical Museum at Paris, under the direction of the indefatigable Baron de Ferussac. The object of this establishment is to preserve from the ravages of time such memorials of the present nations of the world as are peculiar to them, in their arts, costumes, arms, buildings, &c. &c. Those dations in particular, that are in a savage state, or are but imperfectly advanced in the social scale, will form the chief object of attention, as, from the rapid extension of modern civilization, the manners and primitive character of such vations, or tribes, are daily losing their original features. A large building, divided into many distinct apartments, will be devoted to the objects of this institution, and will contain the specimens and memorials alluded
A. M. Dussumier, of Bordeaux, has made six voyages to India, and each time has brought back collections of rare and curious animals, which be bas presented to the Museum of Natural History. None of his voyages, however, has equalled his last, and he has been fortunate enough to bring all his specimens safely home. Catalogues of the various collections bave been drawn up by Messieurs Isidore Geoffroy, Valenciennes, and Victor Audouin, assistant naturalists to the Museum.
The second volume of Ilain's Repertorium Bibliographicum will shortly be completed, by the publication of the second part.
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
“ O. L. O.'s" communication has been received. Our remark to anonymous correspondents was not intended for such papers as those sent by O. L. 0.
In order to insure this Publication being on the Breakfast Table every inorning, it is requested that intending Subscribers will leave their names and addresses at the Publisher's.
Kidd's Guide to the Surrey Zoological Gardens, with illustrative Engravings, by G. W. Bonner, is in the press.
The Stranger's Pocket Dictionary to the Amusements of the Metropolis, with Engravings, by G. W. Bonner, is about to be published.
It is proposed to publish, by subscription, twenty-eight of Capt. G. F. Lyon's Mexican Drawings, descriptive of the Scenery and People at and near the Mines of Bolanos and Real del Monte, in four pumbers, at ten shillings each number. The drawings in each number to be eight inches by six inches in size, and to comprise a Vignette, four Views or Costumes, and two illustrative of the processes for extracting the Silver from the Ore.
Bibliographia Inedita, or a Catalogue of Books not printed for Sale, with some Account of them, by John Martin, is in the press.
Published every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Fixlay, at
the Printer's; and Sold by John Wylie, 97, Argyle Street ; Davio Robertson, and W. R. M.PHUN, Glasgow ; Twoxas Stevenson, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh: David Dick, Bookseller, Paisley : Thomson, Greenock; and J. Glass, Bookseller, Rothsay.
PRINTED BY JOHN GRAHAM, MELVILLE PLACE.
PRICE A PENNY.
A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.
GLASGOW, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1832.
TALES, SKETCHES, AND TRADITIONS OF THE
thering together in groups to make remarks on the stranger.
Poor Matilda ! these hills have been the witnesses
A MODERN HIGHLAND TALE.
or tale of the mountains, may, perhaps, recall to the memory of some of the older inhabitants of the shores of Lochfine, a circumstance which, at one time, furpished a subject for fire-side commentary to many a domestic circle in the glens and corries of the country. From a deference to the feelings of any of the relations of the parties, who may still be surviving, the writer has, very judiciously, thrown some of the particulars into shade, and, by also introducing a few embellishments, the story, we conceive, may now be read without giving the slightest uneasiness to any indivi. dual:
from the land of thy fathers, without a friend to soothe the pillow of thy distress, or a relation to drop a tear over thy untimely fate.
About half a century ago, a small party of soldiers were stationed at Inveraray, and, attracted by the scenery and the hospitality of the inhabitants, often visited Glenary. William Munro was corporal of the party, and, with some of his comrades, had been pursuing their usual walk along the banks of the river and marking the gambols of the finny tribes at the bottom of a limpid pool, when their attention was drawn to three young ladies, who, mounted on little shelties, attempted to cross the ford opposite Manse. The two first gained the opposite bank in safety, but the pony, which carried the youngest of the three, refused to pass the middle of the river, and, on its rider attempting to urge it forward, she was thrown, and, instantly, swept away by the stream. One minute more and safety was hopeless, when Munro, with a degree of humanity and intrepidity, not uncommon to those of his profession, plunged into the current and brought to shore the dripping treasure. By this time, the inbabitants at the Manse had notice of the accident, and Mr. F-came, in person, notwithstanding his age, to thank the generous youth who had risked his own safety to preserve his daughter's. As may be supposed, the young soldier was requested to visit the family after, and was always kindly received, when, unfortunately for their peace, Matilda's protracted farewell-walks assumed a suspicious appearance and obliged the father to interdict their growing intimacy, and the coolness which could not now be concealed, soon convinced William that he was no longer a welcome guest. Though a stop was thus put to their intercourse, it was not put to their growing affection, and, if we forget his humble station, William, indeed, deserved to be loved. In his youth be had received a liberal education, was devoid of all the follies which are often ascribed to the soldier. He possessed a handsome person and insinuating address, and, when to that was added, gratitude for the past, let the prudish not wonder that Matilda's young and unsuspecting heart had fallen a victim to his attention. About a mile from Manse, stood the third mile-stone from Inveraray ; to it Matilda was often seen to repair, but, as her walks were always strictly watched, that created no suspicion till time afterwards disclosed that behind this stone was the repository of a correspondence, where the parties received and left letters for the other. One morning she was absent from the breakfast table, which created some uneasiness. She was often in the habit of visiting an old woman, a dependent on the family, who lived at some distance from the Manse, but she had not been there ; they went to her bed-room, but every mark convinced them that her gentle head had not pressed the pillow the previous night, when, on opening her trunk, the absence of her best apparel threw some light on her mysterious disappearance. William had received leave of absence and was to have joined his party at Glas
A “trip to the Highlands” is now such a commonplace occurrence, and possesses such a variety of pleasures and advantages, that I would incur the sneers of the “gentle readers,” did I suppose they had not embraced them; but, among the various routes proposed to the eight-days' tourist, that by Inveraray and Oban, probably stands unrivalled. Inveraray, in itself furnishes attractions which few places can comma
mand, whether we contemplate its pleasant situation, or its past history : in the one we see nature, with bounteous hand,' lavishing charms with maternal distinction, while, in the other, we behold the nursery which reared a noble line of profound and fearless Statesmen, who disregarded the frowns of a Sovereign when the honour of their country was lightly treated. About a mile from the village, stands Dun-na-cuach,on a conical bill of considerable height, which, though steep to ascend, fully repays the toil of the visitor from its extensive and commanding view. Lochfine at his feet, checkered with its bustling fishing crafts, the hills on either side possessing an agree. able variation of heath and verdure—the village, with its whitened walls, reflected on the glassy surface of its mirrored harbour—the “ castle," with its tasteful avenues and fragrant gardens emerging from among the giant trees with which it is surrounded. Ary, forgetting the noisy tenor of its earlier steps, sweeps along, calm and undisturbed, in which the stately swan may be seen laving its snowy bosom, or, with majestic pride, spreading its downy sails to the rippling zephyr; on its velvet banks may be seen the nimble roe and the wanton hare, as they leave their heathy couch to sip their morning beverage from its crystal stream, while, on a fine summer evening, the concert of nature's songsters, which is heard from every thicket, reminds us more of the fancied Elysium of Eastern tale, than the real enjoyments of a Highland glen.
Leaving Inveraray, with its charms, we enter the romantic Glenary, and ascend, by a fine road, which winds along the course of the stream from whence the glen derives its name; the scenery here is neither strikingly bold nor meanly tame; thriving enclosures of oak, in many parts, line the way, from among which may be heard the song of the cheerful woodman, as he lightens his labour by chaunting the melodies of his country, while cottages, occasionally, meet the view, around which the chubby offspring of the Gael may be seen pursuing their puerile sports, or ga
gow, whither they had orders to march. Matilda long in the habit of attending. And it happened, too, consented to share his fortune, and, ère the friends that the principal management of this affair was assumwho were sent in pursuit, could trace their steps and ed by a Mr. Morgan, a person who, it seemed, was of prevent their proceedings, Miss F. was no more. She a family remarkably ancient and respectable, and the had become the wife of a soldier. Nothing could ex- proprietor of a large estate, extending over the adjoinceed the grief of her friends on hearing the intelli- ing country. This individual was in Wales, what is gence, but, as what was done could not be undone, well-known in Scotland as the chief of a powerful clan. they soon procured him an Ensigncy, and well did he His numerous host of vassals, or of tenantry, who ocmerit the trust. His party was called abroad to the cupied his large estate, worshipped the very ground on war in Spain, where William's name was often classed which he trod. So much obsequious submission served with his country's heroes; but, in an ill-fated hour, a to foster the most extravagant notions of self-importbullet found his fearless breast, and, sinking on the bed ance on the part of Morgan, who was naturally of a of honour, the bereaved Matilda was left a helpless fiery, passionate and choleric disposition, apt to take widow. The sequel is soon told ; borne down with offence at the slightest trifle, and where no offence was grief and melancholy, she was unable to proceed home
either offered or meant. Besides this disposition to as she had intended, and her uneasiness of mind hav- quarrel, which no persuasion by his friends, and which ing brought ou a fever, which was soon seen to be no sense of prudence or of danger on his own part mortal, with pious resignation her soul took its de- could effectually check, he was a man of great bodily parture. The Manse and the ford are still to be seen, strength, and of immense stature. The prowess of his and, though the mile-stone has been destroyed by sa. arm, and the bloody and sanguinary broils in which he crilegious hands, it is still pointed out, and the Glenary had been engaged, were the constant and everlasting maiden, as she passes the place, looks to the “ lover's themes of bis conversation. post office," and heaves a sigh for the unfortunate Fredericks and Charles availed themselves of the
invitation, and accompanied their friend to the place of amusement. The company was splendid and nume
rous MY BROTHER.
“ And bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
A thousand hearts beat happily, and when
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell." For a long period he was successful in business, and My brother and his friend, who were the only military realized stores of riches. But riches do sometimes men present, being both handsome, good-looking young “ take wings and fly away." Fortune jilted my parent fellows, and blessed with great buoyancy of spirits, in his old age, the very time, had she been constant they were not merely happy themselves, but the cause and true, she should have remained stedfast and faith- of much happiness to others. With almost every one ful. A period of general distress chanced to occur in present, and especially with a large proportiou of the the mercantile world, overturning, in its progress, es- ladies, they seemed on the very best terms. Perbaps tablishments till then considered as responsible as the the circumstance of their thus bearing the palm of adBank of England. And, if my father did not lose miration in a manner so marked and decided, and to every thing in the midst of the general calamity, he the exclusion of Morgan's sons, who prided themselves was left with just as much as enabled him to retire to on their family and rank, may have offended the baa small villa in the country.
ronial spirit and the choleric disposition of their worthy I had two brothers, George and Charles. It is in father, but, be this as it might, that gentleman was vain that the fond parent chalks out a path for his pleased to take offence at some casual remark which children. The army was what my brothers had long my brother had innocently made, and, without more admired, and my father was disappointed when they ado, he vented forth his fury by resorting to the most told him they could not be happy in any other profes- extraordinary personal violence. The utmost confu. sion. "The pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious sion arose in the assembly. The dance, and “ sound war” had, in short, captivated their youthful minds, of revelry by night," ceased in a moment, and nothing and soldiers they would be, without either“ rhyme was heard but expressions of abhorrence, “not loud, or reason."
but deep," of Morgan's conduct. Although a mere boy, I remember well the feelings Public opinion forced this person, for the first time of joy with which George and Charles read, in the in the course of his boisterous and quarrelsome life, to Gazette, their appointment as Ensigns. Upon the admit that he had acted improperly. But this admis. morning of their departure, our little villa was all bustle sion was not deemed sufficient. No; explanation was bustle and confusion. My father had fallen into the necessary to Fredericks ; for he had beheld, with won. “ sear and yellow leaf" of time, and something silently der and amazement, every thing which had occurred, whispered to us all, that he never again would bebold and so soon as he recovered from the reverie into his two boys. The good old man bade them a long which he had been thrown, by an attack so extraordi. farewell, and pronounced on them his earnest and his nary, on one whom he regarded with all the affection holiest benediction. My mother was excessively dis- of a brother, he waited for Morgan, who referred him tressed, but the moment was come for their departure, to a Mr. Wilton as his friend. It was stated, “ that and, grasping her hand and imprinting a kiss upon her Morgan was ready to make any apology which could pale lips, my brothers bade her a long adieu. George be done consistently with his character as a gentleman; went to Spain, to join the troops under Sir John Moore, and that the occurrence which had unfortunately taken and Charles was ordered to Wales, with a detachment place in a moment of passion, had not only given imof his regiment.
mense pain to Morgan himself, but to the whole circle The company to which Charles was attached was of his friends." under the charge of Captain Fredericks, a gentleman “ The outrage,” answered Fredericks," was so very who, “in the trade of war had seen some service," wanton and extraordinary, and committed on my but who, notwithstanding all the scenes of fight and of youthful friend, under circumstances so peculiar and blood in which he had been engaged, was mild and aggravating, that the only terms he can listen to, are gentle to a very fault in bis manners and general de these,--that Mr. Morgan make an ample apology, ex. portment. It happened that some one of his friends pressive of his regret, and at the saine time deliver the invited him and Charles to an annual assembly, at which cane, with which the violence was used, and leave it in all the principal people in the neighbourhood had been my friend's option, as a gentleman and a British officer,
A CAVEAT TO THE WIND.
whether to use it in a similar manner, as Mr. Morgan
affection bad long been reciprocal. Upon the sad has done on the occasion in question."
morning of his departure, the most sacred vows of “ I am afraid," replied Wilton, “ that the last part love and constancy were mutually exchanged. The of the proposal cannot be conceded. Acting as the depression and languor which his farewell had occafriend of Morgan, I could not advise him, nor indeed sioned, upon the amiable and sensitive mind of this would he himself submit, to any thing so humiliating. lovely and youthful maid, had not subsided or passed I am grieved beyond measure, so is Morgan and all away, when the intelligence of his death arrived, and his friends, for what occurred. Morgan is ready to planted in her bosom, beyond all hope of removal, the declare so, openly in the face of the world; but more feelings of the most gloomy despondency and despair. than this he cannot and will not do."
It was in vain, that her numerous friends endeavoured, " In that case,” rejoined Fredericks, “ I am at a by every means in their power, to support and cheer loss to see how a meeting can be avoided.”
her depressed and broken heart, by the light of hope, On the following day the parties met. There was and the gleams of joy. She for ever wandered waysomething wild and haggard, about the tall gigantic ward and heart broken, amongst those secluded scenes appearance of Morgan. His eye flashed with rage, and where the voice of her Charles had often resounded, the firm compression of his lip, betokened the deter. and which had “ many a time, and oft,” witnessed the mination with which he was resolved to proceed. My fondest and holiest vows of their everlasting love. She brother, although about to oppose in mortal combat, for ever gazed upon his miniature, which hung around one who boasted that he never yet missed his man, her beating bosom, and until the moment she breathed was perfectly collected, and took his station with all her last, the image of poor Charles was ever the obbecoming ease and nonchalance. The word was given ject of her distracted thoughts. by Fredericks. Charles' fire slightly touched Morgan's
Lay her i’ the earth,
And from her fair and unpolluted tlesh, right shoulder,--my brother remained untouched. The
May violets spring.” friends of both interfered, and proposed a reconciliation ; but Morgan, as if enraged at his defeat, and
ORIGINAL POETRY. chagrined at the superior adroitness of his youthful antagonist, objected in good set terms." You must gentlemen," said he,“ have my consent to a recon
Sing high, sing low, thou moody wind, ciliation which I am not disposed to give. I take God
It skills not-for thy glee
Is ever of a fellow kind to witness," continued he, “ that this meeting was not
With mine own fantasy. caused by me. In a moment of irritation and passion,
Go, sadly moan or madly blow I admit, I injured and insulted this young gentleman.
In fetterless free will, I expressed contrition, I asked his pardon.--He re
Wild spirit of the clouds, but know jected my acknowledgement, and tendered me an in
I ride thy comrade still.
Loving thy bumours, I can be sulting proposal,—I disdained it,-I am here, then, by
Sad, wayward, wild, or mad, like thee. his invitation, and I shall not leave the field until that
Go, and with light and noiseless wing, satisfaction is afforded, which he and his friend so per
Fan yonder murmuring stream, tinaciously demanded, pray gentlemen proceed." -
Brood o'er it, as the sainted thing My brother beckoned those present to forbear saying
The spirit of its dream. another word, and again took his position. They fired
Give to its voice a sweeter tone at the same moment, when Charles received the shot
Of calm and bearttelt gladness ;
Or, to those old trees, woe-begone, of his opponent in his breast.He breathed his last
Add moan of deeper sadness. almost instantaneously.
It likes me still; for I can be Morgan was tried but acquitted. The general opin
All sympathy of heart, like thee. ion was, that the terms proposed previous to the meet
Rush forth, in maddest wrath, to rouse ing were such, to which no gentleman could accede.
The billows of the deep; But as he had been the offending party, it was thought
And, in the blustering storm, carouse
With fiends that never weep. by many well conversant with the rules of honour, that
Go, tear each flutt'ring rag away, he would have acted with more propriety, if, in place
Outshriek the mariner, of firing directly in the bosom of a young man so in
And hoarsely knell the mermaid's lay teresting, he had consented to a reconciliation when
Of death and shipwreck drear.
What reck I, since I still dare be the first shots were exchanged.
Harsh, fierce, and pitiless like thee? Intelligence of Charles' death soon reached home,
I love tby storm-shout on the land, the communication was from Fredericks. It explained
Thy storm-shout on the sea, all the circumstances of my brother's death, and con
Though shapes of death rise on each hand, cluded by mentioning the manly manner in which he
Dismay troops not with me. conducted himself in the field, and the universal and
With iron cheek, that never showed
The channel of a tear, deep regret with which his loss was deplored by his
With haughty heart, that never bowed brother officers. There was inclosed a hurried epistle
Beneath a dastard fear, which Charles had addressed to his mother the night
I rush with thee, o'er land and sea, previous to his death. It is in vain to depict the gloom
Rejoicing in thy thundering glee. that overpowered us all, as we perused that simple
Lov'st thou those cloisters, old and dim, memorial of him whom we had so tenderly loved. In
Where ghosts at midnight stray, the ebullitions of female sorrow, there is always some
To pour abroad unearthly hymn,
And fright the stars away? thing peculiarly heart-rending; the object for the most
Add to their sighs thy hollow tone part is so beauteous—but so helpless. The grief so
Of saddest melancholydeep, so sincere, but so quiet and unobtrusive. But
For I, too, love such places lone, the grief of a mother is doubly distressing. No one
And court such guests unjolly. but those who have seen the grave close over their
Such haunts, such mates, in sooth, to me,
Be welcome as they are to thee. child, adorned with all the grace and beauty of youth
Blow as thou wilt, blow any where, ful manhood, and the object of their fondest love, can
Wild spirit of the sky, form any conception of the sufferings she endured.
It matters not-earth, ocean, airBut there was one on whose mind the event made
Still echoes to my cry, still a deeper and a more melancholy impression. The
“ I follow thee;" for, where thou art, learned and venerable Dr.
My spirit, too, must be,
While each chord of this wayward heart, of the parish in which my father's villa was situated,
Thrills to thy minstrelsy ; had a beauteous daughter whom, from her days of
And, he that feels so, sure must be infancy, Charles had known and had loved. Their
Meet comrade for a shrew like thee!