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A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.
GLASGOW, TUESDAY, MARCH 13, 1832.
OURSELVES AND OUR LETTER BOX.
Cuncti adsint, meritæque expectent præmia palmæ.
GENTLE and Courteous Reader! We have now had the pleasure of holding, with thee, no less than sixtyone regular tete-a-tetes, and it is, perhaps, not unfair to suppose, that the recollection of these will induce thee to continue still to hold with us many more. It has been our earnest desire, in all that we have said or sung, to please thee, and if, at any time, we have fail. ed in doing so, the blame, it is to be hoped, must be attributed to the topics which we have unfortunately selected, rather than to the method of treating them. We have, in fact, most anxiously catered for thy amusement and instruction, and, provided we are still allowed to claim thy friendly ear, we will continue to do so as long as we can spin brain into typography ! We have told thee of “ The Council of Ten,” who select and regulate thy morning's literary repast, and have thrown out hints regarding its late and early sittings for thy intellectual benefit. Some wiseacres and would-be critics have idly insinuated, that this decemvirate is nothing but a fiction, mere ideal knot of phantoms like those which are said to be congregated round the far-famed board of that modern Athenian Ambrose. Of this false opinion, however--the opinion of certain silly detractors whom we despise, and of several envious foes whom we have lashed—we shall now endeavour to disabusethee; and, perhaps, there can be no better method of effectually accomplishing this desirable end than by introducing thee, as our best friend, into the circle of a monthly meeting of our Council, and thereby rendering thee at once a witness of, and a participator in those literary orgies which thy patronage, to each and all of that Board, so well deserves. Listen, then, while we present thee with a key to OURSELVES and Our LETTER Box.
would gratify the whole of us, were you kind enough to insert the inclosed Essay, “On the too Profuse Payment of Literary Productions, by a Member of the Save-all Club.” I am also directed to say, our subscription as second-hand readers will be withdrawn, if this Essay be not inserted. Your obedient servant, Isaac Newton.
Editor.-Corpo della Santa Maria Maggiore ! Another two-farthing Macænas. I thought our publisher's subscription list had been already thoroughly purged of such friends. What return, gentlemen, do you propose making to the writer for this mark of his distinguished patronage ?
The Antiquary.-I beg leave to propose that we inflict on him the highest punishment of our ancient law.
Verdict of Council.—Worried at a stake and burnt.
The next paper opened, was entitled “ Maria, a Tale.”—The penmanship was of a feminine character, but the signature indicating a male authorship, it was concluded, that the admirer of Maria was a sentimentalist of the first water.
Harley. If you have tears prepare to shed them now !
Omnes.Our handkerchiefs are all ready.
Easel.—Mr. Spentacles, can ye lend me an ingan, for there's no a drap in my e'e the day.
Spectacles.—Shall I read then you a few lines before you pass your verdict ?
Editor.- What ! Sir—did you ever know the Council of Ten award an opinion from merely reading the title of an essay, or the title page of a book.
“ Maria was beautiful. Too beautiful alas ! for the repose of my feeble fluttering heart. Yes! Maria loved me, and I loved Maria !
Easel, (raising himself from a reclining position.) That 'ill no doe—beauty is but a comparative term. We manna tak’ charms on the word o' a blin' man. “ A blin' man's wife needs nae painting." Council.Sus.
coll. The next article was entitled “ Dunder's Delusion," and was subscribed, “An Ancient Epicurean." It thus began :
“ Dunder and his family were comfortably seated by a blazing fire, one night in November, when tap! tap ! tap! was heard sharply and suddenly at the door—but, ere Dunder had laid aside bis pipe, the door was rudely pushed open, and a stranger appeared. Silently he entered the room, sat down on Dunder's chair : placed bis feet upon the grate, and began to puff away most violently, with the pipe which Dunder had abandoned. But what astonished Dunder most was, that all at once he felt that he had lost the use of his tongue, and when he looked to his better balf, he observed, that nei. ther her lip nor tongue was in motion, a circumstance, that had not occurred before, for twenty years. The stranger wore a cocked hat and tye, was highly powdered, and kept nodding his head to a most extraordinary tuve, which Dunder thought he had once heard before, as he travelled through a dark wood by himself, on a depredatory excursion. As the stranger continued to puff, puff, puff, the room gradually filled with a thick smoke. The stranger occasionally turned his head round quietly, gazed for a moment in our host's face, gave three loud laughs, aad continued to puff, puff. But Dunder was provoked beyond measure, when be saw him seize a flask of wine that was to bave accompanied, and washed down his own supper; and the stranger nodding to Mrs. Dunder, who returned the politeness, then looked to Dunder, and, laughing three times, emptied the bottle in a moment. • In the name of the virgin !' cried Dunder, recovering his breath-when the stranger roared hideously, leaped up, sprung through the ceiling, and the aperture, through which he made his exit, is still shown as a curiosity, leaving the mark of a cloven foot, which retains a sulphurous and offensive odour,
The monthly dinner of the “ Council of Ten” took place on the last day of February-when the whole members were present. The Editor in the chairthe office of Croupier was ably filled, by our Poetical Critic. The first dozen of claret having vanished rather rapidly, the chairman deemed it necessary to call the attention of the members to the peculiar object of the meeting, which the gentlemen present, he reminded, was for the purpose of deciding the fate of the various contributions sent, during the two preceding months, by the correspondents of “The Day," and intended by them for insertion in that periodical. He recommended that The SPECTACLES and THE ANTIQUARY should be appointed to act as grand inquisitors, and that the rest of the Council should perform the part of independent Jurymen-( applause.)
A preconcerted sigual having been made to the attendants, they immediately withdrew, and in a short time they returned bearing our Letter Box.
The inquisitors stood on each side, grimly smiling, the lid was slowly opened, and the following letter was immediately read :
To the Editor of The Day.-SIR-I am one of a large number of friends to literature, who associate for the purpose of encouraging it, as well as getting information to ourselves. We regularly read a second-band copy of The Day, price one half-penny, and it
THE UNINVITED GHAIST.
Eight of the Council. Insert this story most as- come into a ship, naebody can tell whan, and naebody suredly.
can tell frae whar! And what gude bae they done The Doctor.-It shall not be inserted, as I shall tae the kintra? What hae they invented ? Naething certainly be considered as the author.
but the tartan, and they pretend they took the idea frae Eight of the Council.- What of that ?
the rainbow! high fight, by the Hoky! It's a pity but The Doctor.-Nothing, gentlemen, provided you Colley had a gravat-rainbow! It's mair reasonable allow me to insert in the newspapers, that the author of to suppose they took the hint frae their ain maizled the “ Confessions of a Burker” has not, and never shanks ; it's there the clans got the different sets o' had, any connection with the story from the German, their tartan. Man, dinna talk to me; I'm no to be entitled, “ Dunder's Delusion."
done ! Editor.–Balderdash! Was I not the author of Uncle Duncan.- Od dam'ort a baest moiseach, Dam'. the letters of Malachi Malagrowther, usually ascribed ort a cach na diabhoil ! to Sir Walter Scott ? and, Good heavens ! did he en- Easel.Ye may “ cach and deol” awa' as lang's ye deavour to undeceive the public upon the subject ? like, I'm no to be done.
Spectacles. The next in rotation, gentlemen, ap- Editor.—Gentlemen, I beg you will allow the busipears to be in verse, it is entitled,
of the evening to proceed.
Uncle Duncan.-Gentlemen, with all respect to the
Editorial chair, I will just give a promulgation to the
observation, that it's not myself that wishes to interA Ghaist frae this warld, did tick at their door.
rupt the business of the evening, but, when I see A wee deil did answer
Mister Easdale turning up his nose to the roof, and An' roar'd“ what d'ye want Sir?"
screechen like a water kelpy against a people that's an “I want,” quo the Ghaist “just tae rank in your core."
honour and an approbation to the British nation, both “ The gudeman's frae bame, man,
by land and sea, I canna help my plood from coming The gudewife's the same, man :
to the boil; there's no body that hears me just now Tae admit ye mysel' is against their commauns,
but what has a high respect for Highlanders, and I Sae slip your wa's back;
would just advise Mister Easdale to read what Sir An' our Cork, wben he's slack, Will gie ye a hint when he's takin on han's.
Walter Scott says about them, before he makes any
more of his foolish remarks. The Ghaist turn'd his heel
Easel.-Ou, man, is that a' ye can say?—Sir Walter Without sayin' fareweel, An' sneak'd awa back wi' his thumb in his jaw;
has wasted a great deal o'fine writing about themThinking 'twas a hard case,
but what's that? Man, what is't? It's just like throwThat in sic a warm place,
ing lavender water on aA puir Gbastie shou'd get sic a cauld coal tae blaw.
Uncle Duncan.—On a what Mr. Easdale ? Od, Now, let some folks reflect
Dam’ort, put a mouth upon that word if you dareUpon this disrespect,
Easel.–Daur! I'm no obliged tae daur ony thing An' look e'er they loup, whar their landing's tae be;
about it_I tell ye frien, Duncan, I'm no to be done For it seems there is reason
man, I'm no to be done. Tae tak tent o' their wisen,
Editor.-Silence, gentlemen, and let the business Since the Deils on the shy, and their frien's ca' them fee.
proceed. Easel.–That's real double-distilled nonscence; and The next paper was entitled an original anecdote I propose it be put on the fire wi' a wee hair o' flour of a certain tall divine, not a thousand miles from o' brumstane about it, to mak a blue low.
Glasgow, who met one of his parishioners; and the Omnes.-Agreed.
fellow, not touching his hat, the divine told him be Easel.-Feich! what a smell—I never see brum- was the head of the church. “Indeed, Sir, I really stane, gentlemen, without thinking o' Devils, Bumbees took you for the steeple," said the rustic; but, as this or Hielanmen.
was condemned by the Council as a regular Joe MilUncle Duncan.--What did you'll spoke about High- ler, it was placed upon the live coal without delay. landmen just now Mister Easdale ? I can tell you, Four epigrams, as pointless as a broken file, now fol. Mister Easdale, that I've known to my own knowledge lowed, and found the same resting place. An essay a petter man than you, as proud as Lusifer, because he “ On Virtue,” which, as well as the next paper, was inwas a Highlandman's bastard. Now, Mister Easdale, tended for the Saturday's number, was condemned for pit tat in your pouch, and tak it for your morning. commencing with the expression, “ Happiness is the
Easel.—They say they're scant o news that tell's object which all men pursue,” and burned very cheerhis father was hanged; and I think they wad be as ily beside what the writer characterized as a serious scant o'a connection that wad claim a Hielan yen. Man, trifle in verse of his own composition, entitled the do I no ken them ? hae I no seen the lazy deevils hurk- “ Good Man's Rest," and which thus beganlin about the peat fires o' Aberfoil, huntin what-de-ye
Night is the time for rest ; ca'ts, the only thing they seem tae be gude for ? Gore,
How sweet when labours close, lad, ye manna speak to me about Hielan folks. I ken
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose. them owre weel. Uncle Duncan.-All true Highlandmen don't fear
But the Council agreed that, if the above were, being kent, and weel kent too; but it appears to me
really, original, Montgomery must have stolen it from that you are either too well kent, or not kent or known
our correspondent, and that “The Day" could not, at all, when you was obliged to hurkle in with the
and would not, interfere, until the question of prodregs of our peoples. If it was to see “ what did you'll
perty were settled. ca'ts," that you wented to the Highlands, I think you
The next paper that opened ran as follows: made a fool's errand of it; for it appears, to my sus
Mr. Editor, I am a constant reader of The Day, and will be
obliged by your throwing a little Day-light upon my history of picious mind, that you would have seen a great many the Theatre, which is at present in the press, your insertion of the more if you had stayed at home. And for
annexed, will oblige,—A Subscriber. Easdale, to abuse the ancientest people in all the “ Mr. P. Q. R.’s bistory of the Theatre is likely to cause a terrestrial territory of this Globular world, shews me great sensation in the literary world. We have had a peep at the that you are either a very ignorant, or a very malicious
work, and can safely say, it will add not a little to the fame of its
talented author. As a limited number of copies are to be publishpersonage.
ed, an early application to the respective booksellers is earnestly Easel.40, by the Hoky, frien' Duncan, ye needna
recommended," get on yer high horse, I'm no to be done! I ken Council of Ten.- This is the "puff direct:" try it them owre weel. And what's their antiquity ? Gore, by the fiery ordeal. man, what is't? They cam into the kintra as rats The conversation was here interrupted by the en
trance of a waiter bearing a silver salver with a neatly folded letter upon it.
« Another communication," exclaimed the Editor, and, opening the paper, he read as follows:
Sir,-Should you consider the following little Poem worthy of insertion, by giving it a corner in your paper, you will truly oblige a constant reader of The Day, and warm admirer of its merits.
C. N. Edin. Thursday, 23 February.
Council. With one voice.-C. N.! C. N.! Is that a communication from the eloquent old man whose harangues delight the ears of the listening Ambrosians ? The Editor.— I shall read, and you shall judge.
“ Margretta lov'd! whene'er the sky
It's starry eyes resign ;
And cease to call thee mine."
The poetical critic was then called on to give in his report, which was as follows:
“ During the last month, the poetry put into my hands has been of a superior order, and more correct in its measures and quantities, than any I have formerly inspected. It has also assumed a serious cast, and is principally intended for your Saturday's number. Some exceptions, however, as may be supposed, have occurred, and love has not yet lost his dominion over several of your correspondents of either sex. The first piece I recommend to your notice, is stated to be a translation from the Italian, although its British origin is evident enough.”
TO MY LOV'D ONE.
I vainly try to say
To suit a poet's lay!
The maid I love is thee!
Poetical Critic.—Here is another production from that hot-bed of poetical genius, Paisley. There are more verses manufactured in that town than in any other of the British empire. It has now, in fact, become as famous for stanzas as for silks :
CUPID'S FROLIC. Wee Cupid one day on frolicing bent ;
Slung on his bow and bis gilded quiver ;
A sportsman keen on the game as ever.
Shot bim in the back with a long strong arrow,
Dividing asunder the joints and the marrow.
Easel.— It's dounricht havers. The body bas nae notion whatever of Heathen Mythology, or the harmony of composition. What sense is there in sic a bluter o' words about naething ? Cock-a-leerie-law, surely it maun be written by some flesher's apprentice. Into the fire with it into the fire with it. Sic stuff is eneuch to gar any man of taste tak’a skunner, or the cholera.
Verdict.—“Divided by the joints, and fried in its own marrow."
Poetical Critic.—Gentlemen, since you judge thus, I feel confident you will be kinder to the following, which, if I mistake not, some of the gentlemen present have seen before :
« TO MY LADYE LOVE,
Pure as the morninge,
Greene billes adornyng.
That flowes to the river.
Love thee for ever.
Where goes my ladye love?
Throwe sweete boweres straying,
The younge sylpbes are playing.
Love thee for ever!
Art thou in bearinge !
Forest trees tearing!
Leave thee ! oh, never !
Love thee for ever. Council.-Recommended that its author should amend and return it.
Spectacles. The next, gentlemen, is “an Epigram:” here it is
ON AN UGLY OLD MISER.
But be mistook bim for the devil.
frien's. Editor.—(Shutting his eyes and shaking his head.) -Gentlemen, I do most decidedly and deliberately object to this piece, as being too personal.
Easel.—Hou-Mr. Editor, nane o' yer whigmaleeries ; there's neither name, trade nor profession hinted at; od, if the
needna pit it on, and, if you're no gaw'd, ye needna fling. Gore man, ye'r like the wife wi' the muckle nose, ye tak' every thing tae yoursel.
Éditor.—(Colouring up.)-Mr. Easel, I hope you don't mean to say, that the Epigram applies to me more than to
of the company Easel.—Company, Sir! I didna think it applied to ony o' the company, but since ye speak o' the company, od, I think we're a' Jock Tamson's bairns, a' much about much, as the auld yin said to the witch ; and, though the deil were gettin his han’-wale o' us at nicht, I dinua think he wad be muckle ta'en up wi his luck in the morning.
Spectacles.—This is really, a foolish discussion, gentlemen ; and, to bring it to a conclusion, I propose that the Epigram that occasioned it, be committed as a peace-offering to the flames.
Spectacles.—More verses gentleman. Here's what I suppose, we are to consider, if you'll excuse the bull, a Lowland-Highland song.—(Reads.)
MO LAOGH GEAL!
And roam the Hielan mountains.
0, willt thou go mo laogh geal, &c.
Amang the Hielan mountains.
O will't thou go, &c.
Amang the Hieland mountains.
O will't thou go, &c.
Berries, now by burn and brae,
came to put water on the wheel, as my mother, decent Mo laogh geal, mo laogh geal,
woman, told me, was just this—at that great battle Are sweet'ning in the simmer ray, Among the Hieland mountains.
when the Scots King Caractacus was taken prisoner, For thee the blackest I will pu,
a gentleman of the name of Monroe was one of his And if they stain your bonny mou,
generals, but he was not called Monroe then, because I'll bring it to its rosy hue,
he had not put the water on the wheel then. Well, Wi kisses' mang the mountains.
when Caractacus was flying away in his chariot from O willt thou go, mo laogh geal, &c.
the Romans, General Manroe was running along side Your mither's dosin' at her wheel,
of his chariot, but he was not called General Monroe Mo laogh geal, mo laogh geal,
then, because he had not pat water on the wheel then. The boatie waits, then let us steal, Awa tae the Hielan mountains.
Well, from the great velocity of speed at which the chaLook cross the sea to Brodick bay,
riot was flying, one of the wheels took fire, and nearly The moon with silver paves the way,
set Monroe's kilt in a great inflammation, but, as I Let's keep her path, wi' canna stray,
said before, he was not called Monroe then, because he 'Twill lead us to the mountains.
had not put water on the wheel then. But, my faith, Will't thou go mo loagh geal, &c.
he was not long about it ; for he was a general of great Easel.—Now, frien' Duncan, that sang just proves presence of mind, and, in a moment of time he put the what I was saying; wha but a wild Hielandman would
water on the wheel, and out went the bleeze, and the ever think of wheedlin' a young woman into the mar- chariot continued driving away. But what would riage state, by assuring her of the safety o'her lugs ? you have of it, General Monroe, for he was general Man, you're an awfu pack you Hielanders after a': nae
Monroe now, had not observed that the other wheel wonder
of the chariot was in flames too, and down the chariot Editor.—Mr. Easel, I must call you to order, I can- came, and a Roman soldier came up and catched Carnot allow you to indulge in these remarks.
actacus by the cuff of the neck, and the honest man, Easel.-Weel, weel, Mr. Editor, I'll tak my moath
the decent worthy King that he was, turned round to in my hand for a wee—but if that sang's pattin i' the the general. " General, general,” says he, “ if you had fire, I maun hae a copy o't; “gude evening oats is
put water on both wheels this would not have happen.” gude mornin's fother;" « it may come of use as the cat Editor.—Gentlemen, I propose that this communicasaid to the dead mouse." I hope to sing it at Uncle ion, be put into the hands of the Antiquary. Duncan's waddin yet.
Omnes.—Agreed. Uncle Duncan.—I'm, certainly, obliged to you Mr. Enter Waiter.-Gentlemen, there's a servant with a Easdale ; but I intend to invite none but gentlemen to lanthorn waiting for Mr. Duncan my wedding; and your pretensions to that character,
Uncle Duncan.- Well, gentlemen, that's our Floree from what has come under my observations to-night, come for me—ud, I did not think it was so late ; here, are very small; now, Mr. Easdale, I'm just telling that
waiter, help me on with my great coat, like a decent upon your face.
lad, and, gentlemen, I'll just take a glass o' prandy to Easel.—Come, come, frien' Duncan, ye manna rin
keep away the Choler a Morpheus. Your good health, awa wi the barrows that way ; I'm just as good a man and good night, gentlemen, all of you that pe gentleas you, and, may be better, if the truth were kent.
men, I'm na inclined to make many exceptions (nod-, I can tell you, my father was just as worthy a gentle ""Easel. Well a' be gentlemen here, frien’ Duncan, man as ever put foot upon heather, and, my mother was
as soon as you've drawn the door after you, so tak’ a lady, that no one could say to her, “ black is the nose that on the top of your brandy. on your face.”
Uncle D.-Ad- you, your no worth a gentleman's Easel.—You'll be meaning black was the e'e in her foot-notice.-(Exit Uncle Duncan, with an indignant head, I suppose. Man, Duncan, but you're an auld snort.) sneckdrawer.
Easel.—Weel, that's a clavering auld idiot. By the Harley.—Really, gentlemen, this is not the conver- hokey, I think his back's the best o' him, and that's a sation I expected to hear, at the opening of our letter cordial. box ; and I have to regret the absence of that respect- Harley.-Mr. Easel, I cannot but help feeling much ful and dignified complacency of manner, which ought dissatisfied with your reiterated attacks upon the worto grace the meetings of those, whose literary charac
thy old man who has left us, he has his peculiarities, ters, the public seem inclined to hold in some estima
it is true ; but you should remember that he has sery. tion.
ed his King and country in an honourable and becomUncle Duncan.—Ah, Mr. Harley, it's yourself that ing manner. He is, also, to be met with in the first can make a gentleman's observation.
circles of society. Editor.—Let the business of the evening proceed.
Easel.—Ou that's a' very fine, Mr. Harley. I'm Spectacles.—The piece which I have now in my tae be met in the first circles sometimes myself, and hand, is entitled, “An enquiry into the origin and an- wad be there aftener if I would condescend to the fittiquity of the Highland clans, particularly, the M'Ar- licking tricks o' our frien.' thurs, the Grants, and the Munroe's.”
Harley.—Not at all, Mr. Easel, as to “fit-licking," Uncle Duncan.—Now, gentlemen, this is a subject
as you call it, it is in perfect keeping with that natural worth all true gentlemen's considerations, because it
politeness, peculiar to the Highland character, which embraces, as it were, the very origin of gentlemen.
induces them to speak with a tender and delicate My mother was a Munroe, and I'll tell you what she consideration of the infirmities of their fellow-creatures. told me about their genealogy, before you read the Easel.-Ou
aye, Mr. Harley, great stots in Ireland. paper ; and, I'm sure, if the author is a man of good
But od, man, just look at the pride o' the creature to sense,
have his servant coming to a tavern for him with a put a contradiction upon my mother.
lanthorn-'od I'm just as gude a man as him, but deevil Easel.—That's tae say, he'll no ca’ her nose black. a lanthorn would come for me if I were to sit here Editor.--Silence.
for a blue moon, unless it were a police yen, and these Uncle Duncan.-Many thanks upon you, Mr. Edi- are attentions, Mr. Harley, that I am nae way kidgy tor. Well, you must know, that the word, Monroe, about. in our gaelic phraseology, means to put water on a
Enter Waiter.-Supper waits in No. 5. wheel; and the Munroe's were a respectable family in (Exeunt Omnes.) the Highlands, long before the Roman Invasions, but they were not called Munroes then, because they had not put the water on the wheel then; well, how they PRINTED BY JOHN GRAHAM, MELVILLE PLACE.
A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.
GLASGOW, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 14, 1832.
NEIL GRAYA TALE.
towards the distant horizon, and then told us we
could get a boat, but he would advise us not to go A SUNNY forenoon, towards the close of the summer of
out that afternoon. It is about to blow a gale," said 1826, found me on board a steam-boat at the Broomie
he " and if yon would take my advice," and, here, law, bound for Dunoon. I had been pretty tolerably
he looked at Mary, “ the lady will not go upon the fagged for sometime previous, and was now as happy
water to-night.” “ Not that ould Neil Gray is a bit at my release, and as full of animal spirits, as a school
affeared ; no, he has seen too much for that; but, the boy, when he finds himself freed from his irksome task, lady, your honour, isn't much accustomed, I take it, and the ever-threatening rod of the pedagogue.
to the sea, and she will be better on shore." He look We soon left Gourock; and Dunoon, with its rocky
ed kindly at Mary as he spoke, and I felt an interest in shores and its prettily situated church, is rapidly
the old man, who seemed to think so differently from drawing near. The small boat comes out for us ; it
the herd of greedy Donalds, whose boats we had geis rather crowded; yet, after a great deal of noise, and
nerally hired. a little alarm, we are safely landed. There are warm
“ You'll no catch no fush the day," said a Highshakings of hands on the shore, and earnest enquiries
lander, who had come up while we were talking to
Neil. after health ; but I am off from them all as quickly as
“ Why do you think so ?” said I.
'cause you'l met auld Shanet, as you'l come to the possible, and away to the bay, east of the village, where bright eyes, and a kind heart, await my coming.
shore, and whan you'l do that, you'l never catch no
fush,” and away walked the Highland boatman. Mary, Reader! wert thou ever in love ? Most likely thou
at first, seemed inclined to brave Neil's threatened hast been, and probably thou couldst live upon it, as dangers, but, she ultimately yielded to our persuaare said to have done. But so could not I.
sions, and we agreed to defer our fishing till the Though I have felt the enthralling influence of wo.
morning. The reason of the Highlander, too, was irman's gentle sway, as much as any, and, in my time,
resistible, and, no doubt, had its due weight in fixing have been scorched by the bright rays from a soft blue
our arrangement. eye ; yet, have I never allowed it to interfere with my
Having got into conversation with Neil, we asked appetite ; nor, on the present occasion, believe me, did
him down to the house, at the bay, to get a glass of grog, it do so. However, dinner is over, one tumbler is dis
and the garrulous old man, warmed by the liquor, becussed, with the old gentleman, her father, and Mary,
gan to chat away about his early days. “Aye, aye,” the gentle Mary, is preparing for a walk. But, pray,
said, he “it's more than forty years since I first left the I hear you ask, who is Mary ? Aye ! who is Mary?
shore, there, to go to sea. I mind it as well as if it Indeed, thou shalt never know. She never can be
were but yesterday, and a sorry day it was, for my any thing to thee, and, as for myself, I may never see
poor old father. Neil,' said he, will you leave your her more.
old father at home, alone, when you know there's I might tell you, no doubt, how devotedly I loved her none to put his head in the grave, when you are gone?'
bow often I have sat silently gazing on her blue, speak- Ah, your honour, it was no wonder he was sorry; for, ing, eyes—how, when I discoursed of love and happi- seven sons had gone to sea before me, and, at that ness, I have felt the gentle pressure of her soft hand- time, four of them were dead, or drowned, in foreiga how, once, she told me, the time she first became aware parts; and, of the others, he had heard nothing, for that I preferred her to all others : but why detail to you many a day. They are all dead now, your honour, the particulars of all this? since it would only make me
and old Neil Gray basn't a relation in the wide world melancholy, and cause you to langh. Besides, it would
-none to care for him, but the old woman, bis wife. be entirely aside from my story, which was not intend- Well, my father pled sore that I would stay at home, ed to be about Mary, or about myself, but about old but, though I was sorry, I was wilful, and wouldn't Neil Gray.
yield. “Father,' says I, . it's of no use talking, the thing A boat and an hour or two's fishing were now pro
has been done, and it can't be undone; for I won't posed, instead of the walk Mary and I had at first in- break my engagement ; but, I'll come back, father, and tended to take. With her leaning on my arm, we set
when it pleases God to take you away, I'll lay your off for the beach, beneath the village. When there, head in the grave, so there's no use in taking on. The the fishermen were absent, and a boat was not to be old man wept sore at parting, and, so did I, but, the had. My eye, however, caught an old weather-beaten vessel I was engaged in was coming down the river, tar, who, I thought, might, possibly, be able to supply so I was obliged to leave him ; and a boat, that was our wants. He was leaning against the corner of the waiting, soon carried me on board of her. It was a inn, which stands a short way above the shore. A main beartless thing to me, sir, you may
sure, when, little man he was, as all good sailors usually are, and as the ship flew through the water, the Gantocks his countenance proclaimed that he had faced both there, and the Castlehill, began to disappear, and, storms and dangers. Apparently, in a musing mode, when we lost sight of them, I thought my very heart he gazed across the wide expanse of water which rolled would have burst with sorrow."
towards the west, and his small grey eye peered “But a young fellow can't take on long, and the out, anxiously, from beneath the penthouse of a sorely strange sights I saw in the West Ingies soon brought battered wax-cloth hat, which covered his iron-colour- me up, and I forgot for a time the grief at parting
with my poor old father. A ship of war arrived in We went up to him and enquired if he could pro. the barbour, where we lay, she wanted hands, and vide us with a boat. He, slowly, turned round to see they made a small matter of taking a number of ours, who addressed bim, again cast his eyes across the sea, and among the rest myself; for you see I was not a