associates at this time were dishonest shop boys and apprentices, who, by a kind of sympathy analogous to that which in physics is entitled "elective attraction," soon found out each other, even in a large and widely spread city, and became firmly united in their purposes of fraud and robbery. Considerable in their number, they were so much the more dangerous that through the day they regularly attended on their business, and thus secured themselves against the least suspicion of

wrong.

During the day also, Bill was assiduous and diligent in prosecuting his studies; but, no sooner had the "shades of evening" enabled him and his associates with some degree of safety, to pursue their nefarious trade than they sallied forth in search of plunder; the fruits of which were almost uniformly spent in the pot-house and the stew. The anxiety of Bill's hostess was in the meantime soothed by his assurances that, during these unseasonable hours, he was, like many of his more virtuous fellow students, engaged either in private teaching, or in those debating societies which generally spring up in the neighbourhood of every large seminary of education.

Three years more of Bill's life had passed over in this dreadful career of folly and of crime, during which time he had given many proofs of his high professional talents, and had contrived, by a course of the deepest hypocrisy, to ingratiate himself into the good graces of his teachers and his fellow students,—during the same time also, many articles belonging to these gentlemen had been suddenly and unaccountably lost-brooches, pencil cases, watches, seals,-every valuable, of easy conveyance, which came in the way of our hero, disappeared in rapid and mysterious succession, to the astonishment and dismay of the sufferers. They were astonished-they saw-they felt that there was an "Achan in the camp," but all their attempts at the discovery of the thief, ended in discomfiture. Bill to

all appearance participated keenly in their anxiety and their endeavours, and, from his seeming honesty, and the consistency of his conduct, he was the last of all their number, whom they could have ventured to suspect.

Happily however for mankind, long continued impunity in crime, is not unfrequently the efficient cause of the detection and the punishment of the criminal; and so it happened in the case of Bill Macfarlane, whose past good fortune had begot such temerity, in the practice of his now confirmed and nightly avocation, as led him to despise or neglect the most ordinary caution. On an evening, in the depth of winter, he went into a shop, for the purpose, as he pretended, of buying some silk hose. While examining the articles, he suddenly threw into the eyes of the merchant, who occupied his customary station behind the counter, a handful of snuff, provided for the occasion, by which the poor man was totally blinded. Bill pocketed the spoil, and started off at his highest speed. The lungs of the citizen however were unaffected by his visual misfortune, and, in a voice at any time stentorian, but whose volume was mnch increased by pain of both body and mind, he bawled out "stop thief." Stop thief" was re-echoed from a score of voices, including Bill's, who made rapid way, as if pursuing. Unfortunately however, he had been kept sight of from his first sally from the shop, and before he had three gone hundred yards, his heels were tripped up, and his person, with the stolen property, secured by a brawny porter, who committed him to the watch-house for the night.

66

In the morning, he underwent a judicial examination, and as no doubt could be entertained of his guilt, he was fully committed for trial. An order was at the same time issued to search his trunks and repositories, when, to the unspeakable amazement and delight of the learned gentlemen of the College, many of their long lost jewels were found. Like true Scotsmen, they at length recollected many suspicious circumstances

in Bill's past conduct, which never before had struck them, and wisely determined to be more cautious and circumspect, in observing the motions of their friends and acquaintances in future.

What remains of the history of poor Bill, is soon and easily told. His trial took place about three weeks after his imprisonment, and the number of his depredations had been so great, and the proofs against him so clear, that he was unanimously found guilty, and, agreeably to the sanguinary enactments of the law, condemned to suffer its last punishment. He was a young man of ardent temperament, and having no foundation in his own heart, to sustain any hope for eternity, his situation was one of pure and unmingled horror and despair. Dead however, although he was as to the least hope "of escaping the wrath to come," he still was the slave of that "fear of man which bringeth a snare." He determined to avoid the display of a public execution, and, therefore, on the second night preceding the day appointed for this awful ceremony, he swallowed a quantity of poison, conveyed to him by the milk-woman of the jail. He was still alive, and sensible, when the turnkey waited on him in the morning, and, in the presence of this solitary individual, who, from the extremity he found him in, could never leave him, he breathed his last, denouncing, with his latest sigh, curses on the day of his birth-curses on his associates in guilt-curses on himself—and, above all, curses on those parents, who, betraying their duty both to God and man, had, instead of training Him, in early life, in the way in which he should have gone, seduced him, by their evil example, into that broad path, by which he was now certain of entering into death eternal !"

CHRISTIAN UNITY.

"And man, present One grand and universal Family, Children of mutual charity and Love."

IN the protracted and useful life of the venerable Dr. Burns there is no event which he and his friends may reflect on with greater pleasure than the proposal made by him, in one of the Ecclesiastical Courts, having for its object the re-union, to the Established Presbyterian Church, of the numerous Christian Dissenters, who form so highly respectable a portion of the religious community.

There was something both delightful and affecting, in beholding one of the most respected and most experienced fathers of the church, engaged in a work so truly apostolic. It reminded the spectator of what is narrated of the beloved disciple, after his return from exile, when he stood in a public part of the city, and, whilst his fellow christians passed by, lifted up his hands and blessed them, exclaiming, "Christians, love one another.”

We are not sure, for it is not an occurrence of yesterday, whether the dissenting churches ever noticed the overture at all; certainly no approximation has yet taken place, but we recollect well whilst conversing on the subject with members of these communions, that their síne qua non in every instance was, "first abolish patronage." It is not our intention, at present, to consider the reasonableness or unreasonableness of this reply. Whosoever has thought on the subject, and the relative situation of the parties, must have anticipated it; but the past ought to be a bea con for the future; and, as the subject, we trust, will not be allowed to become dormant, we, unworthy sons of the Church of Scotland, in the spirit of kindness, offer the following hints to both parties interested.

In the sixteenth century, a controversy arose in the christian One church, attended with very disastrous effects to its peace. party, led on by Flacius, attacked, in the bitterest manner, the doctors of Wittemberg and Leipsic, headed by Melancthon, and accused them of apostacy from the true religion. Conducted with virulence on both sides, this dispute gave rise to other altercations upon various subjects, nor was the fury of the tempest tilled, until neutral ground was occupied by both parties, and

these virulent differences settled by "the form of concord." What, reader, suppose you, was the origin of all this unchristian fierceness? The contest is well known to the students of church history, as the adiaphoristic, which literally means the controversy about things indifferent! We cannot expect that men will be less disposed to cavil about matters of inferior importance now, than they were formerly; be it our endeavour to avoid such sub, jects, and, while we exclude them from our view, let us attempt to embody "a form of concord" which no christian can con scientiously reject.

When trembling sinners threw themselves at the feet of the apostles, the simple question addressed to them was this-believest thou? Their rejection, or acceptance, depended on their reply. Some of these converts might prefer the ministry of Paul, and others that of Apollos, but one test was applicable to them all. Ought not the same test now to be made the ground of a general christian fellowship? Where is the man who will deny, that pure religion is more truly connected with practice, with principle, and with faith, than the contemptible interests of a secular question? But it is unnecessary to say more on this subject, since the whole advantages of Christian union might be attained, while it, and all similar subjects, remain unmooted. Only remove certain uncompromising acts of Synods and Assemblies, and heaven-born charity will smile upon your cause. Let the question be-not of what sect is the preacher, but-is his sound doctrine that cannot be condemned? Is there a member of the church of Scotland, who, in any of our city churches, would not rejoice to listen to the powerful and graceful compositions of a Dick, the fervid eloquence of a HEUGH, the pure and winning exhortations of a WARDLAW, or the manly and independent orations of a WILLIS? Or is there a dissenter, who would refuse to listen to the pathetic eloquence of a BROWN, the nervous addresses of a GEDDES, the pious exhortations of a LORIMER, or the unique, pointed, and effective sermons of a MUIR? Surely, all these distinguished men have only one great and absorbing object in view the preaching of the gospel to mankind, and if these services can be mutually exchanged with advantage, why should not every impediment be removed? In the work of their great Master, the advantages of union are more important than even in earthly matters. Such an arrangement would be one step towards it.

We have merely glanced at our subject, and it is enough for the present.

That a christian church, universal, will be finally established throughout the world, Scripture and reason, alike, induce us to believe, but it will be a church of principle, and not of detail. It shall consist of all nations and tongues, and kindreds, and, as their hymn in one chorus fills yon azure vault, and is re-echoed by the glorious intelligence there, the honor, and praise, and glory, shall be ever ascribed to him, "who loved them and washed them in his blood."

CHARACTER OF MR. ALISON.

(From the “Edinburgh Evening Post, and Scottish Literary Gazette.")

THE other day we inserted the Remarks of "The Scotsman" upon Sir WALTER SCOTT's leaving this country. We cannot show our taste and political independence better, than by presenting our readers with the following eloquent extract from a Journal which belongs to an opposite school of politics, containing the character of an individual, who, though living in unobtrusive quiet, is one of the greatest ornaments of the Modern Athens. writer is speaking of Mr. ALISON both as a Scholar and as a Christian divine :

The

"Mr. Alison is well known as the author of a most ingenious And eloquent work, which first explained, on satisfactory principles, the nature of that connexion which subsists between certain emotions in the human breast, and the indication of a peculiar set of qualities corresponding to them in moral action, in sentiment, and in the physical properties of the material world. By a train of reasoning which carries conviction to every reflecting mind, and by an appeal to facts familiar to the least studious of his readers, he proves that the main sources of the Sublime and the Beautiful are within us-that they are to be found in the sympathies of our common nature-in the inferences which are insensibly drawn by the thinking faculties whenever certain objects are presented before them-and in the interest which is felt whereever the mental eye perceives the existence of a power, the operations of which would create fear or pity among beings exposed to suffering. Generally speaking, according to this philosophical

writer, we view the scenery with which we are surrounded, whether in the character of man or in the features of the natural landscape, through a light which is reflected from our own sensibilities. We give life and power to the inanimate forms which constitute the magnificent panorama which moves before us; but the impressions they seem to produce are only the reaction of our own intellectual energies, excited by a vigilant sympathy which never ceases to discover the materials of happiness, or the grounds of alarm, in the workings of those mighty agents which the omnipotent arm has employed in raising the mountain, or in spreading out the sea.

“In a word, it is admitted, on all hands, that the publication of the "Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste" proved a new era in the metaphysics of emotion, as applied to the simpler feelings of the heart, and to their effect on our sentiments relative to the fine arts. He has told us, that the emotions which we experience from the contemplation of sublimity or beauty, are not produced by any physical or intrinsic quality in the objects which we contemplate, but by the recollection or conception of other objects which, associated in our imaginations with those before us, are consequently suggested by their appearance; and which are interesting or affecting, on the common and familiar principle of being the natural object of love or of pity, of fear or of veneration, or of some other lively feeling of the mind. Hence all objects are beautiful or sublime which signify or suggest to us some simple emotion of love, pity, terror, or any other deep affection of our nature; and, accordingly, the beauty or sublimity we ascribe to them consists entirely in the power which they have acquired, by association or otherwise, of reminding us of the proper objects of these familiar affections.

"But it is chiefly as a preacher, and the author of several volumes of sermons, that Mr. Alison is known to the great body of our townsmen; and in both these respects he has obtained a distinguished celebrity. We speak not of his eloquence, which we have heard described as being of a very high order-vigorous, chaste, and extremely impressive. We allude rather to the exalted notions which pervade all his theological discussions--the dignity and veneration which mingle with all his thoughts of the Supreme Being-his respect for human nature-his confidence in its gradual improvement-his ardent desire for its welfare, and his delight in the triumph of every good principle.

"Being aware that most of the controversies which divide the schools of theology have but a very remote connexion with the original doctrines of our holy religion-that they were ingrafted upon it by men whose piety, perhaps, exceeded their learning, and who sought by means of hypotheses, drawn from the speculations of pagan philosophers, to account for facts which will never be explained upon earth —he uniformly avoids all topics which perplex the understanding, while they leave the heart unmoved and unsanctified. He knows that the tenets of Augustine-usually recognised in our day as the dogmas of Calvinism-bear the same relation to the great facts on which the Gospel is founded, that the dreams of Woodward, Burnet, and Buffon, bear to a satisfactory exposition of the geological structure of our globe, and therefore he never alludes to them. His practice is to read the darker parts of Scripture by the aid of the light which is afforded by that far greater portion which is clear and unquestionable; and, in all cases where the teaching of the pulpit would lead to the extreme boundaries of human reason, he urges upon his hearers the duty of reposing their faith on the wisdom and benevolence of the Deity, who, in restricting his revelation to truths necessary for Christian practice, has shown a merciful regard to the weakness o our intellect. Let those who complain that Mr. Alison's sermons are deficient in doctrinal discussion, point out any modern work which has extended their knowledge of divine mysteries, and we will join them in condemning the omission."

ORIGINAL POETRY.

TO MARY.

AH! Mary! soon this feeble frame,
Fast hasting to decay,

Shall lifeless, dead, without a name,
Lie mouldering in the clay.

When years are rolled in nature's sleep,
Forgotten when I be,

When friends have ceased to mourn, to weep,
Wilt thou remember ine?

And when, on Memory's downy wing,
Thy thoughts are backward led,

To scenes with which they fondly cling,
Ah! think upon the dead!
Oh, if the Lord my God permit
This soul to earthward roam,
Around thee, love, 'twill ever flit,
Until He call thee home.
Then, as our souls together rise,

On wings of light and love,
We'll sing the praises of the skies
To Him who reigns above..

R. P.

DANIEL THE PROPHET.

-

THE author of the "Protestant" has, within these few days, presented the public with the Life of Daniel the Prophet, in his own excellent style. We extract the following passage, which will peak for itself:-

Daniel and his friends were indebted to their personal beauty, in the first instance, for the favour they obtained in the palace of Nebuchadnezzar. It was soon found that they possessed qualities of a much higher order, but it was their beauty that first caught the eye of those who were appointed to make a selection. There is nothing of less value in the eye of the Lord than outward appearance. He does not look to that at all, but to the heart; but with men, especially with unenlightened men, beauty of person has always been in high esteem. Daniel and his companions were without blemish, well-favoured, and also, as it was found, well bred and accomplished.

But coming off a long journey from Jerusalem, probably on foot, exhausted by fatigue, and depressed by sorrow of heart, on account of the afflictions of Judah, and their own degraded condition, their fair faces would not be able to conceal the grief that was within them. Their forlorn countenances disqualified them from being presented to the king. It would have cost them their lives, and the officer who introduced sad faces to the king's presence, would have forfeited his life, as Nehemiah apprehended he had done, when he appeared sorrowful before the king of Persia. Be this as it may, it was thought necessary to put them under a course of training, with good cheer and kind treatment, for not less than three years, to put them in a proper condition to appear in the royal presence. "The king appointed them a daily provision of the king's meat, and of the wine which he drank; so, nourishing them three years, that at the end thereof they might stand before the king." He gave them new names which was a badge of their subjection; and as Belteshazzar, that which he gave to Daniel, related to Bel, the great idol of Babylon, it was perhaps an intimation that he meant to devote him to the service of the idol. Every thing seems to have been done to make them comfortable; and no doubt the provision sent from the king's table was the best the empire produced.

But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king's meat, and of the wine which he drank. palace.

This was a high imagination for a captive in the king's Was the food of the king not fit to be eaten by his own slave? I suppose many readers see nothing in this but the sullen impotent pride of one that would rather be starved to death than be conformed to his condition; a pride and haughtiness of heart that would soon get a fall. No; it was far otherwise. It was not pride of heart, nor contempt of his king, but faithfulness to his God, that determined the course which Daniel adopted. He had been early instructed in the fear of God, while the rest of the royal family, at least all the sons of good Josiah, who came to be kings, abandoned themselves to do evil, and so brought destruction on the kingdom. But God preserved Daniel from being carried away by the general depravity, and put his fear into his heart.

Babylon at this time was the seat and centre of heathen idolatry. The vessels of the house of God, which Nebuchadnezzar had brought from Jerusalem, were deposited in the idol's temple; and no doubt Daniel expected that, he would be required to give attendance there, and worship the idol when he waited on his master. Nay, from the name the king had given him, it would appear he was destined to be Lord Treasurer to the idol Bel.

He

had made up his mind that he would worship the Lord his God, and him only would he serve, that he would have no fellowship with idolaters, or their gods, or any thing that related to their worship, not even in the apparently small matter of eating and drinking. The ancient heathen were much more devout in their way than many who bear the Christian name; for, before partaking of their meals, they had the food consecrated to their god, and libations of wine were poured out to him. Their meat and drink were thus things offered to an idol, of which no servant of God could lawfully partake. The same rule is laid down in the New Testament to regulate the practice of Christians.-See 1 Cor. x. 27, 28. It is best to resist the first temptation to idolatry, or sin of any kind; for, to yield in one small matter, only prepares the way for greater compliance. Had Daniel been pampered for three years with meat and drink which he knew to be consecrated to an idol, he would have been more than half prepared for bowing in his temple.

RELIGIOUS NOVELTIES.

SIR JAMES MACINTOSH is announced to write the brief Memoir of the late Rev. Robert Hall, with a Sketch of his Literary Character, in the sixth volume of his works. It is to be accompa

nied by a Sketch of Mr. Hall's Character as a Theologian and a Preacher, by Mr. Foster, author of the " Essays on Decision of Character."

A new edition of "Brown's Self-Interpreting Bible," with additional marginal notes, is announced.

COUP D'EIL AT THE LATE RELIGIOUS PUBLICATIONS.

MISCELLANEOUS DISCOURSES, by the late Rev. George Crawford, Minister of Cults. 12mo, pp. 159. London, Longman, 1832. These discourses are evidently the product of a highly cultivated and tasteful mind. There is a nervousness about them that almost amounts to sublimity, while their style is of the purest and chastest description. There is nothing constrained or violent in the expression of Mr. Crawford's faith-nothing of the mere noise of emptiness, now so fashionable. His sermons are like the religion which he professes, calm, lofty and rational. The conventicle excitement of modern days he despises, the craving for new and startling opinions he contemns, while he seeks to pilot the christian soul into heaven, not by wonders and by miracles, but by the example and the precepts of Him who was himself ❝ a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief."

CHRIST'S FAMOUS TITLES, AND A BELIEVER'S GOLDEN CHAIN; also, a Cabinet of Jewels, or a Glimpse of Zion's Glory; together with Christ's Voice to London during the Plague; by the Rev. Wm. Dyer, London.

This is a reprint, by the London Book Society, of a delightful little work that was published in 1665. It has for many years been a standard work in many of the cottages of this, our northern quarter of the island, and is well worthy of the distinguished favour which it has experienced.

ANTHOLOGIA SACRA; OR, SELECT THEOLOGICAL EXTRACTS; by the Rev. B. Gilpin, and W. H. Valpy, Esq. 8vo. This volume contains a concentrated treasure of doctrinal, practical and experimental extracts, at once fitted for those who would not only become acquainted with purity of doctrine, but with that beautiful and striking style of our better class of divines. The work consists of two volumes bound in one; the first part containing doctrinal excerpts from Owen, Stillingfleet, Butler, Edwards, Watts, Paley, Taylor, Sherlock, Chalmers, Brown, and others, of later times; besides those from Origen, Calvin, &c. The second part contains practical extracts from a great many authors; and the third part the experimental. Upon the whole, it is a work which is well worthy of the attention of the religious world.

MISCELLANEA.

PASSIONATE TEMPER.-General Sutton, brother of Sir Robert Sutton, was very passionate; Sir Robert Walpole the reverse. Sutton being one day with Sir Robert, while his valet de chambre was shaving him, Sir Robert said, "John, you cut me;"-and then went on with the conversation. Presently, he said again, "John, you cut me"-aud a third time-when Sutton starting up in a rage, and doubling his fist at the servant, swore a great oath, and said, "If Sir Robert can bear it, I cannot; and if you cut him once more I'll knock you down."

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

ON Monday we propose presenting our fair readers with the account of a Glasgow Assembly, somewhat more to the life than the burlesque, in "Peter's Letters."

"My Adopted Son," from our Greenock correspondent, is under consideration.

Stanzas, by " Field," will be submitted to the attention of our poetical critic.

"Marcius" has been received, but we have not had leisure to examine it.

"D. B's" verses are far under our standard. We would advise him to apply to the regular newspapers.

A GLASGOW ASSEMBLY.

Still-still, methinks, the jocund laughter rings;
Still in my sight your fairy forms are glancing;
Still in mine car the mirth of quivering strings
Echo the strains that waked your sylph-like dancing;
Still do the glittering group fit 'thwart my brain;
On that gay eve, when gems and lamps were gleaming,
And hearts seemed bent bright Pleasure's cup to drain,
And eye met eye with warm and kindly beaming.

ANON.

THE Society of Glasgow, like that of every other town in Scotland, whether provincial or metropolitan, is rent with parties as numerous, and as determinedly opposed, as those which divide the nation itself. Gentility, however, instead of politics, is the watch-word by which the feuds of our fashionable circles are perpetuated, and the talisman by whose magic virtues their admiration is fascinated. In pursuing the envied distinction, which this word gentility implies, they have omitted no means which money could supply, and have even reduced the rules for attaining it to a regu lar system. Dinner parties, balls, and handsome entertainments of all sorts, are very conspicuous parts of this plan, but the principal ingredient of it is what is called cutting. A lady or gentleman will never be admitted into the first society, unless they have given frequent proofs of their expertness in this art. The lady must refuse all invitations which do not come from the first houses in town, and must never dance with a person who is not known to every body in the room. The gentleman must shew himself very often in high company in some fashionable lounge like Argyle Street, and must, on no account, be seen bowing to an acquaintance whose coat is not in the newest cut. If these rules are trangressed, the offender loses caste entirely, and may give up all hope of getting into fashionable society.

Yet, notwithstanding the perfection to which our exclusives carry the manners of Almack's, it is surprising enough that no fewer than four or five different sets contend for the prize of gentility in Glasgow; and these are actuated so strongly, by the spirit of competition, that each of them looks down with the most sovereign contempt upon the claims of another. There are the Blythswood Hill set, the Moore Place set, the Buchanan Street set, and other sets too numerous to mention, all of which are pervaded by feelings of keen rivalry, and agree in nothing but in despising every body except their special selves. They employ the They employ the same tradesmen, live in houses of the same number of stories, and frequently meet at public places-only they visit at different houses, and this mark, which very often depends upon the number of a door, serves to separate the genteel from the ungenteel as much as that of the destroying angel distinguished the Israelites from the Egyptians.

It is among the ladies especially that this aspiration after gentility is carried to its greatest height; for the fathers of different families very often meet daily in the Exchange, and are the most intimate friends in the world, while their wives or daughters regard each other with the most aristocratic hauteur. For this reason, it must be obvious that an assembly is of all places the one were the most abundant scope is allowed for these mighty dissensions to display themselves. Thus it is that we find matrons, whose nod was once as powerful as

that of Jove, passing with noiseless step in the neglected crowd, and middle-aged jilts, who once relentessly sported away the hearts of a crowd of admirers, beggared by the frown of a more successful candidate for fashion, and condemned to expend their love charms on beaux of the second order. Indeed, when we consider the envy which always accompanies distinction in the fashionable world, and the cabals which are formed to disturb the possession of it, it is wonderful that these are not sufficient to deter any, but the most determined votary of ambition, from aspiring at that giddy height-which so many have reached, only to fall from it-the leader of the Glasgow ton. Having made these prefatory remarks, we will not delay any longer, the report which we have received from Our Spectacles of the entertainment which drew our fashionable circles to the Assembly Rooms, on the late occasion.

On the evening, of last week which was appointed by Fate and the Stewards, for the first Glasgow Assembly of this winter, a pretty respectable number of our beaux and belles appeared in the dancing saloon, Ingram Street, to grace the important festivity. Shortly after ten o'clock, the room began to be filled, and, in about half an hour afterwards, the first quadrille commenced. It was about this time that I arrived, accompanied by a friend from Edinburgh, whom I took this opportunity of introducing to the fashionables of our western metropolis. The saloon was newly painted and well lighted, and looked very handsome; but the first thing that attracted my friend's attention was the appearance of the company. "What a profusion of beauty!" said he, to me, after we had taken a tour through the room, "it appears to me that your ladies possess more attractions than I ever before saw combined upon any similar occasion. There is one fault, though, which I observe. Though their dresses are made in the most fashionable style, they are not put on, as you would expect them, to be by a French lady's maid." "Indeed," I replied, not very well pleased with the remark, "and what do you think of the gentlemen ?" 66 Why there are, certainly, some very handsome faces among them, and I observed a pair of very good legs standing at that end of the room where you shewed me the stewards a moment ago. I know, also, that there are some bucks of the first water here. For instance, that gentleman, who is conversing so earnestly with his partner, was very much in vogue in Paris two or three years ago, where a fete could never go on without him; and that limber-made youth, near him, is one of the best waltzers that I ever saw."

My friend's observations were interrupted by the termination of the quadrille, and I led him to a part of the room where a profusion of white plumes indicated some of the fashionable leaders. I introduced him to a lady, whose smiling face, I thought, would make him a very agreeable partner, and, whose showy figure was set off with green silk trimmed with rich lace. And, having thus done my duty to him, I went to find a place in the dance for myself. I was particularly fortunate in engaging the hand of a beauty in blue satin, who soon became very much in request, and, to tell a secret, very flattering to my vanity; she kept my services for several dances, in order to

escape some of the numerous requests which she received from a crowd of admirers, all anxious to have the honour of figuring upon the floor in her company. In this pleasant situation, I began to forget that my friend was probably standing in need of my assistance, as a chaperon, till, all at once, he came up to me. "Well," said he, "this is, really, a splendid turn out, but I must say, that I am not reconciled to the manners of your ladies. I went, with the greatest civility in the world, to ask a stranger to dance with me, and, instead of thinking that I was paying her a compliment, she turned upon me a look of indignation, and answered, that she was sorry she had not the pleasure of knowing me." Why!" said I, "it is not the custom here for young ladies to dance with strangers, and, if you had not just returned from the continent, it would not have appeared strange to you. Come, I shall introduce you to half a dozen, and you shall make your choice." "O! the pink dress and bonnet for me," he exclaimed, observing a handsome figure in that costume, and, immediately, I gave him the pleasure of engaging the lady. In the meantime he led out a less distinguée partner, and I, resolving to take care of myself, occupied a seat that had just been left vacant within the charming circle, of which a black velvet gown and snow-white bosom formed the principal attraction. Of getting near her, however, there seemed no possibility, for she was fenced with a crowd of red coats and blue, who looked very surly at any intruder that sought to penetrate to her who was

Sitting like a goddess bright, In the centre of her light.

I moved off, therefore, to a less crowded part of the room, where I was lucky enough to find a handsome pair of black eyes looking out for a partner. I accepted the challenge, and appeared again among the dancers. In a short time I began to get tired of the continual repetition of quadrilles, and of the neverceasing cry, with which my ears were stunned, of "Want a vis-à-vis !-want a vis-à-vis !" But just then, Cunningham's band began to play a celebrated waltz, and the whole appearance of the room was changed in a moment. The gentlemen, with a simultaneous movement, inserted their arms round the waists of the willing fair ones, and a number of moving circles were immediately presented to the eye. This continued to be a very pleasant sight for some time; but it was continued longer than I thought was agreeable to the spectators. At length it stopped, but the pause was not of long duration, and the rest of the evening was almost wholly consumed in waltzing or gallopading. Surely, thought I, after some time, our waltzers must now be tired of whirling round like teetotums, and we shall have a countrydance if a reel be too vulgar. But no the waltzing was persisted in, and I had the mortification of being condemned to witness an amusement in which I could not share. It was while I was looking on with a chagrined countenance at the gay group, that my friend again came up to me. "What a number of blind men you have in the room," was the first thing he said; "I can't go up and speak to a gentleman, but he looks at me through an eye glass." "Oh!" replied I, "that is the fashion here. An eye-glass is like the collar of a knightly order-it is the mark of a gentleman. You, perhaps, did not observe that I have one suspended round my neck." "I beg pardon for my ignorance," rejoined my friend; "and is it also the fashion for the gentlemen to destroy the ladies' fans; for I see that whenever a youth can't find anything to say to his partner, he takes her fan, and knocks it as hard as he can against his knee." "Come, come," said I, "you must not be satirical; and, to put you into good humour, I will introduce you to that fine girl you see sitting by herself." Stay!" exclaimed my friend," who is that pretty figure in the white gown, ornamented with three tasteful bouquets on the shoulder and bosom?" "That is " said I, whispering

"and near her you see the banker's accomplished daughter." "Ah!-but, pray, can you introduce me to that fine looking woman leaning upon the arm of the gentleman who speaks such fine English, and looks as if he had come out of a band-box ?" “No,” said I, with an air of mystery, "for she only patronizes county people." "Indeed!" replied my friend; "and, bythe-bye, aren't the merchants quite genteel in Glasgow?" "Quite so," I answered. "So I thought," continued he, "but, when I asked a lady her opinion of that fine girl you see figuring on the floor, she tossed her head and replied, "O she is only a merchant's daughter."— But tell me, for any sake, who is that delicate and interesting creature shining in diamonds ?" I could not give the information required, but two gentlemen standing before us, were pointing to the lady at the moment, and, we heard one of them whispering to the other, that "ladies were not permitted to reside in China." "Look here," said I, drawing my friend's notice," observe on the arm of the gallant sea Captain that beautiful waltzer, whom, but for the lustre of her eyes, and the airy motions of her figure, one might suppose to be an alabaster image." "Very pretty," was his reply; "but tell me, who are the couple who have been wandering through the mazes of the waltz and the gallopade, for, at least, an hour past." "These," said I, "are Thalia and Apollo. Learning has put off its robe, and is footing it away with the buskin." Before I could say more, my friend was away, and, in a moment or two afterwards, I saw him among the waltzers, supporting a female form which a thin pink gauze dress and a head-dress of flowers showed to be both beautiful and majestic. I watched them for a little, but, as I was obliged to attend to a lady who was sitting close by me, I did not think of them again till I found my friend standing close at my elbow. "O! I have got such a charming girl in my possession," was all that he said, and he hurried off to join her again. I kept my eye fixed upon him the rest of the night, and very plainly saw, from his behaviour, that he was falling very deeply in love. At last one o'clock came, and the company gradually melted away. I just caught my friend as he was hurrying down stairs to assist his inamorata into her carriage, and, having joined my services with his in performing this duty, I began to banter him upon the attention which he had paid to the lady in question. "I need not ask you whether you are pleased with your partner, for I saw, by your conduct, that you were completely fascinated." "Hush!" he replied, "let that be entre nous, and I will tell you that she has promised, that, ere long, I shall be a bridegroom, and you a bridegroom's man."

MEMOIRS OF A PAISLEY BAILLIE. OUR friend, Mr. Pirnie, ex-baillie" and what not," as he would term it, has been very wroth with us for dividing his first chapter. We did so reluctantly; but we had no alternative, as our space was limited. Today we give the conclusion of his first chapter, containing his reasons; but, we promise him, that we will not bind ourselves to obey his injunctions, of publishing his MS." forefit forward." We must select as we like, and when we like; and, if the Baillie does not leave us uncontroulled in these particulars, we shall have nothing to do with the chronicles of Sees'tuland.

I WILL be so bauld as to say, that of good books there never can be a superfluity; and farther, as some auld-farrant and draughty author, lang afore my day and generation, has observed, there never was a book compiled so mean or worthless but a wise understanding could sook therefrom something good and wholesome in the samen way as the leetle, busy, hummil-brummil bees feed indifferently on fragrant flowers, wholesome herbs, or pushionous weeds; and yet, frae the last as weel as the first, they distil maist sweet hinnie for the savour of man's mouth, and the nourishment of his haill corporation and members. And may this no be the case with this book of my life, friends? I winna pretend to say that it is the very best of books, though a Baillie and a man of great and sickar observation and worldly knowledge has indytit