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which he is first brought upon the stage, appears to us dulness ; and a good number of songs are introduced, about the most spirited in the drama :

mostly of an inferior quality. The following, however,

is good :OSWALD (whom his wife has assisted to take off his

cloak and feathered cap.) Ay, take them off, and bring my peasant's bonnet

“ When the tempest's at the loudest, And peasant's plaid. I'll noble it no further.

On its gale the eagle rides ; Let them erase my name from honour's lists,

When the ocean rolls the proudest, And drag my scutcheon at their horses' heels;

Through the foam the sea-bird glides, I have deserved it all, for I am poor,

All the rage of wind and sea
And poverty bath neither right of birth,

Is subdued by constancy.
Nor rank, relation, claim, nor privilege,
To match a new-coin'd viscount, whose good grandsire,

“ Gnawing want and sickness pining, The Lord be with him, was a careful skipper,

All the ills that men endure, And steer'd bis paltry skiff 'twixt Leith and Campvere

Each their various pangs combining, Marry, sir, he could buy Geneva cheap,

Constancy can find a cureAnd knew the coast by moonlight.

Pain, and Fear, and Poverty,

Are subdued by constancy.
Mean you the Viscount Ellondale, my father ?
What strife has been between you ?

“ Bar me from each wonted pleasure,

Make me abject, mean, and poor ; 0, a trifle !

Heap on insults without measure, Not worth a wise man's thinking twice about

Chain me to a dungeon floor Precedence is a toy-a superstition,

I'll be happy, rich, and About a table's end, joint stool, and trencher.

If endow'd with constancy." Something was once thought due to long descent,

“ Auchindrane, or the Ayrshire Tragedy," is founded And something to Galwegia's oldest baron

upon some occurrences which took place in Ayrshire duBut let that pass, a dream of the old time.

ring the reign of James VI., and for the detail of which It is indeed a dream.

Sir Walter seems to be indebted to the forthcoming numOSWALD (turning upon her rather quickly.) ber of Mr Pitcairn's publications from the Scottish Cri. Ha! said ye? Let me hear these words more plain. minal Records. We must say that the Preface to this

drama, in which is given a prose account of the crimes Alas! they are but echoes of your own.

of Mure of Auchindrane, appears to us much more inteMatch'd with the real woes that hover o'er us,

resting than the attempt which has been made to put What are the idle visions of precedence,

them into the shape of a play. The reason of this is, But, as you term them, dreams, and toys, and trifles, Not worth a wise man's thinking twice upon ?

that the prose narrative gives us an account of the wbole

series of wickednesses committed by the Auchindrane Ay, 'twas for you I framed that consolation,

family, whereas the play limits itself to one incident, The true philosophy of clouted shoe

which is by no means sufficient for a whole drama. And linsey-Woolsey kirtle. I know, that minds

John Mure of Auchindrane, whom Sir Walter denomiOf nobler stamp receive no dearer motive

nates a Richard the Third in private life,” began his Than what is link'd with honour-Ribands, tasselsWhich are but shreds of silk and spangled tinsel

career by compassing and procuring the death of Sir The right of place, which in itself is momentary

Thomas Kennedy, the uncle of bis hereditary enemy the A word, which is but air-may in themselves,

Earl of Cassilis. He escaped being prosecuted for this And to the nobler file, be steep'd so richly

crime, for there was only one person knew of his being In that elixir, honour, that the lack

its instigator, and that person, a lad of the name of Dal. Of things so very trivial in themselves

rymple, he contrived to send out of the country for some Shall be misfortune. One shall seek for them

years. Dalrymple, however, at length returned, and O'er the wild waves,- one in the deadly breach And battle's headlong front,-one in the paths

Mure now considered it necessary to murder him, which Of midnight study-and in gaining these

he did on the sea-shore, with the aid of his son Philip, Emblems of honour, each will hold himself

and a vassal of his own called James Bannatyne. To Repaid for all his labours, deeds, and dangers.

divert public attention from this murder, he renewed his What then should he think, knowing them his own, feud with the Earl of Cassilis, and made an assault upon Who sees what warriors and what sages toil for,

one of his followers. He also laid a scheme for the deThe formal and establish'd marks of honour,

struction of his accomplice Bannatyne ; but public susUsurp'd from him by upstart insolence ?

picion being now fairly roused, he and his son were apELEANOR (who has listened to the last speech with

prehended and brought to trial. It was not without some impatience.) This is but empty declamation, Oswald.

much difficulty that sufficient evidence was procured The fragments left at yonder full spread banquet,

against them ; but it was at length obtained, and they Nay, even the poorest crust swept from the table,

were both publicly executed. We are not sure that any Ought to be far more precious to a father

body could make a very good drama out of this story :Whose family lacks food, than the vain boast,

certainly it has not been done by Sir Walter Scott. He He sat at the board-head.

confines himself to the single incident of Dalrymple's Thou'lt drive me frantic!-I will tell thee, woman,

return and subsequent murder, which is not of itselt Yet why to thee? There is another ear

sufficient fully to arouse our interest, and arrest oir at

tention. Which that tale better suits, and he shall hear it.

One of the best scenes is that in which Pbilip (Looks at his sword, which he has unbuckled, and ad- Mure describes to his father the mode of Dalrymple' dresses the rest of the speech to it.

death. It is necessary to observe that the name of Dal Yes, trusty friend, my father knew thy worth,

rymple is changed in the drama into that of Quentir And often proved it-often told me of it

Blane, and the vassal Bannatyne is metamorphosed into Though thou and I be now held lightly of,

Niel MacLellan:
And want the gilded hatchments of the time,
I think we both may prove true metal still.

A remote and rocky part of the Sea-beach. Enter Acci 'Tis thou shalt tell this story, right this wrong:

INDRANE, meeting Philip. Rest thou till time is fitting.

(Hangs up the sword. The devil's brought his legions to this beach, There are, of course, some pretty passages and happy Show in the morning beam as thick as glowworms

That wont to be so lonely; morions, lances, thoughts scattered here and there to relieve the general | At summer midnight.

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The two Auchindranes are apprehended, and the drama ends abruptly and unsatisfactorily.

We have spoken of this volume freely, because we have pledged ourselves to give the public our honest opinions upon all occasions. We know there are many who cannot bear to hear a single word uttered against Sir Walter Scott, and do not scruple to accuse a man of unworthy motives should he dare to raise his voice for a moment against any of the perfections of their idol. Now, so far from objecting to, we honour this enthusiasm ; but at the same time we cannot help seeing its fallacy. If we are to talk generally of the brightness of the sun, none shall use more glowing language than we; but if it be asserted that there are no spots upon its disc, we should wish to separate ourselves from those who cannot, or who will not, see the difference between indiscriminate flattery and judicious admiration. Sir Walter is sure of his immortality ; but it will not depend on « The Doom of Devorgoil," or The Ayrshire Tragedy."

I'm right glad to see them,
Re they whoe'er they may, so they are mortal ;
For I've contended with a lifeless foe,
And I have lost the battle. I would give
A thousand crowns to hear a mortal steel
Ring on a mortal harness.

How now!-Art mad, or hast thou done the turn-
The turn we came for, and must live or die by?

'Tis done, if man can do it; but I doubt
If this unhappy wretch have Heaven's permission
To die by mortal hands.

Where is he?-where's MacLellan?


In the deep-
Both in the deep, and what's immortal of them
Gone to the judgment-seat, where we must meet them.

MacLellan dead, and Quentin too?-So be it
To all that menace ill to Auchindrane,
Or have the power to injure him! - Thy words
Are full of comfort, but thine eye and look
Have in this pallid gloom a ghastliness,
Which contradicts the tidings of thy tongue.
Hear me, old man-There is a beaven above us,
As you have heard old Knox and Wishart preach,
Though little to your boot. The dreaded witness
Is slain, and silent. But his misused body
Comes right ashore, as it to cry for vengeance;
It rides the waters like a living thing,
Erect, as if he trode the waves which bear him.

Thou speakest frenzy, when sense is most required.
Hear me yet more!-I say I did the deed
With all the coolness of a practised hunter
When dealing with a stag. I struck him overboard,
And with MacLellan's aid I held his head
Uuder the waters, while the ranger tied
The weights we had provided to his feet.
We cast him loose when life and body parted,
Ånd bid him speed for Ireland. But even then,
As in defiance of the words we spoke,
The body rose upright behind our stern,
One half in ocean, and one half in air,
And tided after as in chase of us.





It was enchantment!-Did you strike at it?
Once and again. But blows avail'd no more
Than on a wreath of smoke, where they may break
The column for a moment, which unites
And is entire again. Thus the dead body
Sunk down before my oar, but rose unharm'd,
And dogg'd us closer still, as in defiance !

AUCHINDRANE. 'Twas Hell's own work !


MacLellan then grew restive, And, desperate in his fear, blasphemed aloud, Cursing us both as authors of his ruin. Myself was wellnigh frantic while pursued By this dread shape, upon whose ghastly features The changeful moonbeam spread a grisly light; And, baited thus, I took the nearest way. To ensure his silence, and to quell his noise; I used my dagger, and I Aung him overboard, And halfexpected his dead carcass also Would join the chase—but he sunk down at once. He had enough of mortal sin about him,

Life of Sir William Wallace of Elderslie. By John D. Carrick. 2 vols. Constable's Miscellany, vols. LIII. and LIV. Edinburgh. 1830.

The Life of Wallace, the gallant and uncompromising champion of our national independence, will always be read with interest by every true-hearted Scotchman. Unfortunately, the details which have reached our day are neither so numerous nor so authentic as could be wished upon so important a subject. With the exception of those more distinguished exploits by which Edward the First's government in Scotland was first shaken, and finally overturned, and which, accordingly, occupy a prominent place in the legitimate history of the period, the personal career of the Scottish hero is involved in considerable obscurity. Some of our ancient chroniclers, indeed, have recorded various strange adventures, in which Wallace is said to have been engaged, and national tradition has preserved the memory of others; but the evident exaggeration, or, as sometimes happens, the manifest absurdities of such legends, have destroyed their authority. Under these circumstances, judgment to discriminate, as well as industrious research, are indispensable to a biographer. The latter qualification Mr Carrick possesses in an eminent degree; he has also proved, in more instances than one, that he is by no means deficient in the former, though his plan of a popular biography does not bind him down to the strict rules by which the historian is fettered. We do not mean to say that the biographer is at liberty to depart from truth in his statements, any more than the general historian ; but the former may very properly attach importance to the traditions of the country, to strong probabilities, and to documents not strictly of historical authority, though their admission might aftect the credit of the graver annalist. Our author, accordingly, where other authority is deficient, has sometimes adopted without scruple the statements of Blind Harry's narrative; and when the anecdotes recorded are characteristic of the actors and the times, we think he is fairly entitled to do so. No doubt, the Minstrel is partial to his hero, and to his countrymen in general; his facts are, probably, in many instances greatly exaggerated, and his colouring, if not that of a poet, is often enough that of a zealous party-man; yet, as he professes to adhere strictly to a narrative written by Wallace's chaplain and friend, John Blair, and this, too, at a time when it must have been easy to detect any imposition by collating the Scottish version with the Latin original, we think that they are not a little unreasonable who insist upon our throwing aside the work of Harry as altogether an idle romance, whose statements are of no value. We conceive our author has made a very judicious use of the much-abused Minstrel's delightful work, and that he has not claimed for it a higher authority than it is fairly entitled to.

With regard to local tradition, also, we are of opinion


To sink an argosy.

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that its evidence ought not to be rashly rejected. But, “ Thus fell this great and exemplary patriot, a martyr ta while we believe that it seldom, perhaps never, is with the rights and independence of his country, than whom, if out a foundation in truth, we acknowledge that it is ex

we consider his extraordinary personal and mental endor. tremely apt to exaggerate, extenuate, alter, and misrepre- of liberty, a greater hero is not to be found in the annals of

ments, joined to his inextinguishable and disinterested love sent particular circumstances. Its evidence must, there

any people. Born to a slender inberitance, and unconfertfore, be received with caution, and its averments musted by birth with the opulent families of his country, be de. generally be taken cum grano salis. This, however, is an rived no advantage from those circumstances which often objection that we may safely extend even to those vener- assisted other distinguished characters in attaining that place able chroniclers of both countries, from whose pages our in the temple of fame to which their ambition was directed. historians bave gleaned the only tolerably authentic re

To his own genius he was indebted for a system of lactia cords of those times which we possess.

Wbut, for in- eminently calculated for the contest he had in view ; and

with his own arm he gave the first impulse to the cause of stance, shall we say of Hemingford,(quoted by our author,) freedom, which afterwards, on the field of Bannockburn

, who, on the authority of eye-witnesses, gravely asserts was crowned with such glorious and decisive success under that " fifty thousand Scots were slain in the battle (of Fal- a kindred spirit-on whom the inspiring mantle of our pa

, kirk), many drowned, three hundred thousand foot taken triot descended, as he winged his flight to the regions of prisoners, besides a thousand horse !" For our own part, immortality. in reading the histories which treat of this period, we

“ In person, Wallace was admirably fitted to grace thei

elevated station among mankind, for which his genius and have derived considerable benefit from the following me

talents so eminently qualified him. His visage was long, thod, which we heartily recommend to our readers : If well-proportioned, and exquisitely beautiful; his eyes were the historian be a Scot, we subtract five from every six bright and piercing; the hair of his head and beard auburn, men who are said to have fallen by Wallace's own hand and inclined to curl: that on his brows and eyelashes vs -We double the number of Scots said to have been en- of a lighter shade; bis lips were round and full. I'nder gaged, and reduce the opponents by two-thirds—then, the chin, on the left side, was a scar, the only one visible, substituting the words skirmish for batlle, and petty advan- although many were to be found on his person ; bis stätare

was lotty and majestic, rising the head and shoulders abore tage for great and decisive victory, we are satistied that we have arrived pretty near the truth. If the historian is gantic, possessed the most perfect symmetry; and with a

the tallest men in the country. Yet his forin, though gian Englishman, we, of course, just invert the proportion, degree of strength almost incredible, there was combined and arrive at nearly the same result. Even Mr Carrick's such an agility of body and fleetness in running, that so excellent work must, we suspect, be read with some little one, except when mounted on horseback, could outstrip, or allowance for pational bias. We are not aware, indeed, escape from him, when he happened to pursue. All-por. that this partiality exists to the extent of invalidating his erful as a swordsman, and unrivalled as an archer, bis blons

were fatal, and his shatts unerring. As an equestrian, bt general accuracy ; but where he meets with conflicting

was a model of dexterity and grace; while the hardships be statements, he very naturally leans to that which is most experienced in his youth made him view with indifference favourable to the character of his hero. But this is the the severest privations incident to a military life. In cuisprivilege of all biographers, and it is a privilege of which mon intercourse, his accents were mild, and bis manteni few have neglected to avail themselves.

grave and urbane. In the field, when addressing his sol Our author has admitted into bis work many of those diers, his discourse was brief and animating, and the sound live statements, which, since the days of Lord Hailes, bave of his voice thrilled through their hearts like the spirit-stirbeen generally abandoned by our historians.

ring notes of the clarion. Great and varied, however, as

We entertain great respect for the name of Lord Hailes—his stric- son, the graces with which she had enriched his mind

were the accomplishments nature had lavished on bis pertures on the apocryphal parts of our history are always threw a radiance over all the rest of her gifts. Untaught ingenious, and often extremely just; but we question himself in the military art, he became the instructor of his whether he has not sometimes pushed his doubts too far. countrymen, and his first efforts were worthy of the greatThe fear of being charged with credulity or national pre- est captain of the age. judice, seems to have driven him occasionally into the op- oath, his ideas of morality appear to have been much at v?

“ If we may judge from his regard to the sanctity of an posite and less pardonable extreme. Mr Carrick is often successful in pointing out the fallacy of the learned annal- nated by the pernicious example of the great men of the

riance with the corrupt practice of the age. Cncontaniist's reasoning, and the unreasonableness of his historical country, he rather chose to bear hunger and every other scepticism. These animadversions are principally con- privation the unsheltered outlaw might be exposed to, than fined to the notes, which form a large, and certainly not purchase the advantage so much prized by others, at the the least valuable, part of the work. There are also two expense of taking an oath he had no intention of holding large appendices, containing some interesting illustrations sacred :-still this inflexible rectitude of soul could be and biographical notices of the principal characters intro- the bands by which he strove to unite them together be

shame the aristocracy from their convenient perjuries; fer duced in the body of the work. The most interesting

came like ropes of sand in the hour of trial. Net with. and valuable feature of the Appendix to Vol. II. con. standing, however, all the difficulties that were thrown in sists of an original letter, addressed by Sir William Wal. bis way, the vigour of his own character, and the wisden lace and Sir Andrew Murray, in the year 1297, to the of his measures, enabled him to achieve the deliverance er citizens of Hamburg and Lubec,

,-a very important wri- his native land. To the charges of ambition and usurpating, which has not hitherto appeared in the works of tion that were brought against him, he gave the noblest to either English or Scottish historians, nor even been alluded futation, by resigning the bauble of power into the hands of to in any former account of Wallace. Altogether, our

those little spirits, who would otherwise have betrayed the

cause of national independence, or involved their country author appears to have given us as full and as authentic a in all the horrors of civil war. Thus his virtuous self-doLife of Sir William Wallace as can be collected from the nial preserved the people whom his valour had set free." scanty and uncertain authorities upon this obscure period Mr Carrick's Life of Wallace is highly creditable to of Scottish history, that have escaped the ravages of the the author's industry and talents; and it contains the First Edward, of Cromwell

, and of that more extensive best history with which we are acquainted of those indestroyer-Time. This being the case, we can the more portant events which, under the auspices of that hero and easily pardon Mr Carrick's minor faults of authorship, patriot, led to the re-establishment of Scottish independ. the principal of which we conceive to be a somewhat ence. beavy style, deficient frequently in elevation, and sometimes, though rarely, even in correctness. But such | The College Album for 1830. A Selection of Origina! faults weigh little against the genuine merits of the work. Pieces. Edited by Students of the University of

The following extract from our author's description of Glasgow. Glasgow. John Smith and Son. 1831]. Wallace's person and character will not, we dare say, be 12mo. Pp. 239. unacceptable to our readers :

Ir there was ever a pleasant man in this world, it is

the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journal, when he We have first, however, a small crow to pluck with the is in a good humour. We see ourselves at this moment author, Mr “ W. X.” In the course of his sketch we find standing in the centre of the inner Court of Glasgow the following sentence:-“ It was in 1788 that the College, our hair, which is beginning to acquire an al- gallant young officer came, and was allowed to "jump, most imperceptible silvery tinge, escaping from under feathers and all,' as somebody has said, into the heart of our hat, and playing in the zephyr over our placid brow the blooming girl of eighteen.” Somebody," indeed ! and calm benevolent countenance. We see the bright. Was this a way to treat us, Mr “ W. X?” We beg to ered students either crowding round us with irrepressi- inform you, sir, that we are the somebody alluded to, and ble delight, or keeping apart in groups, fixed in silent in your next edition we request, that you will couple admiration, not unchequered with a small touch of awe, our name with those epithets of praise to which it is as they gaze upon the man who has so often instructed so justly entitled. You found the phrase, Mr “ W. X." them in their bours of application, and solaced and de- in the last Christmas Number of the Literary Journal. lighted them in their moments of leisure. We see them But be not downcast; we are not angry with you; we watch our every movement, dwell upon our every look, offer you our hand, and shall be glad to see you in our and as we at length pass away into the domicile of Milne, study. Now for your sketch, which is pleasant, though or Sandford, or Buchanan, we hear a shout that makes mournful : the old stones of the University quake, and many a deep

THE TUTOR'S NEW-YEAR'S DAY. breathed resolution, that at the next election of a Lord “Ah! happy, ever bappy may they be, and blessings on Rector, we shall be the person.

their happiness!' said I, as I returned froin the forinal Shall we wantonly destroy so pleasant a dream as this, party in the drawing-room, to my own quiet chamber and by cutting up the “ College Album ?” Forbid it! ye crackling fire, in much sadness of spirit. • Why should reminiscences of happy boyhood ! when we ourselves they be otherwise than glad ?-they are at home.' wrote trash unparalleled, some of which, we blush to

"I had just been thinking of my friends, from all of whom

I was far distant. There was magic in the name of 'home,' say, survives even to this day to witness against us.

and my imagination instantly took flight, wafting me at Though the “ College Album” were twenty thousand once into the midst of the merry group. times worse than it is, it could not be half so bad as what “ The cousins are assembled, and a few select friends we ourselves did when at College. It would be easy for mingle with them, around the plain but cheerful ingle. A us to rap young gentlemen over the fingers now; but were joyous band do they form in the dear snug little parlour, in we not egregious idiots ourselves once? One thing, how- which, as long as my memory can serve me, has met our ever, we are sorry for ;—the poetry of the College Album happy family-party on New-year's Night. The merry

song alternates with the joke, which, however homely, is not better than the poetry of the Athenæum, except

never fails to excite the mirth of hearts tuned only to cheerthat it is printed upon better paper and in a neater style, fulness. There is a sparkle in every eye, and a smile on and we therefore now say, what we threatened to say every lip; yet, perchance a tear may trickle down a molast week, that the gods have not made the Glasgow ther's cheek, and a sigh break forth amid a father's smiles, students poetical. Had “ W. E. A.,” the author of " A as they think of their only absent one. The sisters, too, Venetian Tale,” no compunctious visitings when he end- and the only brother, and the cousins, and all, may think, ed his poem with this couplet,

as they observe his violin, which has long been suspended

in silence, that his presence might have added to the enjoy“ And wish their loves may savour less of woe

ments of the evening. But the cloud raised by these kind Than that of Agnes and her Ju-li-o ?”

remembrances soon passes away; and why should it not ?

Friendship and love have harmoniously blended all their Did " Y. Z.," who has committed “ A Drinking Song,” | affections. They have had their cares and crosses; but not fear to be immolated on the shrine of Cockney vul- where the heart is not withered by continued disappointgarity, when he gave birth to such rhymes as the follow- ments, the presence of those with whom its sympathies are ing

entwined, can never be without gladness. Blessings be

with them all!--and though a son a brother-a relation " Which makes their pretty faces glow, and look more - who is far from every object on which his affections can red and rosier,

calmly rest, or by which his rankling cares can be soothed, Than if they tippled nought but unadulterate ambrosia"(!) | may, with a bursting heart, and a tear in his eye, claim Or,

a place in their meinories, yet, would he not for worlds

disturb the peace and the pleasure which now breathe " Well let them drink, though I'm not there, I'll not around them! refuse, or murmur,

“ Such was the vision which glided rapidly past as I sat While goddesses and nectar too I find on terra firma.” (!) down before the fire, placed both my feet upon the fender,

and then pulled my arm chair, and with it the old rug, Yet let us not judge too hastily. There may be at this very backward and forward, till I got it adjusted to a comfort, moment among the students at Glasgow College geniuses able sitting distance. My exterior arrangements were com> destined to illumine the world, young men who, per- pleted, by taking up the poker in my right hand, leaning

haps, shun notoriety, and who write neither for the Athe- iny head on my left, and my elbows on the respective elbows Naum nor the Album, or who perhaps write for both, with of the chair. The fire was burning as beautifully as abunout distinguishing themselves, the mysterious principle

dance of fuel, and a sharp frosty atmosphere, could make it,

so the poker could be applied to no reasonable purpose. and hidden powers of their nature not being yet developed. Nevertheless, I could not help taking it up, and swinging Who shall dare to say to one of God's creatures--" Thou it backwards and forwards like a penduluin; as I watched art a dunce ?” Jeffrey said it to Byron, and the slumber- its oscillations, I began to contrast the present New-year'sing mind of the poet, as if in scorn, started at once into day with those that were past. life and action more glorious than Hector in his day of

« I had just left the drawing-room. All, I suppose, who triumph, when, radiant in his burnished armour, he is

can afford to entertain a party, invite their friends, or are sued from his father's halls to stretch the bravest of the invited by them, on New-year's-day. Accordingly we, that

is Mrs the mother of the three young urchins whom Grecians prostrate before him. Jeffrey said it to Byron, I have the felicity to instruct, had a party ;-and such a and away soared Byron, with a rush of wings, far into party! The young ladies and young gentlemen, who comthe blue empyrean, leaving the pigmy critic to follow his posed the majority of the company, inutually absorbed one lofty fight with straining and bloodshot eyes.

another's attention; and as they thus formed a separate The

prose articles in the College Album are pretty re- society, they will not be distressed at being excluded from spectable. The best are,

“ School Recollections," " Frag- my sketch. of old gentlemen there were none, though ments of the Chronicles of Cambus-Kenneth Abbey," ladies, therefore, was I confined during the whole of the

abundance of elderly ladies; and to the society of elderly ** The Catastrophe," " A Legend of the Wild Rider,” evening of New-year's-day. Between two of them I was “ The Aucht Years' Plea,” and “ The Tutor's New- seated at dinner, with the laudable determination that I Year’s-Day.” From this last we shall take an extract. I would, by patiently attending to their conversation, enden

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vour to banish the thought of distant friends, which too united than before,—there is a religious awe, by which we painfully contrasted with the scene around me.

are made better men and devouter Christians. “ I have often wondered why it is that tutors are sup

“ Alas! a dream of such happiness is all that remains to posed to know nothing but what every one else has forgot me, for we can never meet so again. The wasting band of ten. He whom fortune has doomed to this servile situa time is upon us all, and the arm of death has since that tion, may sit at meals of every kind, among men, women, day been brought threateningly before us. But I will che and children-for all are alike in this instance-without be- rish the dream, forlorn and melancholy as I am; and when ing once spoken to for months together, unless something it becomes dim, I will go to the song of the captive Psalmist, be under discussion, the particulars of which no one else can and will drink its spirit thence in all its present freshness." remember. It is true, that once in my life,—and I have sat We are glad to see at the end of the volume a long at table in professional silence for many long years,-a and respectable list of subscribers to the College Albam. maiden lady, who happened to be placed next me at dinner, Publications so rational and useful should always be enhaving long waited in vain for an opportunity of addressing couraged. We shall be happy to meet with our young some one else, asked me “if I was a botanist or a tiddler.'

friends again in 1831. But such a case of despair may not happen again in a century. I was so surprised and confused at the singular occurrence, that I stammered out the wrong monosyllable,- a blunder, however, which was of no consequence, as the lady only | Osmyn, the Renegade ; or, The Siege of Salerno ; a Tron wanted a listener; and I so satisfied her in this capacity, that, gedy, in Five Acts. By the late Rev. C. R. Maturin. although I never had time to thrust in more than a monosyl

(Unpublished.) lable, she complimented me once or twice very handsomely on my sense and discretion. She was astonished, I think,

A New Tragedy, from the pen of Maturin, must be to find that a tutor could even listen well. Of the ordi- highly interesting to the literary world. We are not nary topics of conversation, however, a tutor generally kuous aware, therefore, that we can do better this week, than something ; less, perhaps, sometimes, than those whose con devote a part of our space to the following account of this versation he hears; but frequently, it is to be hoped, much work, which we find in the Dublin Literary Gazette ef more. Theology, for instance, is, in this age of bold specu. lators, a standing topic of discussion ; all, especially ladies, last Saturday—a highly respectable periodical, wbich can are Doctors in Divinity; self-constituted, it is true, but this hardly fail to be successful, because it deserres to be so. is evidently considered to be of no importance by them, as,

Our readers are already aware, that, through the eser. unconscious of their ignorance, they dogmatize on the highest tions of Mr Macready, “Osmyn” has been lately performand most sacred subjects with disgraceful temerity. In ed with great success in Dublin ; and it is to be brooght statistics, chronology, and history, however, even ladies are out, we understand, ere long, in one of the leading theatres sometimes conscious of their deticiencies, and refer to the

in London. Meanwhile, the Editor of the Dublin Lüte. poor tutor, whom they sometimes seem to take for Itinerary, Almanack, and Universal Encyclopædia; for an Iu- rary Gazette, having had an opportunity of perusing the dex, in short, of whatever is detailed and uninteresting. A

MS., presents us with the following analysis of the piece: political economist has forgotten the population of Sheffield, The opening of the tragedy presents us with the Chris -a politician, the member for Kilkenny,-a poetical gen- tians of Salerno besieged by the Turks, and reduced to the tleman enquires when Spenser commenced his Fairy Queen, last extremity. The time of action is supposed to be somr-a traveller, the height of Mount Rosa or Great Si Ber- where about the year 1460. About this period there was a sin nard,-a would-be-literary fair one, the length and breadth of Otranto, on the opposite shore of Italy, which the author of the vale of Tempe,—and a painting lady, the when-and- informs us, in a note, suggested to him the groundwork of where of Salvator Rosa's birth and decease;-a dumpy wi his plot, and is the only historical foundation for any of the dow wishes to know the name of the parish of which the incidents. Osmyn, a celebrated renegade, arrives to take celebrated Mr — is minister,--and a lean old maid, the the command of ihe Turkish forces. He learns that Marname of the woman whom he married. The poor tutor fred, Prince of Salerno, whom, for reasons not yet explainbas probably never had the means of becoming acquainted ed, he hates with unrelenting hatred, has been long dead, with a tenth part of these subjects; yet he is expected to and that Guiscard, the son of Manfred, leads the Christians be ready with answers to each one of these questions ;-and He resolves not to delay his purposed vengeance, and rouss by queries such as these, and a thousand others a thou- the Turks to the condict with the following energetic apsand times more unreasonable and absurd, wbich are from peal, which concludes the first Act: day to day put to him, is be, poor soul, tormented and harassed.

• Where are ye? Gather round me, sons of blood ! “My cogitations, however, upon this subject also soon

Sons of the war, where sleep your scimitars? received an interruption by the removal of the cloth, and a

Round me-come round me-faster-faster come call to join in the annual exchange of the compliments of

Spahi, and Sangiac, and Tanizar, the season. Though fashion has long dispensed with the

In all your fell and varied ranks of carnage. drinking of healths, yet, on New-year's-day, the custom

Ye, who with naked reeling step have trampled was not to be passed over, and a bumper was accordingly

Crush'd limb, and spatter'd brain, and gushing bloodclaimed to mutual good wishes and glad congratulations.

Ye, who have rent the infant from the breast This was to me the hardest trial of all. I wished to grant

Ye, who have plunged the mother in the flamesthe boon as frankly as it was kindly craved; but as I looked Ye, to whom shrieking beauty pleads in vainround the circle, my eye lighted not on one whom my heart

I need you now-come, in my soul's need, comecould love. I was a stranger in a foreign land. There

Sons of the Koran, worthy of its page; might be an interchange of words, but none of feeling with

Hither, ye slaves-look to the prize I pointme; all was unmeaning and heartless ceremony. My spirit

Behold yon towers—ere night they must not be. sickened as the remembrance of the past came over ine.

I On-on-with heart and life, and arm and brandhad, precisely a year before, witnessed the sacred observance

On to the ruin, to the carnage on! of this good old custom, and then partook of that hallowed Pour like a flood, o'er bastion and o'er battlementtenderness which it ought always to diffuse. The old, the Ou like an earthquake, towers are dust before you : young, and middle-aged were there, but their spirits were Up with the cry-For vengeance and for Osmyn! harmonized by the gentle hand ot' friends!ip. "The blessing of the old and grey-beaded fell in solemnity and some

“ In Act the second, the Turks are repulsed in a desperate thing like sadness on the ear; and the smile of elastic youth ruins of a dilapidated cathedral, in the outskirts of the

attempt to storm the city; Osmyn wanders among the was rendered doubly significant by the tear which obtruded place, moody and chating with his defeat : he recognises the climbing upon your knee, and putting her lovely cheek close spot as one familiar to him in the days of his boyhood, and to yours, while she softly breathed her prayer-wish of. Many hears the voice of Matilda, Princess of Salerno, chanting a

finds himself surrounded by the tombs of his ancestors; be other world ; and you felt as it you could lay aside this miserere in the distant aisles. As he says in a subsequent mortal frame, and 'tly away with her, and be at rest for passage : ever. There is a solemnity in such a scene, which would be profaned by the presence of a stranger,—there is a sanctity

• After a lapse of twenty years, I heard it,

Like the remember'd music of a stream of feeling, by which hearts are more closely and warmly | That lull'd our sleep in childhood.”

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