The Bishop gives the following account of the motives which induced him to compile his history. We modernise his orthography:

"I being retired from the court of England, (where I was resident for a great space in 1568, at your Majesty's command, in treating of your weighty affairs with the Queen's Highness of England and her counsel,) and thereafter remaining at Burton-upon-Trent, awaiting only, yet nevertheless neither having commodity to exercise myself in your Majesty's service therein, for that I was by commandment restrained, nor yet for the present having that place to give counsel in the commonwealth affairs of my native country, or in administration of justice as I was wont to do in Scotland, being one of the counsellors and senators thereof; I thought it very necessary to spare some part of my time to the reading of history, as a most easy, pleasing, and profitable study for the present, principally not having the commodity in these parts to exercise my time in the divine study of the Scriptures, or of the laws, for lack of books in these faculties, and also of the resort and conference of expert and learned men in these sciences, such as I was wont to accompany withal in Scotland. I therefore betook me to read the histories of the realm of England, thinking well to have commodity to get the principal books thereof in this country, as I did; and also that the knowledge of their history is most necessary unto us before all other nations. And so I employed earnestly my labours in reading the histories written by Polidore, Virgil, Bede, &c. &c.; in which I find many and sundry things set forth by these authors of the deeds and proceedings between England and Scotland, and quite contrary to our annals, registers, and true proceedings collected in Scotland. And albeit the true history of our country be largely, truly, and eloquently treated and written by that cunning and eloquent historiographer, Hector Boetius, yet he writes only to the death of King James the First.

"Wherefore, most dread and benign sovereign lady, lest that cankered oblivion should deface the glory and deeds of these four sovereign princes, and that some part of your own time may be holden in memory, I have in this vacant time compiled and gathered (and not made) out of diverse, as well foreign as Scottish writers, this simple treatise for the convenience of my country; only not taking upon me to write a history, for I know well how unmeet I am thereto, but that your majesty and my country may have some short abbreviation or summary of the principal deeds in these days, to serve only till it shall please others, better learned and more diligent in searching of the whole circumstances, to set forth the same at greater length for the honour of our nation and country."

It would be doing the good Bishop great injustice, to say that he has modelled his history upon that which has generally been attributed to Lindsay of Pitscottie. But it deserves, at all events, to be remarked, that there is a most suspicious coincidence in the thread of their narrative. The different characters of the two compilers have, however, communicated themselves to their writings. Pitscottie is gossiping, but in the highest degree graphic. The style of the Bishop is more generalized, less adorned with individual portraits: he is a statesman, in short, and looks upon men only in the mass-as political engines.

As a specimen of his historical style, we subjoin our author's summary of the

CHARACTER OF JAMES THE FIFTH.

"There was great dule and moan made for him through all the parts of his realm, because he was a noble prince, and laboured all his days to maintain his subjects in peace, justice, and quietness. He was a man of person and stature convenient, albeit mighty and strong therewith, of countenance amiable and lovely, specially in his communication, his eyes gray and sharp of sight, that whomsoever he did once see and mark, he would perfectly know in all times thereafter, of wit in all things quick and prompt, of a princely stomach and high courage in great perils, doubt

was sober, moderate, honest, affable, courteous, and so far abhorred pride and arrogance, that he was ever quick and sharp to those who were spotted with that crime. He was also a good and sure Justiciar, by which one thing he allured to himself the hearts of all the people, because they lived quietly and in rest, out of all oppression and molestation of the nobility and rich persons; and to this severity of his was joined and annexed a certain merciful pity, which he. did oftimes show to such as had offended, taking rather compositions of money than men's lives, which was a plain argument that he did not use his rigour, except (as he said himself) to bow and abate the high and lawless hearts of the people, specially Erischmen and Borderers, and others nourished and brought up in seditious factions and civil rebellions, and not for greedy desire of riches or hunger of money, although such as were afflicted would cry out; and surely this good and modest Prince did not devour and consume the riches of his country, for he by his high policy marvellously enriched his realm and himself, both with gold and silver, whereof he left great store and quantity in all his palaces at his departing."

The volume is neatly and correctly printed, after the brothers of the Order have purchased one hundred manner rejoiced in by the sons of St Bannatyne; and the copies.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

MYSTERIOUS ADVENTURE.

By J. S. Memes, LL.D., Author of the "Life of
Canova," &c. &c.

I might not this believe,
Without the sensible and true avouch

Of mine own eyes.

THE storm still raged, which had reduced myself and two other travellers to solicit shelter in a solitary religious house in one of the passes of the Tyrol. There consequently appeared small hope of our being able to resume each his respective journey, for darkness and tempest were fast closing around. Nor, in truth, did much anxiety seem to be evinced about redeeming our lost time before next morning. The good fathers, of whom only five then happened to be indwellers, had left us to the hospitable cares of a lay-brother, and in possession of the refectory, with abundant appliances of cheerful enjoyment. Our horses, meanwhile, had been stabled in a small cloister leading to the chapel, and looked equally comfortable as their masters. We thus yielded, without reluctance, to circumstances, whose very novelty would have lent a charm to our situation, apart from the peculiar pleasure which unexpected good always imparts.

The

Accordingly, we soon found ourselves on the most cordial understanding for all the best purposes of temporary fellowship, while each speedily discovered in the others, qualities which awakened regret, to think that such communion must necessarily be for a brief season. senior of the party thus strangely assembled in the spacious and antique hall of Holycross, could not have seen above thirty summers. Study, however, and thought, had impressed traces on his brow, that might have been mistaken for the effects of ten more years. His first appearance bespoke the initiated of some German university. A countenance calm and pale, showed an almost marble immobility, but forth from his large blue eyes looked a soul of unquenched enthusiasm. Our other companion was a native of the genial South, in the first flush of manhood, and eminently handsome, though the inward canker of some peculiar grief had left its ravages on his sunken cheek. The evening had passed away,

almost unheeded, in varied, interesting, and highly intellectual converse. If in this our youthful friend showed any lack of scholarship, the defect was compensated by a cultivated taste, a susceptible mind, and the tact of a man of the world. But the German's erudition astonished at once by its depth and its variety. At such an age, it seemed incredible. I could not, however, help remarking, that profound and accurate as it was in principle, and always exercised on the side of virtue, his knowledge had often shaped itself into strange conclusions. Thus, he held that the true end of all human science is to supply a medium of communication between the visible and invisible worlds—to re-unite the corporeal modifications to spiritual generalities of existence. This doctrine he maintained with an impassioned and earnest eloquence, calculated to sway the imagination with a thrilling interest, which yet the judgment necessarily condemned. It was now almost midnight. The storm had lulled, but occasionally the loud blast echoed mournfully round the angles and coins of a Gothic oriel. "Hark!" said the German, "how like to voices from an unknown world are these wildly-sounding tones!"-" "Tis true," answered the younger stranger; "and there are times when almost I might persuade myself that unseen tongues thus syllabled names and notes dearest to my most cherished remembrances."- "Even so," returned the adept; " and it were easy to prove that the spell of genius is but the power of transforming the sights and sounds of external nature into means of more direct approach to the sublimities of unseen existence. The forms of the artist -the descriptions of the poet-are only dim reflections of spiritual visitings; and in the solemn breathings of music, who has not felt as if the soul held high communion with the best loved among the cloud of unseen witnesses around us?"

"Your observation," I replied, "is at least beautiful; and without canvassing its accuracy, I meet the conclusion you would thus broadly infer, by demanding, is it permitted to withdraw for a moment the veil from between time and eternity ?"—"Yes!" said the German; "but for no vain or unholy purpose.' -"Oh!" feelingly exclaimed our younger companion, "long has the same question hovered on my lips, dictated, however, by no trivial or improper thought. My race must perish, ere well begun; but the removal of one painful weight would close a brief and troubled scene in peace." The German paused, evidently affected by this earnestness. Young man, the human heart is proof against human scrutiny, yet thou seemest sincere."- "The wish, indeed," was the reply, originated in sin and shame; my present purpose is good. But, German," as if under a momentary aberration, "I have been a soldier. These I place on the table," taking two pistols from his breast. "They are within reach. Beware how thou sportest with mine affliction, or idly triflest with a sainted name. A gaunt smile, as of pity, passed across the countenance of him who was thus addressed. "For mine own part," he merely added, "I regard these as toys; but, for your sakes, I warn you to be cautious how you employ mortal weapons here." Turning from us, he bent, as if in momentary devotion, over one of the massive seats, then, slowly rising, asked, in a slow and broken voice, "Stranger, whom wouldst thou call from realms of light on the behests of virtue?"" Emelia de murmured the interrogated, in a subdued accent, as if fearing to entrust the name to any ear.

When, or by what means, I know not, but an iron lamp, which depended from the lofty ceiling of carved oak, had been extinguished. Yet were we not in darkness. The whole of the spacious apartment seemed very faintly illuminated, as if the moonbeams had been mingled with the last lingering hues of twilight. My first impression, indeed, was to turn towards the window; its tall shafts were barely discernible against the gloomy concave of a midnight sky, through the breakings of whose

troubled masses a single star might gleam for an instant. At the same time rose by fits on the blast the rushing of the Alpine stream, now painfully audible to acutely anxious sense. This survey, with its conclusion, was embraced by the mind with the rapidity of thought, and scarcely for a moment withdrew my attention from the interior. Here expectancy was roused to the uttermost. In the remotest angle of the hall, the light had seemed to concentrate into a mass of brightness, amid which appeared vague and mysterious outlines of a shadowy form, but growing into a shape of more and more distinctness. The soldier grasped my arm; he trembled through the intenseness of his emotion. In the deathlike silence, I could hear the very throbbings of his heart and of my own. Yet this was not fear. Mechanically my hand extended to one of the pistols. These things I perfectly remember; for though every faculty appeared absorbed in the senses of sight and hearing, the mind appeared more than usually alive to the separate workings of its own consciousness. "'Tis she!-It is Emelia!" burst, as if involuntarily, from my companion, who, making a movement in advance, sunk upon his knees. There actually stood before us a female form, clothed, indeed, in light, but of a paly lustre-aerial and dreamlike. The figure was yet palpably visible-youthful, but veiled, and habited as a nun in her noviciate.

There was now an awfulness in our situation, which it is not easy to conceive, and impossible to describe. Either the shape before me was supernatural,—I was in the presence of an inhabitant of another world,—or, more fearful still, surrounded by unknown danger, in the company of men who scrupled not to practise on the outward sense by illusions too sacred for the coarse arms of human villainy. One glance at the noble and manly form kneeling in front-the tenderness and reverential conviction of the attitude, as every lineament stood forth in the silvery radiance beyond-re-assured me here. My eye sought the German. He stood like a statue on a monument, seen in a cathedral by the dim light of evening; his face covered with his hands, and his head drooping on his bosom. He seemed under the pressure of deep emotion. Was he the slave of his own imaginings, or really one endowed with secret and powerful knowledge? My mind, which had followed out these investigations with a steadiness which, considering the circumstances, now amazes me, here lost command over its own conjectures. The big drops stood cold and clammy on my forehead. Sounds of human converse I certainly heard, and could distinguish the deep tones of the younger stranger in solemn but rapid utterance. In the pauses between what seemed his questions, tones of a thrilling, unearthly sweetness appeared to reply. But these now fell indistinctly upon the senses. A loud shriek resounded through the apartment. I could see, in the waning light, the mysterious figure fall backwards, and at the same instant a loud noise completed the terrors of the moment. I fired. A deep groan immediately followed, as if some one had been wounded. But there was no pause for thought. I was struck down-not by a blow-but as if some giant hand had pressed me to the earth. The agony of the moment would soon have become insupportable. A loud knocking at the door of the refectory ensued. I started to my feet. It was the good fathers, who, as they reported, being roused by the discharge of fire-arms, conceived their guests had quarrelled, and fought. My first thought was to seize the German. He had disappeared,-how, no one knew. My attention instantly reverted to the younger stranger. He lay stretched on the floor, apparently lifeless, and his face covered with blood. Had I then fired upon-perhaps killed an innocent man?

The

This fearful apprehension was speedily relieved. blood flowed from a slight wound in the temple, occasioned by the remaining pistol falling upon its owner, who had fainted, and his fall overset the table on which the arms had been placed. He was speedily recovered,

and, being laid on a bed in one of the cells, showed wonderfully calm and collected, but much exhausted. Leaving him to repose, I hastened to the cloisters, for the dawn was now breaking; the German's horse was gone, but in a niche had been left a handsome gratuity.

On revisiting the patient some hours afterwards, his altered appearance greatly shocked me. Yet he showed perfectly composed, and even cheerful. I spoke of the strange occurrences of the preceding night, and laboured, but in vain, to convince him that our senses had been imposed upon. "My friend," said he, with solemnity, "you will perform for me the last offices of a friend. I am dying, and have the firmest conviction that last night I communed with a disembodied spirit. You will yet know my melancholy history, and learn, with awe and doubt, that the responses I last night received, while they have removed the apprehension of unutterable guilt, related to a subject known only to myself and to her whose name you heard me then pronounce." The stranger survived four days. He sleeps within the chancel of Holy

cross.

THE MESSRS CHAMBERS' NEW GAZETTEER OF SCOTLAND, l'ersus ST ANDREWS.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE LITERARY JOURNAL.

SIR, St Andrews, I observe, has put forth a vindication of its crazy integrity in this day's number of your Journal. The article gives me much pleasure, as it convinces me that there are still some hovering particles of life in that woe-begone University. I am inclined to cherish hope regarding an institution, which is not yet altogether insensible to contempt, however merited; and, placed as St Andrews is at the very extremity of the long promontory of Baotian stupidity-muffled up in the soft appliances of sinecure and privilege-sunk in the somnolency that has overwhelmed it for hundreds of years, I really rejoice to find that it has so much animation left as to feel and retaliate the too lenient censure which has called forth your correspondent's statement.

My brother and I need not inform the readers of your correspondent's letter, that the real head and front of our offending lies in our representing St Andrews' University as in a state of decay. The two or three trifling inaccuracies with which he introduces his pretended defence, are merely, as every one must see, decoys planted for the purpose of leading the public into a supposition that, as these little things are wrong, so also may be the assertion that the University is decaying. It is to be supposed, according to the reasoning of this most malicious person, that our having inadvertently mentioned one official for another as the clergyman of a parish, argues that we must be wrong also in a conclusion as to the general moral state of the whole University. Now, we deny point-blank, that we have misrepresented the University. We stated that the number of students seldom averages above two hundred, and asked a concession from the reader that there surely must be something radically bad in a system of education which is so unattractive of students. This we uphold against the statements of your correspondent, which we can only characterise as rank, wilful, interested equivocation. He strikes an average for the last ten years at 260, and argues thence, that the University is in a higher state of prosperity, instead of a lower, than at any former time. Supposing his statement to be correct, which we do not believe it to be, it goes for nothing with us; for the period of ten years includes a term during which the classes were thickened unusually by the fame and exertions of one great man—an alien to the prevailing character of Andreapolitan intellect-Dr Chalmers. We look upon it as a mere trick to say that the institution is prospering, because some years ago an individual, since unconnected with it, caused a great temporary influx of students. It is a ruse only paralleled, in my recollection, by the artifice of exaggerating the osten

sible circulation of a newspaper by taking in the large extra quantities sold, for particular reasons, on certain days, within a short period. More than this, we are informed by good authority, that, even before Dr Chalmers left the University, the numbers had begun to decline; the mind of one man, however good, being found unavailing, it would appear, against the dead weight of the system. To make it manifest, however, that there was no error in speaking vaguely of the number as seldom averaging above 200, we quote, from the books of the College itself, the numbers of the last two sessions :1829-30 1830-1

We ask the public if we were illiberal towards St Andrews in speaking of an average of 200, when here they find that, in two years of the University in its natural state, that was exactly the number, even including those alumni who, by the lax system prevalent in Scottish divinity schools, are permitted to employ themselves in shearing, smearing, teaching, or any other employment they may delight in, perhaps hundreds of miles away from the senile Alma Mater, who is so tenderly concerned in their mental suckling without whom (and we think they ought to be deducted) the actual average of the two years is only 1863, with every prospect of a continued declension, the latter of the two years being no less than fifteen per cent under its predecessor.

66

Having thus exposed the desperately disingenuous attempt of St Andrews to bolster up its decrepit character, and at the same time proved our own correctness and liberality, we shall meet your correspondent on another point-namely, Bishop Kennedy's chapel. It may please him, with the obliquity of the local taste, to consider the internal accommodations of the chapel as comfortable, and even handsome." We never heard, however, that the standard for the judgment of such things exists in St Andrews. Our opinion, as before, is, that the whole place of worship, outside and inside, has a tottering, neglected look, fully sufficient to justify the expressions we used regarding it. What does it signify that the roof was renewed half a century ago, and the interior re-modelled within less than half that time, except to inform the public that the place is only repaired when it is on the point of utter ruin, and that no current attention is ever paid to it? In England, such a building would have an artizan acting as a sort of body-servant to it, and his sole duty to keep it in proper order. more than before, and affirm that, in the first place, the building was injured by the repairs it got, and is now, for want of attention, one of the most uncomfortablelooking places of worship we ever saw, even in Scotland.

We say

With regard to the other trifling inaccuracies which the "Friend of St Andrews" has discovered, we really cannot bring ourselves down to the level of his meanness by noticing them in detail. We abandon them to his hypercritical, schoolmanlike censure; and if we learn that they have proved any consolation to the aching tearooms and halls of St Andrews, for our too lenient, but honest criticism, we shall be greatly rejoiced.

Your correspondent expresses surprise that we should not have applied to any of the members of the University, for information; and no doubt the readers of his letter will, at first, think us very much to blame for not having done so. We answer to your correspondent, that we make our own selection of informants, and mean to continue doing so; to the public we answer, that, having often experienced the awkwardness of asking information from the persons officially connected with an institution, as it subjected us to the unhappy dilemma of either saying nothing but what was flattering of that institution,

or of being thought treacherous if we spoke disagreeable truths, we have at length found it necessary to be very cautious in opening a correspondence with such persons, and in general prefer taking our statistics from other

sources.

Your correspondent asks triumphantly, that, if we are equally incorrect in all the minor articles as in this leading one, what dependence shall be placed upon our book? When we remind our readers, that the Number contains an account of Aberdeen, they will be at no loss to say whether the article on St Andrews be the leading one. Leaving this to their judgment, we are content, for the rest, to ask the public, whether the above trivial misinformations, or our having by honest statement provoked the wrath of those to whom the truth is disagreeable, be the better test of accuracy. It would be vain to deny that, in a work where almost every line gives a fact, and which altogether may be computed to contain from thirty to forty thousand distinct pieces of information, the greater part of which are very difficult of acquisition, some small errors may occur. But it is evidently most unfair for a man who is perfectly au fait with a particular obscure place, to assume a triumph over the writers of the work under his consideration, if he finds himself better informed regarding some little fact connected with that place, than they who have to make themselves acquainted with several thousands of localities, many of them more attractive and important. One thing we are very sure of, regarding the article which called forth your correspondent's letter,—it is much more correct in spirit, than if it had been written by " A Friend to St Andrews," which, we suppose, means some fozy dignitary, exceedingly well pleased with the system which allows him some hundreds a-year for teaching a class only extant in the Edinburgh Almanack, and exceedingly indignant at any attempt to let the public know whether he is an active or an inactive labourer.

Your correspondent's professions of general respect towards me, which are designed no doubt to keep me back from that literary annihilation into which his discoveries about the lecture-room and the bursars would have otherwise precipitated me, do not affect my feelings of gratitude in the way he perhaps expected. If pulchrum laudari à laudato be a true apophthegm, it is not less true, that the praise of the contemptible is slander. Humble as my literary labours have generally been in their object, I am quite willing to appeal their proper estimation to my country at large, from the judgment of one of the remotest peninsula in its intellectual map. I am, sir, your most obedient servant, R. CHAMBERS.

Saturday, 8th January, 1831.

SOME ACCOUNT OF A VISIT OF ENGLISH COMEDIANS TO SCOTLAND IN THE REIGN OF JAMES VI. [The paper which we now give, is an abstract of one read by Mr Laing at a recent meeting of the Royal Society of Antiquaries. Mr Laing commenced by reminding the Society that he had on a former occasion read to them the first part of an Essay on "the Rise and Progress of Dramatic Exhibition in Scotland." Circumstances had occurred to prevent his resuming the subject, before a period of time had elapsed too great to permit him to hope that the previous discourse could remain distinctly in the minds of his auditors. In submitting to the Society an account of a visit made to Scotland by some English comedians, an event which stood quite apart in the history of the Scottish drama, he would only revert to his former topic, so far as was necessary to correct the prevailing impression that theatricals had been entirely discountenanced by the reformers. Many curious and interesting facts were stated in reference to this point, but our anxiety to give the fullest account possible of the English visit, obliges us to pass them over.]

The clergy viewed the event with alarm, and used their utmost endeavours to prevent the exhibitions taking place. On the whole, however, they showed less illiberality than was evinced about the middle of last century on the appearance of Home's tragedy of Douglas. It may also be urged in their defence, that the character of the performers may not have been so generally respectable as in our day; for even their patron, King James, in a work composed in the very year of their visit, addresses Prince Henry in these words:" Beware in making your sports your councillors, and delight not to keep ordinarily in your company comedians or balladinos;" and again, "beware of such tricks as only serve for comedians or balladinos to win their bread with!"

Some writers expressly assert that the players visited this country in consequence of a special request made by James to the Queen of England. At all events, it appears that they tasted of his bounty, and were supported against the interference of the kirk-sessions with a high hand. The most distinct account of the squabble is to be found in Calderwood's Manuscript History; and the researches of the indefatigable Mr Pitcairn have furnished the following corroborative evidence of the correctness of Calderwood's statement ;-Imprimis, Two acts of the Privy Council of Scotland anent the English comedians : Secundo, Seven entries, of different dates, in the Treasurer's books, of sums paid to the players, or disbursed for their behoof. Mr Laing has added to these a series of extracts from the Register of the Presbytery of Edinburgh, narrating the proceedings of that body relative to the comedians. After reading these documents, Mr Laing proceeded in these words:" This event has suggested an interesting enquiry. Guthrie the historian, mentioning the visit of these comedians to Scotland, says, 'I have great reason to think that the immortal Shakspeare was of the number.' But if he had any ground for the assertion, he has not stated it. In one of the volumes of Sir John Sinclair's Statistical Account, that indefatigable author has considered the question, and after detailing the traditions in the neighbourhood of Dunsinnane respecting Macbeth, collected by him in the year 1792, he draws the inference that Shakspeare had collected the materials for his unrivalled drama upon the spot. The question remains, however, still very doubtful, notwithstanding the coincidences adduced by the zealous baronet. The traditions might have been communicated to Shakspeare by one of the performers who had made the Scottish visit, even if all that was material to his purpose had not been contained in the English chronicles of the time. Moreover, even if the name of Shakspeare had actually occurred in the list of performers, we ought not to forget that the poet had a brother on the stage, who died in the year 1608.

"The English comedians either remained a long time in the country, or were induced to revisit it; for we find, that in October 1601, after having fully gratified King James and the people of Edinburgh with their entertainments, they were ordered by his majesty to repair to Aberdeen, to amuse the people with the exhibitions of their 'comedies and stage-plays.' It appears by an extract from the Council Records of Aberdeen, that they were recommended to the magistrates by the king's special letter. The author of The Annals of Aberdeen informs us, that they were presented by the magistrates with thirty-two merks for their services, besides being entertained with a supper on one of the nights of performance. At the same time, the freedom of the town was conferred upon Lawrence Fletcher, the manager, and each of his company.' It is worthy of remark, as bearing in some measure upon the question whether Shak

named as manager, is the same to whom King James granted, by his patent of 19th May, 1603, (twelve days after his arrival in London,) along with William Shakspeare, Richard Burbage, and others their associates,