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she gave her hand to Sir Richard Clough. The tradi tion goes, that, at the funeral of her beloved spouse, John Salusbury, she was led to the church by Sir Richard, and from the church by Morris Wynne of Gwedir, who whispered to her his wish of being her second.— She refused him with great civility, informing him, that on her way to the church, she had accepted the proposal of Sir Richard; but assuring him, that he might depend upon being her third, in case she ever performed the same sad duty (which she was then about) to the knight. She was as good as her word. As soon as she had composed this gentleman, to show that she had no superstition about the number three, she concluded with Edward Thelwal of Plas y Ward, Esq. departed this life August 27, and was interred at Llanivydd, on the first of September, 1591.


THIS gentleman once gave a striking proof of the effect produced on the mind, by keeping it constantly turned to one object. It is well known, that he was On one occaone of our greatest planners of canals. sion, being called before a Committee of the House of Commons, he seemed to treat all rivers with such utter contempt, that one of the members was induced to ask him for what object of utility rivers were designed. Mr. Brindley, after pausing a moment, replied, "To feed navigable canals."


THE notorious Hugh Peters pretended to be a great admirer of Queen Christina. Under this pretence, he had the boldness to charge Whitelocke, the Ambassador, with a letter from himself to her, and to send her, at the same time, as presents, an English mastiff dog, and a great cheese. Whitelocke chose a seasonable moment to mention to Christina Hugh Peters's admiration, his letter, and his presents. She was more diverted than offended at his presumption. The letter, the mastiff, and the cheese, she gayly accepted,


GLASGOW, and the River Clyde, from the South West, 1815.



ON the Monday morning I breakfasted with a party of friends, chiefly composed of English. The conversation turning upon Rob Roy, the universal subject of discourse, we determined to devote an hour to Glasgow Cathedral, so powerfully and accurately described by the author of that novel. We proceeded up the Highstreet by a gentle ascent. This street is dirty, uncouth, and ancient, and betrays but little of its having been, a century before, the residence of Scottish noblemen, although their very mansions are still to be seen. At the extremity of it we entered an open space, containing buildings interesting to the philanthrophist, the christian, and the antiquary, I mean the Infirmary, and the Cathedral. To the Cathedral, however, we hastened, after a slight glance at the Infirmary, the new Barony Church, and the Barony Kirk. The gates of the burial ground were fastened. This did not prevent us from gratifying our curiosity, for we all leaped the wall, and found ourselves surrounded by a motley and picturesque collection of tombs and tomb-stones of various forms, decorated with skulls, Dutch cupids,


thigh bones, mermaids, hour-glasses and tears. Scotch undertakers and sculptors are universally inclined, through a borrid taste, to adorn hearses, coffius, and monuments with these disgusting and discordant objects. In their representations of tears they are very profuse. At first I could conceive of nothing to which they bore any resemblance except tadpoles or young frogs, but my error was corrected by a friend, who informed me that they were intended to represent the tears of the mournful survivors.

Among these numerous monuments, we observed here and there some "grassless graves;" these were protected from the depredations of resurrection-men, which occur frequently in consequence of the number of medical students in the neighbourhood, by substantial iron frames, called "mort safes," sunk into the earth sufficiently deep to enclose the coffins. These safes remain in the ground several weeks after the interment, and the expence incurred by the relatives is, I should suppose, trifling, the safes being generally the property of the church, and made of very durable materials.

The solidity and antiquity of the Cathedral, rather than any peculiar beauty of architecture, or extent of ruins, is its chief boast. The structure, merely as a Cathedral, is paltry, when compared with any of the English; but as one of the two Scotch Cathedrals which alone escaped the devasting hand of John Knox, the reformer, it claims a more important station' than it would otherwise deserve. Two towers, or steeples, rise from the roof, one at the western end, the other in the middle, in the former is the bell, which being accidentally cracked in the year 1789, by some persons who had gained admission to the steeple, was sent to London and cast anew, with the following inscription on its outside:

"In the year of grace 1594, Marcus Knox, a merchant of Glasgow, zealous for the interest of the reformed religion, caused me to be fabricated in Holland, for the use of his fellow citizens in Glasgow; and placed me, with solemnity, in the tower of their Cathedral. My function was announced by the impress on my bosom, Me audito venias doctrinam sanctam ut

discas, and I was taught to proclaim the hours of un heeded time. 195 years had I sounded these awful warnings, when I was broken by the hands of inconsiderate and unskilful men. In the year 1790, I was cast into the furnace, refounded at London, and returned to my sacred vocation. Reader, thou also shalt know a resurrection, may it be unto eternal life. Thomas Mears, fecit, London, 1790."

To attempt a description of the Cathedral I then gazed upon would be folly, since that in Rob Roy has been perused by almost every reader. I shall, therefore, not enter into any particulars respecting it, referring the reader to the second volume of the novel.

As the projecting ornaments of the windows, and the crevices in the walls, widened by the incessant decay of the stone, afforded us a footing, we grasped the old iron bars, and clambering up the half blockaded windows, obtained a view into the long range of gloomy vaults, beneath the body of the church, used forty years since as a place of worship, now the dismal receptacle of the dead, "full of dead men's bones and of all uncleanness,"

"The gloomy aisles

Black plaster'd and hung round with shreds of 'scutcheons And tatter'd coats of arms."


It was here that the loquacious and staunch presbyterian, Andrew Fairservice, drew Osbaldiston, from whose description of the place, I cannot refrain making a short extract:

"So saying he, (Andrew) entered a small low-arched door, secured by a wicket, which a grave looking man seemed on the point of closing, and descended several steps as if into funeral vaults beneath the church. It was even so for in these subterraneous precincts, why chosen for such a purpose I know not, was established a very singular place of worship.

Conceive, Tresham, an extensive range of low-browed, dark, and twilight vaults, such as are used for sepul chres in other countries, and had long been dedicated to the same purpose in this, a portion of which was seated with pews, and used as a church. The part of

the vaults then occupied, though capable of contain ing a congregation of many hundreds, bore a small proportion to the darker and more extensive caverns which yawned around what may be termed the inhabited space. In those waste regions of oblivion, dusky banners and tattered escutcheons, indicated the graves of those who were once doubtless princes in Israel! Inscriptions, which could be read only by the painful antiquary, in language as obsolete as the act of devotional charity which they implored, invited the passengers to pray for the souls of those whose bodies rested beneath."

A reverend gentleman advanced in years, whom I had the pleasure of accompanying, bore his testimony to the veracity of this account, having often "entered the small low arched door," and descended "into these funeral vaults," when a student at Glasgow College. Of, "the dusky banners and tattered 'scutcheons" we discerned nothing, as the scanty light which glimmered through the diminutive apertures between the intersecting gothic work of the windows, scarcely rendered distinguishable the outlines of the pillars and arches in this extensive and gloomy crypt, leaving our imaginations at liberty to trace the steps of Rob Roy, swiftly gliding through "these yawning caverns," from the pursuing eyes of Osbaldiston.

A woman, perceiving that we were examining the Cathedral, came up with the key, and let us into the interior of the building. It is now divided into three parts, two of which are handsomely fitted up as modern churches, or as they are here called kirks. The other part, which intervenes between the two kirks, is sufficiently wide to prevent any interruption arising from the services of the two congregations taking place at the same time. It is a curious fact, that here under one roof are three places of worship, if we include the crypt. We found nothing to detain us long within these kirks, and having thoroughly gratified our curiosity relative to this interesting pile we returned into the town.

One morning I strolled along the banks of the canal, to see the aqueduct, in which the canal crosses over the river Kelvin, at the height of eighty-three feet.


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