brook again, my little fellow?' he demanded of the younger.

"Because the priest says it is the common sign of salvation to all good Christians.'

"Why, good again!' said the honest soldier. I protest unto you, mistress, I envy you these boys. Are they both yours ?'

"Stawarth Bolton had reason to put the question, for Halbert Glendinning, the elder of the boys, had hair as dark as the raven's plumage, black eyes, large, bold, and sparkling, that glittered under eyebrows of the same complexion; a skin deep embrowned, though it could not be termed swarthy, and an air of activity, frankness, and determination far beyond his age. On the other hand, Edward, the younger brother, was light-haired, blue-eyed, and of fairer complexion, in countenance rather pale, and not exhibiting that rosy hue which colours the sanguine cheek of robust health. Yet the boy had nothing sickly or ill conditioned in his look, but was, on the contrary, a fair and handsome child, with a smiling face, and mild, yet cheerful eye. "The mother glanced a proud motherly glance, first at the one, and then at the other, ere she answered the Englishman, 'Surely, sir, they are both my children.'

"And by the same father, mistress?' said Stawarth; but, seeing a blush of displeasure arise on her brow, he instantly added, Nay, I mean no offence; I would have asked the same question at any of my gossips in Merry Lincoln.-Well, dame, you have two fair boys; I would I could borrow one, for Dame Bolton and I live childless in our old hall.-Come, little fellows, which of you will go with me?'

"The trembling mother, half-fearing as he spoke, drew the children towards her, one with either hand, while they both an swered the stranger. I will not go with you,' said Halbert boldly, for you are a false-hearted southern; and the southerns killed my father; and I will war on you to the death, when I can draw my father's sword.'

"God-a-mercy, my little levin-bolt,' said Stawarth, the goodly custom of deadly feud will never go down in thy day, I presume. And you, my fine white-head, will you not go with me, to ride a cockhorse?"

"No,' said Edward, demurely, for you are a heretic'

"Why, God-a-mercy still,' said Stawarth Bolton. Well, dame, I see I shall find no recruits for my troop from you; and yet I do envy you these two little chubby knaves.' He sighed a moment, as was visible, in spite of gorget and corslet, and then added, And yet, my dame and I would but quarrel which of the knaves we should like best, for I should wish for the

black-eyed rogue and she, I warrant me, for that blue-eyed, fair-haired darling. Na. theless, we must brook our solitary wedlock, and wish joy to those that are more fortunate. Serjeant Brittson, do thou remain here till recalled-protect this family, as under assurance-do them no wrong, and suffer no wrong to be done to them, as thou wilt answer it.-Dame, Brittson is a married man, old and steady; feed him on what you will, but give him not over much liquor.'

"Dame Glendinning again offered refreshments, but with a faultering voice, and an obvious desire her invitation should not be accepted. The fact was, that, supposing her boys as precious in the eyes of the Englishman as in her own, (the most ordinary of parental errors,) she was half afraid, that the admiration he expressed of them in his blunt manner might end in his actually carrying off one or other of the little darlings which he appeared to covet so much. She kept hold of their hands, therefore, as if her feeble strength could have been of service, had any violence been intended, and saw, with joy she could not disguise, the little party of horse countermarch, in order to descend the glen. Her feelings did not escape Stawarth Bolton. I forgive you, dame,' he said, for being suspicious that an English falcon was hovering over your Scottish moor-brood. But fear not-those who have fewest children have fewest cares; nor does a wise man covet those of another household. Adieu, dame; when the black-eyed rogue is able to drive a foray from England, teach him to spare women and children, for the sake of Stawarth Bolton.'

God be with you, gallant southern,' said Elspeth Glendinning, but not till he was out of hearing, spurring on his good horse to regain the head of his party, whose plumage and armour was now glancing and gradually disappearing in the distance, as they winded down the glen.

"Mother,' said the elder boy, I will not say amen to a prayer for a southern.' "Mother,' said the younger, more reverentially, is it right to pray for a heretic?'

•

"The God to whom I pray only knows,' answered poor Elspeth ; but these two words, southern and heretic, have already cost Scotland ten thousand of her best and bravest, and me a husband, and you a father; and, whether blessing or banning, I never wish to hear them more.-Follow me to the Place, sir,' she said to Brittson, ⚫ and such as we have to offer you shall be at your disposal.'

The Lady of Avenel, formerly mentioned, shares in the misfortune of Dame Glendinning, the Baron having been slain in the same battle. But

her loss is aggravated by the ravages committed by the English, which force her, with her young daughter and two faithful attendants, to seek a temporary refuge in the solitary Tower of Dame Glendinning. Julian, with the wonted contempt which the stalwart Barons of those days entertained for the claims of heirs-female, keeps possession of the castle, and domain, of which his niece was the rightful proprietor; and the lady knowing well, how useless it was to resist, meekly submitted to her fate; in consideration of which acquiescence, Julian now and then sends presents of cattle and household stuff to Glendearg, where the Lady lived unknown and unheard of, yet greatly respected and beloved by the little secluded circle in the Glen, and almost adored by her bower woman, now the wife of her faithful servant Simon, some comic effect being occasionally produced by the suppressed conceit of the lady's attendant struggling with the legitimate authority of the yeoman's widow. Meantime, the three children constitute a sort of joint stock, and are brought up together. Of the lady we see or hear little farther than we gather from the fond attachment and reverence of the family, which after seems to have mellowed into a feeling which had more of affectionate veneration for the meeksubdued Christian respectable in adversity, than homage to the rank of lady of a manor. She frequently edifies the simple inmates, by reading to them out of a volume, of which they know merely that it must needs be a good and holy book, she only communicating to them particular passages, and they only feeling its general tendency. Meantime, she regularly attends worship at the Monastery, in a quiet manner, avoiding discourse with strangers. Here, now, is another proof of the skill of the great magician :-We see merely glimpses of this good lady,—we hear little, indeed, of her conversation,

and a seeming veil of mystery is thrown over her character and opinions, yet we feel a degree of mingled respect and tenderness for her, such as another writer could not have produced by the most distinct knowledge of her, or the greatest eulogium on her character. We are taught to watch with anxiety over the gradual decay of this gentle and patient suf

ferer. Her humble friends at length think it their duty to summon a priest to shrive her, whom they almost considered as sinless. The Brother, after staying alone with his penitent, returns confused and irresolute, and is told by the good Dame Glendinning of a book which the lady was wont to cherish as a treasure, and read to them occasionally. The Sacristan extorts it from the reluctant hands of Elspeth, and, finding it to be the Bible in the vulgar tongue, is terrified at such a symptom of apostacy, and sets out for the Monastery. And now the current of the story is impeded by the anomalous being, who seems meant on this occasion to act as a female Puck or Robin Goodfellow. The White Maid waylays and terrifies the poor Sacristan-he is forced to plunge into the stream with this adhesive spirit behind him on his mule. And here follows a scene of swimming and singing much too long protracted, though it were no otherwise faulty. The mysterious and most musical spirit carries off the Bible, in utter defiance of all the laws of demonology, by which spirits, terrestrial as well as those infernal, fly from the very appearance of the sacred volume, which not only defies their touch, but for bids their presence.

The Sub-Prior is alarmed by these symptoms of the near approach of heresy, and perplexed by the details of the singing spirit's exploits; and sets out to administer the last rites to the dying lady, and inquire into the progress of heresy in the Halidome. During a very characteristic_conversation betwixt the Father and Elspeth, the lady expires, and leaves the priest inconsolable for delaying to administer the consolations of religion in the last extremity. The sorrow of the household is described in a manner the most natural and pathetic. The Bible, which the White Maid had stolen from the half-drowned Sacristan, she has since mysteriously restored to the children, and it is again carried off by Father Eustace. The opportune Maid sings, as usual-terrifies him on the road-deprives him of the Bible, but compensates, by saving his life from a lawless free-booter on the way. This same Christie, who is a desperate adherent of Julian of Avenel, is condemned to suffer death by the Abbot and his conclave, on account of attempting the life of Father

parole in Glendearg, and Father Eustace returns to the Abbey, having induced Edward, the younger Glendinning, the hopeless lover of Mary of Avenel, to enter on his noviciate in the Monastery.

Another fine scene follows, where the author, with his usual indulgence to human weakness, brings out the better part of the character of Boniface, who resigns the mitre, with grace and humble dignity, to his more able coadjutor. Sir Percy Shafton wanders away, persecuted for the supposed murder of Halbert. This gallant youth has, in the mean time, joined the heroes of the Reformation, Murray and Morton, of whose characters and actions we have a short but lively and masterly sketch. He, Halbert, does all that it is possible for such a person to do in so short a time to recommend and distinguish himself; and the story concludes with a battle betwixt Sir Percy Shafton's English pursuers and the adherents of the Convent, in which Julian Avenel and his trusty adherents fall. The death scene of Catharine is most affecting. Two marriages follow, one betwixt Mary Avenel and the man of her heart, Halbert Glendinning. This unequal and seemingly incompatible union is sanctioned by the Earl of Murray, who thus gratifies a faithful and able adherent, and crowns the mutual affection of two who had been lovers from infancy. The fantastic Sir Percy, in a fit of romantic generosity, marries a certain brave and beautiful damsel, the daughter of a miller, who had preserved him in danger, and attended him with devoted and innocent affection. Among the fortunate events that close the story, we account the death of the White Maid of Avenel, especially as she frequently gives us to wit that she hopes for no resurrection. If we had not the lady's own word for it, we should certainly dread her second appearance, as the author seems to have a particular taste for raising the dead-witness Athelstane and Sir Percy. Both of these heroes were neither expected nor wished for, and we could have well dispensed with their second visitation to the nether world.-Finally, here are excellent materials in the hands of a matchless architect; but, conscious of power, and heedless of censure, he has thrown them together in such

headlong haste, and introduced such a fantastic variety, that he has neither done justice to his own great powers, nor to a subject so pregnant with novelty of character and deep and various interest. But he is human, after all, and must be permitted, not merely to nod, like Homer, but to dream dreams and see visions, after the breathless race of excellence that he has run with such unexampled speed and unbounded success. In the sequel of this work, which is to appear, we believe, under the name of the ABBOT, we trust that no blemishes, such as have occasioned our present strictures, will be found, and that we shall not have to encounter either

Black spirits or white,

Red spirits or grey,

or spirits of any other hue or character, daring tc "mingle" in the narrative, except the only one which "mingle may,"-the fresh and unfading genius of the author,-which requires, surely, no 66 metaphysical aid” to attain the "golden round" of its glory.

ON THE RESTORATION OF THE PAR

THENON.

We are happy to observe, that a feeling universal among men of taste and education, and very general even among those of inferior acquirements, exists in favour of the restoration of the Parthenon in the National Monument. No person can have lived in society last winter in this place without perceiving the generality of this sentiment; and as the Committee of Management, from all that we can learn, participates the same feelings, and is composed of persons whose taste and judgment will lead them to adopt the plan which is in itself best, and has obtained the largest share of public approbation, the ultimate adoption of this measure may be considered as nearly certain.

The REASONS which, after a very full discussion, have led to this general feeling, are these:

The Parthenon is by far the cheapest model that could be adopted for the proposed edifice; it being the general opinion of skilled persons who have visited the original, that, in Edinburgh, in consequence of the great facilities which our quarries afford, it might be restored for L. 35,000 or