teriors more than internals, have deformed a divine doctrine. Janet Morison clasped her hands together-her face became pale, and assumed that waxen, and glistening, and unlife-like hue which follows always, but seldom precedes, dissolution. Her eyes, too, became unsettled and roving, and she passed her hands repeatedly over her eyes, to remove the everlasting darkness which was fast gathering over them. The Cameronian maiden, weeping and sobbing, supported her in her arms, while her father, falling on his knees, and holding his hands upwards over the old woman's head, poured out the following prayer in a tone exceed ingly impressive and pathetic: O THOU, that lovest alone the upright heart and pure-that askest from human frailty no more virtue than frailty can render-that givest wild, and strong, and terrible passions to one, and meek and gentle affections to another-that regardest neither cross nor mitre, nor surplice, nor simple cloak, nor proud cathedral, nor humble kirk, nor sodded sheiling, look down and compassionate the sufferings of this old and erring woman, the last of an ancient line. Though her father slew my father, even as he knelt and held up his hands to thee-though her father wet his horses' fetlocks in the blood of my father's humble and pious name! Oh, for my sake, for the saints' sake, remember not this even now! The pride and the might of this house has got a fearful crushing-let that plead atonement; and thy servant cannot forget, that whenever a sword was wanted to strike for the independence of Scotland, the sword of the noble Morisons ever was foremost.' "As he uttered this, with his eyes full of tears, and his old hands held out to heaven, Janet Morison threw on him a glance of indescribable emotion, and, lifting her father's sword from her knees, presented the hilt, which was of steel, curiously inwrought with massy gold, to the uplifted hand of the Cameronian, saying, in a voice feeble and indistinct as the sound of a dying echo, "Take and keep the sword of my ancestors, and never wet it but in enemies' blood, the blood which it has spilt of the gentle and the innocent has called down a great and visible judgment on the house of Morison, waes me!'-The old man felt too deeply the importance of the duty he was per forming, to allow any worldly considerations, though they came in the persuasive shape and colour of pure gold, to interpose between him and Heaven,-though conscious that the famous sword of the house of Morison was proffered for his acceptance, he regarded it as little as he would have done a shepherd's rod; and the last of the Morisons, agonized as she was, seemed pleased that he considered her eternal welfare as paramount to the attractions of her lineage, and the famous sword, which had carved the helmed heads of so many Saracens into relics, during the second great crusade. She rested the hilt of the sword on his uplifted hand, but his fingers refused to close upon it, and he still continued to pour forth his prayer for her eternal acceptance and salvation. I interposed, and raised my hand, supporting the sword by the middle, lest it should drop from the dying woman's hand; but the Cameronian, who had closed his eyes lest the golden offering should mingle with his thoughts, half-opened them, and observing my auxiliary aid, contracted slowly his thumb and third and fourth fingers on the hilt of the sword, keeping still his remaining fingers extended to heaven, and preserving the same deep pathetic fervour of voice, without the least quaver or abatement. As he concluded his prayer, his extended fingers closed beside their companions, and he remained sole possessor of the ancient and valuable sword. He now beckoned the attention of his daughter, and said in a whisper, Hasten, my bonnie bairn, and bring some saft, and kindly, and accustomed hand, to the death-pang of this kind auld creature. God kens, the hand of her kindred has been redwat in the heart's blude o' my name; but my heart says, let byganes be byganes. Hasten, and take this saft e'ened young stripling with you, to cheer your loneliness, for the road's eerie.' We started up as the old man desired; Janet Morison made an effort, stretched out her hands, as if feeling for something in the air, muttering all the while words which sounded like the close of a Romish benediction; the old man caught his daughter gently by the round white neck with one hand, and seizing me with the other, bowed us down till her hands felt our heads; but I could only feel the cold pressure of a hand, out 1820. The Witch of Ae. of which the warm current of life was fast retiring, and hear the murmur of a blessing from a tongue which agony was rendering mute. "The Cameronian maiden and I immediately departed, to seek the assistance of the nearest neighbours, and particularly that of an old couple who dwelt in a wild and ruined place of Catholic worship, which had formerly served as a chapel to the noble name of Morison. We descended the steep and wooded bank, and crossed the Ae on a chain of stone steps, placed a moderate stride asunder, and which yet wore on their sides the marks of the mason's chisel-they had been taken from the ancient castle of Glenae, to supply the place of a beautiful Gothic arch, which tradition still describes to have been thrown across the deep ravine, by the magic might of Sir Michael Morison, in one short summer night. Vestiges of this bridge of "Gramerie" were still visible; and the necromancer, with a natural good taste creditable to skill of a less suspicious origin, had fashioned his beautiful labour out of the common and durable sandstone, which abounds in Dumfriesshire, more particularly at Loakerbrigghill, where all the witches and warlocks of Scotland still assemble on Halloweve to employ their skill in less beneficial works. As we emerged from the grove of scathed and mouldering trees, on the northern side, a very beautiful scene opened before me-the remains of ancient orchards and gardens skirted the edge of the waste moor-among the heather stood a circle of druidic stones, mock ing, in their massive height and hardness, the labours of time and the toil of generations to remove or destroy them-afar to the south was one continued succession of cottages and cattle folds, and the opposite hill sides were white with flocks of sheep, or striped with that spurious kind of cultivation called "Rundale," in which every person of a district tills a ridge and sows it with what grain he chooses. As I gazed down this delightful valley, I was neither regardless of the errand I had undertaken, or insensible of the youth and beauty of the maiden whom I accompanied. But the shortness of the road, and the solemnity of our mission, together with that innocent bashfulness which belongs to the "teens," hindered me from pouring 1 out my heart before this lovely Ca- "I had not then learned that seemed busy in some bitter contention; while a thin black smoke arising from the broken altar, threw its bitter cloud against the clear sky, after having filled the extensive ruins as a mist fills a morning glen. We walked slowly down, and stood at one of the entrances-my Cameronian conductress evidently uncertain how to proceed. Through an arrow-hole we observed a kind of wretched shealin sloped against the rich Saxon carvings, the walls of which were built with loose stones without cement. The pilasters of the door were two tombstones placed upright, the Saxon inscriptions partly legible; and with their backs leaning against these, and seated on figures of belted knights carved out of sandstone, but which had been lopped and mutilated to suit the convenience of repose, sat two beings, which might have passed with holier men than me, for the evil spirits that haunt or guard the entrance to some wicked man's sepulchre. "But the dress which they wore, and the human speech in which they indulged, precluded all speculation. Their covering was coarse and sordid, and their looks seemed long conversant with evil passions.I'se tell ye what Madge Mackitterick said, the figure on the right hand, I have seen the day whan I could have levelled my cocked carbine o'er the lordliest of a' these cedars-and frae that time to this, some seventy and seven years, we have lived in dool and in pine, while others lived fair and fat; the goods o' this warld are ill guidedan', had I my race to rin again, lass, I wadnae draw my dirk in the dark as I have done, at the whisper o' a Morison-I wad kittle the purse-proud carles under the fifth rib wi' the bit cauld steel for mysel', lass. An' now I have wrought their bloody warkes, and their deil's drudgery-and they're a' slipt awa to the better warl' themselves, and left me to grope my road in this region, wi' a hand which I reddened without recompense. And freeing his hands from an old maud, fixed with a wooden skewer round his shoulders, he clutched his matted gray hairs, and seemed tearing them from his temples in the bitterness of grief. Recompense!' half croaked and half shouted his grisly partnerRecompense, indeed, Francis Mackitterick, hae we no had recompense? --What ca' ye the death o' the auld lord, devoured on his death-bed wi' vermin-ilka crime he had committed was turned into a worm, and ilka worm took a tug at his heart-disnae that look like recompense?—Then there came the field o' Culloden, whilk accomplished the prophecy o' that Cameronian ranter and rairer, Sandie Peden, that in anither generation a Morison wadnae be left to-but better than that, they wadnae had a wall to stand over against had they been living -Ca'ye no that recompense?-The uncle and the twa boys fought bravely, it is rumoured, and slew mony, and maimed mae, an' gat a great name-but they never lived to brag on't-sae down I write that as a recompense.-Aweel, there came next the lily white lady o' Glenae, bonnie Nannie Morison, who went blooming about, flourishing like a new-born lily, as if there were de'il a hand to pou't, and if she was nae plucked to her ain contentment, she may e'en rise frae the kirk-sod there, and tell her tale herself. Sae hoot man, Francie Mackitterick, dinna be cast down, we hae had some recompense, and we'll soon hae mair.—Aye, ye may grane out yere ain auld sture and dour laugh, kenned o'er all the countra side by the name of Frank Mac's laugh, whilk a shower o' blood aye follows-for auld Kimmer Morison's gasping her last gasp, and here comes twa seventeen year auld gowkes to tell us the tidings.' "With this unlooked for announcement, we entered the abode of these miserable beings, and looked on them with surprise, not unmingled with fear. What stand ye there for, ye glowring gowk and ye gaping gomeral,' said Francis Mackitterick, canna ye speak-de'il hae me, gin I havena done a waur turn than thraw the tangs in yere teeth.' Aye, fifty warse turns, Francie, said the Cameronian maiden, with an undaunted look, 'else yere auld age wad have hope in't. I have come to bid you and Madge hasten to the hame of Janet Morison, she has but few minutes to live, if she is living now.' I tauld ye sae, ye doited carle,' said Madge, there's the last star o' a' the Morisons drapped out o' the firmament-when will ye grane and greet to me about recompense again, but I am clavering here, hinnies, when I should be streeking the sapless shanks of the dour and donard body, and fuming the haddin and the ha' wi rue and 6 rosemary, and bonny holly hemlock. And I'se be bound, besides, if she has nae a drap o' the rarest Bourdeaux in her garderine, that shall cheep in my crapin, where spirit kind has nae cheeped since the bridal-day and burial night o' young Dick Doomsdale, o' Cutmecraig, who was stabbed by the bride's brither, just because he wanted to try the temper o' his new whinger, whilk they say is never sicker till it's tempered in some friend's blood;-it's right to haud up auld fashions-and that minds me to take this auld dud o' a Bible wi me-at mony a last streaking have I used it and mony a rosy quean, that made mouths at the lucken brows o' Madge Mackettrick, an' held out her merry fingers at her for a witch an' an evil wisher, has come under the uncanny crook o' this little finger, decked out fou dainty in her lily-white linens, to be wedded with the bedrals spade to the clod o' the valley and the slimeworm.' And with an agility which the hope of burial drink, and burial bread excited, this vulgar hag slung an old greasy deer-skin wallet over her shoulder, and saying, 'come, Francie Mackitterick, ye slow sluggard, smell ye nae out the dainty burial roast.' Away she limped up the winding lane, among the church-yard stanes, followed by her partner, cursing the cramp, and infirmities of age,-leaving Mary Macmukle and me to follow through the fast-falling dew of twilight. To be continued. ON JEREMY COLLIER AND THE OPPONENTS OF THE DRAMA, MR NORTH, "THE business of plays is to recommend virtue, and discountenance vice; to show the uncertainty of human greatness, the sudden turns of fate, and the unhappy conclusions of violence and injustice. 'Tis to expose the singularities of pride and fancy, to make folly and falsehood contemptible, and to bring every thing that is ill under infamy and neglect.' So saith Jeremy Collier, the great Scourge of the English Drama, the "Histriomastix" of his day, whose declamations have for the most part been echoed, with little variety of tone, by succeeding authors. He is, without doubt, a powerful writer, and had he not suffered his passions to get the better of his discretion, would have been a most potent adversary. In his violence, however, he has often drowned his logic, and not seldom his discrimination. His hatred of the stage seems to have been of the true rancorous puritanical sort. The following pithy summing up of objections, is no bad specimen of his coarse and exaggerated manner. "Their liberties in the following particulars are intolerable, viz. Their smuttiness of expression, their swearing, profaneness, and lewd application of Scripture, their abuse of the clergy, (as if the clergy, moderate souls, had never abused them), their making their top characters libertines, and giving them success in their debauchery." Such is the tone of the introduction to Collier's View of the VOL. VII. English Stage, and the tenor of the work by no means falls short of the sample here given. The liberties taken in the plays of King Charles the Second's time, and those during the two succeeding reigns, appear to be in accordance with the general standard of the norality of the age. As exhibitions of the vices and absurdities of the times, in all their deformity, they must have afforded no unprofitable lessons to the rising generation. As records of manners now obsolete or forgotten, they are invaluable. These are the two principal ends to be fulfilled by dramatic writing. The wit of those plays must always be pleasurable to an enlightened reader, although the dramatic characters are too antiquated for representation before a promiscuous assemblage. The non-representation upon the stage of the present day, of the plays which excited the indignation of Collier, is doubtless a proof of the increased morality of this era, but none of the immorality of the pieces themselves. As an exhibition of existing irregularities, these scenes fulfilled, in their day, the legitimate office of dramatic entertainments. As pictures of obsolete follies and depravities, their production to a modern audience would be inefficient rather than dangerous. The manners, however licentious, are too obsolete; and the gayety, however free, is too antiquated to excite the sympathies of the many; and to those who 3 C have information and fancy enough, to carry them back to the society of the days of Buckingham, Etherige, Dryden, and Killegrew, their representation would be a classical and exalted recreation. It is amusing enough to see into what absurdities of censure, and forgetfulness of the plan and scope of dramatic composition, the zeal of Collier has betrayed his acute and strong intellect. In the "Old Bachelor" of Congreve, who is a more modern and less licentious wit than those before alluded to, Vainlove asks Belmour, "could you be content to go to heaven?" to which the other answers, "not immediately, in my conscience not heartily," and this keen glance at the self-deception of those who, with human feelings and associations, affect a disregard of the innocent enjoyments of life, and a predilection for happiness, of which their present means of knowledge cannot furnish them with an idea, Collier cites amongst his examples of "horrid profaneness!" The sentiment, indeed, is just throughout; and Collier ought to have reflected, that Providence seems to have intended, by impressing upon the human mind an instinctive clinging to our present state of existence, to arm it against that impatience, which might tempt us to endeavour prematurely to escape from present suffering, to the possession of perfect though unknown felicity. Poor Congreve is again, and about as wisely attacked, for a wellknown passage in his "Double Dealer." It would seem, from the quota tion, that Jehu had not then been so common an appellation as it is now, for persons engaged in driving chariots." Lady Froth is pleased to call Jehu a hackney coachman," (this is a "trifling mistake" of Jeremy'sshe calls a hackney coachman Jehu, which is somewhat different); upon this Brisk replies, "If Jehu is a hackney coachman, I am answered,-you may put that into the marginal notes, though, to prevent criticisms-only mark it with a small asterisme, and say Jehu was formerly a hackney coachman." This, (quoth Collier) for a heavy piece of profaneness, is no doubt thought a lucky one, because it burlesques the text and comment all under one." One would like to inquire of Jeremy what comment he can possibly mean, which it would be profanity to burlesque. One of the weakest parts of this singular book, is the contrast of the Grecian and Roman, with the English Stage, and the author's assertion of the exemplary purity of the two former.Just as if every body else had forgotten, because he chooses to forget, the ribaldries of Aristophanes, the bath scene in the Eunuchus of Terence, and other examples that might be cited. His praise of the Classics is confined, however, to their drama. Having, with reluctance, admitted that Aristophanes sometimes offends, which he makes out to be quite an exception to the general tone of Athenian comedy, and only to have happened because the author was an atheist! he afterwards goes out of his way to tomahawk Dryden, for an allusion to Abraham in a dedication, and vents a modicum of his rage upon Juvenal and Persius, in the following extraordinary paragraph. "If there be ten righteous lines in this vast preface, spare it for their sake, and also spare the next city, because it is but a little one." Here the poet stands for Abraham, and the patron for God Almighty; and where lies the wit of all this?" in the decency of the comparison, does it not ?— and for the next city he would have spared he is out in the allusion. "Tis no Zoar, but much rather Sodom and Gomorrah. Let them take care the fire and brimstone does not follow; and that those who are so bold with Abraham's petition, are not forced to that of Dives! To beg protection for a lewd book, in Scripture phrase, is very extraordinary! "Tis, in effect, to prostitute and send the Bible to the brothel! I can hardly imagine why these tombs of antiquity were raked in and disturbed? unless it were to conjure up departed vice, and revive the Pagan impurities; unless it were to raise the stench of the vault, and poyson the living with the dead !—Ôhe ! jam satis!" Hang him up, hang him up!" said the sage Johnson in ironical reply to the furious invectives against Pennant, to which the naturalists' attack on the glories of Alnwick Castle had excited the servile rage of Dr Percy-and what else can be said in such cases ?-Enough, however, of Jeremy Collier. The accusation against dramatic |