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remembrance (though not under our of abode about night-fall, highly graeye, as it is completely destroyed) the tified, upon the whole, with our exchamber, where the merry-hearted cursion, but exceedingly shocked by King of Scotland, after his losses at that barbarous disrespect for the reSolway Moss, quantum mutatus ! in lics of antiquity, and the manes of the all the disconsolate desolation of dis- dead, which we had been compelled appointed hopes and a broken heart, re- to witness. tired, to die ;—that we passed across Now, sir, I have finished my narrathe square, and through the passage, tive; and if, through means of your (which we had seen so lately, and with extensively circulating Magazine, I so much violence, opened,) into the can draw the attention of those in still entire and spacious “ Tennis- power to the object of it, namely, to court,” the only antiquity of the kind the enclosing and preservation of our now remaining in Scotland ;-that we old, and venerable, and national Ruins," surveyed the bare and now woodless I think I shall contribute to the keepfields, which still obtain-quasi lucus ing up among us of that patriotic and a non lucendothe name of “ Falk- chivalrous spirit, which is utterly at land wood,and which were strip- variance with every tendency to radiped of their Caledonian oaks by the calism and insubordination. And if, republican violence and rapine of by the slight allusion I have been Cromwell ;-that, in compliance with compelled to make to the instance of my invariable practice, we visited the Kilgour,—which is by no means a church-yard, or rather burial-ground, solitary one,-I shall have succeeded of Falkland, in which the monument in awakening the attention of one erected to the memory of the pious and single parish Proprietor to the subject far-noted Emily Geddie, * was all of church-yard dilapidation, I shall that attracted, or deserved to attract, have done more for the repose of the our notice ;-that we rode out as far dead, and for the rational satisfaction as the old church-yard of Kilgour, t a of the living, than if I had been the most retired and romantic spot, where Inventor of an Iron-safe, to preserve we found a farm-steading, constructed their bodies from resurrection. almost entirely of broken head-stones It is my intention, during the latter and monuments ;-—that we found the end of this harvest, to make an exbones and flesh of a dead horse, fester- cursion over Scotland, with the view ing, in sacrilegious and obscene conta- of giving you some “ Church-yard" mination, in a large stone-coffin, where and“ Ruin” intelligences of supplythe body of the poor unfortunate Prince ing you with a list of the “ moral David, formerly mentioned, had, in all maxims of the dead”—and with a stateprobability, been once deposited ;—and ment of the“ sacrilegious and revolting that, after having qualified our beef- dilapidations of the living,"--and neisteak, with a quantum-suff. of Mrs ther power nor interest shall induce Scott's whisky-toddy, and having ob- me to spare the guilty, nor to calumtained a full and a detailed account niate or misrepresent the innocent.from our new friend" Nil nisi bonum!" I am yours, &c. of the ancient and honourable House

VIATOR of D—-m-we returned to our places

• This singularly pious and affectionate girl,--for she died at sixteen years of age, was daughter to John Geddie, in the Hill-town of Falkland, and has found a historian of her “ Choice Sentences and Practices” in a James Hogg, (not the Jacobite Hogg,) altogether competent to the task he has undertaken. She was born in 1665, and died in 1681. The pamphlet was published by James Halkerston, Bailie in Falkland, in 1795, for the benefit, as he expresses it, of the rising generation ; and is extremely rare, and not a little curious.

† Kilgour was formerly, previous to the union of the two parishes, the burial-ground of Falkland ; and either Lesly or Buchanan, or both,—for I cannot speak positively, not having the books by me at present,-mention the particulars of the funeral procession from Falkland to Kilgour. Drummond says, Prince David was buried at Lindores, but this seems to be a mistake.


No. I. " Dans ce siècle de petits talens et de grands succès, mes chefs-d'œuvre auront cent éditions, s'il le funt. Par-tout les sots crieront que je suis un grand homme, et si je n'ai contre moi que les gens de lettres et les gens de goût, j'arriverai peut-être à l'Académie.”

LOUVET. I'm a philosopher of no philosophy, gins, than he is at the bottom of the and know not where the deuce my page ; and the Indian jugglers, with wisdom came from, unless it was in- their brazen balls, were nothing to the born, or “connatural," as Shaftesbury style in which he can fling sentences will have it. I have studied neither the about. I can speak but from my own heavens, nor the earth, nor man, nor experience: I have found it so; and books; but I have studied myself, have though there is a degree of excellence, turned over the leaves of my own which all persons cannot arrive at, yet heart, and read the cabalistic charac- the fabrication of essays is a double emters of self-knowledge. Nor without ployment, and I here record the prinsuccess, for truth, I trust, has been no ciple by which I arrived at its perfecstranger to my pen. If all the world tion, as a bequest and lesson to postefollowed my example, there would be rity:-Despise learning ; never mind some sense in it. But they do not. books, but to borrow. Let the ideas They have not courage and alacrity play around self, and that is the way enough to catch wisdom and folly “as to please the selfish reader-other readthey fly." They ponder and weigh-ers there are not in the world. wind about a vacuum, like the steps of It is vulgarly supposed, that a man, a geometrical stair-case. They do not who is always thinking and talking of “pluck bright knowledge from the himself, is an egotist. He is no such pale-faced moon.” They do not dare thing; he is the least egotistical of all to look from the table land of their men. It is the world he is studying own genius,-their own perceptions, all the time, and self is but the glass nor sweep boldly over the regions of through which he views and specuphilosophy,"knowing nothing, caring lates upon nature. People call me egonothing.” They do not expatiate over tist; they don't know what they say. literature with the step of freemen, - I never think of myself, but as one they are shackled, and have not the among the many-a drop in the ocean spirit to be truly vagabond. They are of life. If I anatomize my own heart, not elevated to a just idea of them- 'tis that I can lay hands on no other selves, their own feelings are not hal- so conveniently ; and when I do even lowed, and they put forth their thought make use of the letter 1, I merely mean “ fearfully, and in the dark.” This is by it any highly-gifted and originallynot the way to be wise ;—there is con- minded individual. I have always fidence required for wisdom as well as thought myself very like Rousseau, exfor war. We are all of one kind; the cept in one thing, that I hate the wofeelings of nature are universal, and ma nd,'-I have reason he had he that can turn his eye in upon him- not. Nevertheless, had he hung up self,—that has mental squint enough his shield in a temple, I'm sure I should to look behind his nose, may read there recognize it. I feel within me a kindthe irrefragable laws and principles of red spirit,-the same expansive intelhumanity. This the difficulty, lect that strays over the bounds of the bar between man and kuowledge, speculation, and has grasped nothing, as is observed by Mr Locke, (who, by because it met nothing worthy,--the the bye, is an author I despise,-a phi- same yearning after what the soul can losopher who reasoned without feel- never attain, ---the same eloquent and ing, and felt without reason). If a restless thought, whose trains are ropes person can once enter into the recep- of sand, undone as soon as done,-the tacles of his own feelings, muse upon same feverish thirst to gulp up knowhimself, watch the formation and pro- ledge, with a stomach in which no gress of his opinions, he will then have knowledge can rest. If a fortuitous studied the best primer of philosophy: congregation of atoms ever formed any If he can once lay hold of the end of thing, it formed us, for truly we are that web, he can unravel it ad infini- a tesselated pair, each of a disposition tum. With his pen in his fingers, and curiously dove-tailed, as Burke said of his glass before him, he no sooner be- Lord Chatham's ministry,—of faculties put together so higgledy piggledy, I care noimato save it from being utthat however excellent each is in its terly insipid. kind, the union is an abortion, There have been few great authors worse than nothing but the anagrams who took from the beginning to writof intellect, as Donne would say. The ing as a profession-it is too appalworld, too, has treated us similarly; ling—I doubt if it would require half with the most patriotic feelings, our so much courage to lead a forlorn hope. countries have laughed at us; with the They are, for the most part, men, most philanthropic pens, we have be- against whom all other avenues were come the buts and bye words of critic shut,—who have been pushed from cism; and with the warmest hearts, their stools, we never had a friend. He despised " And being for all other trades unfit, poetry-so do I; he despised book- Only t'avoid being idle, set up wit." learning-I know nothing about it; he And this not for lack of capacity, but did not care for the great-the great for want of will; none of them could do not care for me. What further give a reason for being what they are traits of resemblance would you have? I could not, I know, for one. Yet his breeches hung about his heels. mine was a natural course. It is an easy

The author of a mighty fine review transition from the pencil to the pen, of Childe Harold compares the author, only the handling of the first must be my friend's friend, to Rousseau, and the result of long practice, and unekes out the similarity in poetic prose. wearied assiduity. The latter goes I have no fault to find with the Re- more glibly, and is the engine of view, it being buon camarado of mine, greater power. We long to grasp it, but they might have made out a better as if it were Jove's thunderbolt, and comparison. It was L. H. first sug- “hot and heavy” we find it. The study gested to me my resemblance to the of the arts, too, is a terrible provocaauthor of Eloisa ; it is one of those tive to criticismto canting and unobligations I can never forget. He said, meaning criticism. I must confess, I at the same time, that he himself was tremble to think what literature is like Tasso, and added, in his waggery, likely to suffer from the encroachments he would prove that bard a Cockney. of that superficial and conceited tribe. This is neither wit nor good sense in I was myself one of them, and may my friend, who, finding he cannot own it, though they be to me the first shake off the title, wishes to convert it Saneath the sun. They leap to taste, into a crown ;-it won't do, the brave without laying any foundation of knowpublic' will have it a fool's cap. ledge with their eyes stuck into the

As for me, I care not; they will subject matter of their work; their have me Cockney-they're welcome; notions of things are too apt to rethey will have me pimpled in soul and semble those of the“ fy upon the wellin body--they're welcome; I know proportioned dome;" their overstrained what they will not have me--but no idea of the all-importance of their art, matter ; I wander from my theme, may be a very useful feeling to themmyself, but I cannot help it. The selves, and to their own exertions, but, thoughts of what I have suffered froin to the world, it is pedantry and impuenvenomed pens come thick upon me; dence. There are other things besides but posterity will do me justice, and painting, and of this truth they do not there will yet be “sweet sad tears” shed seem enough aware. There are exover the tombs of me and of my tribe. ceptions, however-I am one, H Nevertheless, let me not give up the another. And I take this opportunity ghost before my time-I am worth two of weighing a little into the opposite dead men yet; nor let it be here on scale, since I perceive they hold up record that I could be moved by my their heads more than ordinary, (eshard-hearted and hard-headed perse pecially the Cockney artists) on the cutors. But “what is writ is writ”- strength of my former essays. I have it goes to my heart to blot one quar, heard a dauber speak of me, yes, he ter of a page. My thoughts walk forth writes about the art,' in much the same upon the street, like malefactors on the tone as it he were recommending Mildrop, with their irons knockel off. ton to a divine for having treated of They come unshackled, unquestioned, the Deity. They shall no more such unconcocted; and if I have uttered essays, nor shall they again lay such heaps of folly in my day, I trust there Aattering unction to their souls. was some leaven--zool or bad, which I must needs be an honest man, for

I speak hard always of what I love Talking of subjects--I have been best ;-it is upon points nearest our often accused of a fondness for paradox. own hearts that we are most apt to I am not ashamed of the predilection. feel spleen. . Downright foes never Truth, in my mind, is a bull, and the come within arm's length of one,- only way to seize it is by the horns. one cannot get a blow at them; and This bold method of attack the startled we must fall foul of our friends, were reader calls paradox. He had rather it but for practice sake, to keep our spend hours in hunting it into a corpugnacity in tune. People, with whom ner, with but a poor chance of noosing I have been in habits of intimacy, hav it after all, and is envious of him that complained that I make free with their has the courage to grasp it at once. I names, borrow my best things from like the Irish for this, they blunder their conversation, and afterwards upon truth so heartily, and knock it abuse them. It is all very likely; but out of circumstances, as if these were why do they talk so much? If they made of flint, and their heads of iron. throw their knowledge into one's I blunder on it myself often, but the hands, how can we help making use worst of this method is, that one is so of it? Let them enter their tongues apt to mistake common-place for a at Stationer's Hall, if they would pre- new discovery. We light upon it so serve the copy-right of speech, nor be suddenly, that there is no time to exbringing their action of trover to re- amine its features, and thus often send gain what they have carelessly squan- forth an old worn-out maxim as a dered.

spic and span-new precept. But 'tis Ile that writes much, must neces- the same thing,-half the world won't sarily write a great deal of bad, and a recognize it, and the other half won't great deal of borrowed. The gentleman take the trouble of exposing it. All author, that takes up the pen once in the didactic prosing of the age-prothree months, to fabricate a pet essay sing, be it in verse or not, is but the for his favourite miscellany or review, his crambe repetitathe old sirloin may keep up his character as a tasteful done up into kickshaws and fritters. and fastidious penman. But let him Gravity and sense are out of tune be like me, scribbling from one end of the stock is exhausted to the knowthe year to the other obliged to it, at ing--the only vein unworked is huall hours and in all humours--and let's mour. Waggery is always original ; see what a mixture will be his warp and there is more genuine inspiration and woof?-Let him, in an evil mo- in comic humour, than in the mightyment, be compelled to “set himself mouthed sublime. Madame de Stuel, doggedly about it," as Johnson says, that eloquent writer, -whom I know and he'll be glad to prop himself up but in transistion by the bye-has with the gossip of his acquaintances, anticipated these observations of inine and the amusing peculiarities of his in her Essay on Fiction :-“ Nature friends. Let bim stick in his working and thought are inexhaustible in proclothes, hammering away all weathers, ducing sentiment and meditation ; but like Lord Castlereagh in the House, in humour or pleasantry, there is a and he'll have little time for display certain felicity of expression, or perand got up speeches. He'll soon learn ception, of which it is impossible to to despise which word comes foremost, calculate the return. Every idea which and which comes fittest, and, in the excites laughter may be considered as way of diction, he'll soon cry out with a discovery ; but this opens no traek myself_" all's grist that comes to the to the future adventurer. To this mill.” Grammarians and verbal critics eccentric power there lies no path, may cry out against us for corrupting of this poignant pleasure there is no the language-they may collate, and perennial source. That it exists, we talk with Mr Blair of purity, propriety, are persuaded, since we see it conand precision ; but we own no such stantly renewed ; but we are as little rules to our craft ;-with us, words able to explain the course as to direct are

the means. The gift of pleasai.try * Winds, whose ways we know not of." more truly partakes of inspiration than All we have to do is, to take the first the most exalted enthusiasm.”. The that offers, and sail wherever it may world are beginning to be of the same blow ;-all parts are alike, so as the opinion,—they are finding out this voyage be effected-all subjects alike, truth more and more every day. Naso the page be concluded.

tural humour, lightness of heart, and

brio, it begins to think the best phi- of drudgery-of"hubble, bubble, toil, losophy,—and it is right. Doubtless and trouble" —will be repaid with ages this is the great cause of the popularity of fame; and, enthroned between Adof that confounded Northern Maga- dison and Bacon, my spirit shall wield zine, which seems to have taken out a the sceptre of Cockney philosophy.patent for laughing at all the world. Yet let me not be discontented; I am Like the spear of Achilles, however, not all forsaken. From Winterston its point can convey pleasure as well to Hampstead my name is known—at as pain—a balm as well as a wound. least, with respect. I am in literature It is a wicked wag, yet one cannot the lord-mayor of the city—the Wood help laughing with it at times, even of Parnassus (what an idea !). The against one's-self

. I shall never forget apprentices of Cockaigne point at me, the look of L. H. when he read him- as towards the highest grade of their self described in it, as a turkey-cock ambition. I am the prefect of all city coquetting with the hostile number critical gazettes; and L. H. for all his newly come out. There was more huffing and strutting, is but my depugood nature in the article than he had ty-my proconsul.-Said I not well, met any where for a long time, and Bully Rock ? I blew into his nostrils he grinned with a quantum of glee all the genius he possesses, and introthat would have suffocated a monkey. duced him to the honourable fraterni

I would that Heaven had endowed ty of washerwomen and the roundme with more of the risible faculty, table; since which auspicious day, he or more of the serious; that I had lacked never a beef-steak, or a clean been decidedly one or the other, in- shirt. But of him, and of all my acstead of being of that mongrel hu- quaintances, I have left valuable memour, which deals out philosophy with morials throughout my writings. This flippant air, and cracks jests with cof- observation, and that anecdote, have fin visage. I can't enrol myself under always come pat into my sentences; any banner; and cannot, for the life so that, with my mixture of gossip of me, be either serious or merry. I've and philosophy, I shall be the halftried both; but my gravity was dog- Boswell, half-Johnson, of my age. gedness, and my mirth most uncouth Not that I deign to compare myself gambolling. So I must e'en remain as with the first in dignity, or with the I am,-up or down, as stimuli make last in “ that fine tact, that airy intuior leave me. It is a sorry look-out, tive faculty,” that purchases at halfthough, to be dependent on these, – price ready-made wisdom. As to my

bright thought to “mine politics, it would be a difficult matter host," or mine apothecary. I am not an to say what they were. I know not admirer of“ the sober berry's juice;” myself ; so that we will treat them as it generates more wind than ideas. a country schoolmaster gets over a hard Johnson's favourite beverage is better, word, “It's Greek, Bill, read on."but it is not that I worship: “ Telí As to my temper, it is of the genus irme what company you keep,” says the ritabile prosaicorum (if that be good adage ; a more pertinent query would Latin.) I am very willing to give, but be, “ Tell me what liquor you drink.” little able to return a blow. I теер I would undertake to tell any charac- under the lash, and, in truth, am too ter upon this data. There is a mani- innocent for the world. After attackfest "compromise between wine and ing private character and public virwater” in Mr Octavius Gilchrist; 'tis tue, -endeavouring to sap all princieasy to discover sour beer in Mr Gif- ples of religion and government, -utford's pen; and brisk toddy in North's tering whatever slander or blasphemy -equally easy in mine, to descry the caprice suggested, or malice spurred dizziness of spirit, or the washiness of me to,-yet am I surprised, and unawater, whichever at the time be the ble to discover, how or why any one reigning potion.

can be angry with me. I own, it is a This hurried sketch will not see the puzzle to me to find out how I have liglt till I am no more. • 'Twill be made enemies. Yet, such is the world, found among my papers, affixed to my that I am belaboured on all sides ; Memoirs, and my executors will give friends and foes alike fall foul of me; it to the world with pomp. Then will --and often am I tempted to cry out, 1, uncoated, unbreeched, and uncra- in the language of that book i have vatted, look down from the empyreal neglected, « There is no peace for me, on the scatteration of my focs. A life but in the grave."

to owe every

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