hut is covered with mud, grass or turfs, held together by twigs. The roof is rent in several places. The fire is often made in the centre and fills the whole wigwam with smoke. I entered one of these huts near Cailander, the description of which may serve for the rest. The door was so narrow, that I was nearly suffocated in my attempt to squeeze in; and after narrowly escaping breaking my shins over a pile of stones set for a bench! I sat near a

crazy table to partake of the wretched fare laid before me. The smoke from the blazing turf, having no means of escape, but through a hole in the roof, eddied through the apertures in the ceiling, and hung in sable folds over our heads, like a canopy of soot! The Hecate whose soiled and ragged dress, and weather-beaten phyz, gave her the appearance of one of the "imperfect speakers" in Macbeth, almost induced me to shrink back from my resolution of satisfying my appetite in her horrid den. Over her shoulders was a Tartan screen, rather the worse for the wear:

"Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched With different coloured rags, black, red, white, yellow, And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness."

Her thick black hair, which escaped "with Gorgon horrors" from a small greasy nightcap, and her hideous expression of features, conveyed the idea of a witch" plying her unutterable trade."

But all the Highland cottages are not so dis

gusting as the one I have spoken of; although, generally speaking, they answer this description. Our party called at a neat little hamlet near Blair-Athol, where we were regaled with delicacies, which induced even the fastidious Dr. Johnson to extol the luxury of a Scotch breakfast. This cottage was embosomed in the midst of fruit trees; the garden was neatly laid out and was well stored with vegetables; circles of blue smoke ascended from the chimney, and winded slowly out from among the green trees; a tremendous bull-dog was snoring at the door, and in a little farm-yard were cows and sheep the cock was tuning his throat, and the poultry were swarming round our hostess, who was distributing showers of meal and corn to them. The interior of the cottage corresponded to the exterior; every thing was clean, neat and almost elegant-and we were so well satisfied with this pleasing picture of rural happiness, that on continuing our journey, we cast many a "longing, lingering look be

hind."

Peat or turf is used in the Highlands for fuel. It is dug out of marshy grounds, and appears to be merely black earth kept together by the intertwisting of vegetable fibres, which being more combustible, take fire and heat the earth red hot. They use this peat in the distillation of Highland whiskey, which is much admired, particularly on account of a singular burnt taste.

The Highlanders are naturally a courageous people, and make most excellent soldiers. The British armies, during the last war, received their choicest supplies from them; and it is well known, that Napoleon paid them a high compliment, which, coming from such a man, must have been very flattering to their feelings. By the abolition of the feudal jurisdiction, the wild and lawless system which formerly distinguished these men, has been destroyed. They are no longer the satellites of a bloodthirsty chieftain. Every individual is now obliged to provide for his "aræ et foci," by honest labour, and subordination to the wholesome regulations of a general police; and he no longer depends on the bounty of his chief for subsistence, nor ministers to his rapacity or vengeance, out of gratitude for his rude hospitality.

I have seen but few handsome lassies during this journey. Their features are contracted by the sharp grasp of poverty, and their skin loses its softness in the blasts, and its whiteness by exposure. But there are some exceptions; and I witnessed scenes, not unlike that so beautifully described by the author of "Waverley.". "Three or four village girls, returning from the well or brook, with pitchers and pails upon their heads, formed pleasing objects; and with their short gowns and single petticoats, bare arms, legs and feet, uncovered heads and braided hair, somewhat resembled Italian forms of landscape." One evening, as

I was approaching Loch Achray, which has been so exquisitely painted by Walter Scott, I perceived a couple of girls bathing in the transparent stream: how strongly did this scene recal to my mind the luscious, yet delicate description, which Thomson gives of Musidora bathing! The transparent waves seemed to multiply the charms of these lovely girls like so many mirrors. I compared them to the nymphs which Tasso places at the entrance of Armida's palace! The lake, expanded in soft tranquillity, displayed

"The most living crystal that was e'er

The haunt of river nymph, to gaze and lave
Her limbs-where nothing hid them."

The Highland lassies are very awkward and bashful. I spoke to a handsome girl, whom I found "culling of simples" in a valley near Dunkeld. In answering me, her emotion sent her whole blood at once to her face and neck; her complexion was so pure as to seem transparent; and when a blush mantled her cheek with its crimson, she looked as guilty as if she had been caught en flagrant delit!

It is evident that poverty must prevail in a country like the Highlands, where the demand for money is unceasing and merciless, and the inhabitants have no other resource but smug. gling whiskey, to satisfy their rapacious employers, and unrelenting tax-gatherers. Emigration will therefore occur to them as the only means of saving their families from beg

gary and imprisonment. This, however, is still the last resource: for their transparent streams, beautiful lakes, romantic mountains, and solitary heaths, have, in spite of all, a strong hold on the Highlanders' bosom; and they cannot leave the land of their birth, without the deepest regret. "My heart would sink, and my arm would shrink and wither like fern in the frost, (said Rob Roy,) were I to lose sight of my native hills; nor has the world a scene that would console me for the loss of the rocks and cairns, wild as they are, that you see around us.”

LETTER XXIV.

With bold imagination warm

They see the genius of the storm

Rear on the hill his cloud-built throne;

While, trackless as the rushing air,

The Spirits of the dead repair

Nightly to chaunt the song that speaks of worlds unknown.

WEST.

SUPERSTITION, says Burke, is the religion of ignorant minds. But the objects of belief to the Highlander are founded on such romantic scenery, are connected with such exquisite poetry, and unfold so beautiful a system with regard to the agency of departed spirits, that we feel an involuntary respect for them; and these peculiar opinions are clothed with such a fascinating embroidery of the imagination,