course, first went through his precious round of learning about the colonne torse, built, as he gravely observed, by an apprentice, when his master was at Rome, studying sculpture. When the master came home, (with his pocket full of plans, no doubt,) he fell into such a passion at the presumption of the apprentice, that he, like a true Scot, knocked out his brains with a hammer! The roofs and walls of this chapel are overloaded with decorations of sculpture-some of the pillars are ornamented with Arabesque figures; leaves, flowers and groups are scattered about with profusion-and the whole is blended in one harmonious tinge of green and mossy dampness. The chapel is topped by an elegant Grecian dome, adorned with rosaces, done with exquisite fineness.

The castle is in a state of dilapidation-its very ruins ruined! But its yellow shattered walls are agreeably contrasted with the surrounding oaks and pines, which cast a shade as dark as night. In order to enjoy the view to advantage, I took a seat at a distance

"Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along the wood."

The banks of the Esk are fringed with the interlacing boughs and foliage of the trees, whose pomp of verdure deepens as it recedes from the eye. There is a beautiful contrast between the rocks which present "the gray and grief-worn aspect of old days," and the inextricable richness of the groves in the

course of the rivulet; and, as they advance towards the horizon, they mingle into one dim magnificent amphitheatre, over which, says an elegant author, some presiding spirit of soothing loneliness seems to hover like a garment. We accompanied the guide into the vaults, hewn out of masses of rock. The rooms through which we passed contain loop-holes, from which the arrows were shot on the enemy-some cells were destined for the victims of those nauseous wretches, the feudal barons.

From this place, we walked to Hawthornden, about two miles below Roslin. The rock is topped by a solitary building, which hangs over the frightful precipice and the Esk, whose waves dash against the intercepting masses of stone. The old castle in which Drummond entertained Ben Jonson, no longer exists; but every object recals to mind that period,

"When Jonson sate in Drummond's social shade"

We walked along the river side, which cost. us no small trouble and pains, but at length we got into the broad frequented path which leads to Edinburgh.

St. Bernard's well attracts a great many pilgrims to the shrine of Hygeia. The water from the well has the taste and smell of rotten eggs, and contains sulphuretted hydrogen in abun dance. The precious records kept by the porter, (who looks like old Dr. Johnson near Howard's park, Baltimore,) attest the almost miraculous powers of the mineral fluid. Over

the fountain is a handsome cupola, supported by a circle of columns. In the middle is a statue of Hygeia, rather roughly executed. By continuing the walk, you arrive at Leithcraggs, which presents an awful view of precipices, shivered rocks, &c. This quarry supplies Edinburgh with that beautiful gray stone, which is used for its edifices.

From that pretty lake called Lochend, is enjoyed a delightful panoramic view of Edinburgh and its environs. Arthur's Seat presents itself like a lion couchant,-Calton topped with its monument is seen at a distance, and the smoky houses of Auld Reekie are distinguished in the centre of the prospect. From Calton hill the view is more extended, and would be perfect, were not the eye offended by a sight of the gaol and Bridewell, grimly rising from below. The church yard is but a few steps from the hill; the only remarkable monument in it, is that erected to David Hume, the celebrated historian and friend of Rousseau. The body of this great man has been buried at the very margin of the rock. The monument is in the form of a tower, which is placed in a very conspicuous situation. The name of the philosopher is the only inscription; but how much more impressive is such a name, than the senseless panegyrics usually seen on the tombs of the fashionable mob?

Edinburgh has never been celebrated as a place in which the fine arts flourished. I have seen, however, some beautiful paintings at Mr.

Allan's atelier; one of which, called the Press Gang, possesses uncommon merit. The boy who is about to be dragged off by the gang, is represented "kneeling in speechless agonies:" his mother tries to soften the obduracy of the lieutenant of the horde, by a handful of her well saved treasure, his grandfather sits near the fire, with his trembling hands pressed together, palm against palm-tears roll down his furrowed cheeks-but he appears too weak to participate in the general bustle. The old man's wife contemplates his face in silent anguish-she exhibits an affecting proof of those endearing ties, which revolving years had strengthened,

"Ties that around the heart are spun,
And will not, cannot be undone."

This distressing picture is rendered still more agonizing, by the obduracy of the "filthy dungeon villains," employed by this beneficent government for the purpose of filling the ships with sailors by that most laudable scheme of impressing.

To-morrow morning, I will commence my long dreamt-of pedestrious excursion to the Highlands. I shall require nothing for my journey but a wicker knapsack, a few clothes and books. I have got a coat made on purpose for this tour; it has been made more for convenience than show; being short, with rounded skirts, and pockets large enough to contain all that I cannot cram into the knap

sack. After sailing up the Forth, to Stirling, I will proceed on foot to Loch Katrine, and the scenery described in the Lady of the Lake, where "boon Nature scatters, free and wild, each plant and flower" You can easily imagine the delight which such an exquisite treat will afford me. I will indulge my romantic feelings to the utmost in gazing on the

"Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,” and on the other belles horreurs of Perthshire. After this journey, I will pay a visit to Ire land, and go to London by the way of Liverpool.

LETTER XVII.

"Descriptiones locorum, quæ in his epistolis frequentiores erunt, non historicè tantùm, sed propè poeticè prosequi fas est." PLIN. Epist. Lib. 2d.

Perth, May 1st, 1819.

IN company with three intelligent Scotchmen, I took my passage on board the Lady of the Lake steam-boat for Stirling, on the 29th dult. The banks of the Forth are romantically mountainous. At Queensferry it suddenly contracts to two miles breadth, and as suddenly bulges out again into a sort of bay. Near Stirling, the Ochill hills adorn the scenery; this whole ridge is of a beautiful green, and affords