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have before had occasion, in this Gazette, carefully and judiciously made; there is
to inform the public in general, and novel scarcely one which may not be both useful
writers in particular, that this is not good and entertaining. The questions attached
practice, that the use of balsams, in the to the more instructive extracts will fix the
case of fresh wounds is exploded, and that attention of the scholar upon those facts
a strip or two of sticking plaster to keep which are most worthy of being remem-
the divided portions in contact, with a band-bered. Indeed, we believe the addition of
age and occasionally a little lint, are all these questions to a Reader for the use of
that are ever necessary in cases not severe schools, is something new, and may support
enough to demand the knife or the needle. the claim of the compiler to originality.
We therefore pray novelists in future not There are misprints which disfigure the
to add to the necessary evils of war, and work, and some which injure it more mate-
the sufferings of the wounded, the needless rially, as they obscure the sense.
For ex-
irritation of balsamic detergents.
ample, in the account of the battle of the
Nile, quoted from Southey's Life of Nelson,
this sentence occurs: Captain Peyton,
in the defence, took his station," &c.; we
suppose it should be, in the "Defence." On
page 261, Selkirk is said, when taken from
the island where he had lived some years,
to have," through disease, forgotten his na-
tive language;"-it is probable that he for-
got his English through disuse, and that
Goldsmith, from whom the extract is taken,
said so.

We conclude our remarks by repeating, that we have read this novel with considerable interest, and that after expunging the characters and conversations, to which we have excepted, enough would still be left to make a pleasant book.

The Columbian Class-Book, consisting of
Geographical, Historical, and Biograph-
ical Extracts, compiled from Authentic
Sources, and arranged on a Plan different
from any thing before offered the Public.
Particularly designed for the use of
Schools. By A. T. Lowe, M. D. Worces-
ter, Mass. 1824. 12mo. pp. 455.
THE title of this book is somewhat indis-
tinct. A "Class-Book," we take to be any
work which is adapted to the wants of the
classes in a school. Of course, this name does
not define precisely the particular purpose
which this book is intended to answer; but,
we infer from the character of its contents,
that it is to be used as a Reader, although
the questions appended to the principal ex-
tracts imply that the scholars must study as

well as read it.

We cannot recommend this book as superior to all those with which it must sustain a competition; but it is better than any published some years ago, and will not be discredited by a comparison with most of those now in common use. In the Preface, the compiler claims to have arranged his extracts in an original, and peculiarly useful manner; but we do not see whereon this claim rests. These extracts are like those of other Readers, historical, biographical, geographical, moral, or purely literary;-and if Mr Lowe has been governed by any new principle whatever, in placing them in their present order, we must confess that we are unable to discover it. We should almost say that they were arranged in studied disorder; the different subjects are so mingled together, that it is difficult to believe that the compiler observed any rule or method, or had any object in view, unless it was to present to the reader an ever-changing variety. The first extract contains a biographical sketch of Washington; and then, after an account of the river Ganges, of Pompeii, and of Egypt, follows a description of our western Indians. We do not object to this apparent confusion; for it helps to attain a very important object; it keeps up the interest of the young reader, and thus prevents the great evil of inattention to what he reads. The extracts are

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Reminiscences. Moral Poems and Transla-
tions. With an Appendix. By J. Fel-
lowes, Esq. Exeter, N. H. 1824. 18mo.
pp. 275.

Byron won his fame in spite of his plagia-
risms, and not by them. Our author may
be assured that it will help his reputation,
to be, in his next publication, more original.
If a piece be a close and obvious imitation
of another, it gains no credit for so much
ingenuity and talent, as it may really dis-
play. These remarks may seem severe;
but it will be easy to make the justness of
them apparent, not only to our readers, but
to our author. The Song on the 33d page.
beginning

Love wakes and he weeps,
While beauty reposes,
Or silently sleeps
On a pillow of roses.
Mid the zephyrs revealing
The lilacks perfume,
The fire-insects wheeling
Enliven the gloom.

cannot fail to remind one of the Song in
Pirate ;—

the

Love wakes and weeps
While beauty sleeps!

O for Musick's softest numbers,
To prompt a theme

For beauty's dream,

Soft as the pillow of her slumbers.

Through groves of palm
Sigh gales of balm,
Fire-flies on the air are wheeling;
While through the gloom
Comes soft perfume

The distant beds of flowers revealing.
Walton's book, some verses of Herbert's,
In a late number we quoted from Isaac
beginning

THERE are pieces in this little volume which
may well encourage the friends of the au-
thor to hope that he will succeed in the
path which he seems determined to pursue.
All his poems bear testimony to his indus-
try,-which is as essential to success in
poetry as in any other art,-and indications
of talents which want culture rather than
power, may be found on many pages. But On
his poetry is faulty in many important re-
spects; and it is injured by some errors in
judgment, in which we hope he will not
confirm himself. He appears to overrate
the comparative importance of exact rhyme.
In his Preface he expresses his confidence
"that his rhymes will be found, in a great
measure, faultless." Now, we do not com-
plain that his rhymes are carefully and
successfully elaborated, but that in his re-
gard for them he has neglected the essen-
tials of poetry. In an Ode to Despair,
these lines occur;

Thy palsied hand and dreadful glare,
Rain not on me, oh fierce Despair.
Certainly, it would be more poetical to in-
dulge in imperfect rhymes, than to paint
Despair as raining a hand and glare. On
page 78, in the line,

Half-robb'd of life, disrobed of reason,
reason is represented as a garment;-we
think Mr Fellowes will agree with us in
thinking this figure more new than just.
We are aware that some faults of this kind
may be detected in almost every volume of
poems; but it is very important that an au-
thor should know and feel them to be faults,
and then he will avoid them.

There is too much imitation in this vol

ume. It is in vain to cite Byron as the
"Prince of Plagiarists," for Mr F's readers
will remember, though he may forget, that

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,
for thou must die.

page 200, is a Poem beginning thus;—

DAY OF SWEET CHARMS.

Sentiment from the Divine, Herbert.
Day of sweet charms, o'er the heavens far gleam-
Thou bridal of earth and the sensitive sky,
ing,
Soon the last ray of thy light shall be streaming,
For thou, with the dew-drops that weep thee, shalt

die.

Many of our readers are doubtless acquainted with William Spencer's beautiful little poem

Too late I staid, forgive the crime,
Unheeded flew the hours;
How noiseless falls the foot of time,
That only treads on flowers.

What eye with clear account remarks
The ebbing of the glass;
When all its sands are diamond sparks
Which dazzle as they pass?

O who to sober measurement
Time's rapt'rous swiftness brings,
When birds of Paradise have lent
The plumage of his wings.
On page 114, is the following;

TO A YOUNG LADY.

Some happy hours with thee I've spent,
And restless memory brings
The days where pleasure oftener lent
The magic of her wings.

Oh, who with steady eye remarks,
Time's ebbing sands at all,

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In imitation of Burns' " Nannie, O."
On ee'ning clouds a' skirt wi' blue
The setting sun blinks cannie, O;
An' I maun stap the weary pleugh,
Syne hame I'll gae to Nannie, O.

On re brae, owre linn, when Nannie ca's,
I leap wi' heart so bonnie, O;
I dinna fear the roaring fa's,
My thoughts are a' of Nannie, O.

Nae simmer smile on flowery braes
Is half sae sweet an' cannie, O;
As that aboon thy bosom plays,
My dear, my lovely Nannic, O.
Gie me but that-I'll ask nae mair,
Gin days and night's be cannie, O;
O haith! I'll hae nae warly care,
But live and love for Nannie, O.

Let ilka coof gang far awa
For siller a' sae bonnie, O;
On me can portooth never fa'
Sae rich wi' love and Nannie, O.

TO A BUTTERFLY.
Awa-awa!-insensate thing,
Frae morn tull night upo' the wing,
Wha's life is but a simmer's day,
An' wasted a' in sports and play.

Sae mony a lassie gie's her time
To dress, to folly, or to crime,
Content to die, to show her power
Like ither insects of the hour.

The Notes are entertaining, and the Preface is honest and fearless, without being impudent. It affords, indeed, a very pleasant contrast to those with which the literary aspirants of this day usually think it fitting to introduce themselves; and which it is difficult to read, without seeing, in one's mind's eye, an awkward vulgar booby entering a parlour where twenty people may look at him all at once, and striving in vain to hide his consternation by an extra swagger.

MISCELLANY.

THE REPUBLIC OF LETTERS.

and obscure men are coming forward, and or a dangerous thing. It is well for us to acting on the age, when science is antici- know truly as much as we can. Physical pated, and discoveries of vast importance truth, we may all learn; and the arts themmade, and by individuals whose fame and selves, however arbitrary in their rules, history are without record. All this is felt and however exact they must be to be perwhere it should and must be felt. The fect, may be equally learned. They leave, indeed, but little for the imagination. We must learn much of what has been always known, and feel that men deemed ordinary are far before us. Still, what we do learn is truth; we have a sure possession in something real; and if it be but one thing, we feel in our labour for that, the mind has, for once at least, been distinctly and positively directed to some of its appropriate uses.

philosopher, so called, feels it, and the pub-
lic feel it. One is called on for his ex-
planations, and for new applications of the
discovery; the other, to know something of
what is giving character to the age, and
thus promotes it by its patronage.

Science, too, has taken a new direction.
It has become practical and useful. It is
useful to its possessor as well as to others.
Nations have patronized it, and individuals
have patronized it. Long tolerated evils in
some of the most important kinds of labour
have been investigated by the scholars of
the sciences, their causes discovered, and
danger averted. But what is peculiar, and
to which we shall more particularly advert,
is the voluntary admission of the public of
all ranks, ages, and sexes, to the practical
study of the sciences which have most at-
tracted the age.

This has long been the course of things in Europe, at least in England. The present Sir H. Davy, Sir J. E. Smith, and the Astronomer Royal, gave courses of lectures to the most brilliant and polite, as well as the best informed classes of the community. The "Institution" was thronged by both sexes, and of the highest ranks. The best compliment, the truest respect was thus paid to an honourable use of the mind, and the expression of both has something retributive in it. The honor returns on those who pay it.

It is no objection to public instructions in the sciences, that what we thus get can be applied to nothing else. All truth is related, and all knowledge has its application. A man who knows something listens with an interest to those who know more. Poetry, novels, plays, sermons, orations, essays, get much of their imagery and illus tration from the arts and the sciences; and if we would read or hear wisely, we must know something of their language, and something of their principles. There is less excuse now than there ever was, for total ignorance respecting these subjects; we must know something about them, for the means of knowledge are ample, and of easy use. It has become fashionable too, to make use of the mind in this way; and however trifling the motive in its ordinary operation, we here feel a respect for it; we feel for it somewhat as we do for habit when it keeps men from vice; for our impulses are not always towards virtue, or learning.

There is one feature in this mode of in- There is another view which the subject struction which deserves particular notice. admits, and which we cannot pass unnoticIt is the value it derives from those who ed. It has been particularly striking in give it. When such men as were just Dr Bigelow's lectures this season. The named become our teachers, we feel a pre-study of the arts-and the same is true of fect confidence in their instructions. They the sciences-is full of instruction concernhave been long known, and known by what they have done. It is because they are prominent men in their times, that they have been selected to fill high and responsible offices. They have been followed in all their labours by other minds, jealous for themselves, or for their science; and ardently bent on discerning error or imposture. The public feels safe when they are favoured with the results of such labours, and if they are wise in their purposes in listening to them, their own minds are enlarged, and what seemed useful amusement becomes valuable learning.

ing the progress of the mind. The infancy of the arts was the infancy of man. He originally had few wants, and the means for satisfying these were many and near. His wants have at length taken the start of the means, and from the moment when they were just balanced, he has been reaching forward for practicable good to the remote and the uncertain, and his mind has gone on before him. It is a beautiful feature in the lectures just named-this history of our race as it has been recorded in the arts; and though it must have been at once noticed by all who have heard them, we could not but thus express the pleasure it has given us. Man is the most interesting thing presented to us in the vast universe; and what faithfully illustrates him, must be studied and listened to with the deepest interest.

We feel a deep interest in the success of attempts which have been made in our own city and country for promoting the same objects. We feel obliged to the men who ONE of the characteristics of these times leave the academy for a time, and come to is the liberality of letters. Learning is no the private lecture room, with their raised longer an exclusive privilege, and learned means of instruction, their apparatus of all We would, in passing, acknowledge our men have ceased to be a distinct class. kinds, brought from abroad at a vast indi- obligations to Dr Bigelow for the useful Learning has become united to art-a nat-vidual expense, and removed at great risk.gratification his lectures are yielding us; ural alliance. Men were once kept under We feel so too, because we are in some sort by the pressure of circumstances, and fine mitted in this way into the republic of let minds were lost to the mass, because pre-ters; and who has ever heard of it without scription divided the direction and uses of feeling some desire of citizenship? It is the intellect. But we live when unlettered not true that a little learning is an useless

but this might get its worst name by some
of our readers, and the lecturer wants nei-
ther flattery nor compliment.
We are
deeply obliged that professional and aca-
demic leisure is occupied for our instruc-

tion and gratification. It is honorable to the community, that elaborate learning is ever brought within its reach. It is unnecessary to say how honoured they are who so bring it.

Our attendance on these lectures has convinced us of the importance of seriously setting about the erection of a public Lecture room. It is something more and worse than pity, that here, where we have men disposed to labour for us, and to procure for us splendid collections of all kinds, to aid instruction, we have no suitable place for their accommodation, or our own. We feel this the more, when we see so much done, so much taste exhibited, and so much money

spent on other edifices. We build temples

to preserve our wealth and its records, but leave almost houseless a far better treasury. We cannot but hope that something will be soon done in this regard; and we hardly

know a case in which a small individual ex

vested with an imperishable form. This ed.
will not be, unless such information is not
only welcomed but sought. For ourselves,
we shall be most ready to aid in this im-
portant work, by all the scanty means
within our power: we shall always gladly
find room for communications, which help,
in any way or measure, to illustrate the
more important events of our past history,
or the characters of those who were emi-
nent among our fathers. In the present
instance we have no doubt that our readers
will join with us in the thanks which we
proffer to the Rev. Mr Thaxter.

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Your friend J. A. J— showed me your last paper, in which some observations were made respecting the neglect of suitapenditure will procure so much general ac-ble respect to Colonel Prescott. He is not commodation. There are cases in which the only one that is neglected. I make no monuments to one age must remain for the objection to the monument on Breed's Hill, spirit of after times to rear. The times of but I think it a great neglect that so little heroes are these. But honor to learning notice is taken of Concord Bridge, and the and to learned men, can be paid at all times, men who first faced the British troops. and by any community which values them. Much is said of Lexington-the British In the present instance personal conven- met with no opposition there; I was an ience and interest come in aid of the cause, eye witness to the following facts. The and they have not always made their de- people of Westford and Acton, some few of Concord, were the first who faced the British at Concord bridge. The British had placed about ninety men as a guard at the North Bridge; we had then no certain information that any had been killed at Lexington; we saw the British making de

mands in vain.

LETTER FROM AN OLD SOLDIER.

An article in a late number of this Gazette, in which we remarked, in passing, upon the mistake in the popular estimate of Col. Prescott's services on Breed's Hill, has obtained for us a new correspondent; whose communication we give below, with no other alteration than the suppression of

struction in the town of Concord; it was Colonel Robinson, of Westford, together proposed to advance to the bridge; on this with Major Buttrick, took the lead; strict orders were given not to fire, unless the British fired first; when they advanced about half way on the causeway the British

We pursued to Charlestown Common, and then retired to Cambridge. When the army collected at Cambridge, Colonel and John Robinson, his Lieutenant Colonel, Prescott with his regiment of minute men, were prompt at being at their post. On the 16th of June, Colonel Prescott and Colonel Bridge were ordered upon Breed's Hill to heave up a breast-work; they laboured all Reinforcements were ordered, but not one night, and were left to fight the British. company went in order. Many went to Bunker's Hill; some went from there as volunteers, part of which belonged to General Starks' regiment. Among the volun teers was the ever-to-be-lamented General Warren. When he was introduced to Colonel Prescott, the Colonel said, "General Warren, I have not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with you, but from your known character, I shall fight with cheerfulness under you." General Warren replied, " Colonel Prescott, I have not come to take command, but to learn to fight under you." This I had from Colonel Robinson, and believe as much as if I had heard with my ears; a braver and more upright man I never knew. Such men as Prescott and Robinson, ought not to be forgotten by those who write the history of the commencement and prosecution of our glorious revolution. The vile slanders cast upon old General Putnam are totally without foundation. He did all that man could do to reinforce Prescott on Breed's Hill. A braver man never lived. At that time our army was little better than a mob, without discipline, and under little command, till General Washington came and Gates, and ments were ordered on perilous duty at gave to it some regularity. Whole regionce, and the loss of men was from a small circle. The Breed's Hill loss fell upon the county of Middlesex, about one half of the loss was in Prescott's regiment, viz. forty

a few sentences relative to matters where- fired one gun, a second, a third, and then nine killed and forty-five wounded. This

in our readers would not be interested. It is quite time that the people of this land should feel and should distinctly manifest an earnest and anxious curiosity respect.

the whole body; they killed Colonel Davis, of Acton, and a Mr Hosmer. Our people then fired over one another's heads, being in a long column, two and two: they killed

two and wounded eleven. Lieutenant

evil was remedied by Washington and Gates, and in '76 victory delivered Boston, &c. A decent monument at Concord

Bridge, where the first spark was struck, and quite as glorious as Breed's Hill, con

ing all the occurrences of that revolution to Hawkstone, said to be the greatest beauty sidering the circumstances, would be doing

which they owe every thing. When a nation fights for existence, it sends forth its best to the battle; and the men who urged that contest were worthy of the cause which brought them to the field. A peaceful yeomanry stood with unaccustomed arms to de

of the British army, had his cheeks so badly wounded that it disfigured him much, of which he bitterly complained. On this, the British fled, and assembled on the hill, the north side of Concord, and dressed their wounded, and then began their retreat. As they descended the hill near the road that

no more honour to Robinson and Buttrick than they richly deserve. I have lived in obscurity on this island, and never thought myself of importance enough, and capable of doing justice to a historical account of the transactions of the memorable 19th of April, 1775, or of the 17th of June. Many anecdotes

fend their own fields, and men came forth comes out from Bedford they were pursued; of those days, that would do honour to individ

from the regular occupations of society and all the walks of busy life; and from these materials was formed, almost at once, an armed array which fearlessly met and conquered and captured men, whose only trade

Colonel Bridge, with a few men from Bedford and Chelmsford, came up, and killed several men. We pursued them and killed some; when they got to Lexington, they were so close pursued and fatigued, that was war, and their only home a camp. Lord Percy met them with a large reinthey must have soon surrendered, had not There must exist somewhere, at this day, forcement and two field-pieces. They fired exact knowledge of all the occurrences of them, but the balls went high over our that remarkable period, and now that this heads. But no cannon ever did more exeknowledge is passing away with the few cution, such stories of their effects had been who possess it, let it be gathered and in- from this time more went back than pursu spread by the tories through our troops, that

uals, it is most probable will be forgotten. The following is one. The Rev. Edward Brooks, who lived at Medford, got intelligence of a small party going with relief to meet the British; they had a wagon-load; Mr Brooks mustered a few men, waylaid them near West Cambridge meetinghouse, and shot the horses, and wounded the lieutenant who commanded them, took several prisoners before the British came up, and retired.

I am, sir, with respect, yours.
JOSEPH THAXTER.

MR RUSSELL'S GRAMMAR OF COMPOSITION.

ter should undertake to teach composition
who could not, if occasion required, explain
every part of this work; but it is a fault,
that the important parts of it require so
much explanation. The book should have
been larger, or else more strictly elemen-
tary; as it is, however, it may answer one
of two purposes;-to him who has studied
rhetoric, it may recall the practical and
useful parts of what he has learned; or may
serve to introduce to these studies one who
has yet to become acquainted with them.

ed to supply what we considered a great ities; but neither these authorities, nor the
want; it applied the principle of analysis reasons they give, satisfy us at all. We
to the study of language. We believe that can give Mr Russell credit for one excel-
the time has come when this principle is to lent and uncommon trait,—to wit,-an ab-
be applied to all modes and departments of horrence of book-making; indeed, his brev-
instruction; and that the use of this "No-ity sometimes makes him obscure. No mas-
vum Organum" will advance the best in-
terests of education, and vastly increase the
good resulting from it, and characterize
most honourably the age which is wise
enough to avail itself of it. This good work
is begun, and we may hope that it will be
prosecuted zealously. It has engaged the
attention of some of the finest intellects in
this part of our country; and there are
those whose professional business it is to
teach, who will bring in aid of this ob-
ject the strenuous efforts of no common tal-
ents. It is pleasant to find gentlemen who
are engaged in the work of instruction at a
distance, holding the same views, aiming at
the same object, and pursuing it with de-
cided ability; and it is desirable that there
should exist between them that harmony
which naturally grows out of identity of
opinion and purpose.

LETTERS FROM A TRAVELLER.
No. III.

Edinburgh, September 27.

work will show precisely,-what is not now to use the elegant simile of Mrs Dolly Duteasy to learn, how far, and in what way ton, "like a squirrel's cage hung out of a IN our fourteenth number we reviewed composition is connected with grammar, three pair of stairs window." My walk for this work, and we spoke of it with undue logic, and rhetoric. It should certainly be some hours was enchanting. Life has few severity. Two very candid letters from the made a distinct study; but the best possible pleasures to equal the feelings of a pedesauthor have convinced us of our error; and way of illustrating the identity of this branch trian traveller through a new and romantic we hasten to make this acknowledgment, not of education, must be by clearly defining country in a fine autumn morning. The only because our duty to our readers requires the relations between it and the collateral independence of circumstances, the carethis, but from an especial unwillingness to and auxiliary studies. lessness of what may happen, and readiness do Mr Russell injustice, and give him good It is due to Mr Russell to state, that his to be pleased with any thing or every thing cause to regard us as at variance with him. rules of orthograghy, which we strongly "'i the air or the earth," constitute, togethHis Latin Grammar delighted us; it seem-reprobated, are sanctioned by high author-er, a state of mind as delightful as it is uncommon in this sublunary pilgrimage. About two miles from Dumbarton is Leven-water, celebrated in song, and near it the village of Renton, and the monument to the memory of Dr Smollett. A little further is Balloch Castle and the southern part of Loch Lomond. Here I was overtaken by a carter, whose name I afterwards discovered to be Mc Millan, a tenant of the Duke of Argyle, and as he was well acquainted with the country, and pursuing the same road with myself, I was glad to walk on with him. We soon came to a toll-house, which was also an ale or whiskey house; and as the weather had by this time become very threatening and stormy, I felt it incumbent on me to invite my fellow traveller to refresh himself with a gill of whiskey, which he despatched undiluted, observing, after he had bolted it, that it was not quite the right thing, which might be obtained a short distance further, as well as a more commodious shelter from the approaching rain. I was not disposed to leave the situation, as I doubted whether I ON Monday last I bid adieu to Glas- should find a better; but he was so urgent The writer of the article upon the Gram- gow, and having equipped myself with an that I complied with his request to accommar of Composition was disappointed at old sea-coat, of which the longitude was di-pany him. After we had left the house, finding the work decidedly inferior to the minished by the assistance of a penknife, a my companion gave me to understand that Latin Grammar in its strict application of small knapsack, and leather spatterdashes, it was a custom-house, and insinuated that analysis, and this disappointment influenced with an umbrella in my hand, set off on my his cart contained a few bandanna handkerhis opinion of the real merits of the book. travels. My first object was Dumbarton, chiefs, and other articles which would not The answer to this charge Mr Russell shall whither I proceeded in a steam-boat, down admit of close investigation in such an esgive. In his letter he says, with respect the Clyde, which is here a narrow river, tablishment. We soon arrived at a thatchto "the charge that my book does not pre- winding smoothly and gracefully through ed hut, into which I followed him, for the sent the subject in an analytic form, I would cultivated fields, adorned, at short intervals, rain now began to descend in torrents. beg of you once more to consider the rea- with country seats, and now and then a The interior of this place beggared all deson I have given. The three ingredients church or castle. The weather, at first, scription, which, therefore, I shall not atof composition, are Subject, Thought, and showed some disposition to be fair, but be- tempt. The owner was rather shy of me, Language. The first of these is as wide as fore we arrived, which we did about six P. though Mc Millan introduced me as an old the universe; the second embraces intel- M., it rained violently. At Dumbarton I friend of his. He then caused him to prolectual philosophy and logic; or, in other stopped for the night, and sent a letter of duce a large bottle of whiskey, or, as he callwords, the powers, as they have been call-introduction, which I had received from ed it, tea, which he assured me, with a ed, of the mind, and their right exercise: Miss B-, to her brother, a Surgeon in this wink, was genuine. To cut the matter the third includes every thing connected place. He immediately called on me, and short, I soon found that I had got into a den with rhetoric and grammar. Now, a fair invited me to breakfast with him the fol- of Highland smugglers, and that my good analysis leaves no gap in that to which it is lowing morning and visit the Castle. But friend, the worthy John Mc Millan, was far applied: it must be carried throughout. To the morning was so beautifully fair, that I from being the least among them. As the treat composition analytically in a school- could not bring myself to spend three or whiskey, of which he swallowed an immodebook, is impossible. The heads merely of four hours of it waiting for breakfast; so, rate quantity, did its good office, he began an analysis of the branches of science that having "snatched a short repast," called to insinuate that he thought my pocket was are involved in composition, would occupy on the Doctor, left my excuses, and sur- the most valuable part of my coat, wanted more space than all the pages of the Gram-veyed the exterior of the old frowning cas- much to sell me a poney, and the like “bald and disjointed chat." At first, all this was rather amusing, but, at length, I began to feel a little uneasiness; for the day was passing away, and I did not approve the notion of proceeding very far on a lonely Highland road with Mr Mac, who showed no disposition to part company, but pressed me to ride with him to Tarbet, at the head

mar."

We should beg leave to amend this sentence by substituting "difficult" for "impossible;" which last is a bad word, and should be used as seldom as possible. "Practice makes perfect;" and we yet hope to tell our readers that Mr Russell has published a strict analysis of the art of composition. Such a

MY DEAR FRIENDS,

tle to my satisfaction, "I cocked up my
bonnet and marched amain" towards the
north. The rock of Dumbarton stands up
like a sugar loaf on the banks of the Clyde,
bearing some slight resemblance in its
shape and situation, to Ascutney, near
Windsor, on the Connecticut; and the cas-
tle is built on the top of it, "perched up,"

of the lake. He grew more and more communicative, and related some of his adventures with excise officers, which would have been, perhaps, more entertaining in another place, than they were just then. At length the train of his associations led to Rob Roy and Scott's novel; and he roundly declared that his own life and adventures were much more worthy to be made into a novel than those of Rob, and proposed to me to prepare such a work, for which he promised to send me materials to Edinburgh, where he understood me to be going. The rain at length ceased, and I intimated to this future rival of Rob Roy, that I proposed to proceed on my journey. He accordingly departed to prepare his cart, with a view of accompanying me, but his horse had strayed away into a distant part of a field, or park, as they are here termed. Mac ran hastily after him, calling to me to "wait, while he caught the beastie." I thought proper, however, to wish the cottager-who, by the way, was a most sinister looking fellow--a good morning, and telling him that Mr Mac Millan might overtake me, if he chose, with his vehicle, I marched off, trusting that it would take him some time to catch his powney, and a good deal more to catch me, after he had done so.

I passed nothing very remarkable till I reached Luss Inn, which is nine or ten miles further, except the seat of the Colquhouns and the Burn of Bannochar. I arrived here about three o'clock, and after dinner proceeded on my walk. The sky, which had continued to lower since the morning, now again became perfectly clear. The Loch, at Luss, is about three miles in width; but this diminishes very fast as you proceed northward, very soon becoming less than two. It is impossible to conceive a more romantic and beautiful walk than that between Luss and Tarbet. The road lies on the western side of the Loch, following the various curves and indentations of the shore, and winding along between the water on the one hand, and lofty mountains on the other. On the opposite side, the hills of Rob Roy's country seemed to rise almost perpendicularly from the edge of the lake, while their figures were reflected from its still surface below;-far above them all the lofty Ben Lomond reared his brown and heathy summit, gilded with the rays of the evening sun, while every thing else around me was in shadow, and so solitary and still, that I could almost imagine I heard the echo of my own footsteps. I think there was not a single house,-certainly not more than one, for the whole distance, which is eight miles; nor did I see a living thing, except a young woman who passed me just after I left Luss, a few black-nosed Highland sheep, and a lively little dog who joined me early in the afternoon, and capered along before me to Tarbet. I may, once for all, observe here, that however beautiful and romantic the scenery of the Highlands may be, a New Englander will not be so much struck with its sublimity, for there are many parts of our own country that excel them

in this particular. Loch Lomond is a pond | meal. The good body was very averse to
when compared with Champlain, and even any kind of remuneration, but at length
Ascutney, I believe, is more lofty than the accepted a trifle, though she assured me I
Ben. I reached Tarbet about six o'clock, should have been heartily welcome. Two
having achieved something more than twen- miles farther brought me to the northern
ty miles for my first day's journey; yet it part of Loch Ard, and the pass in which
seemed to me that I had hardly walked Capt. Thornton was defeated by Helen Mc
ten, so trifling was the fatigue, and so Gregor. You will perceive that I speak of
agreeably had the time, for the most part, these matters, and persons, as having really
been employed.
existed, and, indeed, it is not easy to think
About seven o'clock on Wednesday morn- of them differently; for, so true to nature
ing, I turned my face towards the eastward. are the novelist's descriptions of what you
The first step was the passage of the Loch, do see, that they give an air of reality to
which I effected in a small boat; but, al- the fictitious parts of the narrative. Loch
though it was provided with two stout row- Ard is a beautiful lake, about three miles
ers, yet being of clumsy form, and the in length. It contracts towards the south,
wind strongly against us, we were unable to and gives rise to the river Forth; and here
reach the other side before nine. Here I is the place where Rob slipped from his
was set on shore near the foot of Ben Lo-horse and escaped from his guard. About
mond, and began to scramble up a craggy a mile from the southern end of Loch Ard
path into the Mc Gregor's country. Trav- is the little inn of Aberfoyle, in which the
ellers usually ascend the Ben, but I did not Baillie and his companions met of yore
choose to afford either the time or labour, such a rough reception. There was now,
for the chance of the prospect, which it was however, no willow wand across the door,
ten to one I should not see, as the floating nor any thing else to prevent my doing
clouds were numerous, and often entirely that justice to the landlady's vivers, which
enveloped his head. I preferred enjoying was to be expected from a New Eng-
the circuitous mountain path on the north land pedestrian under the influence of
of him, which I took accordingly, and found Highland air. From Aberfoyle my road
it very pleasant. The morning was fine, lay north-easterly, towards the Trosachs.
though rather windy, and my walk was These were distant something more than
through a half road, and half footpath, made five miles, and I had already walked sixteen
chiefly by the course of winter torrents. It from Loch Lomond. Moreover, it was
was, of course, often wet and boggy, but four o'clock, with every appearance of a
much of it was quite dry. Every thing storm, nor was there any house on the
around was wild, uncultivated, and solitary, road. After some hesitation, however, I
covered with rocks, ferns, and heath; but set forward. The landlady directed me to
the ferns were just changing their colour to keep the path till I came to a "sclate quar-
shades of yellow and brown, and, with the pur-ry," where I should find a road paved with-
ple bell-heather, and other species of heath, (something which I could not understand),
gave a variegated appearance to the land-"but," said she, "you munna keep that,
scape, which was by no means unpleasing. but haud straught on." With this direc-
tion I adventured up among the hills again,
over crags, and through gullies, in a very
wild, dark, and threatening afternoon. At
the end of about two miles I reached what
I supposed must be the "sclate quarry."
Here the road was divided into two, one
going to the right, and the other to the
left, while “straught on" was a bog, flow-
moss, or some such thing. The points of
the compass, in the lurid state of the sky,
and in the midst of these hills, were not to
be distinguished by any manner of means
short of a magnetic needle. In this dilem-
ma I did as most people do in like cases,
that is to say, took the wrong road. I
soon perceived before me a Highlander
with his poney, and a two-wheeled vehicle,
y'clept, in this country, a gig, scrambling
along up one rugged declivity, and down
another. This establishment being none
of the most expeditious, I overtook it with-
out much difficulty, and learned from the
driver that I must return and take the
other road. Arriving again at the fork, I
held a council with myself, whether to en-
counter a certain glen which the Gael had
described in the usual lucid manner, or to
retrace my footsteps, and take up my quar-
ters for the night at the inn. In this emer-
gency, fortune took upon herself to end the
debate in a manner very decisive, and, as

About two or three miles from Loch Lomond is a small Loch, called Arklet. Here the road, or path, I should call it, divided, and I had my choice, either to go east to Loch Katrine, and down the lake to the Trosachs, or south-east to the Clachan of Aberfoyle. I preferred the latter, since it was uncertain whether I should find a boat at the head of Loch Katrine. So I followed the path towards the Clachan, winding among the hills, and now and then passing a single thatched hovel; these, however, were very rare, and my walk was, on the whole, as solitary as one could wish. The next lake I passed was Loch Ghon;-this is not much larger than many ponds within a dozen miles of Boston, but much more beautiful than any that I now recollect. On the banks of this lake, about ten miles from Loch Lomond, and pleasantly situated in a small green vale, or opening between the hills, I perceived a Highland cottage, into which I crept,-for one could not easily walk in,-to ask for some water. The tenant, an old woman, was quite hospitable, and gave me a pint bowl full of excellent milk, which I drank with little ceremony. She set before me certain articles which she called "scones," and which we should call flap-jacks, with some new butter and cheese, of which I made a hearty

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