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gious monument as Stonehenge, they chose trinkets, &c. As companions to Stone-
where they found, or made where such henge, these barrows add much to the ef-
were not fit for their hands, small aggeres, fect of the scene, and heighten the feel-
or mounds of fim and solid earth for an ings of contemplative solemnity which are
inclined plane, flatted and levelled at top; wrought up in the bosom of the beholder.
up the sloping sides of which, with great There is nothing modern near the place for
under levers upon fixed fulciments, and with miles;-here is the vast and venerable
balances at the end of them to receive into monument, and scattered here and there
them proportioned weights and counter-about it, are the primitive graves of men
poises, and with hands enough to guide and who were doubtless familiar with its mys-
manage the engines, they that way, by lit-teries, but whose knowledge sleeps with
tle and little, heaved and rolled up those them, as soundly as they do. It seems as if
stones they intended to erect on the top of there must be some old and mighty sympa-
the hillock, where laying them along, they thy between these remnants of a vanished
dug holes in the earth at the end of every age; as if in the deep silence of the sultry
stone intended for column or supporter, the noon they might meditate together on the
depth of which holes were equal to the departed glories of their time; or, when the
length of the stones, and then, which was midnight storm was high, might borrow its
easily done, let slip the stones into these exulting voice to talk of their well kept se-
holes straight on end; which stones, so sunk crets, of battle and of victory-while every
and well closed about with earth, and the human ear was distant, and the sailing
tops of them level with the top of the mount clouds, and the glancing stars, alone looked
on which the other flat stones lay, it was on at their solemn dialogue.
only placing those incumbent flat stones
upon the tops of the supporters, duly bound
and fastened, and taking away the earth
from between them almost to the bottom of
the supporters, and there then appeared
what we now call Stonehenge."

and traditional account of the erection of
Stonehenge-not the most learned or prob-
able, perhaps, but certainly the most amus-
ing. It seems, according to this account,
that the stones which now compose Stone-
henge, were once the property of an old
woman in Ireland, and grew in her back
yard. The famous necromancer, Merlin,
having set his heart on possessing them,
mentioned the affair to the Devil, who
promised to obtain them for him. For this
purpose, assuming, which he did without the
least difficulty, the appearance of a gentle-
man, he visited the old woman, and pouring
a bag of money on her table, told her he
would give her as many of the pieces for
the stones in her ground, as she could reck-
on while he was taking them away. Think-
ing it impossible for one person to manage
them in almost any given time, she closed
with his proposal immediately, and began
forthwith to count the money; but she had no
sooner laid her hand on the first coin, than
the old one cried out, Hold! for your stones
are gone!' The old woman ran to her win-
dow, and looking out into her back yard,
found that it was really so-her stones
were gone. The Arch Enemy had, in the
twinkling of an eye, taken them all down,
tied them together, and was now flying Concerning the origin and derivation of
away with them. As he was crossing the the name Stonehenge, there is as much di-
river Avon, at Bulford, the string which versity of opinion as upon any other cir-
bound the stones became loose, and one of cumstance relating to it. Inigo Jones says,
them dropped into the stream, where it still "This antiquity, because the architraves
may be seen; with the rest, however, he are set upon the heads of the upright stones,
arrived safe on Salisbury Plain, where, in and hang as it were, in the air, is gene-
obedience to Merlin's instructions, he be- rally known by the name of Stone-Henge."
gan to set them up again. The work, in "The true Saxon name," says Gibson, in
the hands of such a builder, went on swim-Camden's Britannia, "seems to be Stan-
mingly, and the Devil was so well pleased
with it, that as he was placing the last
stone, he declared, with an intention, no
doubt, of teazing the restless curiosity of
mankind, that no one should ever know
where the pile came from, or how it came
there. In this part of the business he was
disappointed; for a Friar, who had lain
concealed about the work, loudly replied,
That is more than thou canst tell, Old
Nick.' This put the Devil in such a rage,
that pulling up the nearest stone by the
roots, he threw it at the Friar, with the de-
sign of crushing him; but the Friar was
too nimble for him-the stone only struck
his heel; and thus he gave it its present
name, and escaped to let the world know
who was the architect of Stonehenge.

They who still persist in giving no credit to the Friar's information, have been exceedingly puzzled in endeavouring to account for the elevation of such huge columns, in an age which must have been so rude and ignorant. The solution given by Rowland has the merit of ingenuity, although it cannot be determined that the method suggested by him was that employed by the real builders. I give it in his own words. "The powers of the lever, and of the inclined plane, being some of the first things understood by mankind in the art of building, it may be well conceived that our first ancestors made use of them; and we may imagine, that in order to erect such a prodi

hengest,-from the memorable slaughter which Hengist, the Saxon, here made of the Britons. If this etymology may be allowed, then that other received derivation from the hanging of stones, may be as far from the truth, as that of the vulgar Stone-edge, from stones set on edge." An anonymous writer, about the year 1660, who calls his piece "A Fool's Bolt soon shot at Stonage," appears to me to be gravely quizzing the antiquaries and etymologists;-if he is not, he is himself the most ridiculous of the whole fraternity. He pretends to have discovered every thing concerning this pile, the when, the how, the why, and the wherefore, and divides his article into twelve particulars, the second of which relates to the contested derivation. Hear it! "2. My second particular is, that a bloody battle was fought near Stonage. For the very name Stonage signifies Stone-battle; the last syllable age coming from the Greek ȧyv, a furious battle, &c.; so that all that have built their opinion of this monument on any other foundation than a bloody battle, have built Stonages in the air."-But enough of this.

After having viewed the monument itself, the attention is attracted to the numerous barrows, or sepulchral mounds, by which it is surrounded. Several of these have been opened, and have been found to contain cinerary urns, metal and glass beads, weapons of brass and iron, cups,

In returning to Salisbury, I took a different road from that which brought me to Stonehenge, and at the end of two miles came to the village of Amesbury. While the postillion stopped here to refresh himself and his horses, I walked out, and passing a small, but old and pituresque church, entered the grounds of Amesbury House, a mansion belonging to Lord Douglas. The building was designed by Inigo Jones, and is a handsome looking house, but fast going to decay, as the present possessor has not inhabited it for years. The walls are defaced, the windows boarded up, and the glass broken. The grounds are as desolate as the dwelling; the banks of the Avon, which winds through them, are overgrown with long grass and bushes, and its stream is choked with mud and reeds; a bridge, with a summer-house in the Chinese fashion built upon it, is made almost impassable by its own ruins; the path is strewn with dead leaves and withered branches; the dial stone is overturned, and there is not even "One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk.. To mark where a garden had been." Feelings more deeply sad and sorrowful are perhaps inspired by scenes like this, than by the remains of a more distant age;-decay is premature, and ruin has come before its time; the traces of desolation are marked upon familiar things, and the effects of many years have overtaken the workmanship of yesterday.

When I returned to the inn, I found the chaise waiting for me. The sun was now very powerful, and its rays, by being reflected from the chalky road, were rendered doubly burning. Neither was there any thing in the scenery to refresh the spirit and cool the blood;-the harvest was over, and the fields were all dry stubble;-not a cottage was to be seen, nor any living thing, excepting a shepherd whom we met, with his coat stripped off and thrown over his shoulder, covered with dust, and driving a flock of panting sheep over the heated downs.

Within two miles of Salisbury, and at a short distance from the road, are the ruins of Old Sarum. The only dwelling near it

is a humble pot-house, at which we stopped. | colours do to the eye,-a sensation of re- shall take my leave of it with the followA path through its little garden leads out pose, after the contemplation of glaring ing: upon the ruins. They are very inconsidera- and offensive hues. "Look! under that broad beech tree I ble; an irregular mound of earth incloing The Complete Angler is in the form of sat down, when I was last this way a fisha space of two thousand feet in diameter, a dialogue between a Fowler, a Hunter, ing. And the birds in the adjoining grove and a yard or two of crumbling stone wall; and a Fisher, who meet together by acci- seemed to have a friendly contention with yet this place sends two members to par- dent and enter into a discussion of the an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live liament, that is, the proprietor of the land merits of their respective pursuits. The first in a hollow tree near to the brow of that sends them. Horne Tooke was once re- speaker is the Fowler, from whose pane- primrose hill. There I sat viewing the turned from this thoroughly rotten borough. gyric on his vocation, and every thing con- silver streams glide silently toward their Two lads were ploughing immediately un- nected with it, I would make one extract. centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes der the ramparts. "But the nightingale, another of my airy opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, creatures, breathes such sweet loud music which broke their waves, and turned them out of her little instrumental throat, that it into foam." might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth."

durus arator

Et te
Vertet, et, Urbs, dicet, hæc quoque clara fuit.
Sannazarius.

A ride of fifteen minutes more brought
us to Salisbury.
F. G.

ISAAC WALTON.

ALL the world has heard of Isaac Walton's "fascinating little volume"-for all the world has read the Sketch Book-but few in this country have ever read it. Although it has passed through many editions since its first publication in 1653, it has for many years been comparatively a rare book, and I think you may have readers who will be amused by some account of the work and its author. The edition which is now before me* is in a less expensive form, than the former ones have usually been. All the engravings are omitted, which deprives the work of one charm, that the author seems to have made no small account of, observing that "he who likes not the book should like the excellent picture of the trout, and some of the other fish, which I may take a liberty to commend, because they concern not myself." The author of this celebrated treatise was born at Stafford, in the year 1593; and, to judge from the style of his literary per

formances, must have received a good English education. Some time before the year 1624 he settled in London as a sempster or linen-draper, which employment he continued to follow till 1643, when he retired from business and spent the remainder of his life, which was protracted to the advanced age of ninety," mostly in the families of the eminent clergymen of England, by whom he was much beloved." He wrote the biography of Sir John Donne, Sir Henry Wotton, and other eminent persons; but the present work is the one to which he has owed his celebrity. It is chiefly remarkable for the tone of simplicity, benevolence, and gentleness, that breathes through the whole. We feel ourselves acquainted with the author; and when we contemplate his quiet cheerfulness and primitive morality and charity, and remember that he lived through the stormy periods of the reign of Charles I., the protectorate of Cromwell, and the licentious days which succeeded the Restoration, we cannot wonder that he was, as he is said to have been, "well beloved of all good men." Amid the turmoil and vices of the time, the character of Walton affords to the mind, what certain

*The Complete Angler of Isaac Walton and Charles Cotton. Chiswick. 1824.

And this description of the mode of cooking a pike [pickerel], which is sufficiently appetizing.

"But if this direction to catch a Pike thus do you no good, yet I am certain this direction, how to roast him when he is caught, is choicely good; for I have tried it, and it is something the better for not being common. But with my direction you must take this caution, that your Pike must not be a small one, that is, it must be more than half a yard, and should be bigger.

The Hunter follows, with appropriate praise of his favourite amusement, and the Fisher concludes the debate with a long dis"First, open your Pike at the gills, and course on the pleasures of angling, which if need be, cut also a little slit towards the makes a convert of the former. The Fowl- belly. Out of these take his guts; and er soon leaves them, while the Fisher goes keep his liver, which you are to shred very on through the remainder of the book, to in-small, with thyme, sweet marjoram, and a struct his new disciple in the best methods little winter-savory; to these put some of catching and cooking the various fish pickled oysters, and some anchovies, two which inhabit the streams and ponds in or three, both these last whole, for the anEngland. In the course of their walk they chovies will melt, and the oysters should meet with a party engaged in hunting the not; to these you must add also a pound of otter. On this occasion the Angler puz-sweet butter, which you are to mix with zles the Huntsman with a question near the herbs that are shred, and let them all akin to one, which has worried wiser heads be well salted. If the Pike be more than than his, even the learned in the law of our a yard long, then you may put into these own times. herbs more than a pound, or if he be less, thus mixed, with a blade or two of mace, then less butter will suffice: These, being

ask you a pleasant question; do you hunt
“Pisc. I pray, honest Huntsman, let me
a beast or a fish?"

There are pieces of delightful poetry
scattered through the volume; the fol-
lowing is a favourable specimen. I have
seen it lately published in a journal as the
property of an English poetess, who flour-
ished about eighty years after Walton
died. It has been accredited to divers old
authors; but is attributed by Walton him-
self to Hubbard.

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.
Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,

and thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie;
-My music shows you have your closes,
and all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives,
But when the whole world turns to coal,
then chiefly lives.

I might select for your readers many
beautiful extracts from this little work,
but would much rather, for their sakes,
they should seek them for themselves; and

must be put into the Pike's belly: and then his belly so sewed up as to keep all the butter in his belly if it be possible; if not, then as much as you possibly can. But take not off the scales. Then you are to thrust the spit through his mouth, out at his tail. And then take four or five or six split sticks, or very thin laths, and a convenient quantity of tape or filleting; these laths are to be tied round about the Pike's body from his head to his tail, and the tape tied somewhat thick, to prevent his breaking or falling off from the spit. Let him be roasted very leisurely; and often basted with claret wine and anchovies and butter mixed together; and also with what moisture falls from him into the pan. When you have roasted him sufficiently you are to hold under him, when you unwind or cut the tape that ties him, such a dish as you purpose to eat him out of; and let him fall into it with the sauce that is roasted in his belly; and by this means the Pike will be kept unbroken and complete. Then, to the sauce which was within, and also that sauce in the pan, you are to add a fit quantity of the best butter, and to squeeze the juice of three or four oranges. Lastly, you may either put it into the Pike, with the oysters, two cloves of garlick, and take it whole

out, when the Pike is cut off the spit; or,
to give the sauce a hogoo, let the dish into
which you let the Pike fall be rubbed with
it; the using or not using of this garlick is
left to your discretion.
M. B.
"This dish of meat is too good for any
but anglers, or very honest men; and I
trust you will prove both, and therefore I
have trusted you with this secret."

The work of Cotton, which is added to that of Walton in this edition, is a sort of imitation or continuation of it, being intended to supply the deficiencies of the latter in the particular of fly-fishing, and the manufacture of artificial flies.

AMERICAN SCHOLARSHIP.

GREAT differences exist between us and other cultivated nations, in respect to the number and character of our scholars. Our land is not cumbered with literati, so numerous and so distinguished from all who follow other pursuits, as to constitute a class by themselves. This fact is often mentioned at home and abroad; it has been lamented by Americans, and cast in their teeth by foreigners, as matter of reproach and obloquy. We grant that the circumstance exists, but are disposed to view it in a very different light; to us it appears as a proof and a promise of a better condition of national intellect than has characterized any other people.

and places for the utterance of thought. own fancy, perhaps to fantastic or false conBy wisdom we mean something very differ- clusions, unchecked by the restraining inent;-the power of distinctly perceiving fluence of comparison or conflict with other and rightly using those absolute truths minds. Man is essentially social, because which should control and may improve man the needs of his nature make him so; and as a moral and spiritual being; seeing a it is not more true, that did we not congrething not only as it is in itself, but in its gate, cities could not be builded nor the uses; and of making all attainments, all arts of life be practised, than it is that our circumstances do service in the forming of thoughts and feelings require, nay imperiVery sensitive readers may be occasionally correct judgments upon the relations, the ously demand, perpetual and intimate assosurprised with a kind of professional hard- duties, and the hopes which the vicissitudes ciation with our fellows. Solitude and unheartedness, which mingles oddly enough of life may offer. It is obvious, if the disturbed meditation are often good-but with Walton's general benignity and ten-words are thus rightly used, that learning chiefly if not only good, as they serve to derness; as when, in giving directions is only to be valued as the instrument of ripen or store away for use, the fruits which touching the catching of pickerel, he or- wisdom; and if it be equally obvious that have been gathered in society. Now the ders his pupil to bait the hook with a living scholars are not always sages, and that such recluse scholar has not only lost all the adfrog, and especially requires him to pass a condition of society, and such habits and vantage, but with the habit perhaps the the barb through the struggling reptile tastes as can alone create and supply a nu- power of freely interchanging his opinions "as tenderly as though you loved him.” merous class of eminently learned men, and feelings with other men. Again; his will direct the energies and efforts of the character is injured because he is accusfinest and strongest intellect towards pur- tomed to value his acquisitions and his obsuits, which lead rather from than to sound jects, by a false test. We are not about wisdom,-then it will be conceded that the to enter upon a disquisition as to the proper want of such a class should not be lament- objects of effort, or the most useful modes ed by us. of employment; they are obvious enough for our purposes; as it is obvious enough that he who invents a steam-engine which shall give to ten men the power of a thousand, has done a better thing than if his ingenuity were employed in suggesting an original guess as to the position of a comma or an accent in some questionable Greek verse. This is an extreme case, but it serves to illustrate the principle; and without farther inquiry into the abstract nature of utility, we would assert, or rather agree, with what it is the fashion to assert now-adays, that the strong, direct tendency of all things in the present age, is towards utility. This, men are beginning to look at as the end of all exertion; and things are getting to be valued only by their power of promoting the uses of life. In this most important respect, this age is beyond all that have preceded it, and the nation of which we are a part, beyond all other nations; but the pertinacious industry, the resolute self-denial, the unwavering devotion of the whole mind, which are needed to win the scholar's crown, if they are not stimulated by a miserable and selfish ambition for empty fame, for honour without service, suppose a thorough belief in the vast and real importance of that which he seeks, which must be a prejudiced, an absurd belief. He is pale with hard thought and broken sleep, and his body decays before the morbid energy of his over-wrought mind; but he thinks all this well and exults because he has turned over many volumes and learned what many men have thought, and written many pages for others to read, and taken an assured rank by the side of the "eruditissimi" whom he worships. This man may have been gifted with commanding talents, and may have won a high and far-reaching reputation; but bring him forth into the concerns of life; let him teach his weaker brethren to forego, to neglect or avoid this useless or evil thing and labour strenuously for that good one; let him discriminate nicely for them and for himself between that which is

That scholars are not always, and of necessity, sages, sounds a little too much like a truism to be illustrated at great length. Upon this point common opinion may be adduced as good evidence. The world deems it impossible, that a man should be one of them, that he should be prompt, shrewd, full of resources, conversant with realities and judging wisely about them, and at the same time a laborious, hardreading student, a man of vast erudition, saturated, as it were, with book knowledge, and altogether an eminent scholar. And the world is right about it, for the thing is impossible. An eminent scholar-we use the phrase as meaning one who would take rank with those whom it would indicate in Europe, one who belonged to the same class and had reached the same grade-an In considering questions of this kind,-eminent scholar can only have become so in forming an estimate of the worth of by a life passed where the best uses of life scholarship and the homage due to learned are well nigh forgotten,-in his closet. men, men are apt to be misled by a common His solitary lamp has not been shining and very influential error;-they too often through the silent watches of many nights, do not understand, or do not recollect, while that he might record his thoughts touching they reason, that knowledge is not wis- the duties or hopes of man, or the science dom. The former we regard as an indis- of mind, or the great mystery of governpensable instrument, as a means of vast ment, or the wise economy of public and inestimable value; but standing by it- wealth-for he is not a philosopher, nor a self, and employed in no uses, it is worth-statesman, nor a politician; he has not less as any other neglected or misused tool. Wisdom is a very different thing; it is the end which science respects, and only so far as it respects this end should science be valued. It has an absolute and momentous worth; and men may well strive for it as for an unspeakable good, and value it in others as a quality which gives a rightful claim to the highest respect. We understand by this word, learning, simply an acquaintance, more or less extensive or accurate, with words and things as they actually are or were; with the literary works of different ages and nations; with the facts, which, together with certain arrangements and nomenclatures, constitute what are usually called the sciences; and with the languages employed in various times

sought the accomplishment of elegant lite-
rature only as it is the fairest ornament of
the mind, nor has he loved its pure pleas-
ures only as an innocent and useful recrea-
tion, for he would call it detraction, or, at
best, a very scant measure of justice, were
one to give him credit for only so much
skill in letters as could be thus acquired.
He is a scholar,-an eminent scholar,-but
nothing more, and therefore the best powers
and efforts of his mind have been wasted in
pursuits almost if not altogether frivolous;
some desirable advantages may result from
his labours, but they are dearly purchased.
The character he has formed, the habits he
has acquired, are not those of most value.
He has been accustomed to think out his
own thoughts and follow the lead of his

ing or curing the evils of life; let such be his task, and his strength is as the feebleness of infancy. Now a character like this will his be, generally speaking, whom all men call an "eminent scholar;" and a character like this, this age, and especially this country, ought never to honour.

But, we repeat, we are very far from feeling any contempt for learning; we would give to it, and to them who have it, due honour, and would hold out sufficient inducements for its due cultivation. Most, if not all, of the pursuits of life may be followed with more advantage by him who has been taught the rudiments of learning than by the wholly ignorant; and in many of them high and valuable success cannot be attained without considerable acquaintance with literature. In our country there are some, though not yet many, who are not obliged to belong to any profession, and not disposed to seek or hold public stations; to such it is honourable to love literature; and their studies, though not perhaps very directly or largely beneficial, are yet something more than "strenuous idleness." Let as then have learning, and let us honour it. Let our colleges be supplied with teachers competent to all the duties of instruction; let all American productions, indicative of industry and ability and useful knowledge, be received with honourable welcome, and let them who may choose their occupations, and prefer literary pleasures to idleness or dissipation, be duly respected. But let us not forget, that only so much learning as is or may be used is valuable, and let us especially recognise and seek the most extensive, attainable, and important advantages of learning, those which accompany the lesser degrees of it, and may be enjoyed by almost all in the discharge of all their duties. Let our schools be supported by a persevering, liberal, and enlightened patronage, and every means be actively employed to secure to the intellect of each one of the people of this country so much cultivation and knowledge as shall enlarge and correct his views concerning all his duties and rights, and supply him with the best motives for good conduct. We shall then have no need to lament that few among our learned can abide a comparison with the eminent scholars of Europe.

and that which is not desirable; let him tavern, where we enjoyed an excellent appeared with a large piece of court-plaisWe found here an American ter on her face, to cover a wound inflicted help them who are busy in supplying the breakfast. needs, enlarging the comforts, and prevent- shipmaster, who saluted Capt. M-- much by a missile from the galleries a few nights in the same way as he might have done before. I should have been wearied with had they parted the day before, when, in the performance but for Miss Stephens, at reality, they had not met, as I believe, for whose exquisite singing I came as near rapsome years. But sailors soon become citi- tures as was becoming. The nobility and zens of the world, and a few years, or a gentry are now generally in the country, few thousand miles, appear to them of little and the house was not very brilliant; but it consequence. In the course of the morning was decently filled, or, rather, indecently, we walked to the Castle, a Saxon building, for, from the dress of some of the ladies, I it is said, of great antiquity, to witness the should have supposed them to be Cyprians; daily parade of the guards now stationed in but P-assured us he had seen CountDublin, consisting of light-infantry, caval- esses dressed lower and higher. The folry, and artillery, grenadiers, heavy cavalry, lowing morning we found Mr Rosborough, and Highlanders. These last swarm all who treated us in a very gentlemanlike over the city; their dress is very pictur- manner, examined our baggage slightly, esque; a blue bonnet encircled with a refused any fee, and offered to send it to We thanked him for band of red plaid, and surmounted with any place we wished. black plumes, a white close jacket to the his politeness in that hearty manner, which middle, and a philibeg, kilt, or short petti- one is apt to use towards any man who gives coat, descending just below the middle of a good impression, or removes a bad one. the thigh; the limbs below are quite naked, except shoes and tartan hose, which do not reach to the knee; a goat-skin bag before them, adorned with rows of tags or tassels resembling small shaving brushes, a musket, and a basket-hilted broadsword swung over their shoulders with a white leather belt, complete the array of these knights of " the bottomless breeks." It must be a vile dress in winter. On returning from our walk we were informed that the officers of His Majesty's Customs, having been offended by some observations made by the Mate of the brig, had instituted a very particular search, and finding concealed in divers parts of the vessel, articles which they were pleased to consider contraband, had seized all the passengers' baggage, trunks, bedding, &c., and conveyed them away in triumph. Much alarmed at finding our property in the claws of such harpies, we hurried down to the Custom House, to inquire into the affair. Here we were detained till near two o'clock, and then obliged to depart unsatisfied. All we could get for an answer that our baggage might possibly be at Mr Rosborough's on Rogerson's quay. As this was at some distance, we resolved to dine upon the business, eating being generally a matter of paramount importance for some days to landsmen, after a voyage across the Atlantic. In the afternoon we proceeded to Mr Rosborough's, where, after waiting till six P. M. in vain, as the gentleman was not at home, we returned in high dudgeon at having wasted half the day in this unprofitable pursuit. In the evening we went to the theatre, to hear Miss Stephens in Lionel and Clarissa.' The theatre appeared to me to be a little larger than that in Boston, and, in general, not much more beautiful. In one particular it is better, the benches of the pit are covered and stuffed; both men and women occupy it. The mode of lighting by moon-light lamps, instead of candles, or common lamps, produces a pleasing effect. The scenery seemed better painted and managed. All the lobbies and doors were guarded by armed Highlanders, to prevent or suppress riots, which are said to be not uncommon. One of the actresses

We shall, in a future number, state our opinion as to the condition of society which could create a numerous class of eminently learned men, and as to the character which, it is to be hoped, the scholars of this country will have.

LETTERS FROM A TRAVELLER.
No. II.

Dublin, September 13. ON Wednesday morning, twenty-four days after we embarked, we set foot on the terra-firma of green Erin, and walked up the banks of the Liffy to the Custom House

was,

I have not seen one pretty face yet, from which it is, of course, reasonable to infer, after the sweeping manner of travellers, that the Irish ladies are not handsome. The general appearance of this city is much superior to that of any I have ever seen, London not excepted, as well as I recollect. Through the middle of it runs the Liffy, a pretty river, probably about two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet wide, quayed or edged on each side with hewn stone for a mile and a half Irish, or two miles English, and crossed by six stone, and one cast iron bridge. The quays are surmounted, through their whole length, sometimes with an open stone railing, at others, with a wall about two and a half feet high. Standing on one of these bridges, one may see nearly the whole way, up or down, through the city. This river is a very convenient guide for strangers; for, if one loses his way, he has only to go north or south, as the case may be, till he reaches it, and follow it to some known point, from which he may take a new departure. The streets abound with gentry in slashed sleeves, yea, and slashed breeches too. I saw yesterday the ne plus ultra of tatterdemalions-the very prince of rags-strolling along with his right hand in his breeches pocket, and his left in his bosom, looking as if this fair world was created for his sole accommodation. This is an exceedingly lazy people. About fifty rods below one of the bridges are two ferry boats, each rowed by two men, who get a good living by carrying those across at a half penny apiece, who are too indolent, or too busy, as the case may be, to walk to the bridge; and one sees persons frequently, whose array would indicate them to be worth some sixpence or thereabouts, paying their mite to save themselves a few rods of walking.

I am amazed at the variety of vehicles here;-tilburies, gingles, sociables, and a long etcetera of indescribable machines to put people in ridiculous situations. If any of you should feel a laudable desire to astonish the natives by sporting a sociable, the following is a recipe: Take a large round hand-basket, wheels of wheelbarows,

and stout hogshead hoops, of each two, mount the hoops vertically upon the axles of the wheels, by way of springs, and the hand-basket as firmly as you can upon the hoops; shafts like any other vehicle, and for the want of a shelty, take a donkey; for a driver procure the raggedest miscreant in Byard, where they abound; a Hingham bucket turned upside down may be lashed to the front of the basket for his seat, and the thing is complete. Get into the basket with any friend that will join you, and drive off, and if you are not tumbled into the mud before you get far, you will have better luck than every body has in a sociable. The gingles, or jaunting cars, are constructed on a principle which is the reverse of the sociable; for, as in the latter it is obvious that the parties must ride face to face, in the former they are placed back to back, and are carried side foremost with the feet swinging in the air, from which you may further infer that the sociable is the more genteel of the two.

Dublin was formerly much infested with mendicants, who have since been in a great measure suppressed by authority. Many of the professional beggars now conduct their operations more warily. A stranger, on approaching the stand of a fruit-seller, will often be surprised by a most pathetic appeal to his charitable feelings, and sometimes the language used on these occasions is in the highest degree shocking to New England ears.

the sun had been up some time. I was rock, which may be called real estate in disappointed on arriving at St Patrick's Ca- the most literal sense, is tenanted by seathedral, to find that it was undergoing re- fowl, who are obliged to pay a sort of rent pairs, and therefore closed; and as the in kind, that is, in eggs, to the landlord, Sexton was too genteel a person to rise at who, moreover, sometimes takes the body such a plebeian hour as eight o'clock, I was of the lessee without much form of law. On obliged to forego the hope of seeing the Tuesday morning we landed at Troon, a interior, and the Dean's monument. I small port of entry in the Firth. The town, went into a small church in the neighbour- and indeed all the neighbourhood, belongs hood, where the morning service was be- to the Duke of Portland, and though an inginning. The congregation at this hour, significant place, containing hardly a dozen you may be sure, was none of the most houses, it has a stone mole, and two large fashionable. The preacher went through dry docks of the same materials, all conhis duty, as it seemed to me, with great structed by the Duke, who employs several sang-froid, and appeared to have very little large vessels to carry coal from his mines concern about the sermon which he read to Ireland; for, though the Irish have plenty to us. I was surprised to learn afterwards, of coal in their own island, they are not that he was Charles Maturin, which circum-allowed to dig it, but compelled to buy it of stance, had I known it before, would most their English or Scotch neighbours. From probably have materially influenced my the very landing to Kilmarnock, a distance opinion of his performance. There was of ten miles, is a rail-road, which is a castlittle in the streets, on my return, to re-iron road; at least, the ruts are so, and the mind me that it was Sunday. The old wo-wheels of all vehicles which travel upon men did not seem to imagine that the it are also of iron, and made exactly to fit commandment extended to the trade in the road; so you must perceive that all nuts and apples. In the course of the fore- manner of reins, driving, &c., are matters noon we went to the Castle chapel, and of supererogation. A rope serves to stop had the honor of sitting in the pew of his the horse, when he has proceeded as far as excellency Earl Talbot, Lord Lieutenant of the rider thinks necessary, and when he Ireland. The pews here are all private, and has once started, he must, will he, nill he, usually locked, no one being admitted but go to the end of the road before he can get by a special introduction; so you perceive | back again. This contrivance is intended that we are getting on in the world. You to facilitate the conveyance of the coal, may be curious to know how we effected and is less expensive than it would seem at this, but I pretermit the explanation, as in first sight, since the iron is procured and There are many fine old buildings in no way befitting the grandeur of the occa- cast at no great distance; and, as the work Dublin, and more fine new ones. A noble sion. Above the altar, in this chapel, is a is done by the Duke's tenants, much of the monument to the memory of Lord Nelson large painted window, the effect of which is money comes into his hands again in the stands in Sackville street, and another is now very magnificent. The lofts, or galleries, shape of rents. All travellers must, of erecting in the Phoenix park for Lord Wel- are pannelled with black oak, richly carved course, in passing these roads, make use lington; which Phoenix park is the finest in and fretted, each pannel bearing the coat of vehicles belonging to the same persons, the three kingdoms, being thirteen miles of arms of a Lord Lieutenant, with their for no other wheels will fit them; and, as in extent, "sit fides penes auctores." I do names beneath; the arms, devices, names, his grace gets his share of the profits in the not vouch for it. The appearance of the &c., being all carved on the wood, without same way, he has the advantage of a toll, lower orders in this metropolis is digraceful the frippery of gilding or painting. One without the trouble of toll-gates. To these to their government, which one would imag-is not likely to attend much to the service sources of revenue you must add the returns ine, from the number of soldiers quartered in such a building, amid such a catalogue of from Ireland for the coal, which costs the here, was upheld by stronger support than illustrious names as Pembroke, Sidney, Duke nothing but the price of digging and its popularity. Club law, however, is prob- Essex, Grafton, Derby, Northumberland, conveyance. ably a familiar code to the Irish. Pat,' &c. On one side of the gallery is the said a man of whom I was purchasing some throne of His Excellency, on the other that trifle, where have you been lately?' of the Bishop of Dublin. These, together Agh! I was just kilt fighting these three with the pulpit, reading desk, &c., are also nights,' was the answer. I looked round at of carved oak. This evening we sail for the respondent, a tall gaunt watchman. the Clyde. Farewell. This minion of the moon leaned on a rusty pike, whilst his array and countenance bore strong witness in favor of his veracity; for Glasgow, September 19. there was hardly a piece of whole cloth as We went on board the vessel, which was big as your hand, in the former, and scarce- to convey us to Scotland on Sunday evely a vestige of humanity, except a pair of ning, but the Captain being as drunk as a shrewd Irish eyes, in the latter. He went lord, and having a few friends with him in on, with ineffable brogue, to detail the a similar situation, we were unable to get fighting of those nights,' and, by his own off before midnight. The following day was account, this trusty guardian of the peace thick and rainy, so that we could see little had entered with great zeal into the vari- or nothing of the land. In the evening, ous squabbles which he related, being, just as we came in sight of the Scottish hills, probably, by no means of the same mind with it began to clear, and soon became a beauthat pattern of quiet watchmen, Master tiful moonlight, by favour of which we had Dogberry, touching the prudence of med-a fine view of Aylzie [Ailsa] rock, which dling and making with any but true men. I sallied forth this morning before the servants in the house were stirring, though

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stands up directly in the middle of the Firth
of Clyde. It is nine hundred feet high,
and almost as far to bottom around it. This

Troon, and all the neighbouring coast, was once notorious for smuggling, or freetrading, to the Isle of Man and Ireland; but the King's bull-dogs are now too numerous in the channel for such gentry as Mynheer Dirk Hatteraick and his crew, to flourish much. And this puts me in mind of Dandie Dinmont, who is said to be a character well known in Glasgow; a sturdy grazier of Dumfriesshire, who visits St Mungo's city periodically, to trade in woo', attended by the Peppers and Mustards of such renown. From Troon we proceeded to Kilmarnock in a noddy, a vehicle with cast-iron wheels, somewhat resembling,-to compare small things with great, the Czar's winter sledge, which contained all manner of apparatus for dining, &c. We had neither tables, chairs, nor victuals, to be sure, but it was not for want of room. We were securely locked up in this Brobdignagian diligence, and trundled away merrily. The jolting was not excessive, but every pebble, that lay in the ruts, told, as springs did not enter into

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