of the adjoining chamber could easily have been the cause of the unexpected occurrence. She had the bird taken in, she hastened down to her uncle, every body was surprised, no one could give any information. Indeed, Frederick proved to her by all kinds of little circumstances, that he could not have been during this night in that wing of the castle. All the people of the house were examined minutely, but nothing was discovered. "I see it well, take him with you!" and she resigned it with bitter feelings. The countess, however, refused; she had no wish to deprive Luitgarde of what gave her pleasure, and besought her to receive the bird, which before had been a stolen property, now honestly from the hand of a friend. "Stolen property!" replied Luitgarde, deeply affected. "Yes, yes, you are right, countess !" said she, after a pause," and I thank you for your offer, but cannot accept it; the bird is distasteful to me since I know how I came by it." The countess wished to persuade her in a friendly tone; she represented to her, that probably he who brought it to her with danger to his life, quite inno 66 No, no," cried Luitgarde, hastily, "that cannot be !" "How do you know?" In the meantime Luitgarde kept possession of the bird, and amused herself with its various kinds of talk; she could not banish certain thoughts which gave it value to her, when she thought on the manner in which the cage was placed at her window. She was seized with the utmost surprise, when, one day, in a solitary hour, the bird suddenly cried out, "Victorin !centlyah, Victorin!" This name made her start and tremble; she sprang up and asked the bird who had taught him that word, just as if he could comprehend her, but the bird repeated his "Ah, Victorin!" and Luitgarde, who instantly thought of the son of the beloved of her mother, and of him to whom she had been first affianced, felt an unspeakable alarm; it was to her as if she were surrounded by the spirits of the dead. But, shortly after, her clear understanding came back again, and she was ashamed of her fear; indeed, she petted the bird unceasingly, and allowed it to repeat the name, as often as it liked. The bird, and the strange manner of its coming into the house, gave a lively interest to its inhabitants, most of whom found much amusement in the well-instructed, prattling little animal. The old count alone significantly shook his head, whilst he associated it with other mysterious events, with which an unseen power seemed to environ Luitgarde, and which could not fail to affect the members of her family. Count Frederick was in a very disturbed state; he inquired every where, he sought every where through the whole castle and its neighbourhood; he watched, but discovered nothing. So passed some days, when a very distant relation of the family, the Countess Bellheim, came to visit it. Her property was a couple of days' journey distant, and only a pressing affair, which she had to transact with the old count, could have induced her to make such an expedition in the winter, and in the insecure state of the roads. She was received by everybody with joy, and Luitgarde, who had been so long without any intercourse with her own sex, led her the next morning after her arrival, to her apartment, where female occupations, dress, and a thousand such subjects, gave matter for an animated conversation, when suddenly the parrot raised its voice, and calling, "Victorin! ah, Victorin!" the eyes of the countess were turned on it. "What is that!" cried she, amazed; "this parrot, here, in your chamber?" "Do you know him?" exclaimed Luitgarde, seized with a frightful idea. "It is my parrot," said the other; "I have had him many years, and he was taken away from me in a quite incomprehensible way." Luitgarde stood before her-"I solemnly declare, I know nothing 99 "I am well persuaded of that," replied the countess, "but how did he come into your hands?" Luitgarde related the history. The countess shook her head with astonishment-"Let him comprehend that who can," said she, "but, to convince ourselves whether I am right, or a singular resemblance leads me astray, be so good as to open the cage a little." Luitgarde did so. "Poll! poll!" said the countess, in a caressing tone; the parrot turned its neck towards the voice, shook its wings, and flew out of the cage straight to the countess, who held out her hand to him; he perched instantly on it, he fondled her, and thus recognised his former mistress, with every indication of attachment. "The bird is yours,” said Luitgarde, despondingly, "I know nothing, indeed nothing," replied Luitgarde, quickly, "except that I can no more see the bird, and I beg of you to take him away with you when you return, for II will let him fly out of the windowWhat matters it to me?-O Heavens! he is indeed stolen." The flow of tears which accompanied these words astonished the countess. She did not further attempt to explain them, and then decided to take her bird home with her. With various conversations, which, in order to amuse her deeply affected friend, she brought on the tapis, she at length calmed Luitgarde's agitation, and after awhile she became sufficiently tranquil to ask the countess, who in her house had the name of Victorin: and why the parrot always repeated that name with a sigh? "Victorin!" said the astonished countess, "in my whole house there is no one of that name; he has never known that word so long as I have had him, which was nearly three years." Luitgarde became silent and thoughtful. "That is the name of your unknown knight, and he has taught the bird to pronounce his name, in order to put you in mind of him. This might serve as an indication--" "Nothing, absolutely nothing!" Luitgarde, interrupting her warmly, exclaimed; "I know no man who bears that name!" The countess did not press the matter farther, for she saw well how all that had reference to the bird excited Luitgarde in the highest degree; she kept her thoughts to herself, but could not avoid communicating a part of them to Count Frederick, the same evening. He, who had been slightly informed of what had taken place, and of the agitation under which his intended bride laboured, had indeed no mistrust of anything. Excited by the narration of the countess, he wandered into various trains of ideas, but could not bring together his thoughts into any sort of consistence; he thought at least he had not much to fear from a rival who brought such equivocal presents, and which were given up again with so much indifference. The countess was soon to take her departure; she had heard here in the castle accounts of all the bloody stories that were in circulation, and she became extremely uneasy, so that the old count saw no possibility of tranquillizing his relation, except by giving her a secure escort. "Willingly," said he, "would I myself perform the knightly service to my fair kinswoman, but my gout does not permit me in this weather to leave the house; so, Frederick, you must go instead." "With much pleasure," replied the latter, standing up and bowing to the countess; but Luitgarde saw distinctly the unwillingness with which he undertook the charge. However, there was nothing more to be done than to keep a good countenance at a losing game. The journey was undertaken on the following day, and Count Frederick reached his paternal habitation on the third evening, fortunately, and in good health. Luitgarde came to meet him on the steps of the house; she was not entirely able to overcome some anxiety for the journey of her youthful friend, however kindly and seriously her uncle had spoken to her, and had advanced various reasonable grounds against this inquietude. The reason which made her apprehensive, and which even for her depended upon uncertain presumptions, she dared not name. Frederick was satisfied with this proof of sympathy; he embraced her with true affection, and she soon discovered by his deportment that something significant must have taken place, which he had to communicate to her. "Only think, Luitgarde," said he-"stop, wait! my father must hear it too-Come now in." He drew her into the old count's chamber, and, immediately after the first salutations and informations, he was no longer able to retain his great piece of news. "Father! Luitgarde!" said he, "think what has happened to me, what I have lived to see,-I have seen Black Fritz!" "God forbid!" replied Frederick “I have spoken to him, as I speak to you, tranquilly, peacefully." "Now, in God's name," said the old count, impatiently, "relate the affair." And Frederic began. "This morning I was delayed at the first stage from the countess castle, for some time, waiting for horses. I thought it right, for my own safety, to conceal my rank and my name; I asked for no private room, but took my place in the common one; all kinds of people were there; peasants, parish and public officers, and some of those dragoons, whose duty it is to patrol the country. They were boasting and laughing, and relating all kinds of wild anecdotes of the robbers, and how, on two dinerent occasions, they had been already on the track of Black Fritz; how he keeps his habitation in that neighbourhood, and so on; all which was not quite to my taste, when I reflected that the waiting for the horses might force me to travel by night. Just then the door opened, and there entered a priest, followed by his schoolmaster. He was a young man of good figure; his exterior, his profession, even his look, if I might so say, imposed silence on the vulgar crowd; he had some wine for himself and his schoolmaster, of which he drank moderately, and remained silent. By and-by, the dragoons began to bravado; they affirmed they knew Black Fritz well; they represented him with frightful features, and declared that if ever again they were to fall in with him, he should no longer escape them. The priest now stood up, placed himself opposite them, and asked them, 'If they were so certain of their affair, why did they not put an end to the man's frightful occupation long since? The dragoons bravadoed, and bullied, and talked away as raw soldiers are accustomed to do; the clergyman carried on his jest with them, which I was clearly able to see, and it seemed to amuse him to hear how highly and valiantly the fellows estimated themselves, and what they meant to do with Black Fritz, if they came in contact with him. And suppose he were here in the midst of you? said the priest, with a tone which frightened the dragoons, and which I confess made my blood for a moment curdle. We all looked at each other, each feared to discover in his neighbour the dreaded robber. In the mean time, the schoolmaster had returned to the room, from which he had absented himself, and gave a wink to the priest. ***1 AM BLACK FRITZ!' roared out the last, with a But, dear father, the smallest party was armed." "And have you not followed him!" "Yes, indeed, the dragoons instantly sprung up, but the girths of their saddles were cut away, and when they wanted to mount they tumbled over, with cloth, and saddle, from their horses, while the two robbers, with a jeering laugh, leaped on their horses, and flew off swift as the wind." 66 Now, this is too ridiculous!" said the father, "a whole chamber full of men, and soldiers among them, and two robbers, who made themselves known in a deriding manner, could not be taken!" Count Frederick endeavoured to explain and excuse the matter, but the father kept his own opinion, and asserted that it was an eternal shame, while Luitgarde thirsted with desire to ask her cousin for a description of Black Fritz-at last she ventured to do so. "Permit me, fair cousin, that this remain for the present my secret," replied he; "in a few days thou shalt be fully and more than satisfied." Luitgarde was obliged to yield, but she was now less able than ever to banish a certain image from her mind, or keep off the unpleasant idea that her cousin had played but a sorry part with the audacious robber. POPULAR YEAR BOOK. November 9.-Lord Mayor's Day. THIS day has received the above designation in allusion to its being the period when the chief magistrate of the city of London annually enters upon his mayoralty. Prior to the alteration of style in 1752, this anniversary was held on the 29th of October. The amphibious procession of the corporation to the city of Westminster and back-the most remarkable of our civic displays-is too familiar to our readers to need a description here. A high authority in medieval antiquities considers it a very interesting exhibition, inasmuch as it bears a close resemblance to the ancient pageants. It cannot vie, however, with the "Lord Mayor's Show" of former days, as described by a writer in 1575. "The day of St. Simon and Jude," says Master William Smythe, citizen and haberdasher of London,' "the Lord Mayor enters into his state and office. The next day he goes by water to Westminster, in a most triumphant-like manner, his barge being garnished with the arms of the city; and near it a shipboat of the Queen's Majesty being trimmed up and rigged like a ship-of-war, with divers pieces of ordnance, standards, pennons, and targets of the proper arms of the said mayor, of his company, &c.; next before him goeth the barge of the livery of his own company, decked with their own proper arms; then the bachelors' barge, and so all the companies in London, in order, every one having their own proper barge, with the arms of their company. And so passing along the Thames, he landeth at Westminster, where he taketh his oath in the Exchequer, before the judge there; which done, he returneth by water as aforesaid, and landeth at Paul's Wharf, where he, and the rest of the aldermen, take their horses, and in great pomp pass through Cheapside. And first of all cometh two great standards, one having the arms of the city, and the other the arms of the mayor's company: next them two drums and a flute, then an ensign of the city, and then about seventy or eighty poor men marching two and two, in blue gowns with red sleeves and caps, every one bearing a pike and target, whereon is painted the arms of all them that have been mayor's of the same company that this new mayor is of. Then two banners, one of the king's arms, the other of the mayor's own proper arms: then a set of hautboys playing, and after them certain whifflers [or staff bearers], in velvet coats and chains of gold, with white staves in their hands; then the Pageant of Triumph, richly decked, whereupon by certain figures and writings some matter touching justice and the office of a magistrate is represented. Then sixteen trumpeters, eight and eight, having banners of the mayor's company: then certain whifflers as before: then the bachelors, two and two, in long gowns, with crimson hoods on their shoulders of satin; which bachelors are chosen every year of the same company that the mayor is of, and serve as gentlemen on that and other festival days, to wait on the mayor, being in number according to the quantity of the company, sometimes sixty, or one hundred. After them, twelve trumpeters more, with banners of the mayor's company; then the drum and flute of the city, and an ensign of the mayor's company; and after, the waits of the city in blue gowns, red sleeves and caps, every one having a silver collar about his neck. Then they of the livery in their long gowns, every one having his hood on his left shoulder, half black and half red, the number of them according to the greatness of the company of which they are. After them follow sheriff's officers, and then the mayor's officers, with other officers of the city, as the Common Serjeant and the Chamberlain; next before the mayor goeth the sword-bearer, having on his head the cap of honour, and the sword of the city in his right hand, in a rich scabbard set with pearls; and on his left hand goeth the common crier of the city, with his great mace on his shoulder, all gilt. The mayor hath on a long gown of scarlet, and on his left shoulder a hood of black velvet, and a rich collar of gold of SS. about his neck, and with him rideth the old mayor also, in his scarlet gown, hood of velvet, and a chain of gold about his neck. Then all the aldermen, two and two (among whom is the recorder), all in scarlet gowns; those that have been mayors have chains of gold, the others have black velvet tippets. The two sheriffs come last of all, in their black scarlet gowns and chains of gold. In this order they pass along through the city to Guildhall, where they dine that day, to the number of one thousand persons, all at the charge of the mayor and the two sheriffs. Immediately after dinner they go to St. Paul's church, every one of the aforesaid poor men bearing staff, torches, and targets, which torches are lighted when it is late, before they come from evening prayers." The last Lord Mayor who rode on horseback on this I occasion, was Sir Gilbert Heathcote, in the reign of Queen Anne. The procession to and from Westminster was by land, until the year 1435, in the reign of Henry VI., when Sir John Norman built a sumptuous barge at his own expense, for the purpose of going by water. The twelve companies, emulating their chief, have, from that period, "graced the Thames" on Lord Mayor's day. All that remains," says Hone, "of the Lord Mayor's Show, to remind the curiously informed of its ancient character, is in the first part of the procession, wherein the poor men of the company to which the Lord Mayor belongs, or persons hired to represent them, are habited in long gowns and close caps of the company's colour, and bear painted shields on their arms, but without javelins. So many of these head the show as there are years in the Lord Mayor's age. November 11.-St. Martin's Day. St. Martin, the son of a Roman military tribune, was born in Pannonia, now called Hungary, about A.D. 316. For some time he followed his father's profession. It is related, that at the gate of Amiens he divided his cloak with a poor mendicant, and that on the following night our blessed LORD appeared to him wrapped in that half of it which he had parted with, and said to his angelic retinue," Martin has given me this garment." This vision occasioned the saint to leave the army, and retire into solitude, from which he was withdrawn by St. Hiliary, Bishop of Poictiers. He was elected Bishop of Tours in 374. The zeal and piety which he displayed in this office were most exemplary. He converted the whole of the diocese to the true faith, levelling the temples of the heathens with the ground, and erecting, in their stead, churches for the worship of the true GOD. The Emperor Valentinian, and even the tyrant Maximus, treated him with respect and honour; and he continued in his bishopric, universally beloved and esteemed, until A.D. 400, when he departed to glory, at the advanced age of eighty-four years. St. Martin has been styled THE APOSTLE OF GAUL. The French had formerly such reverence for his memory, that they carried his helmet with them in their wars, as an incitement to courage. His festival was instituted A.D. 650, and is one of the four cross quarter days. It is commemorated in the Anglican Church Kalendar, as is also that of his translation on the 4th July. The former is still called in law, MARTINMAS, from which it has been corrupted to Martle, or Martlemas. "Formerly," says Brady, "the feast of this saint was denominated Martinalia, and was held with much festivity, in close resemblance to the VENALIA of the Romans, which had been instituted in honour of Jupiter and Venus." St. Martin is the patron of the Vintners' Company, London. Martin's little summer is a term for the nine days which sometimes occur about the beginning of November. OLD AND POPULAR CUSTOMS. St. 66 little sausage land still club at Martinmas to buy a cow, or other Brand observes, that rustic families in Northumberanimals, for slaughter, the entrails of which, after having been filled with a kind of pudding meat, consisting or blood, suet, groats, &c. are formed into links," boiled, and sent about as presents, under the name of black puddings. A custom somewhat similar to this formerly prevailed in Germany, where there was at this time, a kind of entertainment called the "Feast of Sausages, or Gut Puddings," which was wont to be celebrated with great joy and festivity. On the continent St. Martin's day is a great festival: new wines then begin to be tasted, and the hours are spent in carousing, Dr. Stukeley remarks, that St. Martin's day is marked with a goose in the wooden almanacks of Norway: for on that day they always feasted with a roasted goose. They say," he adds, "St. Martin, being elected to a bishopric, hid himself, but was discovered by that animal." The same bird, we are intormed, is one of the delicacies" in common use' "at every table on the continent at Martinimas: and that such was also formerly the case in England, appears from the following which the Feast of St. Martin was celebrated by our Popish Kingdom," of the fashion in account in the " ancestors: "To belly cheer yet once again doth Martin more incline, Whom all the people worshippeth with roasted geese and wine: Both all the day long, and the night, now each man open makes His vessels all, and of the most ofttime the last he takes, Which holy Martin afterwards alloweth to be wine; wide. Yea, by these fees, the schoolmasters have profit great beside: November 13.-On this day the Stamford bull-running annually takes place. This custom is said to have originated as follows:-William, Earl of Warren, in the time of King John, standing, it is said, upon his castle wall, saw two bulls fighting for a cow in the fields below. A butcher of the town of Stamford, owner of one of the combatants, accidentally coming by with a huge mastiff, set the dog upon his own bull, who fled into the town, and no sooner entered it than all the butchers' dogs in the place, great and small, followed him in hot pursuit. By this time the enraged fugitive had become stark mad, and ran over everything in his path. The town was soon in an uproar, and so great was the noise, that the Earl of Warren rode with all speed to the scene of action, and was so delighted with the spectacle, that he gave all the meadows in which the bulls were at first found fighting as a common to the butchers of Stamford, upon the condition, that upon the anniversary of the day of the bull-chase, the butchers should from time to time, yearly for ever, find a representative of the original Taurus for the continu ance of that amusement. November 17 is the anniversary of QUEEN ELIZABETH'S ACCESSION, and was long observed in this kingdom as a Protestant Festival, with public prayers, processions, and illuminations. The figures of the Pope and the Devil were usually burnt on this occasion. In the "Gentleman's Magazine" for November 1760 is an account of the remarkable cavalcade on the evening of this day, A.D. 1679, at the time the bill for excluding the Duke of York (afterwards James II.) from the throne of England was in agitation. We are informed in the above narrative that the procession in question set forth at Moorgate, and passed first to Aldgate, thence through Leadenhall-street, by the Royal Exchange and Cheapside, to Temple Bar, in the ensuing order; viz.-Six whifflers to clear the way. A bellman ringing, and in loud and doleful tones crying out, "Remember Justice Godfrey." A figure of the justice, carried on horseback before a Jesuit in black. A priest in a surplice, and a cape embroidered with sculls, &c., distributing pardons. A priest in black, with a silver cross. Four Carmelites. Four grey friars. Six Jesuits, with bloody daggers. A concert of wind music. Four bishops, in purple_and lawn sleeves, with pastoral staves in their hands. Four other bishops, with surplices and rich embroidered copes, and gilt mitres on their heads. Six cardinals in scarlet robes and caps. The Pope's doctor, with Jesuits' powder, &c. Two priests in surplices, with golden crosses. Lastly, "the Pope, in a lofty glorious pageant, representing a chair of state, covered with scarlet, richly embroidered and fringed, and bedecked with golden balls and crosses. At his feet a cushion of state, and The manner in which the sport is now conducted is two boys in surplices, with white silk banners, and briefly this -The bull is shut up during the night, bloody crosses, and daggers, with an incense pot before before the appointed day, in a place provided for the them, censing his holiness, who was arrayed in a splenpurpose. At eleven o'clock A.M. he is released from did scarlet gown, lined through with ermine, and richly his prison, generally into a street, stopped at each end, daubed with gold and silver lace; on his head a tripple which he parades "in majesty sublime." At this junc- crown of gold, and a glorious collar of gold and precious ture every post, pump, and wall is in requisition. The stones, St. Peter's keys, &c. ;" and at his back, not an carts and waggons which form the barrier at the ends effigy, but a person representing the devil, acting as his of the street are crowded with individuals, and, in a holiness's privy-counsellor, and "frequently caressing, word, every place tenable is occupied. Some years back hugging, and whispering him, and oftentimes instructit was usual to irritate the bull, by goading him with ing him aloud." The whole procession was attended pointed sticks, but this practice is now wholly abolished. with some thousands of individuals carrying flambeaux Frequently a hogshead, with both ends knocked out, and lights. The statue of the Queen on the inner or is brought, wherein a man places himself, and, by roll-eastern side of Temple Bar having been conspicuously ing it to the bull, provokes him to toss it. He tosses, but tosses in vain; its inmate is trained too well to be easily dislodged. By this and other means equally harmless, he is rendered sufficiently infuriated for the "running." The street is then "unstopped," when, all agog, men, boys, and bull tumble one over the other to get free. Bridging the bull is next thought of. This, if he be much enraged, is the most dangerous part of the fun; it consists in driving him upon the bridge, (which is a great height above the water) and forcing him into the waves below. Crowds of persons press upon him on three sides, and at length, in spite of his amazing powers, he yields to the combined strength of his opponents, he plunges into the river. On rising to the surface his first care is to land, which, in most cases, he does in the meadows, where the chase continues until night puts a stop to the proceedings. The baited animal is then slaughtered, and his carcass sold at a reduced price to the lower classes, who regale themselves with a supper of bull beef. A frequent eye-witness of the above singular custom affirms that it is not nearly so cruel as some represent it to be. 'Fatigue," he observes, "is the greatest pain the bull is subjected to; and, on the other hand, the men who so courageously cope with him are in imminent danger of loss of life or broken limbs, whilst they possess not the most distant idea of doing anything more injurious to the animal than irritating him." (1) Is it possible that this senseless and brutal custom is still in observance?-EDITOR. ornamented, the figure of the Pope was brought before it, when, after a song, partly alluding to the protection afforded by Elizabeth to Protestants, and partly to the existing circumstances of the times, "his holiness, after some compliments and reluctances, was decently toppled from all his grandeur" into the flames of a huge bonfire prepared for his reception. The Pope-burning processions, of which this is, perhaps, the most remarkable example, were promoted by the party in opposition, for the express purpose of inflaming the public against the Court, and they were carried on under some common direction, which assigned the actors their parts, and prescribed the methods by which they should arrange their spectacles. These exhibitions were very properly put down by govern ment in 1681. BOOK OF HIGHLAND MINSTRELSY.' THE title of this very pleasant book is rather apt to mislead. It is not, as might be supposed, a collection of the traditional poetry of the Highlands, as Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border' is of that of the southern part of Scotland, but a volume of poems by Mrs. Ogilvy herself, founded upon a variety of historical and traditional incidents, collected from an evidently (1) A Book of Highland Minstrelsy." " By Mrs. D. Ogilvy. With illustrations, by R. R. Melan. London: Nickisson. 1846. familiar acquaintance with the character, habits, and history, of our Highland countrymen. We cannot say that we think Mrs. Ogilvy's choice of subjects has been, in every instance, the happiest possible. She might, we feel assured, have found, among the multitude of Highland traditions, many better fitted for poetic handling than some of those she has chosen. Such as they are, however, she has made a good use of them; and her volume, if not ranking among the highest poetical achievements of the day, must be assigned an honourable place at the head of those of the second class. | paraded by those who take up admiration for antiquity as a trade. But, if we will look more deeply into the matter, than a childish affectation of reviving exploded follies, we shall find that it has something more and better in it or the mere cant of enthusiasm for reverend antiquity. It speaks the clinging of the affections to the soil where their roots have been early planted-the unwillingness of generous minds to part for ever with what is associated, however remotely, with the objects of their love and veneration-and the natural tendency of men of ardent benevolence to prefer, to the smooth level of equal rights and general independence which marks the present day, a state of society in which, if the happiness and comfort of the mass of the people were less The peculiar features of character by which the High-perfectly secured, and left more at the mercy of the indivilanders of Scotland were long distinguished are rapidly dual characters of men of rank and power, there was, for becoming effaced, as the peculiarities of condition from that very reason, more scope for the exercise of a class which they sprung are disappearing before the inroads of virtues the most captivating in their aspect, as inof modern improvement and innovation. Let us not fusing into the social relation those feelings of reciprocal attachment and veneration, which, in their gentle be grudged the slight feeling of regret, founded, we admit, rather in sentiment than in reason, with which circle. we contemplate this change. There is no tree, however ueless and unsightly, which, if we have been accustomed to look upon it all our lives, we can see at last grubbed up, without some slight twinge of sorrow, in spite of our full persuasion of the necessity for its de struction. The conviction that what is removed can never again return-that the torch which is extinguished can never again be lighted—that years, as they roll, will bring many changes, but will never restore that from which we are now parting,-throws an involuntary shade of sadness over the general satisfaction with which we contemplate changes in the character and habits of a people, flowing from their advancement in civilization, and from what is an undeniable improvement, in many respects, in their condition. It must be admitted, perhaps, that those semi-barbarous peculiarities, which constitute the poetical element in the character of a race, owe their interest mainly, if not altogether, to the fact which their sentimental admirers deplore that they have disappeared, or are in the act of disappearing. Many an eye "in a fine frenzy rolling" looks with delight upon the mountain robed by distance in its azure hue, whose owner would little relish being compelled to take up his abode among the mists, and drifts, and roaring torrents, of the mountain side. A cateran is an infinitely more poetical personage after he is dead, and when his deeds are recounted by the side of a warm fire, under the shelter of constables, and police, and magistrates, who, as Bailie Jarvie says, "do not bear the sword in vain"-than he would be deemed by a man wakened at midnight by the screams of his household to see his barn in flames, and to hear the farewell lowing of his precious three-yearolds as they trotted before the bare-legged ravisher up the glen. The common lament for the departure of "the good old times" is most probably less the result of a specific admiration for any of the incidents of those times in particular, than the expression of the general feeling with which we look upon that line in our mental horizon which is just disappearing from view; a feeling which, let us be at what point of our progress we may, will always find wherewith to exercise itself, and of which our own times will be the object to our grandchildren, just as are to us the times of our grandfathers, who in their turn looked back with similar feelings of veneration and regret upon times which are altogether hidden from our view. There is nothing easier than to ridicule the feeling of respect for the character and manners of "the olden time." The ridienlous points about it, which are numerous enough, are obvious to the dullest, and are sure to be sufficiently development, cast so exquisite a charm over the family But to return to the Highlanders. The peculiarities of character by which they have been distinguished are easily referable for their origin to the circumstances in which they were placed. Inhabiting a mountainous country, seldom approached by visitors from other parts of the world, their ideas necessarily circled within a narrow round. The character of the country, of which the habitable part consisted of valleys separated from each other by nearly impassable ranges of mountain, must have greatly contributed to, if it did not altogether create, those peculiar feelings, so ardent in their good and in their evil, which are connected with the system of clanship. The limits of their valley marked out at first the natural boundary of settlement for families issuing from a common stock. The affections, centred in this narrow spot, were not taught to expand by freedom of intercourse with other families, who were too distant, and too difficult of access, for any easy interchange of friendly offices, though both distance and difof the more active feelings of hostility and revenge. ficulty could at any time be overcome at the instigation Thus the Highlander's affections were all thrown inward, with an intensity of glow greatly increased by their forcible compression, upon himself, his family, his kindred, and the head of his clan; his angry passions only had room to throw out their shoots into the outer world. home, he found only strangers or foemen-strangers When he ventured to overstep the limits of his narrow made foemen by some of the numberless causes of quarrel, sure to arise at the casual meeting of men to each of whom his own little community was the world, and who, therefore, went abroad bristling at every point with feelings and jealousies which it was scarcely possible to avoid touching, and which could not be touched without giving mortal offence. The exclusive devotion of the Highlander's affections to his own clan, and his limited acquaintance with the rest of the world, naturally gave birth to ideas of personal and family consequence, which, though they appear ludicrous enough when measured by the standard usually applied to such things, were not without a very beneficial influence upon his own character. In his eyes his chief was the greatest man in the world-his clan the noblest race of living men. Not one of the clan but had the blood of the chief in his veins, and not one, therefore, but had some degree of hereditary dignity to sustain. If this feeling led to some incongruous absurdities in their rare intercourse with the rest of the world if it had the still worse effect of carrying down into the lowest grade of society the gentlemanlike vices of quarrelsomeness and revenge-it had no less the effect of throwing over the character of the lowest Highlander a feeling of self-respect, and of imparting a dignified polish to his manners, of which corresponding examples can scarcely be found among any other people in the |