prevented me, by offering me his rough. hand, dyed over with tar and reddle, for he had just come from the Bughts at the West port. "Ay, man, how ir ye," said he," I am very well, said I, shaking his hand, and very glad to see one from the country who knows me, though I am ashamed to acknowledge that I do not recollect you." "Idare say ye never kend me, said he, but I ken you weel enouch, for I haé seen ye baith at our house, an'i' the kirk, an' my father kend ye weel, for I hae often heard him speakin o' ye, an' roosin' ye like mad. They ca' me John Miller; but if ye'll gang wi' me to what's here ca'd' a tavern, or rather I believe a coffee-house, I'll g'ye some kind o' drink, to open the heart, for I want to hae a crack w'ye". He said this with so much warmth, that, without hesitating, I accompanied him into John's Coffee-house, where I prevailed on him to order a bottle of soda-water for each. Ye may drink sic liquor whar ye like, said John,as the earthen jars appeared,but troth man, I'll hae nae soddy-water; I can get enouch o' pure water ony gate; but John, said I, all our men of genius drink it in the middle of the day, as the most effectual stimulus to the imagination that has yet been discovered, and it must also be taken all off at a draught, else it loses its virtue. When John heard that, he took his glass with eagerness, but made some wry faces in finishing it. How do you like it John, said I, I dinna ken, said he, it's no gude ava, it's unco like spoilt kirn milk, I believe I'll drink nae mair o' their soddy-water, e'en though it sude stimulate the imagination.

I soon discovered my young friend to be one of the most singular characters I ever met with. He is the son of a poor

school-master in a remote corner of the country; a good English and Latin scholar, yet uses the broadest dialect of the district, in his common conversation.

With surprise and concern I learned his determination of devoting his whole life to literature; while from the little knowledge he had of the world, of books, men,' or manners, he seemed a person the least fitted for it of any that ever formed such a project. Besides, from his whole appearance and conversation, nothing could be gleaned in the least indicative of either elegance or discernment.

I used every argument that my reason or experience could suggest, to diswade him from becoming an author, or at least from ever placing any dependence upon it as a calling; yet, notwithstanding of all that I could advance, he expressed his resolution of remaining in Edinburgh, and writing for the beuksellers, as he termed them, or ony body that wad gie him wark. I fear John, said I, that your employment, as well as your gain, will be exceedingly circumscribed: On what subject do you propose writing? I dinna care what I write about, said he, I can write about ony thing i' the Yirthly world; an' I expected ye wad hae encouraged me, an' instead o' that ye bode naithing but disappointment.

Indeed if I were to encourage you, said I, it would be acting a part in direct opposition to the dictates of my own heart, as well as abusing your candour and confidence. From dear bought experience I have drawn my opinion, and that opinion I am without disguise disclosing to you. Believe me, my good friend, that of all classes of men, the man of genius has to encounter the greatest number of chilling mortifications, and these are still multi

plying, as the present age is not only more capricious in its taste, for literary things, than any that has preceded it, but the business of literature in this country is monopolized by a few individuals, out of whose hands it is impossible at present to recover it, and without whose sanction to a work, no bookseller will publish it, neither will the public peruse it. Works of literature are become much like bank notes, they must be issued by certain firms, else they will not pass current. These firms keep the reviews under controul; reviews are at present the rage, and magazines in disrepute; the nation, sensible that the reviewers are men of superior abilities, condescend to be directed by them, without taking the private interests of a party, whose rights these reviewers are bound to support, at all into question; and thus the whole business goes on mechanically.

A man may, by attention, become a profound scholar; may take out all his degrees by rotation; yet, as an author, his carreer be nowise promoted by it.

It is not so difficult to write well, as to find plenty of readers; and the means, by which such a number are procured for some works, in preference to others that are greatly superior, will perhaps for ever remain a mystery to all excepting the trade.

There is one fact, however, which seems to be pretty well established, that unless the copy right of a work belong to a bookseller, it will not sell; but if it does, he will contrive to get it off, even though very dry and insipid.

The literary taste, of Scotland in particular, being thus ruled by a very few, who are formed into two parties, unless you can get enlisted into one or other of

these corps, you cannot so much as get a chance of appearing in public; for a bookseller will not risk the expence of publishing the work of an unknown author; and if you publish it at your own expence, who is to sell the book for you? Not the booksellers, I assure you; If a gentleman asks particularly for a copy, they may dig one out of some back apartment, and give it him ; acquainting him at the same time how very trifling a thing it is: But who is to know of it? You cannot be at the expence of advertising constantly, and they will take care not to insert it in any of their catalogues. You go at length to settle accounts with them, expecting a good round sum; but they are so very busy, they cannot possibly get time to speak to you; and if by persevering you get an opportunity of explaining your errand-I'll see, Sir,Boy, what is become of all the books that belonged to this gentleman? "I don't know, Sir, I suppose there are some of them sold, and some sent to London and the country. "I am sure I told you tỏ give none of them away without the money, we have not got a farthing for them yet, that I know of-Will you be so kind as to call again Sir, I will have it looked into. "You may call, and call again, and hang on till you grow gray; and if you have no one who has some influence with them to second you, your account will never be settled.

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You are little sensible of the cringing you must submit to, and the rebuffs you must bear with, if you persist in becoming an anthor: you will have more satisfaction, believe me, in feeding a farmer's flock for hire among your native mountains, or tilling his land, than in wasting your youth in the very scullery

of literature, in hopes of gratifying the taste of a fastidious public, which will repay you by every sort of derision that envy, malice, or supercilious consequence can suggest...

John was sitting listening all this time with the utmost gravity, and writing with his finger upon the table, making use of some soda water in the bottom of his tumbler. He made no return to my remoustrance, farther than by saying, in a playful manner, "Confound the bodies." This answer arrested my eloquence at once, and put me considerably out of countenance. I was chagrined at observ. ing that my arguments had no more weight with the stripling, and vexed that I had said so much, especially when I perceived that he had written on the table, in legible lines,

"To daunton me, an' me sae young, "To daunton me is a sair wrong ; "It sall never gar me sich, nor bring tears to my ee, "For I'll never let an auld body daunton me.

He told me finally, that his heart was set upon literary fame, and that he would submit to every privation in life so he might attain that. I said he was the very man for the bufiness, and begged to know if I could be of any service to him.

He let me understand that he came to Edinburgh depending upon being introduced to the world in my paper; and, with the most cheerful alacrity, engaged to furnish me with a great number of anecdotes illuftrative of country manners in general, delineations of many singular characters in Nithsdale and Galloway, old legends, and ftories of ghofts and bogles. As I am anxious to introduce my young correspondent to the public, and he even more anxious to ap

pear before it, I have selected the following account of a peasant's funeral from his pieces, as its length seems to suit the limits of my paper to-day.

Description of a Peasant's Funeral,

BY JOHN MILLE R.

On the roth of April, 1810, I went with my father to the funeral of George Mouncie, who had been removed by a sudden death, from the head of a large family, now left in very narrow circumstances. As he had, however, during his life been held in high estimation for honesty and simplicity of character, many attended to pay the last sad duty to departed worth. We were shown, one by one, as we arrived, into a little hovel where the cows were wont to stand; although it was a pleasant day, and we would have been much more comfortable on the green; but it is held highly indecorous to give the entertainment at a burial without doors and no one will submit to it.

We got each of us a glass ef whisky as we entered, and then sat conversing, sometimes about 'common topics, but for the most part about our respective perish ministers what subjects they had of late been handling, and how they had succeeded. Some of them remembered all the texts with the greatest exactness for seasons by gone, but they could only remark, on many of them, that such a one made much or little of it.

One man said, in the course of some petty argument, "I do not deny it, David, your minister is a very good man, and a very clever man too; he has no fault but one." "What is that?" said David. "It is patronage," said the other. "Patronage," said David, "that

cannot be a fault." "Not a fault, Sir? But I say it is a fault; and one that you and every one who encourages it by giving it your countenance will have to answer for. Your minister can never be a good shepherd, for he was not chosen by the flock." "It is a bad simile," said David," the flock never chuses its own shepherd, but the owner of the flock." The greatest number of the inhabitants of that district being dissenters from the established church, many severe reflections were thrown out against the dangerous system of patronage, while no one ventured to defend it save David; who said, that if one learned man was not capable of making choice for a parish, the populace was much less so; and proved, froms cripture, that man's nature was so corrupted, that he was unable to make a wise choice for himself: and maintained that the inhabitants of this country ought to be thankful that the legislature had taken the task out of

their hands.

As a farther proof of the justice of his argument, he asked, whether Jesus of Nazareth or Mahomet was the best preacher? The other answered that none but a reprobate would ask the question. Very well, said David; Mahomet was one of your popular preachers; was followed, and adored by the multitude wherever he went, while he who spoke as never man spake was despised and rejected. Mahomet gained more converts to his religion in his life-time, than has been gained to the true religion in 1800 years. Away with your popular preachers f.iend! they are bruised reeds. His antagonist was non-plus'd: he could only answer, "Ah! David, David, ye're on the braid way."

The women are not mixed with the men at funerals, nor do they accompany the corpse to the place of interment; but in Nithsdale, and Galloway, all the female friends of the family attend at the house, sitting in an apartment by themselves: The servers remark, that in their apartment, the lamentations for the family loss are generally more passionate than in the other. -The widow of the deceased, however, came in amongst us, to see a particular friend, who had travelled far, to honour the memory of his old and intimate acquaintance. He saluted her with great kindness, and every appearance of heartfelt concern for her misfortunes. The dialogue between them interested me; it was the language of nature, and no other spoke a word while it lasted.

Ah! James, said she; I did not think, the last time I saw you, that our next meeting would be on so mournful an occasion: we were all cheerful then, and little aware of the troubles awaiting us! I have since that time suffered many hardships and losses, James, but all of them were light to this-she wept bitterly; James endeavoured to comfort her, but he was nearly as much affected himself. I do not repine, said she, since it is the will of him who orders all things for the best purposes, and to the wisest ends: but, alas! I fear I am ill fitted for the task which Providence has assigned.

With that she cast a mournful look at two little children who were peeping cautiously into the shiel. These poor fatherless innocents, said she, have no other creature to look to but me for any thing; and I have been so little used to manage family affairs, that I scarcely know what I am doing; for he was so

careful of us all, so kind! and so good!

Yes, said James, wiping his eyes, if he was not a good man, I know few who were so! Did he suffer much in his last illness?" "I knew not what he suffered, returned she, for he never complained. I now remember all the endearing things that he said to us, though I took little heed to them then, having no thoughts of being so soon separated from him. Little did I think he was so ill! though I might easily have known that he would never murmur or repine at what providence appointed him to endure. No, James, he never complained of any thing. Since the time our first great wordly misfortune happened, we two have set down. to many a poor meal, but he was ever alike cheerful, and thankful to the giv

er.

He was only ill four days, and was out of his bed every day whenever I asked him how he did, his answer uniformly was, "I am not ill now." On the day preceding the night of his death, he sat on his chair a full hour speaking earnestly all the while to the children. I was busy up and down the house, and did not hear all; but I heard him once saying, that he might soon be taken from them, and then they would have no father but God: but that he would never be taken from them, nor ever would forsake them, if they did not first forsake him. He is a kind indulgent being, continued he, and feeds the young ravens, and all the little helpless animals that look, and cry to him for food, and you may be sure that he will never let the poor orphans who pray to him want.

Be always dutiful to your mother, and never refuse to do what she bids you on any account; for you may be assured.

that she has no other aim than your good; confide all your cares and fears in her bosom, for a parent's love is steadfast; misfortune may heighten but cannot cool it.

When he had finished, he drew his plaid around his head, and went slowly down to the little dell, where he used, every day, to offer up his morning and evening prayers; and where we have often sat together on Sabbath afternoons, reading verse about with our children in the Bible. I think he was aware of his approaching end, and was gone to recommend us to God; for I looked after him, and saw him on his knees.

When he returned, I thought he looked.extremely ill, and asked him if he was grown worse: He said he was not like to be quite well, and sat down on his chair, looking ruefully at the children, and sometimes at the bed. At length he said, feebly, "Betty, my dear, make down the bed, and help me to it-it will be the last time." These words went through my head and heart like the knell of death-All grew dark around me, and I knew not what I was doing.

He spoke very little after that, saving that at night he desired me, in a faint voice, not to go to my bed, but sit up with him; "for, said he, it is likely you may never need to do it again." If God had not supported me that night, James, I could not have stood it, for I had much, much to do! A little past midnight my dear husband expired in my arms, without a groan or a struggle, save some convulsive grasps that he gave my hand. Calm resignation marked his behaviour to the last. I had only one acquaintance with me, and she was young-Our beds face to each other, you know, and little