Fierce "Bothwell" on his charger black, as from the conflict won,

And pale "Habakkuk Mucklewrath," who cried, “God's will be done!"

And like a rose, a young, white rose, that blooms 'mid wildest scenes,

Passed she, the modest, eloquent, and virtuous "Jeanie Deans;"

And "Dumbeidikes," that silent Laird, with love too deep to smile,

And "Effie," with her noble friend, the good " Duke of Argyle."

With lofty brow and bearing high, dark “Ravenswood"

advanced,

Who on the false "Lord Keeper's" mien with eye indignant glanced;

Whilst graceful as a lonely fawn, 'neath covert close and

sure,

Approached the beauty of all hearts-the "Bride of Lammermoor!"

Then "Annot Lyle," the fairy queen of light and song, stepped near,

The "Knight of Ardenvhor," and he, the gifted Hieland Seer;

"Dalgetty," "Duncan," "Lord Monteith," and "Ranald" met my view;

The hapless "Children of the Mist," and bold "Mhichconnel Dhu!"

On swept "Bois-Guilbert"- -"Front de Bouf".

Bracy's" plume of woe:

"De

And "Coeur de Lion's" crest shone near the valiant

"Ivanhoe;"

While soft as glides a summer cloud "Rowena" closer

drew,

With beautiful "Rebecca," peerless daughter of the Jew!

Still onward, like the gathering night, advanced that funeral train

Like billows when the tempest sweeps across the shadowy

main ;

Where'er the eager gaze might reach, in noble ranks

were seen

Dark plume, and glittering mail and crest, and woman's beauteous mien !

A sound thrilled through that lengthening host! me thought the vault was closed,

Where, in his glory and renown, fair Scotia's bard reposed!

A sound thrilled through that length'ning host! and forth my vision fled!

But, ah!—that mournful dream proved true-the immortal Scott was dead!

The vision and the voice are o'er! their influence waned

away

Like music o'er a summer lake at the golden close of

day:

The vision and the voice are o'er!-but when will be

forgot

The buried Genius of Romance-the imperishable Scott? CHARLES SWAIN.

M

THE FOXES' TAILS;

Or, SANDY MACDONALD'S SIGNAL

INISTER.-Weel, Sandy, man, and how did ye like the sermon the day?

Precentor.-Eh?

Minister.-I say, how did ye like the sermon? Precentor.-Oh! the sermon-weel-a-a-the sermon-'od-a-I maist forget how I likit it. Minister.-D' ye no mind the sermon, Sandy? Precentor.-Weel-I-wadna jeest like to say that I

didna mind it, but—

Minister.-Weel, d' ye no mind the text, then? Precentor.-Ou, ay-I mind the text weel eneuchaye mind the text.

Minister.-Weel, d'ye no mind the sermon? Precentor.-Bide a meenit, bide a meenit-I'm think ! I mind the sermon noo-ay, I mind it fine. Minister. What d'ye mind about it?

in'-ay

Precentor.-Ye said the world was lyin' in wickedness. Minister. Toots, man! any fule kens that. What did ye think of the discourse as a whole?

Precentor.-I thocht it was owre lang.

Minister.-Tut-tut-tut! Weel, what did ye think o't in the abstract?

Precentor. The abstract-weel, I thocht the abstract was not clear noo and then, as a whole, like.

Minister.-Man, d'ye understand your ain language? I ask you, what was your opeenion o' the nature-the gist, pith, marrow o' the discourse?

Precentor.-Ay, jeest that. Weel, it was-it was evan

gelical.

Minister.-Evangelical! Of course it was evangelical -was't no more than that?

Precentor.-Ou, ay, it was conneckit.

Minister. You thickhead! Was the sermon good, bad, or indifferent-there, can you fathom that?

Precentor.-Oh! that's what ye've been speirin' a' the time, is't? What for did ye no speak plain afore? Weel, it was a gude sermon-'deed it was the best I ever heard ye preach.

far.

Minister.-Hoot-toot! Sandy, now you're gaun owre

Precentor.-Aweel, aweel, I never saw sae few folk sleepin' afore.

Minister.-Oh!

And are you in the habit, sir, o' fallin' asleep during my pulpit ministrations?

Precentor.--I wadna say but what I tak a blink noo and then.

Minister.-Oh! but still ye thought it was a gude ser

mon?

Precentor.-Ay, it was a mooch better than ony

other.

Minister.—I'm much obleeged to you, Sandy, for your gude opinion.

Precentor.-You're perfectly welcome. But, at the same time, if ye'll excuse me, I would jeest like to make one observation about the discoorse the day-and, in fack, aboot a' your discoorses.

Minister.-Ay, what's that?

Precentor.-Weel, it's rather a venturesome pint tae handle; but, if ye'll forgie the freedom, I was joost gaun to say that in your discoorse the day—we'll no gang any

farther than the one the day—in the midst o't, like— when ye was on the tap o' an illystration-it struck me that every noo and then-but ye'll no feel offended at what I'm gaun to say?

Minister.-Say awa, man, and I'll tell ye after. Precentor.-Ay, weel, in your discoorse the day every noo and again-in the midst o't, like-when ye was explennin' some kittle pint out o' the Scripturesor when ye was in the heat o' an argyment, or that- -or else when ye-a-but noo, ye're sure ye'll no be offended?

Minister.-Ye idiot! wull ye either say what ye've gotten to say, or else lit it alane?

Precentor.-I'm coming to the pint directly. All I was gaun to say was jeest this, that every noo and then in your discoorse the day—I dinna say oftener than noo and then-jeest occasionally-it struck me that there was maybe-frae time to time-jeest a wee bit o' exag geration!

Minister.-Exagger-what, sir?

Precentor.-Weel, maybe that's owre strong a word. I dinna want to offend ye. I mean jeest-amplification, like.

Minister.-Exaggeration! amplification! What the mischief d'ye mean, sir? Where got ye haud o' sic lang words as these?

Precentor. There, there, there! I'll no say anither word. I didna mean to rouse ye like that. All I meant to say was that ye jeest stretched the pint a wee bit. Minister. Stretched the pint! D'ye mean to say, sir, that I tell lees?

Precentor.-Weel-a-but I didna gang sae far as

that.

Minister.-Ye went quite far enough, sir. Sandy, answer me this: Are ye sayin' this a' out o' your ain head, or did somebody else put ye up till't? Did ye ever hear the Laird say I was in the habit o' exaggeratin'?