The mortality occasioned by this famine was very great. she was alone known either for good or evil. Previous to The people, by way of making their little occasional sup- the unfortunate exposure which drove her from Ayrshire, plies of meal go as far as possible, used to grind it up she had been a decent-looking, neatly dressed woman, with a vast proportion of way-side herbs and seeds of an with a trace of the gentility of better days; but now unhealthy character, which were almost as fatal as abso- misery had pinched her hard; her clothes were the most lute want. Patrick Walker tells us, that deaths and wretched that could be conceived, and, to use the expresburials at length grew so frequent, that the living were sive phrase in which her tale was related, it was possible wearied with taking care of the dead; it was found dif- to trace her path by the vermin which she dropped in her ficult to raise a sufficient company to inter a neighbour progress. The last circumstance was a sufficient cause, decently; and many corpses got neither coffin nor wind- if no other had existed, for denying a lodging to the poor ing-sheet, but were drawn to the grave upon sledges, as is wretch, while the famine of the time afforded an equally done upon occasions of pestilence abroad. It was quite good reason for refusing to extend to her the means of a customary sight in Ayrshire, according to a traditionary supporting life. Thus circumstanced—an outcast, starved, source of intelligence, to see the bodies of people who had diseased, overrun with vermin—this miserable creature died of starvation, lying under the high thorn hedges, dragged her living corpse to the banks of the water of which then formed the only boundaries of roads and fields | Annick, (a rivulet which runs through the parish of throughout the country. Many of these were never Stewarton, and discharges itself into the sea at Irvine,) buried, but, after lying above ground till the return of and there upon a little hillock lay down to die. Through better times re-awakened natural feelings in the breasts the kindness of a neighbouring farmer, the great-grandof the people, were put out of sight by a covering of father of my informant, who every day came out to the earth. place where she was lying, and threw her a bannock and a piece of cheese, she survived nine days, but died upon the tenth, as striking a picture of human misery as ever cumbered the earth. The time was one of horrible sights, and accordingly no one stirred to offer her wretched, dilapidated corpse the rites of burial, or even to fling a stone or a handful of earth upon it, for many months after. It is said, that the famine was fatal, to a remarkable degree, in the northern province of Moray; in so much, that in the parish of Kininvie, only three smoking cottages were left, all the inhabitants of the others having died during that heavy visitation. "From poverty and the awful prevalence of mortality," says a provincial chronicler, (the ingenious Mr Carruthers of the Inverness Courier,) "the ordinary rites of Christian burial were denied to the poor, and large holes were dug in many places, into which their bodies were consigned. One maiden lady in Garmouth, whose memory is still gratefully embalmed in the recollections of the peasantry, provided shrouds and coffins for such as wandered to her door to die; and, so anxious were the poor to avail themselves of this last privilege, that they would husband their little stock and journey far and near, that they might close their eyes secure of decent interment !" In the Highlands, hunger pinched the people as hard as anywhere else. There used long to be a traditionary recollection at Inverness, of a vision of poor famished wretches, who came out like spectres from the glens and woods, and set up a wail of misery before the town, that pierced the very hearts of the honest burghers, themselves very nearly as necessitous and as miserable. The following little tale of human ignominy and wretchedness, connected with the famine of 1700, is from the recollection of an aged gentleman, to whom it was related by his grandmother, the date of whose birth was 1704. For many years before the famine, a poor old woman, belonging to the tribe of gentle beggars, as they are called in Scotland—that is, persons originally of good condition, but who have been reduced to beggary-used to wander about Ayrshire, living chiefly in the houses of the farmers, to whom her company was acceptable, on account of her having "a wonderful gift of prayer." About the year 1695, this sanctimonious person, though she had partaken of the family supper, was detected one night, at a farm-house where she lodged, licking the cream off one of the best boynes in the dairy. Such a failing in "a professor" was very shocking to the religious feelings of the community, and, accordingly, the poor woman was now so much despised and reviled, that she found it necessary to disappear from that district of the country, and try her fortune in a scene where she was less known. In time, the people almost forgot the very existence of such a person; the waves of society closed over her, and she was the same to Ayrshire as if she had never lived. But it would appear that the unhappy wretch did not find it possible to obtain a proper settlement anywhere else, owing, perhaps, to her not being anywhere else "the accustomed beggar." Thus, when the famine began, like a dejected bark driven back by storms to its little haven, she found it necessary to seek a shelter and sustenance, everywhere else denied, in the circle of country where AT SEA IN A FOG. WERE you ever at sea in a fog, And all round her edge The haze like a hedge There is never a sound to be heard, May know to keep clear, Hands in pocket, and quid in cheek, Jack Upon every thing in the ship Must be wet, let it be A man is sent up to the mast, "Ay, blankets for Ocean to wrap Oh, for a cat's paw, To give him a claw, THE RED MANTLE.* journey, never to believe more than one-half of what he heard, and experience had taught him to disbelieve the other. MANY years before the beginning of the thirty-years' staircase, and reached a door which he opened with the Following the landlord's directions, he mounted a spiral war, a young artisan of Bremen, travelling to perfect himself in his trade, entered a little market-town, not far sounding steps, brought him to a stately hall, out of which key. A long sombre gallery, which echoed again to his distant from the frontiers of the Netherlands, one evening after a long day's journey. Every corner of the inn nished with the utmost luxury and elegance. He selecthe passed by a side-door into a suite of apartments, furwas already taken possession of by a caravan of waggon-ed for his bedroom the most cheerful, from the windows ers: and the landlord, who thought, perhaps, he disco- of which he looked down upon the inn, and could hear vered something of the landlouper in his frank, care-defying countenance, advised him, without much circumlo- every word that was spoken there. He lighted his wax cution, to walk on to the next village. Our weary traveller candles, set himself to supper, and ate with the relish had nothing for it but to take his bundle on his back bellied bottle guaranteed him against thirst. and composure of a nobleman of Otaheite. As long as again, muttering all the while curses on this hard-hearted his teeth were busied, he never once thought of the ghost. publican between his teeth. If at some distant noise timidity would cry "there it comes," courage instantly answered, "nonsense! it's the digestion, terror whispered three anxious suggestions in cats and rats battling." But, during the half hour of his ear, for one answer that courage was able to frame. All of a sudden the host seemed to be seized with a fit of compassion. "Hark ye, my lad," he cried, " upon second thoughts, I think I can stow ye away for the night. There is room enough in the castle there, it is not inhabited, and I have the key." In this offer, which Frank (that was our hero's name) gladly accepted, there was however more of the show than the substance of kindness. The knavish host had suspected the nature of the stranger's complimentary expressions, and resolved to revenge himself by the agency of a roistering spirit which haunted the castle. The residence of which he spoke stood upon an abrupt hill, which overhung the town, straight before the door of the inn, from which it was only separated by the road, and a small trouting stream. On account of its pleasant situation, it was still kept in repair and well furnished, and employed by its owner as a hunting-box. He used it, however, only in the daytime. As soon as the stars showed themselves, he marched out with all his attend ants, to avoid the tricks played upon them at night by the ghost, for by day it was quiet enough. The sun had gone down, and a dark night set in, when Frank reached the door of the old building under the guidance of mine host, who carried a good supper and a bottle of wine in a basket. He had also brought along with him two candlesticks and a pair of wax tapers; for as no one dared to await the approach of twilight in the castle, all such movables had been discarded as useless. By the way, Frank cast more than one anxious glance at these costly preparations, for he remembered the low state of his finances. "The light in the lantern is enough to show me to bed, and I am too sleepy to be long of finding my way thither. By the time I awake, the sun will be up." "I will not conceal from you,” replied the host, "that there is a report of the castle's being haunted. But never fear, you see we are within call if any thing should happen. The household will be astir this whole blessed night; and, after all, I have lived in the place for thirty years, and never seen any thing. I have heard noises to be sure, but they must have come from the cats and mice in the granary. In case of the worst, however, I have brought these lights, for we know that ghosts always shun them." It was no lie that he had never seen a ghost in the castle; for he had taken precious care never to set a foot in it after sunset. Even on this occasion, he kept on the safe side of the door, handing the victuals to his guest, describing the way to the state apartments, and galloping down hill to the eminent hazard of his neck. Frank stepped fearlessly into the deserted abode, firmly convinced that the story of the ghost was mere nonsense. He had been advised by a wise man, when he set out on his * Sir Walter Scott, in the preface to the volume of his poems The big He took care to shut and bolt the door before fear had the bow-window. completely mastered him, and sat down upon a seat in to dissipate the thick-coming fancies that were creeping He opened the lattice, and, in order over him, he looked to the skies, examined the physiognomy of the moon, and counted how often the stars were snuffed. The street beneath him was deserted, and, pleasures of solitude in a populous city, full of bustle as a deep wood, or old deserted castle, where desolate walls Midnight is the name of the hour at which the spiritual world awakes to life and activity, when grosser arrimal nature lies buried in deep slumber. Frank naturally preferred getting over that anxious period in his sleep; so he shut the window, made once more the round of the the candles that they might give more light, and stretched apartment, peeped into every nook and corner, snuffed himself upon the bed, which felt extremely soft to his weary limbs. He could not, however, fall asleep so soon as he wished. he attributed to a degree of feverishness caused by the A slight palpitation of the heart, which extreme heat of the day, kept him awake for a short time, which he employed in uttering a more earnest prayer than he had said for a long time. This exercise had its usual effect; it was followed by a sweet sleep. An hour containing "The Doom of Devorgoil," has these words:" The story of the ghostly Barber is told in many countries; but the best narrative founded on the passage, is the tale called Stumme The meteors called shooting stars are, in the popular mytho Liebe,' among the legends of Musaeus." The episode in that beau-logy of some districts of Germany, believed to be the snuff of the tiful tale to which Sir Walter refers, is now presented to the bright candles of the firmament, thrown away instead of being put English reader-we believe for the first time, into a pair of snuifers. He might have elapsed, when he awoke with a sudden fright -nothing uncommon when the blood is fevered. heard the clock strike twelve-an event which was immediately announced by the watchman to the whole town. Frank listened for a while, then turned himself warmly in bed, and was about to address himself again to sleep, when he heard, in the distance as it were, the creaking of a door, and immediately thereafter a heavy sound, as if it had been violently banged to. "O mercy, mercy!" thought he, "here comes the ghost. Pooh! it is only the wind." But the sound came nearer and nearer, like the heavy tread of a man. There was a jingling accompaniment, as from a convict's chain or a porter's bunch of keys. It was no passing gust of wind; the blood rushed to his heart till it thumped like a smith's hammer. The affair was now past a joke. Had terror allowed the poor terrified devil to recollect his treaty with the innkeeper, he would have rushed to the window and bawled lustily for assistance. As he was, however, too irresolute for such a decided measure, he betook himself to the mattrass—the last refuge of the terrified—on the same principle that the ostrich thrusts its head into some thicket when it can no longer fly before the huntsman. But without, one door after another was opened and shut with a dreadful clatter. At last it came to the sleeping apartment. There was rattling and shaking at the door, many keys were tried; at last the right one was found, but still the bolt held; so a sturdy kick, which resounded in Frank's ears like a clap of thunder, was applied-away crashed the bolt, and the door flew wide to the wall. A tall thin man, with a black beard, in an antique costume, and with a gloomy expression of countenance, entered. His eyebrows were contracted into an expression of sullen solemnity. He wore a scarlet mantle depending over his left shoulder, and a high peaked hat on his head. He crossed the chamber three times with slow heavy tread, looked at the candles, and snuffed them. He then threw off his mantle, took from his side a barber's pouch, took out the shaving apparatus, and drew his glittering razor busily along the strap he carried at his girdle. Frank lay all this while sweating under the mattrass, recommending himself to the Virgin's protection, and speculating regarding the comparative probability of this manœuvre having reference to his beard or his throat. To his unspeakable consolation, the spectre, having poured water out of a silver flask into a silver basin, whisked up a lather with his skinny hand, placed a chair, and solemnly beckoned the trembling spy upon his actions to come from his hiding-place. It was as impossible to remonstrate against this hint, as for an exiled vizier to resist the angel of death, which the sultan sends after him in the shape of a bowstring. In such extreme cases, the most rational line of conduct is of course to yield to necessity, smile at the disagreeable joke, and acquiesce in the operation of strangling. Frank honoured the draft upon his obedience, threw away the mattrass, sprung from the bed, and took his place upon the chair. Wonderful as this sudden transition from terror to resolution may appear, the editor of the Psychological Journal will no doubt be able to explain it in the turning of a straw. The spectral barber tied a cloth round the neck of his trembling customer, seized comb and scissars, and clipped away at his hair and beard. He then soaped in the most scientific manner, first his chin, then his eyebrows, and finally the whole head, after which he shaved him from the crown to the throat, as bare as a skull. Having finished the job, he washed the head, dried it carefully, made his bow, tied up his apparatus, wrapped himself up in his cloak, and prepared to depart. Frank was not a little annoyed at the loss of his flowing locks, nevertheless he breathed more freely, for he felt as if the incubus had done all he was permitted to do. It was so, indeed. Redmantle retired, dumb as he had approached-a most perfect contrast to his professional brethren of our day. He had not, however, advanced three steps towards the door, when he stopped, looked round with a woful gesture at him he had shaved so well, and stroaked his long black beard. He repeated the pantomime when he had reached the door. It now struck Frank that the poor ghost wished a favour at his hands, and a rapid association of ideas suggested that it might wish to be paid in kind. As the ghost, notwithstanding his woe-begone expression of countenance, appeared more inclined for a jest than any thing serious, all fear had now left its victim. He resolved to obey the suggestion of his fancy, and beckoned to the spectre to assume the seat from which he had just arisen. It obeyed instantly, threw off its red mantle, placed the shaving apparatus on the table, and seated itself in the attitude of a man who wishes to get quit of his beard. Frank followed exactly the routine which bad been observed in his case, clipped the beard and hair, lathered the whole head, his ghostship sitting the whole time as steady as a barber's block. The awkward wight was but a bad hand at the razor, (he never before had touched one,) so he shaved the beard against the hair, whereby the ghost made as strange grimaces as the ape of Erasmus, when he emulated his master in the self. infliction of the same delicate operation. The inexperienced blunderer began to feel strange, and thought of the proverb, "let the shoemaker stick to his last.” He put, however, a good countenance on the matter, and shaved the spectre as bald as himself. Up to this moment, the business had been conducted on the footing of a pantomime. "Stranger," said the unearthly being, with a graceful and cordial bow, " accept my best thanks for the service you have done me. Through your means am I at last freed from the long imprisonment within this withered and marrowless frame, to which my soul has been doomed on account of my misdeeds. "Know that these walls were once inhabited by a reckless lord, who gratified his whims alike at the expense of clergy and laity. Count Hartmann was his name; he was no man's friend, acknowledged no law, no master, and was unrestrained in his humours even by the sacred laws of hospitality. He allowed no stranger, who sought the shelter of his roof, no beggar who came for charity, to depart, without playing them some ill-natured trick. I was his barber, and the creature of his moods. It was my custom to inveigle every pious pilgrim who passed into the castle, and when he expected princely treatment, to shave him bald, and turn him with mockery from the door. Then Count Hartmann would look from his window, and see with delight how the viper's brood of village boys mocked the abused saints, calling them bald-head. Then the old practical joker laughed till his huge belly shook again, and his eyes swam in tears. "One day there came a holy man from far away countries: he carried a heavy cross on his shoulder, and had, out of devotion, pierced his feet and hands with nails; his hair was trimmed so as to resemble the crown of thorns. He begged, in passing, for some water to his feet, and a bit of bread. I led him in, and, profane wretch that I was! shaved away his sacred circlet of hair. me. Then the pious pilgrim spoke a heavy curse over · Know, evil doer, that after death, heaven and hell, and purgatory itself, shall alike be shut against thy soul. It shall haunt these walls, teasing every one as in life was thy pleasure, until some wanderer, more bold than his fellows, shall dare, undesired, to retaliate.' was I now obliged to carry on the joke, which during my life was a source of pleasure to me. Alas! my mischievous pranks soon drove every human being from the house. At long intervals only some stray pilgrim would pass the night here. I served them all exactly as I have done you, but none of them dared return the compliment, and free me from my slavery. The castle is now freed from my nightly pranks,-what a sleep I shall have! Again receive my thanks, young stranger. Were I the guardian of concealed treasures, I would freely yield them all to thee, but I was in my life nothing more than a poor barber. But listen to my prayer, and when you return to your home, get a couple of masses read for my soul's sake." With these words he disappeared, having fully vindicated by his talkativeness his claim to the title of ci-devant barber to the noble master of Castle Rummelsburg. His liberator remained full of wonder at the strange adventure. He tried to persuade himself it was all a dream, but his bald pate was too decisive an argument to be called in question. Having made up his mind on this weighty matter, he crept back to bed, and, fatigued by his terror yet more than by his journey, slept like a top till next mid-day. The treacherous landlord was stirring with the dawn, that he might not miss his opportunity of laughing in his sleeve at the stranger, under the pretence of condoling with him. By the time mid-day had arrived, he began to feel anxious: the ghost might have strangled the poor youth, or frightened him to death, and Boniface had never dreamt of stretching his revenge so far. He assembled the posse comitatus of his household, marched up to the castle, and made straight for the chamber, in the window of which he had observed the stranger's light burning. He found a strange, old-fashioned key in the lock, but the door was barred within; this Frank had taken care to do immediately after the ghost's departure. Mine host drummed on the door with a hubbub of fect, hands, head, and shoulders, that might have awakened the seven sleepers. Frank's first idea, which crossed him as he rubbed his eyes, was, that the barber had returned. As soon, however, as he heard the landlord's whimpering entreaty, that his guest would condescend to give a sign that be was alive, he collected himself, and opened the door. The landlord clasped his hands above his head, with an affectation of astonishment. "By the whole regiment of saints! Redmantle" (the spectre was known among the inhabitants by this name) "has been here, and made a bald pate of you. I see now that the old story is no fable. Now, tell me, how did he look? what said he? and what has he done?" Frank, who saw through the speaker, replied: "The ghost resembled a man in a red mantle; what he has done you see; and what he said, that I remember well. Stranger,' said he to me, 'trust no knavish landlord-the rascal down the way knew right well what was awaiting you. Farewell, I am quitting these quarters, for my time is out. I am now to change my character for that of a noiseless mischief-maker, and as for the landlord, I will tease him incessantly, nip his nose, pull his hair, sit on his breast like a nightmare, if he do not, in return for his treatment of you, allow free roof bield, and the run of his larder, until brown ringlets again twine themselves round your temples "" The host trembled at these words, made the sign of the cross in double quick time, and swore by the Virgin, to say nothing of a round dozen of saints whom he threw into the bargain, that he would board and feed our adventurer for nothing, so long as he chose to remain. He would have conducted him immediately to the inn, but Frank preferred the baronial apartments. A dare-devil from the town ventured to keep him company over night, and escaped the shaving which, in former days, would have been his reward. The owner of the castle, rejoiced to find it once more inhabitable, gave directions that the stranger should be well cared for. When the grapes began to colour, and the apples to blush, Frank's brown locks were again in a condition to be seen. He packed up his knapsack, and prepared for his departure. When he took leave of the landlord, that worthy led from the stable a stout roadster, duly caparisoned, which the lord of the manor presented to him, out of gratitude that he had driven the devil from his house. The gift was accompanied by a good fat purse, and, by their united aid, our hero in a short time reached his native town in good condition. BYRON'S PRAYER. My soul is sick of this long day, I'm weary of its lingering light— And, loathing life, I turn away To weep, and wish for night. I long to lay me gently down In slumber on my mother's breastAnd would exchange an empire's crown For everlasting rest. Though but in manhood's morn I stand- And beauty breathes the strain. And yet of love-youth-fame possest→→ The dreams for which men wish to live, I ask no paradise on high,— With being's strife on earth opprest,— The only heaven for which I sigh Is rest-eternal rest! My natal day with tears I keep, Which I rejoiced in when a child, And each return the birth I weep O'er which my mother smiled. Bid Heaven take back the breath it gave, That I, a cold and silent guest, Within my father's house, the grave, May find a long-long rest. Without my own consent I came, But with my wildest wish I go— For I would fairly be the same I was-ere born to woe. I would have sleep without its dreams, THE BYSTANDER, No. IV. THE KING'S BIRTHDAY. THE fourth of June was a busy day in our youth among the denizens of the school-yards. Nay, the scraping together and hoarding of money, and the preparation of our fireworks, kept us employed for weeks before-teaching each to unite in himself the qualities and industry of the merchant, the banker, and manufacturer. The division of labour had made little progress among our semi-barbarous community-a sort of feudal state, in which no law was respected but that of the stronger; save that now and then an indirect and temporary ascendency was procured by money for its owner. horrence. Dumfries, either that she entertained a sneaking kindness for the said "salt-water captain," or that she wished to sink even the memory of one pretty nearly related to her, vented her righteous wrath upon Tom Paine. But this is a digression. On the morning of the fourth of June, we were up with the sun, and away to the woods to gather green boughs, to adorn the doors and windows, Have patience, gentle reader, we are coming to the or whins and brushwood, to construct the evening's bon- point. The amiable office of hangman, or high priest, if fire. How character did display itself on these occasions! you will, on these occasions, generally devolved on the There was the ambitious and enterprising boy up with juvenile fraternity of what in country towns are emphahis hatchet among the highest boughs; there was the dour, tically termed blackguards. The funds for defraying the heavy-headed plodder, feeling a pride peculiar to himself, expenses incurred were collected by a general assessment, while staggering home under the heaviest load; there raised by appointed members of that worshipful corpora was the light, merry, and selfish imp, who always ma- tion, who for weeks before the Birthday paraded the naged to escape without doing any thing, tolerated only streets, addressing every well-dressed passenger with— for his jests; there was the middle thing, between the "Eh, gie 's a haupeny to burn Tam Paine !" On the academy boy and the town-end blackguard, with his knees morning of the day they were peculiarly urgent. We are and his other side peeping out through the wide rents not aware that any charge of misappropriation of the in his garment, rosy and athletic, always ready to fight fund was ever brought against any member of this very any young gentleman" twice his size, and rather court-respectable body, (which we are happy to see is in no way ing the frolic; there was the missyish master, whose affected by the Reform bill,) nathless their importunity mamma was going into fits at home on discovering that on the last day of their harvest has sometimes caused he had been seduced to join our graceless crew, himself ungenerous suspicions to flash across our mind. It seemed rather alarmed at finding himself among wild and un- as if they were anxious to obtain a surplus that might known plantations a full mile and a half from home. be quietly divided among themselves. 66 This important business was generally disposed of before breakfast. The interval which elapsed between and dianer-time hung rather heavily on our hands. It was a holyday at school, but every one around us was pursuing the even tenor of his daily occupations. There was nothing to look at, nothing to excite an interestwe thought only of the evening. Sometimes a chance pistol might be heard going off, or some little, dirty, barelegged devil-some future Davy or Newton-might be seen sitting in a corner, experimenting upon a small pile of gunpowder with a burning glass. There was, indeed, one way of spending the day-and it kept us active and pleased—but it was none of the most dignified, and we were soon shamed out of it. The Scots, it is well known, are a very humane people, and have, on this account, always been addicted to burning people in effigy. I cannot say that I much admire the practice. It certainly is an improvement upon the system pursued by our ancestors of burning in person, but it keeps the feeling alive; and, as Humboldt supposes that some South American tribes have been reconciled to anthropophagy by the practice of eating roasted monkeys, who can say that the habit of burning the figure may not one day revive the wish to try the experiment upon a real man? I cannot say much in favour of the late (allegorical) incremations of certain obnoxious politicians, but I cannot forget that the mob was spirited on by the present sufferers, to the same humane practice upon democrats, in days not yet faded from the memory of most of us, when blacknebs stood in pretty nearly the same popular odour that anti-reformers seem to do at present. Surely this reflection ought to teach mutual forbearance -one cannot say whose turn may be next. The reader thinks by this time that we have forgotten what we intended to say. He never was more mistaken -we have described a wide circle, and have come back to our starting-place as unerringly as the leg of a compass when performing the same operation. The good people of Scotland, in virtue of the amiable propensity we have above adverted to, have, time out of mind, been in the habit of solemnizing their king's natal day by a burntoffering of a man of clouts. [Can this be a relic of the Druidical practice of offering up human sacrifices?] The victim seems to have been selected upon different principles in the various districts of the country. Edinburgh, conspicuous for her attachment to old customs, continued to burn" Johnnie Wilkes" long after both he and the monarch, in whose nostrils the savour of such a sacrifice might have been deemed acceptable, had been gathered to their fathers. Ayr consumed Paul Jones--it was natural that a seaport should hold this bold renegade in ab We are now come to the point. There was, it is true, in the town where we were educated, a good constitutional feud kept up between the schoolboys and the blackguards -one of those wholesome social anomalies which are so much admired-one of those safety-valves by which the excess of passionate energy is allowed to escape without seriously endangering the public tranquillity. To use the classical language of the High School, we were constantly engaged in bickers. Nevertheless, there were intervals of truce, and the mediators were generally of the class of bipeds I have attempted to describe-scions of the working-classes, whose parents sent them to school at intervals, as their circumstances admitted, and who thus came to belong alternately to either class. There was also a petty traffic carried on between the two communities, in rabbits, pigeons, boats, and pet craws and pyets. In short, our hostility was not of the ruthless and exterminating character of an Indian feud: it was rather like the legitimate alternations of war and truce observed by two European states. Well, good readerfor gentle we can call you no longer-here is what we have so long been driving at. We have occasionally known individuals of the gentle faction, rather than spend the livelong day in idleness, join with their quondam adversaries in the elegant and insinuating task of begging. Between six and seven, the hard-handed artisans, having finished their daily task, began to congregate in knots about the cross. Schoolboys might be seen flitting about restlessly in the vacant interstices, the pockets of their sailor jackets bulging out with squibs and fizz-ba's. Women were standing at the mouths of closes with children On in their arms. Dropping pistol-shots were heard in the The magistrates now began to thread their way through the crowd towards the Trades' Hall, in order to drink his majesty's health. Douce honest men! shall we ever see their like under any other system? There was Bailie so round that he almost required two of the town officers to thrust him through the folding-doors of the hall. F, who never permitted a mortal but his old gaunt housekeeper to see the interior of his dwelling, went clothed in a threadbare suit of grey, fitting closely to his lank form, and on one occasion walked home with his new umbrella under his coat, lest it should be spoiled by an unexpected shower of rain. He |