For some time they communed thus, and Catharine, taking courage, approached near the door which led into their council chamber, but what was her surprise, her agony, when she heard Halloran binding her brother, by an oath too dreadful to be repeated, never to disclose what he had just communicated. Of the nature of the communication she was ignorant; but from the few detached expressions she could gather, it was evidently an horrible one. She, therefore, resolved to be on the alert, if by any means she could be able to prevent it.

Not long after this, Halloran was again closeted with Arthur, after which he departed, and his visits were less frequent; till, one day, Arthur came hastily, and told her of his being called for by his friend to accompany him on a journey, and that a servant of Maurice's would remain in the house during his departure, which she knew was to guard her, lest she should make her escape. She prayed that the man might not be allowed to interrupt her privacy in her own room; which request was easily obtained. But no sooner had her brother left the house, and was out of sight, than she found means to depart from the window, and follow him on foot at a distance to her native village,-that she saw him enter a wood near "the house," with Maurice, and he appeared to be in the act of entreating him. They were soon joined by the servant, who had given evidence. The three then retired. In a short time old Halloran rode by, and when he arrived at the spot where they had concealed themselves, Maurice rushed out and smote his father with a bright weapon. A struggle ensued, in which it seemed to her that the old man wounded his assailant in the hand. Maurice was much disguised, and had she not frequently seen him before in the same dress, she should not have known him. She had the weapon with her, for it was left on the ground, and she had preserved it, thinking it might serve to confirm her testimony.

Old Mr. Halloran was by far too unwell to attend, but he expressed his conviction, that he should not know the assassin, as he was very much disguised, though he had wounded him somewhere.

The weapon proved to be a large knife, which being shown to the different persons in the court, was about to be returned, when a servant of Mr. Halloran's, (the man who had visited Patrick at his cottage,) requested to see it. On examining it closely, he asserted that he had lent the same to his

The rest of the tale may be briefly told. Maurice, a fiend incarnate, had resolved to take away the life of his own parent, that his wealth might the sooner be his. He had bound Arthur by a most horrible oath, never to disclose what he was about to do, but kept him ignorant to the last what that deed was, and Arthur knew it not till he actually saw the son spring upon his parent.

Nothing could save Maurice from suffering the punishment which his crime deserved; he died ignominiously he died hardened!-His old father never recovered, but soon followed his son to the grave.

Arthur returned to his father's cottage, and lived with the old man till the time of his death. He never married, but spent his days in acts of kindness towards his parent, and of repentance for the errors he had committed.

Catharine, the gentle, faithful Catharine, also ministered to the wants of her father; and even after the honest man, who had comforted her father in his solitude, and so boldly stood forth at the trial, visited the cottage again, and after a while gained her heart and consent, and was made happy by having for a wife one who proved herself all he could desire, she never forsook her aged father.—Patrick's latter days were spent in peace, the past was forgotten, and he died old and full of years, to the end of of his pilgrimage praising Him who had brought him out of much tribulation, and rendered him fitter for heaven, by giving him, while on earth, "the bread of sorrow, and plenteousness of tears to drink."

METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

THE mean temperature of October was 52 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer. The maximum, which was 64 degrees, occurred on the 4th, when the direction of the wind was south-westerly: the minimum of 40 degrees took place on the 20th, with a northerly wind. The range of the thermometer was 24 degrees, and the prevailing wind south-west. The direction of the wind has been south-westerly 12 days; south-easterly 43; southerly 3; northwesterly 3; westerly 23; northerly 2}; north-easterly 2; and easterly 3.

Rain has fallen on 16 days, and 10 have been accompanied with wind; on the 5th

and 8th considerable gales occurred; the former from the south-west, and the latter from the west. Heavy dews were deposited during six nights; on the morning of the 20th hoar frost was observed on the roofings and herbage, and on the 21st, 22d, and 23d, on the herbage only; the evenings of the 20th and 27th were foggy, also the mornings of the 25th and 27th; on the 23d the crysanthemum was observed coming into flower.

POETRY.

[For the Imperial.]

ON THE SUDDEN DEATH OF THE REV.
THOMAS STANLEY,

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO HIS BROTHER, THE
REV. JACOB STANLEY, OF BATH.
By Joshua Marsden.

"Unceremonious fate!

"As many die as sudden, not as safe."

4

YOUNG.

GOOD STANLEY dies, and all must die;
But he was hurried to the sky,
Without premonishment you state,
And deprecate such sudden fate.
And thus we judge, and thus we err,
When we a ling'ring death prefer;
'Tis wiser to desire the stroke,
By which life's tie at once is broke.

Or leave it as the Lord ordains,

To choose the moment and the means:
The midnight hour, or noon-day bell,
So am safe, the rest is well.

Whether 'tis best, when death begins,
To pull the life-tent's vital pins;
Or one by one unscrew them out,
By stone, consumption, fever, gout.

An hour may end the mortal strife,
A pang may cut the knot of life,

The "silver cord" that binds the soul,
And break in twain the "golden bowl."

An apoplexy may dispense
The loss of motion, life, and sense;
And, ere I feel a minute ill,

The weary wheels of life stand still.

I may in health lie down at night,
And, ere the morning, take my flight
Across the line, through mercy's gate,
To a pure beatific state.

But let me die in street or fair,
Beneath the dog-star or the bear;
'Mid weeping friends in melting mood,
Or strangers callous, cold, and rude:

'Tis nought to me to lose the tear
Of sympathy, if Christ be near;
From ev'ry region, ev'ry zone,
There is a pathway to the throne.
No matter whether poor or rich,
I die in palace, hall, or ditch,
If, when I lay me down to rest,
I soar to glory, and am blest.

But what have I wherein to trust?
When "earth to earth, and dust to dust,"
Concludes the song, and ends the tale,
And shifts me from this mortal yale.

I have what STANLEY had, I trow,
The Cross inscribed upon my brow;
A sinner's hope, a mourner's plea-
O God, be merciful to me!

No sinless works have I to plead,
No life, the model of my creed;
Till wash'd, my fairest deeds are dross,
Hence, all my refuge is the Cross.

Here, here, I rest, confide, rely;
Whenever death shall cast my die,
I'll cling to that, till life is o'er,
And gasp it, till I gasp no more!
This golden key unlocks the skies-
Hence, sweetly calm the Christian dies:
Merit is but a picklock hope,
Forg'd in the Conclave by the Pope.

If Christ be mine, and I am His,
A STANLEY's death is sudden bliss;
This moment tenant of a clod-
The next-in paradise with God!
JACOB! it was no random rod,
That call'd thy brother hence to God;
Unerring Wisdom dealt the blow,
The rest, thou shalt in future know.

ON THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST.

A STAR in the East, was beheld from afar,
An emblem divine, of the world's Morning Star;
The sages perceiv'd, and pursued it with awe,
To the Bethlehem Babe, in a manger of straw.

The angels adore, and the wise men draw nigh,
With gold for the Regent who reigns in the sky;
And Myrrh for the Prophet, with Frankincense
join'd,
For Jesus, the priest, the High Priest of mankind.
Glad tidings of joy doth his advent afford;
A truce to the banner, a truce to the sword!
There is peace, for the temple of Janus is shut,
And good will to man, both in palace and hut.

"The Day-spring" arose, when the world was all dark,

Save some light from the law, a small glimm'ring spark;

He flashed on the nations, from Grecia to Rome, And spread like a morning on nature's dark gloom.

Salvation Salvation! is come, O glad news!
A light to the Gentiles, the glory of Jews:
The fountain of mercy is open'd on earth,
An era of love, by Immanuel's birth.

Who waited for comfort, redemption, and grace,
In His lineaments all the Messiahship trace;
Heaven's jewel, earth's glory, the Church's true

Head,

Man's rock, rest, and refuge, hope, righteousness bread.

I see in his birth, in his life, in his love,
A trio-the lion, the lamb, and the dove;
The lion, Jehovah; the lamb, to atone;
And His Spirit the dove, which he pours on his

own.

Then let him, ye angels, be ever ador'd,
As author of paradise newly restor❜d;
The door that was shut by the crime of the fall,
Is open'd again, and the birthright of all.

'Tis open'd in heaven, his kingdom below,
A wide golden gate, to which all men may flow:
He broke the partition 'twixt Gentile and Jew,
His death heaven's price, and his life the true clue.

Behold the pure Jesus! adore him, and gaze!
When brought to the temple, an infant of days;
The innocent one, without blemish or flaw,
"Made of a pure Virgin, made under the Law."

Made under the Law, it was Wisdom's high will,
The curse to sustain, and its precepts fulfil;
That covenant love in pure rivers might flow,
"And man be redeem'd and adopted below."

Behold him in converse at Solima's fane,
The truth blazing forth, like "the sun after rain,"
When wondering doctors and awe-stricken seers,
Heard words from his lips that transcended his
years.

The waters of Jordan a laver supplied,

And Jesus, by John, was baptized in the tide; The voice and the dove our Messiah attest, "Full of grace, full of truth," that mankind might be blest.

What think ye of Christ, O ye angels of light? God clothed in clay was a mystery quite; "Twas depth-for no plummet could bottom explore; 'Twas height-no archangel its summit could soar.

What think ye of Jesus, ye Jews? Lo! the sign Which is spoken against, is of David's true line; Your rise or your fall, on his heart is engrav'd, Reject him, you're lost; but believe him, you're saved.

What think ye of Jesus, ye sages of Rome?
His birth seal'd your idols' and oracles' doom;
Your " City Eternal," his Gospel shall own,
And you're dragg'd to his bar, if not found at his
throne.

What think ye of Jesus, ye infidels, now? "Each tongue shall confess him, and every knee bow;

If ye own not the Godhead enshrined in flesh,
Your ruin is seal'd, ye are caught in hell's mesh.

What think ye of Christ, O ye penitents, say?
The balm of your sorrow, the Life, Truth, and
Way;

A source of salvation, your glory and crown,
Then bow at his birth-day, and give him renown.
Walsall.
JOSHUA MARSDEN.

REVIEW.-The Elgin Annual, for 1833. Edited by James Grant, of the Elgin Courier. 12mo. pp. 332. Smith, Elder, & Co., London.

ALTHOUGH Elgin is several degrees nearer to the north pole than London, it is not beyond the regions of vegetation, nor so far ice-bound at an early season of the year, as to prevent a pleasing flower from appearing in the gloomy month of November. In form and decorations, it is an imitation of Flora's offspring which bloom in the gardens of the metropolis; and if its colours are less brilliant, and their variegation less exquisitely arranged, it is not inferior in fragrance, nor is the odour which it yields likely to annoy our senses with any sickly sweetness. It contains six engravings, which are decently executed, but we think that Findhorn Suspension Bridge has an indisputable right to the honour of superiority.

Among the poetical compositions of this volume, various degrees of merit are perceptible; some on subjects of importance, but others on topics that are more amusing than instructive.

We learn from the preface, that all the 2D. SERIES, NO. 24.-VOL. II.

prose articles have been furnished by the editor. We think that the character of these is highly respectable; nor would any among them have sunk in our estimation, if love had assumed a less prominent feature. The reader, however, must not suppose that the wings either of Venus or Cupid hover brooding over all these pages. "Highland Fidelity, a Tale of 1745," appears not only as an exception to the above observations, but as an example highly creditable to the author's descriptive powers. Our extract, though not complete, will be fully sufficient to render the tale intelligible, after a few prefatory remarks.

Two friends visiting Lock Ness, were admiring the beauty of the surrounding scenery, when an aged Highlander made his appearance. On calling his attention to the objects of their admiration, they soon discovered, that, in his view, a large heap of stones, which they had passed by with but little notice, had for him far more powerful charms, from being connected with an event which many circumstances had combined to render interesting. The stones, it appears, covered the site of a house formerly inhabited by Donald Kennedy, in which Prince Charles found refuge immediately after the decisive battle of Culloden. Of this interview, and the incidents connected with it, the old Highlander gives the following account :

"HIGHLAND FIDELITY.

"On the night after the battle of Culloden, while Donald Kennedy was sitting at the fire with his two sons, grown up boys, beside him, and his wife was

busy dressing a wound he had received in the leg, in the heat of the engagement, a timid rap was heard at the door. Come in,' cried Donald, 'Come in,' said his wife and two sons at once.

"Donald's wife, snatching a piece of fir in her hand, which burned on the cheek of the chimney, hastened to the door, to shew the unexpected visitor 'ben,' to the fire. Before she got the length of the door, it was partially opened, and the pale countenance of a tall figure muffled up in a coarse cloak presented itself. It looked eagerly towards the fire-side, as if afraid to enter, until it had got some idea of the character of the inmates.

"Come in, please your honour,' said Donald's wife, as she approached the door.

"The figure, after having seemingly satisfied itself there was no particular danger, advanced towards the hearth, and sat down on a roughlymade chair, which Donald placed before the fire for the purpose.

"Donald's two boys, who were at that time of life when the mind is most apt to give credence to the stories about apparitions, which were then so current in the Highlands, stood trembling beside their father, clearly under the impression that the figure was some supernatural visitant.

"All this time the stranger had not uttered a word, but, after being seated, cast repeated looks to all corners of the house, as if uneasy lest there should be other inmates than it had yet seen. Donald broke the temporary silence which prevailed, after the mysterious visitant had taken a seat. It is a dark night, and not very pleasant travelling in so hilly a country as this,' said the Highland host to his guest. 4 D

168.-VOL. XIV.

"Well do I know that, for I have been travelling till I am quite exhausted,' said the stranger.

"You look very fatigued, indeed: Mary, lassie, get the worn-out gentleman a little of the 'creature' to refresh him, said Donald, turning from the stranger to his wife.

"The words were hardly uttered, when the whiskey bottle was brought. Take a glass, Sir; it will do you good,' said Mary, as she held out a glass of whiskey to the stranger.

"The latter took the glass from her hand. Your good health, my woman: yours, Sir, and all your friends,' said he, as he put the liquid to his mouth. 'Drink it out, Sir, it will do you good,' said Donald and his wife, simultaneously. The stranger emptied the glass, and thanked his host and his wife for their hospitality. Both the latter drank to the figure's good health.

"Yesterday was a sad day on Culloden Moor,' said the stranger, moving his chair somewhat nearer the fire.

"It was that, your honour, for friend and foe,' said Donald.

"You have been in the engagement, I presume, from the wound you have got,' observed the stranger.

"Donald, who had from the first inferred from his guest's manner, that he was a person belonging to the higher ranks of life, now began to surmise, that he was one of the friends of the Duke of Cumberland. He, consequently, judged it most prudent to return an evasive answer to the question. price is set upon the Pretender: it will be a wonder if he be not apprehended,' [said the stranger. Donald, on hearing the word Pretender, cast a sinister look at his guest.

A

"Have you heard of the thirty thousand pounds offered for his head, dead or alive? That will be a chance to somebody,' resumed the stranger. They have been speaking about it, I believe,' answered the Highland-man drily.

"There was now a coolness in Donald's manner, compared with what it was at first, which the stranger could not fail to remark. I know the place of Charles' concealment it is not far off; if you will assist me in delivering him up to his enemies, we shall share the princely reward between us.'

"Donald, wounded though he was, started that moment to his feet, and darting to a corner of the room for his sword, returned with the weapon in his hand. 'Sir,' said he, his eye flashing with indignation, as he spoke, Sir, thou art a dead man, rather than that thou shouldst be the means of the Prince losing his life.' As he spoke, he drew his weapon, and was about to thrust it at the stranger, when Mary rushed in between them.

"Hold!' said the stranger, 'I am the Prince.' And so saying, he embraced Donald, and burst into a flood of tears. 'My friend,' said he, as soon as the fulness of his heart allowed him to speak; 'my friend, I only spoke thus, to see whether I was in the cottage of a friend or foe; such proofs of attachment, such noble-mindedness, are rarely to be met with in the world.'

"Donald was confounded at the disclosure. For a time he could scarcely credit the presence, in his own house, of the Prince he so much loved and venerated. Charles threw aside his cloak, and entering into familiar conversation with Donald, soon satisfied him of his identity. 'Thy wound, then, my friend, has been got in my service,' said the Prince. 'It was,' said the other. 'Had I ten thousand lives, I would willingly have sacrificed them all for thee.' 'Friend, if I recover my rightful crown and dominions, thou shalt not be forgotten,' said Charles. 'I seek no such reward,' said the other. 'Donald and kis wife, together with the Prince, then entered into conversation, as to the most effectual means of concealing the latter from his enemies. It was agreed that the best way would be to keep one of Donald's sons constantly stationed in the day-time on a neighbouring eminence, whence could be seen at a great distance any suspicious persons coming in the direction of the Highland-man's house; in which case the

young lad was to give the alarm in time for the Prince to conceal himself in a hiding-place provided for the purpose. Donald had fewer fears for the safety of his illustrious ward during the night, as a large mastiff he kept, would keep any intruders at bay after he was unchained, which he regularly was, during the Prince's stay, immediately on its getting dark. While thus solicitously careful about Charles' personal safety, Donald and his wife were not forgetful of his comfort, in so far as it was in their power to administer to it. They daily sent their youngest son to Inverness, a distance of fourteen miles, to procure such conveniences for him as were within the reach of their humble means. After remaining for fifteen days in Donald's humble habitation, by which time his enemies had relaxed the rigorousness of their search for him, the Prince parted with his tried friend, and by travelling in disguise escaped to some of the western islands, whence, after waiting his opportunity, he escaped to France.

"In four years afterwards, news was received at Loch Ness side, one cold winter's day, that a Highlandman belonging to that part of the country, was apprehended, and put into Inverness jail, charged with lifting a cow' belonging to a neighbouring laird. Who the person was, the Fort Augustus footpost could not tell. Next day, however, it was ascertained that the unfortunate Highlandman was Donald Kennedy. The sensation which the announcement of this fact created throughout the country, was most intense; for all had by this time heard of his courage in battle, as well as of the extraordinary fidelity he had shown to Charles.

"As the day of Donald's trial advanced, public interest in his fate grew deeper and deeper. Never was the sympathy of the community, in the case of any malefactor, so strongly expressed. All knew that the offence with which Donald was charged, could be substantiated by the clearest evidence; and the only hope of his escaping the sanguinary clutches of the law, was in the possibility of a flaw being detected in the indictment. The day of Donald's trial arrived. Never before was Inverness so crowded on any similar occasion. Strangers poured in from all quarters. The court was opened, and Donald's trial proceeded. During the whole time it lasted, the stillness of death pervaded all present. The evidence was so clear, that the jury could not but convict, unless they chose to commit the most wilful perjury. The thing pained them beyond measure. A verdict of guilty was

returned.

"The counsel for the prisoner then rose, and addressed the Bench in mitigation of punishment. He dwelt most feelingly on the extraordinary display of noble-mindedness which the panel had given in protecting the life of the Pretender, when he knew that by delivering him up he would receive a reward [of £30,000; and hoped that one who had displayed so much virtue and disinterestedness would not be severely punished for an offence unaccompanied with bloodshed or violence, and to which the unhappy man had been impelled by dire necessity.

The

"The judge proceeded to pass sentence. tear that glistened in his lordship's eye, and the unusual solemnity of his appearance, told, before the words were uttered, the sentence to be pronounced. His lordship then said, that during his whole official career he never met with a case of so affecting a nature; and had the prisoner stood convicted of any other offence, murder excepted, he should have been as lenient as the law would admit; but the crime of stealing cattle being unfortunately so prevalent in that part of the country, examples were urgently called for; and as, moreover, every late case of the kind had been visited with the extreme penalty, it was his duty, however agonizing to his feelings, to sentence the prisoner at the bar to be executed that day six weeks. Sentence was pronounced accordingly.

"The passing of the sentence excited a thrill of the deepest sorrow among all present. There was scarcely a dry eye in the court.

"The hour appointed for the execution arrived.

Donald mounted the ladder with a firm step. He looked around on the assembled multitude, and after standing silent and motionless for a few minutes, as if his heart had been too full for utterance, he shortly addressed the spectators. He told them that he did not fear death, in so far as he himself was concerned; but he felt reluctant to quit the world, to leave his wife and two sons exposed to its scorn. He expressed his satisfaction that it was not for taking away the life of a human creature, or any other crime which the voice of religion or conscience pronounced to be one of a

types, shadows, sacrifices, oblations, and ceremonies, which prefigured the coming Messiah, then follow, in conjunction with prophetic testimony, as lights shining more and more to the perfect day, until the great advent took place, when life and immortality were brought to light by the gospel. Having entered this latter field, Mr.

death. He concluded by making one request; and none of those who were present were likely ever to forget the emphasis with which he made it, or the supplicating looks which accompanied the words. That request was, that nobody would ever 'cast up' to his wife or sons, the ignominious fate to which he had been doomed, and which he was about to meet. 'If you do,' he said, 'you will shorten Mary's days, and drive the fatherless lads to a country where no heather blooms.'

"He would evidently have proceeded, but the heavings of his breast choked his utterance. He dropped the signal, and in a few seconds was in another world. A deep groan simultaneously bursting from the crowd, told how deeply they felt for the unfortunate Donald.

"Such is the substance of the story which the old man we met in the Glen of Aultmore told my friend and me. It is nothing to read it, compared with hearing it drop from the lips of the old man. He had it all from his father who witnessed the execution, and who could never allude to his fate

without dropping a tear. We felt deeply affected at the recital. And many a hundred times have I since thought of the illustrious fidelity of Donald Kennedy, and denounced both the law and the judge, which, for so trivial an offence as Donald afterwards committed, could have doomed him to an ignominious end."-p. 117 to 127.

REVIEW.-The Messiah; a Poem in Six Books. By Robert Montgomery. 12mo. pp. 316. Turrill. London. 1832.

MR. ROBERT MONTGOMERY has of late years taken his stand among the more respectable poets of the age; and the rapidity with which his volumes have succeeded each other, has procured for his industry a degree of attention, not less remarkable than the admiration which his talents have excited. Few, if any of his works can be said to have dropped still-born from the press, while several of them have passed through numerous editions. Of his poem on the Omnipresence of the Deity, the twelfth impression is announced, and from the reputation which this composition has acquired, it is in no danger of being hastily forgotten on the stream of time.

The Messiah derives nearly all its incidents from the sacred records. These, the author has examined with commendable fidelity, and, without indulging in any unwarrantable flights of fancy, he has found abundance of sterling materials, on which to work with a master's hand and mind. In the early books, the offence of man which rendered redemption necessary, is delineated with perspicuous brevity; the

the various stages of his incarnation, adverts to his miracles, delineates his moral character, accompanies him in his temptations and teachings, witnesses his conduct before Pilate, pursues him to Calvary, and listens to his expiring groans: the prodigies which attended his death, the convulsions of nature, the graves opening, the sun darkened, and the vail of the temple rent, call forth the poet's boldest strains. The burial of Christ, the descent of angels, the evidences of his resurrection, and various manifestations, until his final ascent into glory, all occupy the poet's attention, and contribute to furnish that diversity of colouring, which irradiates and gives completion to the picture.

From this historical poem, we now proceed to give a few extracts, which being almost promiscuously taken, may be considered as fair specimens of the whole. The following lines on Abraham offering his son Isaac, will be read with interest. "Then Isaac rose, The child of promise, the Redeemer's type: Upon the altar by his parent laid, The son, the only son, whom Abram lov'd, Yet did not spare when heaven commanded 'slay.' Ere the rich morning on the mountains flung A robe of beauty, in that primest hour, When birds are darting from the dewy ground, And nature, soft as sleeping life, begins To waken, and the spell of day to wear; Unseen the patriarch and his cherish'd boy Uprose, the sacrificial wood prepared, And then, companion'd by his household youths, They onward journey'd with the laden ass. Through piny glens and green acacia vales The pilgrims wound their unreluctant way. Oft, as he went, upon his child adored, The sire of future nations look'd, and thought; And felt the father in his bosom rise, As bound and bloody, on the altar stretch'd, He vision'd him!-the long-hoped, destin'd son, Who fond and dutiful had ever been, And guiltless of a parent's tear!-But faith Triumphant in the power of Mercy proved. Twice had the sun around the pilgrims drawn His evening veil, when o'er a distant mount, Upon Moriah's steep and rocky clime, A vision of the Lord reposed, and shone, A cloudy signal, shaped for Abram's eye Alone to see, and there his altar raise: The patriarch bowed, and o'er the mountain path Both child and parent took their solemn way; But each was silent, for they thought of heaven. So on they went, till at the mount ordained Arriving, with enamour'd gaze they saw The hills of glory capp'd with sunset hues, And willow'd plains; and drank the balmy air, And cool'd their foreheads in the breeze, that fell Light as the tremor of an angel's wing; So still the hour, so calm the scene, that God Himself seem'd waiting there to welcome man!