leaped over him again, and so to and fro inces- Justice, "And let them convert all the scolds santly. Can we account for this by any sys- in the town!" tem of mechanism? Can we account for it at all? GOOD QUEEN BESS. What was Queen Elizabeth? As just and merciful as Nero, and as good a christian as Mahomet! WILLIAM LILLY. THE WISE MEN OF WENSLEY-DALE. I preached * * * As I went back through the church-yard many of the parish were in high debate what religion the preacher was of. Some said, "He must be a Quaker." Others, An Anabaptist." But at length one deeper learned than the rest, brought them Presbyterian Papist! all clearly over to his opinion, that he was a A MONSTER. I read over that surprising book, The Life of Mr. William Lilly. If he believed himself, as he really seems to have done, was ever man so deluded? Persuaded that Hermeli, the I called on the Solicitor whom I had employQueen of the Fairies, Micol Regina Pym-ed in the suit lately commenced against me in ceorum and these fellows were good angels! Chancery; and here I first saw that foul How amazing is this? And is it not still more monster a Chancery Bill! A scroll it was of amazing, that some of the greatest and most forty-two pages, in large folio, to tell a story, sensible men in the nation, should not only which needed not to have taken up forty not scruple to employ him, but be his fast lines. And stuffed with such stupid, senseless, friends on all occasions? improbable lies (many of them too, quite foreign to the question,) as, I believe, would have cost the compiler his life in any Heathen Court either of Greece or Rome! And this is equity in a Christian country! This is the English method of redressing other grievances! A SPEAKING STATUE. I once more took a serious walk through the tombs in Westminster Abbey. What heaps of unmeaning stone and marble! But there was one tomb which shewed commonsense: that beautiful figure of Mr. Nightingale, endeavoring to screen his lovely wife from Death. Here, indeed, the marble seems to speak, and statues appear only not alive! A GERMAN PROTESTANT CONGREGATION. About seven in the morning we came to Merssen. After breakfast we went to Church. I was greatly surprised at all I saw there: at the costliness of apparel in many, and the gaudiness of it, in more: at the huge fur caps worn by the women, of the same shape with a Turkish turban, which generally had one or more ribands hanging down a great length behind. The Minister's habit was adorned with gold and scarlet, and a vast cross both behind and before. Most of the congregation sat, the men generally with their hats on, at the prayers as well as sermon. THE JUSTICE AND THE SCOLDS. A BEWITCHED WOMAN. The odd account she gave of herself was this: (concerning which let every one judge as he pleases). That near seven years since she affronted one of her neighbours, who thereupon went to Francis Mergan, (a man famous in those parts,) and gave him fourteen shillings to do his worst to her. That the next night, as soon as she was in bed, there was a sudden storm of thunder, lightning, and rain, in the midst of which she felt all her flesh shudder, and knew the devil was close to her. That at the same time a horse, she had in the stable below, which used to be as quiet as a lamb, leaped to and fro, and tore in such a manner, that she was forced to rise and turn him out. That a tree which grew at the end of the house, was torn up by the roots. That from thenceforth she had no rest day or night, being not only in fear and horror of mind, but in the utmost torment of body, feeling as if her flesh was tearing off with burning pincers. LOGIC. I wonder any one has patience to learn logic, but those who do it on a principle of conscience; unless he learns it as three or four of the young gentlemen in the Univer sities do: That is, goes about it and about it, without understanding one word of the matter. I rode over to a neighbouring town, to wait upon a Justice of the Peace, a man of candour and understanding; before whom (I was informed) three angry neighbours had carried a whole waggon-load of these new heretics (the Methodists.) But when he asked what they had done, there was a deep silence; for that was a point their conductors had forgot. At length one said, "Why they pretended to be better than other people; and besides they prayed from morning to-night." Mr. S. asked, Taking horse early in the morning, we rode "But have they done nothing besides?" Yes, over the rough mountains of Radnorshire and sir," said an old man :- "An't please your Montgomeryshire into Merionethshire. In the worship, they have convarted my wife. Till evening I was surprised with one of the finest she went among them, she had such a tongue! prospects, in its kind, that I ever saw in my And now she is as quiet as a lamb!" "Carry life. We rode in a green vale, shaded with them back, carry them back," replied the rows of trees, which made an arbonr for several A WELSH LANDSCAPE. miles. The river laboured along on our left hand, through broken rocks of every size, shape, and colour. On the other side of the river, the mountains rose to an immense height, almost perpendicular. And yet the tall straight oaks stood, rank above rank, from the bottom to the very top; only here and there, where the mountain was not so steep, were interposed pastures or fields of corn. At a distance, as far as the eye could reach, as it were by way of contrast, A mountain huge uprear'd with vast, rugged rocks hanging over its brow, portending ruin. THE POWER OF OBSCURITY. T. Prosser is an honest, well-meaning man, but no more qualified to expound scriptures than to read lectures in logic or algebra. Yet even men of sense have taken this dull, mystical man to be far deeper than he is. And it is very natural so to do. If we look into a dark pit, it seems deep, but the darkness only makes it seem so. Bring the light and we shall see that it is very shallow. ALEXANDER THE GREAT. ciples, had gained no ground; the present masters having no fixed principles at all. HOMER, What an amazing genius had this man! To write with such strength of thought, and beauty of expression, when he had none to go before him. And what a vein of piety runs through his whole work, in spite of his Pagan prejudices. Yet one cannot but observe such improprieties intermixed, as are shocking to the last degree. What excuse can any man of common sense make for His scolding heroes and his wounded gods. Nay, does he not introduce even his "father of gods and men," one while shaking heaven with his nod, and soon after using his wife and sister, the empress of heaven, with such language as a car-man might be ashamed of? And what can be said of a king, full of days and wisdom, telling Achilles how often he had given him wine, when he was a child, and sat in his lap, till he had vomited it up on his clothes? Are these some of those "divine boldnesses which naturally provoke shortsightedness and ignorance to show themselves?" A DRAMATIC PORTRAIT. In my road to Bristol, I read over Q. Curtius, a fine writer, both as to thought and language. But what an hero does he describe! whose murder of his old friend and companion Clitus, (though not done of a sudden, as is commonly supposed; but deliberately after some hours' consideration) was a virtuous act in comparison of his butchering poor Philotas, and his good old father Parmenio. Yet even this was a little thing, compared to the thousands and ten thousands he slaughtered, both might imagine Saturn still reigned here Who should be there, but the famous Mr. Gr, of Carnarvonshire,-a clumsy,overgrown, hard-faced man; whose countenance I could only compare to that, which I saw in Drury Lane thirty years ago, of one of the ruffians in "Macbeth." in battle, and in, and after, taking cities, for no other crime than defending their wives and children. I doubt whether Judas claims so hot a place in hell as Alexander the Great! THE CONFUSION OF TONGUES. We went to Llangefnye Church, though we understood little of what we heard. Oh what a heavy curse was the confusion of tongues. And how grievous are the effects of it. All the birds of the air, all the beasts of the field, understand the language of their own species. Man only is a barbarian to man, unintelligible to his own brethren. MUSIC. I spent an hour or two with Dr. Pepusch. He asserted that the art of music is lost; that the ancients only understood it in its perfection; that it was revived a little in the reign of Henry VIII., by Tallys and his cotemporaries, as also in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, who was a judge and patroness of it. That after her reign it sunk for sixty or seventy years, till Purcell made some attempts to restore it; but that ever since, the true ancient art, depending on nature and mathematical prin IRISH CABINS. One who looks at the common Irish cabins, Cum frigida parvas Præberet spelunca domos; igneinque laremque, Et pecus et dominos, communi clauderet umbra. [The narrow cave a cold retreat affords, And beasts and men screens with one common shade.] Communi umbra indeed! For no light can come into the earth or straw-built cavern, on the master and his cattle, but at one hole; which is both window, chimney, and door! JANET CAMPBELL. A TRUE TALE. BY A POOR MAN. IN the North of Scotland lived a humble cottar, Jamie ———, who, with his wife Janet, barely subsisted on the produce of a few acres of barren land which was rented at an exorbitant rate from the Laird. A few cattle they once had, but these disappeared in answer to repeated calls for rent and food. To add to their difficulties, they saw growing up amongst them a numerous family; four boys already graced the hearth; and the cotter saw that they and he must starve or else seek another home, where happily they might exist, freed from the dread of actual starvation. Many were the debates that the gudeman and wife had on this matter, after the children had retired to rest on a heather couch which was spread out in one corner of their hut. Jamie, the tall stout highlander, whose bone and muscle were like iron, who laboured cheerfully from "grey dawn" to "dewy eve," who toiled and slaved heroically for his family, still had a woman's heart. .6 Na, na" he would exclaim, "I canna' leave bonny Scotland, here we've lived an' here let us dee." The good wife, however, whose careful thrift had yet preserved a few bright guineas in the old stocking beneath the hearth, had more energy; her heart was strong, she looked to the future, "our bairns," she told her husband, "must gang awa soon, we have na wark for them here, an they mauna' be idle," and Janet used such strong and forcible arguments, urging, so strenuously, on the immediate necessity of removing to another land, that he at last consented. Disposing of their small flock of sheep and a couple of ponies they had, they found their golden store augmented to nearly a hundred pieces, with these, after shedding many bitter tears at parting from their home and friends, they embarked at Aberdeen, June 1st, 1833, and set sail the following morning, which was Sunday. enquiries, could only tell him that the house was burnt several weeks back, and that the owner, accused of incendiarism had gone to the States; as for the lodgers, many immigrants had lived there, and they did not remember any one of the name of Campbell. After a month spent in vain endeavors to discover his wife, Campbell, nigh heart-broken, returned home. His idea was, that Janet and her child had fallen victims to the cholera, which that year raged to a frightful extent in Canada. To distract his mind from the loss he had sustained, he applied himself diligently to the care of his farm. Accustomed to labor from childhood, he found not the toil of farming so great or so profitless as many who come to this country with a few hundreds of pounds, and expect to realize a competency by paying for it. He soon learnt that the only way to succeed was by placing his own shoulder to the wheel, and in a few years found himself not only comfortably off, but respected by all living in his neighbourhood. As years rolled on, he added to his acres, improved his stock, settled his sons advantageously, and was, in 1850, a hale, hearty man of sixty-three years of age. he Last year, 1852, his eldest son, James, had come to Toronto with a supply of butter, eggs, fowls, &c., for the market. James, who is now about five and thirty, having disposed of his stock, called at a humble dwelling in one of the back streets to deliver some butter purchased from him that day. On entering the door step, a young girl sewing. Seeing that she was good-looking, he saluted her with a gay "good afternoon." She looked up from her work, and gave him a smiling nod. He was at onre taken with her cheerful, handsome face, and said: It is unnecessary to describe the dangers they encountered in crossing the Atlantic, it is sufficient to say that having been tossed about for little better than eight weeks, they landed in New York on 30th July, all well and strong, with the exception of their young-house with the rolls, he saw, seated by the est child who died on the voyage out. Nor is it necessary to follow them on their tedious journey from New York to Niagara at which latter town they arrived in August. Here it was decided that Campbell should leave his wife, who was not in a fit state of health to follow her husband to the backwoods; he taking the boys, the youngest of whom was nine, a sturdy little fellow, who was delighted at being thought a companion for his father, and willingly left his mother. Mrs. Campbell was lodged in rather a poor boarding house, where she gave birth to a daughter a few days after her husband's departure. Campbell after going to Hamilton, went to the township of Esquesing, where he purchased a farm of 200 acres and busied himself during the autumn and winter in clearing a portion and erecting a shanty. Indeed, so active was he, that he planted six or seven acres, that were already cleared, in wheat, that fall. The ensuing summer he returned to Niagara for his wife and daughter. Poor Campbell! How thy heart beat, and how thy brain whirled, when in seeking the house where thy wife lodged you found but a few charred logs, and a tall, naked, brick chimney standing in their midst, like an obelisk! The neighbors, in answer to his numerous "Ye wark weel, lassie." 'Oh, I have a great deal to do," she replied, once more looking in his face. He started, he knew not why, but an indefinable emotion caused his heart to beat quicker; he became interested. "Hae ye nane to help ye?" he asked. "No; nor have I any one to help. I am alone." "An orphan?" "I never saw either father or mother." Who shall say that God did not direct this meeting? I speak not profanely, for I relate the truth; and who shall say that God did not prompt James Campbell to pursue his questions, to raise up in his heart an instinctive feeling that before him stood a relation? How much more wonderful, more interesting are these incidents in real life than any fictitious scene a writer may invent! His very next question was her name, and on her reply "Janet Campbell," she felt herself seized in his arms and kissed. The poor girl was at a loss to account for this strange proceeding, but he told her that he was certain they were brother and sister, and kissed her again. He would not leave Toronto that evening, but remained to hear her history, which she thus related: "I only remember my always living with a kind old lady near Niagara. I often thought that she might be in some way related to me, for as a child, it appeared strange that any one not a relative could take such an interest in my welfare. The servants frequently told me that I was an orphan, without a single friend in the world, save our mistress, for I, when I grew up served as dairy-maid, and when leisure permitted, made myself useful in household matters. I was often called her 'little housekeeper,' which term was always applied to me when pleased. I had been taught to read and write, and could, she said, 'keep her accounts as well as she could herself.' I was ever happy; and loved her much. When about fifteen I piness that might be before her; and perhaps weeping as much lest she should be disappointed. Her brother reluctantly allowed her to remain, yet forced on her a hundred dollars before leaving, to buy anything she might be in need of whilst he was away. Were proof needed, the Gælic Bible was sufficient for the old man, who in a couple of days had the pleasure of embracing his longlost, and, until then, unseen daughter. Such is the simple narration of a few facts, recorded plainly, and, in substance, truthfully. Let the reader pause, and consider if we are not guided through life, by a Hand whose outline we cannot trace, yet whose might we sometimes see and acknowledge to be ALLPOWERFUL. LOVE IN THE MOON. A POEM, RY P. SCOTT. Probably, in the minds of some people, Love and the Moon are already connected. Love by moonlight is rather usual than otherwise. There is a species of madness in love with which the moon, as controller of lunatics, may have been supposed to have something to do. The weather, too, is said to be under its guidance, and the fickleness common to that standard topic and the tender passion, furnishes a stereotyped comparison. Mr. Scott, however, repudiates these last theories; and none of the points we have hinted at convey the slight est notion of the curious moon-struck book he has produced. THE title of the present book is an odd one. Love was called by her one day to her room and told and Love in a Tub, are as familiar as household in a Cottage, Love in a Wood, Love in a Maze, what little I ever learnt of my history. I was words. Even the Loves of the Angels have been but a few months old when my mother died ventured on. We thought that nothing was left of inflammation of the lungs, in the winter of for new poetastors but to make variations on the '33, at a lodging house which was shortly after-old chimes. We were mistaken. Here we have wards burned down, and my mistress, who another phase: Mr. Scott writes of Love in the heard of my mother's death and my unhappy Moon. condition, kindly offered to take care of me. All she ever learned of my mother, was that her name was Janet Campbell,-and so I was called after her; she also gave me a Galic Bible which I have carefully preserved, though I cannot read a word in it, except, James Campbell, his book, to Janet; 1817:' written inside the cover. My mistress forbid me ever harboring the hope of discovering any relations, though she said my father might be living, and if so, the Bible would at once identify me as his daughter. A year back, my kind protector, who is now growing old and feeble, and poorer in circumstances, than once she was, felt it necessary to part with me. I was accordingly sent here with a note to two or three ladies, who exerted themselves in my favor, giving me constant employment for my needle. Indeed, for the kindnesses of my dear friend in Niagara, and the ladies of Toronto, I can never be sufficiently grateful, for I have been enabled, through them, to live comfortably and independently. But," she continued hesitatingly, "are you sure that you are my brother?" If we were to describe it in a few words, we should call it a poetic bubble blown by a learned Cupid, pretty, whimsical, but useless. The gigantic telescopes tell us, that though the moon is des titute of an atmosphere, it has mountains teeming with the craters of extinct volcanoes. Here is one of them :— On the scared sight that awful mountain rose, The Spirit who had formed it. tired at length Fragments around; some standing grimly suf, While round and round. like Sorrow weak and wan In din pling motion, while it poured on high As the singing of the spheres. From music to life is but a short poetic flight for the Pegasus of our author. In Moonland, life and music are intertwined, as Rose and scent are joined together, Where there's life there must be love. Here, then, are the facts with which the poet must work, but he is under the strong necessity to personify; for as life presupposes love, so love presupposes lovers. Mr. Scott creates a pair, Lunari and Argentine; but they must, in keeping with long established rule, be described. How to describe them? that is the difficulty. Whenever we deal with supposed existences, we are obliged to take our own form of life as a basis. Mr. Scott is more ambitious than the blind bard of Paradise Lost. The human form will not serve his purpose. He desires to create. He cannot escape from combining soul and body, and he simply reverses earthly arrangements. He makes the soul the visible form; the body (if we may venture upon the paradox) the inner spirit: Here they reversed the laws of earth; their frames They were encased by spirit, on the eye As to the human sense of sight are naught, Material organ, one and simple, weighing dies. Fancy's eye the pair might see He-like a strong flame redly bright, Upon whose surface played a lambent fire, The waves of innocent thought, the ripplings of desire. "The course of true love never runs smooth.' That must happen in the moon as well as here. Lunari and Argentine have those plagues of all lovers-families; fathers and mothers, and kith and kin. These relations have feuds, like the Scotch clans. The Lunarians and the Argentines are the Capulets and Montagues of Moonland; and so the lovers sit talking over their gloomy prospects: And standing by them you might hear Or rather, what they thought and felt, Like the responsive dew upon the asking flower. VOL. II.-P P As in earthly cases, however, the musings of the lambent lovers brought them no relief, opened no loophole of escape; and a new piece of machinery is introduced-a wizard, who has his cell in one of the old worn-out volcanoes. And there are prophets on the earth; why not Really we cannot tell why not. It is nearly as probable in the one case as the other. To the wizard, Lunari goes with "electric" pace, superand we do not wonder that the moonish youth seding the necessity for an electric telegraph, recoils from so ghastly a shape: It was a wizard, thin and grim, And the lights of the charnel chamber glance From the grim wizard, to whom, following Mr. Scott's idea, we will give the name of old Snapdragon, Lunari gets a sibylline utterance : Whene'er upon the open skies Than planet, or star, or sui more vast, We should have said before, that this scene is laid upon that side of the moon always turned from the earth, and the prophecy refers to our globe as seen from the other side. Snapdragon gives directions for reaching the spot from which the sight may be observed. The rival families are persuaded to set out on a pilgrimage thither; they go grumblingly, looking on the affair as a hoax: Each took a vow,-'twas sure to bind,— And hate his neighbour more than ever. On they went, up the mountain side; through a cavern, "dark, and deep, and broad, and high," to where portals vast shut one side of the moon from the other. Old Snapdragon has furnished the "open sesame," which being pronounced iu spirit voice by Lunari, the gateway opens, and Like a son of mightie birth, Around its orb the Constellations passed Where calm, and motionless, and vast, By some unexplained process, which leads us to suppose that the Capulets and Montagues of the moon are more placable and manageable than those of this terrestrial orb, the sight dried up all hatreds and animosities; there was a general embrace of spirit-flames, and Argentine and Lunari were happy in their sanctioned love. The story is nothing but an attempt to wed the prose of the most obscure portion of Science to the poetry of Fiction; to link together the known and the unknown, perhaps the unknowable; to make a new garment for thought. But creative power is wanting; clear light is absent, and the robe of the new world is pieced up of tattered |