and

Weekly Hournal of Politics, Literature,

é “This is trac Liberty, when Freeborn Men, haying to advise the Public, may sini freo.-—Buripides, Cn a, en ee ee Vol. All. Charlottetown, Prince Edward island, Monday, February 17, 1862. New Series.---No, 6. EET ETS SUN HT ETT . pO RN TC er: aaah ee aan SESE PSNR :

_ But the wit and humour of the legal profession m Scotland has not “ported, Some members of the bar, lately lost, and some, happily still spared

LETERATURE.

eres” tlemen who repeat ** Old cio

' that, not in the weakness, but in the strength of her faith—uot in the earthward cleavings, but im jthe heavenward aspirings—did she realize her

(Prom the North British Review.)

SCOTTISH HUMODR.

bore part in many a dance, but now were possessing appearance, and though it put) reality they were built of rough stone, This’ fitter to replenish the bag of one of the gen- | an end to all doubt on the subject, it was aperture was evidently on the top of the) *** about cities, by no means as atisiactory explianation. So} monument at whose base the slab had been |

A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE. than as armour for the feet ona pedestrian little, indeed, was L pleased at it, that, removed, and no doubt, had | looked up the} | light through thai midnight ae into the bright | to us, have been gifted with the true epirit of — |. ¢xeursion through an American forest; for without any preliminaries, [ turned and ran night before, | shold have seen the moon- | Reminiscences of Seottish Life and Character. By | realms oft light and glory. There are many in-| mirth, and fun, and satire, toa remarka ree, The following touching stanzas are tages the Bal , the apper leathers had disagreed with the as heard as ever I could, But, as luck light; bat I did not, and my candle prevent: | FE. B. Ramsay MA. L1.D., F.R.S.E., Dean of | ances on record, in which such quaint wild The names of Cheape, and Onfram, and Loek-

lad of the “ Old Chapel Bell,” by JohuG. Saxe:— ower and threagh many a crevice the toes would have it, when I had gone about ten | ed me secing it without looking up,and when) Edinburgh. First and Second Serics. a ee not really, ineonernous, hart, aud Logan, aud of Lord Neaves, with his ‘peeped out. Toes, do [ say? Yes! for, alas, yards stumbled and fell over a stone, and, I went out into the pit, 1 suppose the light, Piumiliar Hlustrations of Seottish Character, By inti . aes . : ee a os letackings had long since become a subject- before { could rise was aguin a prisoner. the Rev. Charles Rogers, LL.D., P-S.A. Scotland. | 90 Spipatuns of Scottinl piety.

re k did not penetrate so far, or else a cloud bad \mattee for historians. The other two pos- ‘This time my friend prodaced a bowie-knife, passed over

rare scholarship, his. tine taste, and hie es __ {and happy wit, will oceur to many of our readers } The singular and sometimes etartling combina-| Some of the legal anecdotes given by D ‘ toes “ ay ; : ve _ } | tion of sublimity and humour is one of the remark- | are geod. ; as t, Rogers

| sessed what are commonly called **htghlows; and gently insinuating the point about a) very satisfact: y to know all about the light, (Concluded from last week.) able features of the poetry of Burns. Of this the Erskine’s declining to wear Dundas’ i and ¢ am particular ia thus recording it, quarter ofan inch into a tender part, ob- and where it was coming from, it by no means! A man of short stature and most uninviting | ‘Address to the Deil’ is a good example. There | lest he might be supposed to cae + ban- ‘for ome pair of them afterwards bere a pro- served in a@ tone of- voice that left not the reconciled me to being 4 prisoner in such a | countenance, with the peculiar expression now are rare strokes of hamour in some of the stanzas; | doved abite of his predeeessor,’ is well ue a. | minent position in my adventure. slightest doubt on my mind ef his being in! prison, with every likelihood of been starved | claimed by Mons. du Chaillu as that of the gor-| yet the character of the ode is sublime, and we | The followiug. not so well known, ia, We thish But what impressed me at once in respect carnest: ‘* My young friend, if you try Ghat) or eaten by rats if my comrades did not come | ila, purehased @ property in a western county of | kuow nothing finer than | at least equally good, and is thus given by Dr.

‘Mr. A. B., 2 judge of the Commiseary

“Ab! well I mind me of a child,

happy maid, Agee, Sr moon. But though it was)

Who came with constant step to church, In comely garb arrayed,

Aod kne!t her down full solemnly, And peitently prayed.

« And oft. when church was done, I marked That litle maiden near

This pleasant «pot, with book in hand, As you are sitting here—

She read the Story of the Cross, And wept with grief sincere.

* Years rolled away—and f beheid The child to woman grown;

Mer cheek was fairer, and her eye

| to these gentlemen, was that each of them game again, ll jest put you outside this back for me. I began, therefore, to look Bostiand, ae whence he strictly excluded tres-| * Great is thy power, and great thy fame ; Kogers :— ‘earried an instrament adapted for house. kuile in two jiffies.”’ ‘round for materials to build a seaffulding, if| P*Se"s. Svme oue sent him a large monkey,| Fur keuned aud noted ix thy name ; Court

‘ . I poet F a 7 . which he kept about his place; and a boy having } And tho" von lowin’ hengh’s thy hame | talon’ ; 4

breaking—one a pickaxe, another a crowbar, wus ignorant at the time, and am sostill, | perhaps I could raise the siab ; so | selected | been entrasied with the delivery of a letter, and | Thon travel’st far; ~ talked in an iiflated and pompous inauver. he ‘wad the third a hammer, chisel, and cot! of of the precise period, occupied by # jiffy, the newest coffing,and brought them out); ying found the monkey at the house door. was | And, faith, thou’st neither lag nor lame, ing failed to attend an appointiuent withiRnkine,”

| rope. Was it pessible they were going to. but I feared it was not a protracted one, 80 I into the pit, and placing two opposite each ncnieguebnt alarmed: 20 he threw down the letter | Nor blate nor seaur. he explained that he had been called out of town, commit barglary in the backwoods? ‘That | judged it best to obey, and went back quiet- | other, ut two more yn these, and soon until | and ran off. On his way down the avenue, the | ‘Whyles ranging like a roaring lion a 7 saw oe wo te Se ht I dismissed at once, for what was! ly with him. my pile was about six feet high. Here 1 boy met the new laird, who angyily demanded | For prey, a’ Ae cage: seme trying ; your tae eons eth le no Sanee for i thece to steal? and before a second occurred W hen we got to that awfal hole, he repeat- | came to a full stop, for! could not raise up| what he was dying there. ‘Thad a letter for | Why tes on the stroug- winged sempest flying, | your style be fell pay pee wasaetfrem . to me, our meridian became identical; and ed his former request, but suddenly 1 saw a | any more without endangering the safety of | you, sir,’ says the boy. * Well, give itime.”” * Ah, | ; Tirling the kirks ; leek? ” P ad cortauuly brobgeis das» ‘ ; but I gave it to your son, sir,’ replies the trembling Whyles inthe human bosom prying, 7 : %

wm,

a , the swell, as | was’ passing within about loophole for escape, and suggested: ‘* But _the whole structure,whieh was very ricketty ; “ti Tnasee? cst.’ leve ins ha } reer — 7 ne | ewent yards, hailed me to stop, which re-| lve no place to,put ’em.”’ 80 | sat down on the settle to rest and think ed — you little raseal; I have ao Unseen tou lurk’st. mm. eer ya nnmncenae advoeate died Bat childhoods trath and innocence ‘quest | cowplied with. He then catered in-| ** Lend ine your wiper, Brown.” ; what | should do, and que L was there, I <n an oe ors say for that, but he had | Another illustration of the sane peculiarity im) were «no eflects.’ That ates . . , Were still the maidens own. | @ conversation with me, making general | “Lain’t got such an artiele jest at present,’” thought I might as secure the jewels. A ‘tninister’s "ula eats of a class of persons | aa ee ee cee ee conn bes ene . ii iri i , enects in| said Mr. Brown. Sol set to work, and soou had them allin| o¢ wh any ane Tae Fah ein | Praise of whiskey—too sumerous and teo attrac) effects.’ ? “T never a merrier peal inquiries about my position and prospec a 9 go, | : ay : . of whom many anecdotes are told—was following | tive they nre—of a stanzas of sineuls eauty, | ~ : : Than _ a joyous seide this world, and particular enes about where} ‘* Where’s yourn, Price ?"’ 5 gg | AP POR unklets, | the minister trom the mange to the kirk one Sab- | Sechelt Wh a ge rg einer na nautinee A weil known story of Lord Polkenmet has y & JOY = : ‘I was going, and what J intended doing when| ‘* Well, I forgot to bring it down stairs.”” | brace\ets,and rings of every description; every | hath afternoon, when the minister, glancing back, | ‘yictyyys ot ‘a dymg waltior in any -lan mage, | lees known but very’ eharacteristia eequel in au dhe thpcaceed geet, iI got there. These { answered to the bestof| None of them possessed a handkerchief. | ornament did i steal except those on her perceived a smile onthe face of his old attendant. | Che ‘ Postscript’ to the ‘ Earecet ( 7 end Prayes anecdote ot his grandson. Lord Polkemmet re- A noble youth beside, jmy ability; and as 1 did not paint my future At last a brilliant thought struck the Swell, grave-elothes — for those 1 could now see |‘ What makes you laugh, James! it is unseemly. | ty the Seoteh Representatives’ commences— | Med to let the deutist insert tik finger in his | mouth, saying, ‘

Aad plighted him her maiden troth, ivery brilliantly, he expressed the greatest and you may be sure 1 did not bless his ready In maiden Jove and pride. i

| pity for my ferlora condition, and ended by wit. ‘Tsay, Brown! you divest yourself of

,

“I never tolled a deeper knell, Than when, in after years, They laid her in the chureh-yard here,

| my turning back ard joining in their expedi-' der into the legs.’ ition. Ths was too disinterested by half, and | | much more then bis own worldly prosperity |andno mistake,”’ said admiring Brown, as

Where this low mound appears— appeared te warrant; so I refused, and/| he took off his highlows, and drugged them (The very grave, my boy, that you tuanking hie kindly, wished him goed-morn-| 0 my feet. Now Ihud no excuse, yet it Are watering now with tears!) ing. But my friend would not allow his ob- took several rather severe applications of the

i : ject to be thus frustrated, for he »roduced a) bowie before I could be induced to catch hold It fs thy mother! gentle boy, l ‘most conclusive argument, and used itso per- | of the rope and swing iyself over. That claims this tale of mine— suasively, that I was induced to change my

‘Thou art a flower whose fatal birth t eniuii iu shape it resembled a Colt’s revolver, had given me the hammer and chisel, and a Destroved the parent vine! | and, like it, had a barrel and five chambers, | picce of candle and a tinder-box, all of which

A precious flower, thou art, my child— | lf he had been studying rhetoric all his life, | | had stowed away along with my bread end ‘TW LIVES WERE GIVEN For THINE! he could not have argued with greater suc- , cheese. , | BO

\cess. L turned round with the greatest | came to the end of it, but not of the pit, fur

‘alacrity, and at bis bidding shouldered the | I could feel nothing below me but the sides.

lerowbar he was carryiug, and marched on | Here was the case. Was I to let go and be

| between him and his ucquaintance with the dashed to atoms some hundreds of feet below : | pick-axe. jor was I to uscend and get eight inches of

| It was while proceeding in this order that; Cold steel? Truly it was a dilemma, o

} I made the observations 1 have set down. and | which the horns were inconveniently sharp.

| many more which | have uot, one of which | However, I did not long deliberate, for it

The boy awoke, as from a dream, | was, that we were proceeding at the rate of Ws anything buta pleasant situation to be And thoughtful, looked around, about three miles an hour—and considering | in. The wall I was leaning against was cold

Pat nothing saw, save at his feet, the nature of the ground, that was rather and clammy, and covered with all kinds of Mis mother’s lowly mound, | quick—and another, that 1 was beginoing to

And by his side that ancient bell }teel excessively hungry. After a while, 1 Half hidden in the ground ! }ventured to hint this last tact to my cow: |

pil ill ican |panion of the pickaxe, who appeared the | THE sNoW sst-natured of the party, for I was uneyn- | E SNOW. sciously & disciple of Lavater, and studied us

'much of their taces as I could see through

{their beards. To my great delight, he agreed

with me, and said he would like some dinner;

F : jwhereupon we all halted; and seeing them | W"0 irae Eee Grn fons senerh's covwe, produce bread and meat, I said nothing about | if I did not go down instanéer, he would send

Clething the earth in its robe's bright flow ; |my own provender, which was careiully we ty the bottom and eternity togetLer.

Is it not lovely—the pure, white snow ! | stowed away inside my shirt. Down [ went again, determined to jump I made a great dinner, and so did they, atany hazard. But notwithstanding ail my

ss though none of us said grace; but when] resolutiog, when I came to the end of the

lias icbindly — tt , sew » cask of amber Zuid produced, and was | rope, 1 bung as long as I could, I it bad

ese aaeh a given a considerable portion of it ty drink, | beemcertaiw death | was falling to, | coutd

The clay-stained banks of the litfle brook, ey spirits Tose to a very high pitch, and I! not have hung another instant. Gradually

“ One was thy sainted mother’s, when She gave the mortal birth ;

And one thy Saviour’s, when in death, He shook the solid earth ;

Geo! boy, and live as may befit Thy life's exceeding worth !"

'

over me asl hung at the end of the rope. And besides, my lively imagination pictured to me some horrible being to seize we from

low, drag me down to its abode, and there make a meal of me. So upT wentas fast as |L eould. But before 1 came to the top that ‘confounded bowie again made its acquaint-

Come to the casement—we'll catch the snow, Bufily descending on earth below, Pairer aud whiter than epotiess down,

See, as it falle o'er the landscape wide,

Robing bate branches in ermine white, began to place more confidence in the pro-| the rope slipped through my fingers (for a Making all lovely, spotless and bright. | mises of my sympathising friend. |long time I retained marks of its passage). at | It was now, as well as lL could guess, be-' last it left them altogether—and L dropped. | tween or _ eight o‘clock, and would! Ub, that fearful moment! Of all the sensa- : : }soon be dusk, for the days were beginning to’ tions L ever experienced, that was the worst. The well-hoase now.tea fairy ball, | shorten, so l thought it time i auahd know Evena hades isnothing te it. 1 expect- Aud the rough, rude fence a murble-walll, \whither we were going, and what 1 was to| ed, at the very least, to be dashed to pieces W bile gates and hillocks where barn fowl ranged, |du ; accordingly, tortified by the draught in some horribe abyss, if ever | came to the ‘To ramparts avd bastions now ure changed. (from the amber flask, I gave utterance to bottom. Al! the evil [ had ever done rushed jmy sentiments. ‘“*Teay, Mister, what game’s into my memory ina dark mass, but with . _ ’ up. ‘every separate sin distinct, and I lived m

Theagh four feet high it vse pile the ground, The Swell whom f addrossed stared for a) whole Aatieen over again in short that — Though it change the face of wood and Uicld, —_{ while, no doubt admiring my language, beth ment; fur short it was. 1 don’t think L feil With skill that glamour could never wield, (ei wecount of its brevity and also its intrin- more shan five feet, and then alighted on soft

{

In the farm-yard watch ite magic skill, What weadrous marvels it werks at will;

Mow softly it falle—nor breath, nor sound,

Yet ae it falls, not a murmur low— sic beauty, and thus replied : ‘earth. But the delightful joy that filled wy The noiseless, silent, white-winged snow. ** Well, youngster, I'll tell you, and it whole frame, body and wind, I cannot des-

bt : 5 ain't a very long story either. You eee,|cribe. A prisoner reprieyed on the scaffold | o = gage of the morning bright, | Some time ago, 1 fell in at New Orleans with | has alone experienced the same kind of feel- it blushes beneath the ean's red light ; }* coon jest returned from shutin’ bars, or ing.

| offering te ake my fortune, on condition of | them boots; the youngster can put the p!un- |

** All serene ; you have got a head-piece, |

I should have said, before this, that they |

I now slid down the rope, and soon

creeping abominations, that were crawling |

anee with my shoulder, aad my kind friend, | who introduced it, swore a fearful oath, that |

How its diamond crystals gleam and shine, Clearer than those of Goleonda’s mine ;

Spite of wintry winds—their storm skies low, Surely al! love the beautiful suow.

| some sech thing, in among the red-skins up here; and he told mea long yarn about an, Indian princess who departed this wicked life when he was there, and who was buried rai | with all her jewels: and stunnin’ ones they

MY FIRST AND LAST ROBBERY jair tew, if they’re as he says. Well, sezI to

myself, what's the use of them jewels down

|

!

—— in the ground ? and the more I cogitated, the When [ was & boy about fourteen years more { thought it a tarnation pity they should olé, | remaway from school. Lwaea young stay there ; so myself and my two friends air

,no deabt, but thea Dr. Birch did | here now for to try if we can't get them ; Bos d wowels. and so he was partly to /aud I kalkirlate we ain't far now from the blame: foe I imbibed thus early io life a | spot, if it’s where my shutin’ friend describ- taate for the romantic, whick, lam happy ¢d it.’’ te say, | have since entirely got rid of. ‘“*T guess hyar's the clump ef elms,’’ said t for what now—no doubt it wason Mr. Pickaxe. Secount of some great piece of injustice—but ** You're right, Mr. Brown,”’ said the ao imitate some heve ee sther i had | leader ; ‘* and now, let's follow our noses.” of, runaway toses. This partof, As we went on,I learned the whole of ovr my life I shall not dwell upon, for the reeol- |project. The princess was buried in the leetioa of it is anything but pleasans : T shal! |cetmetery of the tribe, about two miles from ee tnt L reached Liver ot nati. 'where we were, in a deep vault under a lofty Shen, as suon a6 [ arrived et ) ew York, | sepulehre, right in the centre of the burying c, so much was I disgueted with my | place ; but as we were now in dangerous romuntic life. Mow I lived in America, is ground, eilence wae strictly enjoined cia 1 p mystery te ie yet; but one fine morning could not jearn why 1 was included in the he oad em ago with only huli-a- expedition. 4 puzzied myself to find out in he ~ a . arene my feet. | vain. Was it ou account of my personal ap- thoughs oom me v Aw world; sol pearance that they had taken such a liking onan ‘ ng t co o was te imi-! to me as to prefer a fourth share toa third? é Prodigal, aod go home, trusting to | Hardly so, | thought—my vanity was not so my Tamily 6 joy at seeing me alive, for I bad | great us all that. But yet this was the only Pe sone mance I ran away from | reason I could think of. " Pon ay sabia of my half-dol-| 1 um cure it took us at least two hours to | ane @ bread cheese, and putting the | cover those two iniles, but then we had to aa seam in wy trousers, started aes — cautiously for fear of the In- : : tans, for if we were caught, crucifixion wae —_ ana ws _ ce the very mildest puoishment we could expect. ig orest, > pa ing | At last we reached the border of the bury- marked every fifty yards by « piece of wood | ing-ground, and ne forge igh auth eseasillta%sc the tack of Thi | Ing-g ’ never shall { forget the sight wis ofa tree. This that broke on my view when we emerged

all I ate we. My first two from the trees—it waeso solemn, so ghastly! - mt pa ph lar bey le ~~? ~_ 7 — oe were glittering in

’ FY | the moonlight, checkered here and there by

om pan apre me & goud breakfast in | shadows from @ few willows that were oak a Bi ~ ae night I had to/ tered up and down, and from some lolty a * can assure you the | eepulchres that eowered among the more un- ent py came up to the idea | pretending tombs. And when the branches Femily nee outing * The Swiss |uf the willows moved in the scareely percep- | Woks, stiff and hu is oe » When 1 | tible breeze, I felt sure it was some ghoul | Wat the ingeni bgry, + sincerely wished | gliding back into his grave in a hurry, to! ngeaious author had gone quietly avoid being seen by mortal eyes. of writing! While { was on the look-out fur ghosts, my

© the bottom of the sea, instead t * : ; tae tous narrative, and making a fuol of | mates were busy reconnoitring for Todians,

In my joy at finding myself eafe, all fear

ssed away, and | immediately jumped up and struck a light. On looking round me, I could see that the place | was in was some- thing like the bottom of a draw well, being about six feet square, and having in one of its sides an aperture or doorway. Into this I advaneed, und after traversing a short pas- sage, found myself in a large chamber, evi- dently the receptacle of tise dead Indians ; in niches round about the wall were collins

In every stage of decay; others were piled |

up at one end, and in the centre was a-kind ot settle, supporting an elaborately carved

) sarcophagus, wade from the bark of sure)

tree. This, no doubt, was the princess. So at once, in the light of my newly found courage, I determined to secure the prize. [| inserted my chisel uader the lid, and alter a few taps from the hammer, raised it, and discovered the corpse of a young female ap- perently not long dead, for her face looked

quite fresh and litelike ; hereyes were glassy, |

however, and her form rigid. She was pro fusely ornamented with jewels, and her grave- clothes ltteraliy sparkled with brilliants W hat first struck me was a ring through her nose, containing a splendid emerald.

commence my sacrilege, by severing the car- tilage of ber nose, when L was terrified by a loud crash from above, as if the slub tad been hastily replaced. Such was the first thought that oecurred to me, and | rushed out to see ; but in my hurry my candle was extinguished, and as f had left my tinder-box on the settle, fcould not relight it, for with the darkness all my terrors had at once more resumed their sway, and not for worlds would I have moved a step into that chamber with all the corpses. compared with what I felt when 1 looked up, snd saw darkness everywhere, and knew that the slab had indeed fallen. | became perfectly paralysed by fear, and sank down ina corner unable to move hand or foot. Then suddenly | beard stealthy footsteps ap- proaching frum the direetion of the chamber, and though now I think it must have been a rut, yet then so simple an explanation of such # souud never entered my mind. I[ felt sure it was the corpse coming to resent the sacrilegel had committed. Ail my blood ran cold in my veins, and [ fainted ; other-

{ had | just seized hold of the ring, and was about to |

All I suffered betore was nothing |

* How . 7 ever, [ breakfasted on sume of my and none being visible, we advanced towards | wise | must have gone mad.

my op journe: ~ once more on the centre, the rear being carefully brought! How leng I remained in this death-like

Up to this time I bot ust fallen te w |up by me, still in dread of immortal crea- stupor, | know not; but my first thought human being except th - he ea in with 8 | tures. | on awaking to consciousness was, where was house; but thous Br . lok. atthe farm- Under the shade of the tallest sepulehre | 1? The whole recollection of what had bap- Hoon, 46 well ag lL eveld’ i Ps * the after- we halted, and without any delay, Mr. pened to me flashed on my memory at once, Saw some figures through ae Gen, cad es Brown set to work with pickaxe on a slab at| und I closed my eyes with a shudder, and

sently made them the base, and suon succeeded in making an | was near going off in anotherswoon. What As soay come - L velong to three wen. opening for the crowbar, of which I was re-| saved me was, that when I opened my eyes | Sow +haaw they were very lieved by the Swell, who inserted it skilfully | saw daylight; for it was all darkness when

ne ming fellows, with their faces cover- “ feo short i, agif they had pot. one Month. wad clad ia very dilapi- | of heving bens” which bore, however, marks coatly. "| yell warned fashionable but | ing was it, that it made me shiver to look | ped fx ain ighly enough equip- downinto it. Faney, therefore, my feelings,-| oisers oie oe ot : pair of canvas when wy kind sympathising friend request- | respeetuble aie tin or oe ooked far more jed me, in the blandest tone in the world, to | eluth with velvet : em, for all their + Jest slew down that there rope,”’ whieh, | Wousers tight as the ae a and cuffs, and as he Spoke, he threw down, fastening one descended ty tnt pm ne arging as they eud to a piece of projecting masonry, © and | fie foliage "io ood © oo the young woman of her superfluous” ; Me , » io \jewelry.’’

they = variously oot One | now it dawned on my benighted in- | oan ee oa ® pair of ‘tellect that it was for this purpose they had leathers » BO doubt, bad brought me, and oot on account of my pre-

and raised up the slab. Asin Aladdin’s adventure, the mouth of | the dark hole was disclosed, but no steps |

8

[ had fainted. Yes, it was daylight, blessed daylight, shining round about me! It was astonishing what an effect it had upon me,

all my strength revive, aud with it a feeling of hunger; so the first thing I did was to finish my bread aid cheese. | then felt brave enough to face a whole churchyard, and as the light was shining in from the door of the chamber, into itl went, and looking up, saw about sixty feet over my head a large aper- ture, through which the light was streaming. There was no hope of escape, however, for the sides were perpendica : smooth. No velvet ever appeared half so smoogh to me as they did then, though ia

| were glass—and stuffed them into my boots. |tlaving accomplished this, a bright idea into strips ; these L twisted and knotted, and made into a rope about twelve feet long. It was good stoutfisnnel, and made a very res- 'pectable strong ropes One end of it | fasten- ed to a coffin, and mounting my scaffolding |with the other, | commenced to haul. All ‘went perfeetly nght umtil E got it up about |half way, and then the treacherous flannel gave way, and the eoffin fell with a crash. | At the same time | Jost my balance, and fell down on the otuer sid, dragging along with me my entire pile.

Stunned and bruised, [lay for along time |Unconsciov’, eovered over with bones and | decayed desh, and skuli’s dust—for in their ‘fall most of the collins were burst open— until once more I camé to life ; but this time ,it was in darkness: “For some time I could /not realize where [ was, until a noise above jstirred the train of my memory, and I re- jmembered all. LT shook off my ghastly bed- | clothes, and jumped up, for I felt sure it was | tay friends come back to deliver me, Sova ,a light shone down, and I knew the slab was raised. But wy feeljng of thankfullness was nipped in toe bud, Tbr on looking up 1 saw the end of a ladder Projecting down,

| ‘Surely the Indiayare coming to byry | some one,’ 1 thought * and wiil crucify.te.’ | Asa last chanee,dfelt round for in ham-

mer, and found im) asthe ladder restéd on the ground close beside me, and the figure of a man began to desgend. The night was }dark and cloudy, so L gould not tell whether

it was an Indian or a white man; but ibe

{

lidder left little duab& So I took up a posi- | 'tionin frontet the Jadder, aud awaited the

j man who was coming down, resolved togrve him & warm welcomes, Slowly he came, and of teat stop pod ; - the last rung. || ry my tilne; so | stepped forward.’md deait hun a blow on | the back Of the head with all my might. With ‘un awtul yell be fell, either dead or stunned,

jund the cuyern took up the yell, and eclived | it round and reund, whilst [ joined in, to the |

ibest of my ability. Altogether, it was a ‘fearful din, and enough.ty trigiiton any one

outside, which it eff-etually did, for when 1) ran op the ladder as fast ust could, yelling |

all the while, and looked, 1 could sve severai forts just disappearing imto the forest. I (immediately made offin the opposite direc- tion, and ran as hard as [I could till my

strength failed, when Il sank down exhausted, |

| and svon, so tired and worn out was I, fell ifast asleep.

The morning was breaking when I awoke, and hearing water close by, I dragged my- | self to it, and after drinking some of it, lelt jable to proceed, though very slowly, for

(some hours. At last I saw smoke through | | the trees, and presently a logecottage. No} ’

| palace was ever balf so magnificent us it ap-

'peared to me then, and no woman half so |

beautiful as she Ll saw standing in the door- |}way. Good she was im reality, for when \she saw me, she came and helped me in, set ‘me before a fire, gave me an excellent dinner, /and believed every word I told her: how 1 | She even ofered me a lodging for the night. But not for worlds would 1 bave remained ‘in the neighbourhoody ior fear of the Indians, and so 1 pretended that I was in a great ‘hurry to get to New York, and she let me go; but first, good soul, made me take some ioney a8 a present, and provisions, forl wus still a long way from Detroit. On the /morning of the third day after I left my kind hostess, I arrived safe, having met with no further adventure. Ia Detroit | managed to dispose of sume of my “ous to a jeweller, , who asked no questions, but gave about one- teuth of the value. However, I was glad to | getanything at all, and, as the steamer was just starting, embarked, sud two days alter, was iu New York. Here I sold one of the rings for fifty pounds, and lived for a little while in’ great style.

| One day coming outofacigar shop, [ thought |

iLsawa face 1 knew; I looked again, and | fourid [ was not mistaken. It was my friend | with the patent leathers, looking twice us shabby asever. ble knew me at once, and

limmediately came over and accosted me, |

asking me how L had escaped. | ‘Escaped from the graye, you mean?” said 1. ‘+ You werea pretty fellow to leave jme in such a fix.’’ ‘+ But,’’ explained hey **we heard the Red- iskins, and had to eut for eur lives ; and when /we came back next night tu see if anything ‘could be done for you, we’ found the piace \swarming with them, amd it took us as much jas ever we could do to get off safe. When we got here a week ago, we heard how the Indians hod captured the robber, and eruci- fied him, so we were sure it was you.”’ ‘+ You see it was pot,’’ said i coolly ; and \then [told him my story. We then came to the conclusion that the man I brained be- longed to some other party on the same er- jrand as ourselves, and that the Indians had |found him, no doubt still insensible, and had lerucified him. Such was the end of my adventure. But

our ill gotten gains brought us no luck. La ‘less than a mouth, I was the only one of the party alive, for Brown and Price one nigat, ‘about a week after we got the money, hada ‘fight in a tavern, when Price settled his companion with his bowie, and was shortly after hung for it. The Swell got delirium- tremens, and died soon after; so l was the only one Jeft, with nearly three thousand | pounds in my possession (for we had sold all

were visible. Sodark and so horrible Jook-| who in the dark was sueh a coward. I felt | the jewels for five thousand). Terrified at | of tiv near approach of the last eneiny, in full! + Probably you do,’ says Logan, ‘for ye pay Hum

‘the fate of my companions, Ll began to think I bad not been acting as I ought, and soon came to the conclusion that [ was little better than a thief. When ouve i began to think

\about the subject, it was allright. [ wrote

‘home to my friends, sold all my fine clothes

\and jewellery, and one dark night dropped

‘all that was left of the money into the puor- box of the Orphan Refuge. Next morning

‘thusended My First and Last Robbery.—

| Chambers.

struck me: I took off my shirt, and tore it |

‘has byuvtaezted on |

What is there to amuse you?’ ‘Oh, uaething particular,’ says James: ‘I was only thinking o’ | something that happened this forenoon.’ ‘What | is that?) = Tell me what it was.’ ‘Weel, minister, | dinua be angry wi’ me; but ye ken the cougrega- tion here are whiles no pleased to get auld ser- mons fra’ you, and this morning I got the better of the kirk session ony Way” ‘And how was} that, Jamie?’ says the minister. ‘’Deed, sir, | when we came out o’ the kirk this forenoon, | | kenned what they were thinking; aud says I, | ;* 12h, but you eanna ca’ that an auld sermon this | day, for it’s no’ abune six weeks since you heard | | it fast.” ” | The Rev. Dr. M‘Leod was proceeding from the | | manse of D to church, to open a new place | }ot worship. As he passed slowly and gravely | through the crowd gathered about the doors, au | elderly man, with the peculiar hind of wig known | tin that distriet,—bright, smooth, and of a reddish | | brown,—aceosted him. ‘ Dr.,if you please, T wish Clin tn Mis ; 3 { jlo : ae ly | lap im Wis cheek 2 Wiehland gill | to speak to you.” ‘ Well, Duncan, says the vene-4 Say-—wuch in Kiekast@hecbeete will , rable Doctor, ‘ gan ye not wait till afkerwurship.’ | oe aa. Sed Mee io donk ae ) ‘No, Doctor, [ must speak to you how, for it 18 al He has nae thought but how to kill jtnatter upon my conscience.’ ‘Oh, since it is a Twa ata blow. ) matter of conscience, tell me what it is; bat be | brief, Dumean, for time presses.’ ‘The matter/ jis this, Doctor. Ye see the clock yonder on the | face of the uew church. Well, there is no clock | fuce of a ak

* Let half-starved slaves in warmer skies

See future wines, rich clustering, rise ;

Their lot auld Scotland ne'er enyies, But, blythe and frisky,

She eyes her free-born martial boys Tak’ aff their whisky. ~

‘What tho’ their Pho-hus kinder warms, While fravrance blooma and bean(y charms, When wretehes range in faumished swarms The scented grover . Or, hounded forth, dishonour arms, Ju hungry dvoves.

‘Their gun’sa burden on their shonther; They downa bide the stink o” powther; Their bauldest thoagbt’s a hank’ ring swither a To stand or rin, Till eke}p—a ehot—they’re aff a’ thron’ther, Yo save their skin.

i ‘ ; om, But, bring a Scotsman frae his hill,

‘Nae cauld faint-hearted doubtings tease him: Death comes, wi’ fearless eye he sees him Wi’ bhuidy hand a welcome gi’es him; And when he fa’s, His latest draught o’ breathin’ lea’es him Iu fuint huzzas,’

jreally there—nothing but the | There is vio truth in it, but only once in the twelve hours. Now, it isin my mind, very wréng, and | quite against my conseience, that there should be! | a lie on the face of the house of the Lord? “Dan-} 8nd sublimity in the pocm of *Tam 9’ Shapter.’ j} can, 1 will consider the point. But I gm glad to | Che tale itself, in its commencement, its crisis,and see you looking so well; you are not young now; | Its result, is eminently comic. No one acquainted Premember you for mauy years; and what a fine | With the Seottish language can read it without a head of hair you have still! ‘Eh, Doetor, you! hearty laugh; avd it is reecrded of Burns, who | sine joking now; it is long since 1 have had any Composed it all in one day, that he was heard hair.’ *Oh, Duncan, Duuean, are you going mte , breaking forthinto shouts of lsughter,as he walked the house of the Lord with a lie upou your head f’ | home at night repeating it to himself. | This settled the question; aud the Doctor heard {no tiore ofthe lie on the face of the elock. |tensely national, when we say, that the imagery Many gvod stories of this venerable gentleman! and accompaniment of this comic. story, are, in are iloating about ; and few men have more happily | their beauty aud sublimity, nearly matchless, ‘tombined the jive diseerument and appreciation | Quotation canact do it justice, and we of humour with the higher qualities of mind and | But, mingled with the strong, heart than his excellent sun, Dr. Norman M‘Leod, | Story, what cansurparsthe beauty of the reflection front Wiese” "Th6a Work "Wow seatteted overt the land, a harvest of good and pleasant truits | of the storm, the enumeration of the places passed may be anticipated. + by Tam, as We quite agree with the Dean in his estimate | * Weel mounted on his grey mare Meg— of Dr, Carlyle and his times. His book is amus- | A betier never lifted leg— lug, and in some respects instructive: but the | Tam eke Ipit on through dub and mire, picture it presents of the man and his times is a! Despisiny wind and rain and tire,’ very painful one. Nothing can be more apt and! eaeh plaee—the furd, the stane, the eairn the appropriate thea the good Dean's deseription of | thorn—suggesting its own tale of death, and the the lite of Dr. Carlyle and his iriends, as ‘of the ; then accumulated horrors of the spectacle which eurth, earthy.” iow far the existence of such | strangeiy mingled with ‘mirth and dancing,’ met j‘earthliness’ in the Church and the society of | the astonished eyes of man and mare in ‘Allow “y's | these thues may have amsen from some degree of | auld haunted kirk?” reaction against the religious enthusiasm of an! — It is a confirmation of what we have already earlier age, and how much of it may be traced to | . the poliey which crushed popular independence, and stifled free and carnest thought, and created aud fostered a spirit of selfish and jobbing subser- | Viewey in Seotland, such as Macklin held up to |