their Revival to the Conclusion of the Eighteenth Century. According to the plan, the whole work is to be divided into eleven sections. The first contains, General History of Science and Literature, by way of introduction to the succeeding sections, and was published by M. Eichhorn in two volumes. The latter part of the second volume has not yet appeared. Section II. History of the Fine Arts. Of this section the public has been presented with the history of the arts of design by Professor Fiorillo, in three parts, containing the history of painting in Italy and in France. Section III. History of the Belles Lettres, of Poetry, and of Eloquence. Professor Bouterwick has writ ten the history of the Belies Lettres to the present time in three parts. The two first contain the history of Italian Literature, and the third that of Spanish Literature, with a supplement on the Literature of Portugal. Section IV. History of Philology. Two parts of the history of classical literature, by M. Hieren, are all that have yet appeared, it will be continued. Section V. History of Historical Sciences. This section has been retarded by the death of Professor Schonemann, who had undertaken it, and by various accidents which have befallen those to whom this department was committed after his death. Section VI. History of Philosophy. This part, the production of M. Buhle, is in six volumes, the last of which goes down as far as Kant. Notwithstanding the departure of the author for Moscow, the work will be completed. Section VII. History of Mathematical Sciences. The public has already the History of Military Science, by M. Hoyer, finished in two parts; and the History of Mathematics, by Kasiner. The latter had composed four parts of his history, which comes down to the latter half of the seventeenth century, when the hand of death overtook him. In case the author had been able to continue it, he would undoubtedly have been obliged either to alter his plan, which is too bibliographical, or to confine it within a smaller compass. His work, however, presents the richest and most useful materials for the history of that science. The atten. tive reader may easily discover in it the progress of that science, and per

haps would not exchange it for a history of the science, in the strict sense of the word, if it were not animated by the genius of Kastner. It is unnecessary to observe, that in the continuation of this work, a better plan will be adopted. Section VIII. History of the Natural Sciences. Of these have appeared, the History of Chemistry, by the late M. Gmelin, complete in three volumes; the History of Natural Philosophy, by professor Fischer, in five parts; of which the fifth goes down to the last quarter of the eighteenth century, to Priestly; so that it is nearly concluded. Section IX. Jurisprudence. This part has been delayed by the death of the person who was engaged upon it. Section X. Theology. The first part of the History of Practical Theology, by Dr Ammon, has appeared. The History of the Explanation of the Holy Scriptures by Dr Meyer, in three parts, is almost finished. Section XI. History of Medicine. This has been purposely reserved for the last, on account of the new discoveries. By the above sketch it appears that out of the eleven sections, eight are already completed, or are drawing more or less towards a conclusion, and that two others have been retarded only by the death of the respective writers. Of the sections which are still in hand, the public has still to expect, in the second, the History of Sculpture and Architecture; in the third, the History of the Belles Lettres of the other countries; in the fourth, the History of Archology; in the eighth, the History of Natural History, with that of Rural Economy, and Technology; and in the tenth, the History of Dogmatic and Moral Theology. When the immense extent of the undertaking is considered, it will not excite wonder that it is not yet completed, but rather that so much has already been performed in the comparatively short space of eight years. The most important parts that are still wanting, namely, Natural History, Dogmatical Theology, Morality, and Archæology, have been confided to men whose names alone sufficiently guarantee the excellence of their productions, so that no doubt can be entertained of the speedy completion of those departments.

The collection of antiques belong

In troth her jibes I canna bear,
She gars me tak' the huff,
When saucily she cries," Gudeman:
"You're o er the lugs in snuif."

But, Tam, we e'en maun bide wi't a',
Though jibed up we be,

The sneeshing mull we still maun ca',
Tho' wives should tak' the gee:
I lo'e my Maggie passing weel,
An' canty we might be,

Did nae she haunt me, like a de'il,
About my dear Rappee.

It sweetens care at ilka hand,
It cures us o' our pains,

What wad the learned Doctors doe,
Did Snuff nae clear their brains?
Then, oh! ye gods, be kind to me,
In your Elysian heaven,

Should I but ance, an' well, get there, Treat me wi' Thirty-Seven!!!

Answer to the ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

August Magazine, 1805. OUT o' the sink o' sin and sorrow,

Frae mang the wa's o' auld Gomorrah, Whare neerdoweels by dizzens dandle, Like ingan strings or punds o' candle; Whare vice wi' virtue baits his trap, An' Lucifer keeps apen shap; Like onie thief, wham Hangie's taws Had whuppit out o' stanchel'd wa's; I wi' my birken whistle struttit, Whilk on the banks o' Nith was cuttit, An' down the Thames at einen gaed, Weel wrappit i' my guid grey plaid, To fleg the reek o' Lunnon frae nie, An con' a lilt to Ettrick Jamie: Sae whan I'd pang'd my wallet fou Wi' doggrel duds o' ilka hue, Straight hame I daunerin' took my tramp, An' blew my coal, and trimm'd my lamp; Syne wi' a lingle sew'd thegither, A sort o' pirney jingling blether.

What was't ye said, ye sleekit loon? "O Tam, for guidsake quat the town, "Whare bucks and bullies, bawds and lechery,

"Whare falsehood, folly, tricks an' treachery,

"Swarm the streets, and croud the park,

"Thrang as the crikes on Pharaoh's sark; "Trowth I may say't, twixt you an' me, "Without being shangant wi a lie; "Thy grunters, weelwat I, my lad, "Thou's to a bonnie market ca'd: "Ye hae, shame fa ye, play'd the fool, "And ta'en the tron frae nature's school; "Out of her presence march'd thyself off, "L-d safe's was e'er the like heard tell of,

"Tassist a set o' straddling cuifs, "To dirl the callans' dowps an' loofs, "Whane'er in pet they winna ettle "To pit their bits o' gabs in fettle; "Anke Hugh Paisley's fiddle squeak, "A solo saft o' gruntin' Greek;

"Or trace auld Euclid's crookit lines,
His tangents, rectangles, an' sines;
"An tell, as gabblin' on they gae,
"How maister A is sib to B,;
"An' ablins, i' the self-same breath,
"How X is uncle to them baith;

"O man-cou'd Foily's sel' ha'e thought it, "That ought wad e'er about ha'e brought it?"

Trouth, Jamie, ye're nae verra blate,
To think I'd gang sae grey a gate.

Nanse Kingan-owre thy honour'd beir
I drappit monie a gratefu' tear,
May nae vile spade howk thy remains,
Nor ruffian han' disturb thy banes,
Nor surly blast about thee rave,
Nor nettle grow aboon thy grave:
It was the taes o' thy auld taws
Dang i' my haurns the muckle AA's,
An' thrice wi' monie woys, an' jees,
Skelpit me throu the caratchies;
Ere the kittle page cou'd kon
O' Davie's deep lang-headed son;
The dreadfu' tenth o' Nehemiah,
Or minstrel treasures of Isaiah;
Mell-headed Rab, wee limpin' Charlie,
An' waddlin' Sam, the shauchlin' ferlie,
Neist took in han' my loofs to scult,
An' rax me down frae Dux to Dult:
Weel may I say't, wi' thir three cuifs,
To whani I trudg't wi' Lot's wife's hoofs:
I learnt whan i' their fangs they held me,
Just to forget what Nannie teil'd me.
Frae Johny Kennedy, guid bless him,
Hale be his heart's the warst I wiss him;
Blest wi' the gift o' lear impartin',

I gat the nack o' paper scaurtin'!
An' Tammie White sae frank an' kin',
Tauld me that three an' sax mak' nine:
But frae their clutches I was poukit,
An' wi' the clan o' Cain boukit,
'Mang unco fowk to chow my kuid,
Ere fourteen simmers warm'd my bluid.

Guid sooth, thou sly auld-farrant wight,
I trou thou's gat the second sight;
Wha tell'd ye la Scribe was dubbit,
An' trigly curry-kaim'd, an' rubbit.
To mense a desk, an' sit fou snug,
Wi' Styleus stuck ahint my lug;
All hail, ye spunkie scribblin' crew,
Whether ye strut in vestments new,
And on saft vellam ply your quills,
Wi' meal an' creish upo' your sculls,
Or slylie cut at einen pap
Frae Jock Daglish's troggin' shap;
Graith'd in a garb whilk lairds had spurn'd,
Coat, breeks, and waistcoat, three times
turn'd,
Syne

Stne cannalie slip to your cage,
An' scrawl for three baubees the page,
For auid langsyne permit a brither
To say guid bliss ye a' thegither;"
May that fell shaver, Lunnon Willie,
A deep, a dungeon-headed billie,
Ne'er tak' a maigrum in his head,
Ard lay a tax on cheese an' bread.
May markets fa' till ingans sell
As cheap as stinking makerel,
Sheep's-trotters three baubees the lapfou,
An' trollybags a great the skepfou;
May nae rude loof your hafits daud,
Nor het kail-brose your thrapples scaud;
Nor carline's claw assail your faces,
Nor herring bane stick i' your hauses.
May nae vile laundress e'er expose
The failings o' your Sunday hose;
Nor filthy spulzieing tinkler sparks
Whup af the hedge your bits o' sarks,
For conscience weel i ken that they
Were squeez'd frae mony a banyan day:
Laith, laith am I, that aught shou'd wrang

ye,

Three towmunds spell I had amang ye:
Ye shaw'd me how to tak' a clue
O' pirney yearn, syne glegly throu'
The een o' darnin' needles keek,
An' wattle holes wi' stocking-steek;
Or whan auld sable hose gat thin
Wi' a burnt cork to black my shin:
But as our clashin grannies say,
The best o' dogs ha'e but their day.
O Hornie, lad, that spunk o' pride
Thou lighted up within my hide,
Has brought me to my marrow banes,
Upo the warl's cassa stanes.
I saw the feeble and the auld
Wi' haffits bare, an' capets bauld,
Toiling and sweating for their brose,
Their breeks, their shoon, their sarks an
hose;

An' at their ease-shamefou' to tell,
Stout buirdly cuissers, like mysell,
Ahint a desk strut i' their boots,
Wi' laird-like air tossing their snouts
At fowk wha coudna cool their kail
Till labour wan the hard-earn'd meal;
Sae, wi' a sort o' jeering whew
My quill indignant down I threw,
An' scamper'd aff to seek a darque
O' decent creditable wark;

But weel trou'd I that fate wad tak' me
For some landluppen loon, and mak' me,
Like Robin Burns, graze wi' the geese,
Till, i' the street o' auld Dumfries,
On Willie GI gat my een,
A chield brent new frae Aberdeen,
Wha on his beuks poor Tam did rate,
And in due time shaw'd him the gate
To wield an axe an' thraw a wumble,
An' mak' milistanes about to rumble;
At whilk, guid help me, far an' near
l'ye toil'd aboon a dizzen year.

O Scotland, Scotland, sair ye wrang'd me,
Like onie stepmither ye bang'd me :
What gar'd ye rowe afore my een
Your toddlin burns o' siller sheen?
What gar'd ye busk the hills and fells
Wi' flowrets wild an' heather bells?
What gar'd ye ply each pawky art,
Till wi' your wiles ye sta' my heart,
Syne rax me down an aiken staff,
An' like a stepbairn turn me aff;
On life's vile midden for to scratch,
Wi' thirty shillings i' my poutch?
But it's oure true, that honest love,
Tho' pure as haly bless above,
Is aften tauntit, jeer'd, an' scoff'd,
An' frae the yet indignant cuff'd,
While sly deceit, an' smooth-tongue'd flat-
t'ry,

Sen' frae their wylie masked batt'ry,
A shour o' vows sae saft and tender,
Whilk maks the citadel surrender.

Thus to the fremmet ca'd adrift,
I mak' a bauld an' honest shift,
To keep my saul an' body eiket,
My hyde wi' hamely hoddin theiket,
An' whyles, whan twa three capfou's pap
in,

My cheipen hause an' giesand crappin,
I screed aff" Sandy owre the lea,"
Or" Donald haud awa frae me,"
Or Robin's bonnie" Highland Mary,"
Or "Cowden knows," fou blythe an' chea-

ry;

Whilk brings to mind our honour'd Mither;

An' keeps my flutt'ring heart thegither.

Now Jamie lad, sin' you and I Are just twa pigs o' the same stye, By nature's han' wi' ae stick tar'd, "On life's rough ocean luckless star'd" Whane'er we meet, we manna care Whilk o' us tak's the muckle chair; Nor let that dæmon Envy pit Atween us twa her cloven fit. But brither like, gae hand in hand, Singing our lov'd, our native land; Amang the woods, the hills, an' hallows, Whare Bruce an' Boyd, an' Grame and

Wallace,

Sae bravely wan, wi' their fell swords, Each blessin' which our land affords.

Mair wad I said, but twall o'clock Rings i' my lug wi' doolfou' stroke, My drowsy een are hafflins lockit, My candle dowp's fa'n 'i' the sockit, An' just affords a glimm'ring blink To shaw my scribbling tool the ink; An' for a wee, my canty chiel, O' you to tak a Scots fareweel, Till Highland Donald's fam'd for fleein', Till lawer boddies leave aff liein', Till I the warlish gumshon learn O' getting clockin' placks wi' bairn;

Be

Believe me, Jamie, l'se remain
Staunch as the aik on Scotland's plain,
True as the flameing orb o' day
Thy loveing billie,

A BALLAD.

By the EDNAM Poet.

T. M. C.

WHEN Mary had twall summers seen,
She was, alas! bereft,

By death, o' baith her parents dear,
An' a poor orphan left.

I' th' warl' wide there was nae frien'
Her tender years to ee;
Sae forc'd by strong necessity
Away to beg gaed she.

For mony ae lang month an' day,
She dander'd up an' down,
Beggin', an' tellin' her sad tale
To a' the country roun'.

But chance, or else the will o' heiv'n,
Upon a winter's day,

Just at the close, amang the snaw,
Gart her to tine her way.

Not knowin' how or whare to gang,
Nor yet what course to take,
She sat her down, an' loudly grat,
An' sair she main did make.

Young Sandy heard her piteous sabs
As frae his sheep he came;
An' ran an' took her by the han'
An' led her to his hame.

An' seated her upo' his hearth,
An' up the fire did blaw,

To warm her feet, baith wat an' cauld,
Wi' wadin' thro' the snaw.

Bein' warmed, now she tauld her tale,
An' a' her waes express'd,
Compassion saften'd Sandy's heart
Towards his little guest,

"Ye'se thro' the country beg nae mair," Thus unto her he said,

"But ye sall now here dwall wi' me,
An' be my cottage maid."

Nae mair he said, but silent sat,
O'erjoy'd she gae consent,

He knew the treasure not whilk heiv'n
That night unto him sent.

Full five years dwalt she i' his cot,
An' ilka day saw he

Proofs o' the guidness o' her heart,
Truth and fidelity.

She waxed taper, straight, and tall,'
An' grew unto the view;

Far bonnier than the new-blawn rose, Whan wat wi' morning dew.

Blue were her een, her temper mild,
As that o' lam' or dove;

He lang esteem'd her, but at length
Esteem grew into love.

The wishes o' his heart he tauld,
He woo'd her for his bride;
An' she, a' innocence an' truth,
Not lang the lad deny'd.

He led her blushing to the Kirk,
An' there he pledg'd his vow,
That to his faithfu' cottage lass
He wad thro' life prove true.

THE SEA-GULL.

By the Same.

W.W.

RUDE winter flew off to the North,
Whose blasts had deformed the year;
And gentle spring smiling came forth,
Again drooping nature to cheer.

The birds to their songs them betook,
That sat all the winter and mourn'd;
And the Sea-Gull the ocean forsook,
And unto her lov'd haunt return'd.
Hope fill'd her fond breast as she hy'd
Again from the wave-beaten shore;
But it vanish'd away when she spy'd
The much-lov'd waters no more.

She, while her breast heav'd with sighs,
Sat down 'neath a neighb'ring tree's shade,
Then cast all around her sad eyes,
And thus, so the muse thought, she said:
"Ah! where shall I now bend my flight!
"Ah! whether shall now I repair!
"The waters no more meet my sight
"That were to my bosom so dear.
"No longer, alas! in the spring
"My flight from the sea must I bend:
"No longer with joy on the wing
"Hie hither the summer to spend;
"Or search in these fields for my fare,
"Or joyfully sit all the day,
"Along with my fellows to rear
"My brood 'mongst those rushes in May.

"Ye fields and ye vallies, farewell,
"Fate now has exil'd me from you,
"My haunt that I loved so well,
"I bid you for ever adieu."

The poor hapless bird said no more,
But on the wing mounted again,
And sorrowing flew to the shore
Unto the hoarse waves to complain
Ferny Hill,
Aug. 1805.

W.W.

PRO

HOUSE OF LORDS.

A BILL was passed last session of Parliament for indemnifying Mr Trotter, in giving his evidence on the impeachment of Lord Melville, against suits either by civil or criminal process; but a question was reserved in the House of Lords for the consideration of the Judges, "whether, according to law, a person was bound to answer a question, when such answer might subject him to a civil suit for the recovery of a debt?" The bill has been again introduced this session, and on the 1st of March, the Judges attended according to summons, and delivered their opinions, when eight gave their opinions in the affirmative, and four in the negative. Lord Stanhope expressed his regret at the difference of opinion among the Judges. The difficulty could be got over by a bill he intended to bring forward, the purport of which was to allow the examinations to be fully taken, and the questions to be fully answered, but the evidence not to be divulged. The Lord Chancellor, Lord Eldon, and Lord Ellenborough, concurred in thinking that a declaratory act on the question, as it stood decided by the Judges, was the only proper measure at present. Lord Stanhope however persisting, his bill was brought in, read a first time, and ordered to be read a second time.

March 3.

CASE OF LORD ELLENBORough. The Earl of Bristol rose, to submit a motion to their Lordships, which would, if adopted, have a great effect in rendering the Government as popular as it deserved to be, from the talents and consideration which composed it. With respect to the question itself, the more it was considered, the more it would be found not only unwarranted by precedents, but directly in opposition to the best principles of the Constitution. He had a high respect for the integrity, the talents, and the information of the Noble and Learned Lord. He had no objecMarch 1806,

tion to his belonging to the great body of the Privy Council; but it was the

close connection, the association, be

tween a Judge and the Ministers of the Crown that he disliked. It was this attempt to blend and amalgamate two characters perfectly distinct in themselves; those of a Judge and a MinisChief Justice of the King's Bench to a Since this appointment of the much attention to the subject, and in seat in the Cabinet, he had devoted

ter.

the course of his researches he was able Common Law Judge having ever before to find but one solitary instance of a been a Cabinet Minister.

who held the Seals was a Judge, and It might be objected, that the person that the propriety of his having a seat in the Cabinet was never questioned. lor stood upon quite other ground. He But the case was different; the ChancelCrown, and although the property of the was a great political servant of the subject often came under his decision, yet it never extended to his life or liberty. From the Revolution down to the of a Common Law Judge (Lord Manspresent day, there was but one instance field) having a seat in the Cabinet, and taking a habitual part in advising his Majesty. He would no farther refer to that solitary precedent, than to say, that much mystery hung over it, and that that Noble Lord took the earliest opportunity he could of escaping from the odium attached to his appointment. He lamented that so sacred a principle of the Constitution did not meet with due reverence on the present occasion. If that crying evil had not some salutary check put to it, the statutes of William III. which went to provide for the integrity and independence of the Judges, would be a dead letter. In the whole system of state policy, there was no principle in which there was so general a concurrence, as that which prohibited the office of Judgeand servant of the Crown being identified in the same person. Venerating the constitution as he did, thinking it the most admirable sys

tem