:

surface of hat and cap, of mutch and bonnet, of beaver that has lost its nap, and waterproof that the rain has spoiled, converted in a moment, into the most imposing of spectacles-a smooth and shining lake of human heads, bared and uncovered to the morning sun : what a field of observation for the phrenologist I-and the gaze of all focussed upon yonder stage, where the preparations for eternity are already begun, and those for death will shortly be completed. Many and various are the executions I have beheld, and, though the general deportment of all the " lambs" the "merry jerry-come-tumbles," as Petit-André calls them, may seem to be much the same-usually a resigned and decorous submission to the fate that awaits them— yet closer and keener observation will show you, that mighty differences exist in the thoughts and the feelings of the various criminals. The pallid cheek, the blanched and quivering lip, the tottering limbs of the wretch whose crime, perhaps, was only the hustling of some bemuzzied grazier, and easing him of a little of his superfluous coin-no violence used-goaded, it may be by pinching poverty-buoyed up by the hopes of a reprieve, and quite unfit to die: he listens, or appears to listen, to the consolations and exhortations which the minister endeavours to impart, but that tearful eye, that nervous start, that glance of horror, that gaze of hopeless wretchedness, all disclose the doubt and the fear that reign within-he tries to answer, in vain the accents die on the lips that attempt to utter, and he faints away into the arms of his supporters. The daring, desperate villain—a bold, bad man-dogged determination in every feature-with robbery, violence and murder, long familiar, and the gallows always looked to as the probable termination of his career, a frame of iron and a soul of flint; resolutely he mounts the ladder, unmoved he gazes around, amidst the shouts and the execrations of the mob below, frowns grimly upon their wrath, hears the exhortations to repentance, but hears them with a grin of scorn, hurries on the preparation and drops into eternity without the movement of a muscle. The calm, composed criminal-one, it may chance, whose keen feelings and sudden and violent passion have hurried into the commission of a crime of which he has bitterly repented, but for which he is doomed, by justice, most bitterly to atone-resigned to his fate, he devoutly joins in the prayers that are uttered and the hymns that are sung, and submits to death with the fitness of a man and the hopes of a christian. Much, much is there here fitted to furnish food for reflection, for I can conceive nothing so interesting, so deeply and intensely interesting, as the spectacle of a fellowcreature, one moment in the full possession of all his powers and faculties, physical and mental, and the next, by the mere pulling of a bolt, violently thrust by his fellow worms, into the presence of the dread Being who made us all-to Him to render an account of his thoughts, his words and actions !

But the preparations are completed; the rope is fastened secundem artem-the night-cap drawn down so as to conceal the contortions that the features must undergo all have left the platform-and, handker chief in hand, he is left "alone in his glory." In that brief and breathless interval what a life-time of thoughts and recollections, of hopes and anticipations! an age crushed, compressed, into the space of a moment he gives the signal-the bolt is drawn, and down he drops!

The deadly struggle, the convulsive throes of mere mortal agony I care not to behold. Let's begone!

THE GASCON AND HIS HORSE.-A Gascon, on an old brokendown horse, crossing the Point Neuf, (at Paris,) met a gentleman upon a beautiful steed. "I will lay ten louis," said he to the gentleman, "that I make my horse do what yours wont do." "Well," said the gentleman, looking contemptuously on the Gascoyn's horse, "I take your wager." The Gascon immediately lifted up his horse, and tumbled him over into the Seine. gentleman, confounded at the catastrophe, paid the wager.

The

LITERARY CRITICISM.

STORIES FROM THE HISTORY OF ROME.-By Lady SANDFORD.
Glasgow, 1832.

IT has been well remarked, in that Manual for the Nursery-" The Mother's Book"-that "the books chosen for young people should, as far as possible, combine amusement with instruction, but it is very important that amusement should not become a necessary inducement." Now here is a little volume, by Lady Sandford, which in every respect realizes what Mrs. Child so well recommends for the juvenile reader. The stories which her Ladyship has selected from the History of Rome are such as cannot fail to arrest the attention of the most careless; and they are told in a manner so simple and so unaffected, as to be understood and felt by the youngest who can read. We have always considered it one of the most difficult of all tasks to write really instructive books for children. The fact is, few of the many who have attempted it have been successful; but, among the few, we predict that Lady Sandford will ere long be acknowledged to rank. The Stories from the Roman History" are worthy of the patronage of the public, and we beg leave to join the Authoress in the hope, that the perusal of this little volume may direct the attention of her young readers, "to that portion of Ancient History, from which they will afterwards derive so much mental gratification and improvement."

NAUTICAL ADVENTURE.

As we do not pledge ourselves to any particular side of politics, we may be regarded, as possessing peculiar advantages for passing an impartial opinion on the merits of those publications which, at this moment, advocate the opinions of either party in the state. Blackwood's Magazine, we have long looked upon as, by far, the most ably conducted, of any modern periodical. Since its commencement, till the present time, it has embodied in its pages, more humour, wit, and intelligence, than any cotemporary periodical. It is, indeed, a proud distinction for Edinburgh, that she has set the example to literature, by two of her productions, from one of which all magazines, now existing, are copied, and the other of which has given birth to the valuable system of reviews. extract from the last number of Blackwood, the following article:

We

Nothing remarkable occurred, nor was our progress retarded, till, on the eighteenth of the month, early in the morning, being within a few miles of the Goza di Candia, the man from the mast-head cried out, "A sail on the starboard quarter—a large ship." At this time the Leander was becalmed, whilst the sail in question was evidently bringing up a good breeze with her. She soon discovered herself to be a sail of the line, and with a view to decoy us, ran up Turkish colours. By the shot-holes in her bows, however, we soon recognised her as one of the seventy-fours which had effected her escape from Aboukir Bay; and on a nearer approach, that she was the Généreux, Captain Le Joille. We had no possibility of escape from a ship which was of a force so greatly superior to our own. Nothing remained but to clear away for action, and to render our capture, if unavoidable, as dearly obtained as possible; else an escape, if practicable, would have been advisable, and no man on board for a moment entertained the thought of striking without a battle.

At the battle of the Nile,-such was our almost miraculous exemption from disaster whilst engaged with the Franklin,—not one of our men was killed, and only ten were wounded; and those were not wounded by the Franklin's guns, scarcely any of which could be brought to bear upon us, but by the descending wreck and some of the iron ballast which fell upon our deck, from the explosion of the Orient. Still, however, we were nearly a hundred men short of our compliment. In spite of all these disad vantages, the enthusiasm with which our brave fellows manned their guns, and held themselves in readiness, at the word of command, to receive their tremendous antagonist, was amazing. The Genereux soon came within range of her guns, on our larbour quarter, and opened a terrible fire upon us. Instantly hauling our wind, so as to bring our guns to bear, we poured our whole broadside into her. The shots told severely on both sides. One single shot of our first fire, nearly knocked two of the Genereux's ports into one, killed two men, and then lodged in her main mast. This dreadful struggle was continued for four hours without intermission, hurling the thundering messengers of death and destruction into each other, as fast as our guns could be loaded and fired, at not more than forty yards distant.

During the heat of the action, a youth of about eighteen years of age, an assistant to the captain's secretary, and who was sta

tioned at one of the guns in the ward-room, was struck down, to all appearance dead, by the wind of a thirty-six pound shot, which passed close by his head. On examination by the surgeon, although the ball had not struck him, the concussion seemed to have produced a sensible indentation in his skull. Almost as soon as he was brought into the cockpit-where I attended him—and placed in a reclined posture, the blood oozed from his eyes aud ears, and flowed copiously from his nose and mouth-a mournful sight. He never spoke afterwards, but died in about an hour and a half after the occurrence. *

Whilst every one on board that was able to handle a rammer, or carry a cartridge, was needed and called upon to exert every power of his body and mind in this strenuous conflict, I was directed to take charge of four guns on the upper deck, which had now been fought with uncommon vigour and effect for upwards of two hours and a half. Much exhausted with previous care and exertion, I was greatly in want of water, the only drink allowed in British men-of-war during an engagement, and hastily ran to the quarterdeck in quest of a water-cask which had escaped the general devastation; for almost every one on the gun-decks had been shattered to pieces. Luckily, I found one half full of water, and a jug lying by it. This, having been accidentally concealed, was a prize indeed. I eagerly seized the jug, and was about to drink, when Captain Thompson, as necessitous as myself, stepped across the deck and requested to share the boon. I presented him with the jug, and having drank, he repaired to his former station, when he was astonished at his providential escape; during the few moments he was drinking the water, the mizen-shrouds, against which he was standing the instant before, were shot away. was this all an equal Providence saved my life at the same moment; for, just as I was hastening to my former post, I was met by a lieutenant, who accosted me with, " Why, 19 I'm happy to see you alive! Where have you been? Every man within the last minute has been killed at the two guns where you were just standing!"-they were eleven in number.

Nor

All the cartridges on board the Généreux, as we afterwards learned, being expended, she sheered along-side, with an evident intention to board us, and came so near as to carry away two of our ports; such, however, was the intrepidity of her crew, that though the captain gave the command to board, not one of his men would obey; at this moment, indeed, scarcely ten men were to be seen on her upper-deck. Our forecastle at this juncture was crowded with men, seeking the very object which their opponents shunned, and endeavouring to grapple the Genereux for this purpose: one of our men had actually thrown a rope over her starboard cat-head, and was in the act of belaying it, when she sheared off and broke the rope. Could we at this moment but have lashed her fast, there is little doubt but we should have carried her.

So enraged was Captain Le Joille, at the dastardly conduct of his crew, that he threatened, if his men did not come upon the upper deck and board the Leander, he would blow up his ship. At this they came upon deck; but the moment was gone by; the opportunity for ever lost.

By this time the Leander had lost both her fore and main topmasts, and her mizen-mast; whilst the Genereux had lost only her mizen-mast: our ship, therefore, lay like a log in the water, whilst that of the enemy was completely under command. The Genereux then forged ahead, and ran down considerably to leeward, in order to prepare cartridges for another assault, which they did by cutting up their stockings to make bags for the powder. Whilst she was effecting this movement, either through incaution, or supposing our cartridges were as deficient as her own, or that as our masts and rigging having fallen on our starboard side, our guns were disabled; she passed down towards our starboard-quarter, affording us a charming opportunity to revenge our injuries. Our upper-deck guns, were, indeed utterly disabled with the wreck of our masts and sails, but our lower deck was ready; and accordingly we brought the whole battery of our heaviest metal on the starboard side to bear, and poured two most efficient broadsides into our antagonist as she passed us.

Having effected her purpose, and being exasperated to the highest pitch at our last destructive fire, she was coming up for a second conflict. Farther resistance would have been madness not bravery. I informed Captain Thompson of the extent of our loss of men, and suggested to him the propriety of yielding the contest, against so fearful a disparity, else that the lives of all our brave fellows would be lost. The command was given to strike: not, however, till taking the precaution of sinking the dispatches, together with every other valuable document, to the bottom of the ocean. These, as is usual in cases of danger of being captured, had been attached to a heavy shot, and suspended by a cord out of one of the gun-room ports. This cord was cut, and the British flag struck at the some instant, whilst the tri-coloured flag was hoisted on the stump of our mizen-mast.

The position of the Généreux at this moment was such, as to be unable to lay us alongside, and all our boats were so shattered

* This brings to my recollection, another circumstance, which happened some years afterwards, under my own eye. Being on a cruise in quest of some merchant ships, we had to run close under a heavy fire from a battery on shore, when our captain was knocked down on his back in a similar manner, by the wind of a large shot, and did not recover his senses for eight days. At length he was taken on shore to an hospital, where, after a careful examination of his body, a small spot, scarcely larger than a pea, was discovered on his right shoulder. No sooner was this lanced, than a dark-coloured humour flowed from the incision, and he almost instantly recovered the use of his faculties.

as to be useless. In this emergency, in order to put her men on board our ship, they constructed a raft of such spars and planks as were at hand, and a considerable number of men descended upon it; but instead of being able to reach us they were drifted to leeward. At length some of the men who were able to swim plunged into the sea, and swimming towards our ship, laid hold of the wreck which adhered to us, and scrambled, as well as they were able, up the sides of the Leander.

Thus ended a conflict, disastrous indeed in its issue to the Leander, but than which, perhaps, nothing more brave or daring was ever attempted on the ocean. That a ship of only fifty guns, the very largest of which carried only a twenty-four pound shot; whilst that of our antagonist was one of the most powerful of the French seventy-fours, whose large guns carried a thirty-six pound shot; the crew of the latter being at least seven hundred men, whilst that of the former was only two hundred and sixty; that such a ship should have sustained a conflict of upwards of six hours, at such frightful odds, will ever redound to the honour of the British navy, and the intrepidity of its hearts of oak.

On board the Leander thirty-eight men were killed and fortyeight wounded; whilst the Genereux had eighty-eight men killed, and one hundred and twelve wounded. Of those who survived to take possession of our ship, such a set of vagabonds, sure, never before trode the decks of a British man-of-war. The very sight of them was loathsome to behold, as they crawled up the sides of our gallant ship, in their filthy rags, dripping with water, and seemingly halt famished. But their appearance was even princely, compared with their conduct. The moment they reached our deck, lost to all honour or shame, their only object appeared to be plunder. They were seen like so many savages, struggling with each other who should soonest reach the officers' berths, in order to rifle whatever they contained, deciding, in some instances, the partition of what they had plundered, by seizing each other by the throat.

Complaint was made to the French officers, and to Le Joille himself, of the rapacity of the men; but our remonstrances were heard only with a contemptuous sneer, and an intimation that their men had hardly enough earned the recompense they were reaping. Instead of any regard to that sense of honour which is so sacredly preserved by every man on board a British man-ofwar, where each considers himself charged with maintaining the character of his country for justice and humanity towards the vanquished, this Gallic rabble resembled the bloodhounds of some vile privateer, or Algerine corsair. One little circumstance, which redounds as much to the honour of an English boy, who attended upon Captain Thompson, as it reflects disgrace upon Le Joille and his crew, is not undeserving of mention. Aware of the plunder to which his master's property was to be subjected, as well as that of the officers, this faithful lad espied the captain's quadrant, and endeavoured to conceal it; unable to effect his purpose, he snatched it up, and was chased round the deck by one of Le Joille's scoundrels, and when he found all his efforts vain to elude his pursuer, to the no small mortification of the Frenchman, he threw it overboard, through one of the ports. Whilst the officers were thus treated on board their own ship, our common men fared no better when they were taken on board the Genereux. Whatever little effects they had endeavoured to rescue on their persons, were wrested from them by the harpies of rapine, as soon as they reached her execrable decks, being stripped of every thing but the clothes which covered their nakedness.

MISCELLANEA.

ETYMOLOGY OF HUMBUG.-A Correspondent of the Times says: Every body is not acquainted with the etymology of the word 'humbug,' which is now generally applied to Cholera. It is a corruption of Hamburgh,' and originated in the following manner : -During a period when war prevailed on the continent, so many false reports and lying bulletins were fabricated at Hamburgh, that, at length, when any one would signify his disbelief of a statement, he would say, 'you had that from Hamburgh,' and thus, 'that is Hamburgh,' or 'humbug,' became a common expression of credulity."

MATRIMONIAL CONSOLATION.- -A younger brother had espoused an old and ill-tempered wife, (" from such a consummation—good Lord deliver us"-The council of ten!) but extremely rich (aye, there's the rub !") He used to say, "whenever I find my temper giving way, I retire to my closet, and console myself by reading her marraige settlement." (The very elite of comfort in our eyes!)

VERSTALITY OF TALENT. -Leonardo da Vinci was a mathematician, a musician, a poet, and an anatomist, besides being one of the greatest painters of his age. The Prince of Painters was a courtier, a lover, and fond of dress and company; Michael Angelo was a prodigy of versatility of talent-a writer of sonnets, (which Wordsworth has thought worth translating,) and the friend of Dante. Salvator was a lutenist and a satirist. Titian was an elegant writer and perfect gentleman. Sir Joshua Reynolds's Discourses are more polished and classical than any of his pictures. Let a man do all he can in one branch of study, he must either exhaust himself, doze over it, or vary his pursuit, or else be idle.Hazlit.

GLASGOW GOSSIP.

We have frequently visited Mons. Edouart's exhibition of late, and we have had the gratification, on several occasions, of meeting a number of respectable people there. One thing, however, struck us as rather remarkable, which is, that among all the portraits which this very clever artist has taken since his arrival in Glasgow, there is a very small proportion of ladies. Surely the repugnance, which our fair citoyennes evince to having their likenesses taken, does not proceed from the fear that the black silhouettes should be mistaken for the colour of their lovely countenances. We have seen Mons. Edouart himself at no little trouble to remove prejudices of this sort, and sometimes, while we were standing by, before he could persuade a lady to submit her features to his penetrating glance, he has been obliged to profess himself ignorant of the sciences of phrenology and physiognomy. The excuses which are made by such gentlemen as are unwilling to patronise the artist, at the expense of five shillings, are still more ridiculous. One complains that he has dust upon his coat, and cannot be taken on that account; another says that he will call back again because his neckloth is deranged; and sometimes after an ill made man has been cut to the life, his wife comes with a violent complaint of the pictures having given her husband defects which he never possessed. It seems it is a fault in the artist to copy big feet or a bent back, and it is his duty to please every lady, by making her husband straight and handsome, whether nature made him so or not. M. Edouart's collection contains very correct likenesses of the French exiles at Holyrood, and we understand he is engaged to take the silhouettes of our Royal Family at Brighton.

WEST COUNTRY REMINISCENCES.

THE following will give our readers an idea of the nature of Advertising in Glasgow about the nineteenth century :"The broad cloths, &c. Manufactured at Camlachy, near Glasgow,

"Are sold in wholesale or retail, by John Dunlop, at his wareroom, in the King's Street, opposite to the New Bank.

"The said broad cloths, &c. are also retailed by Matthew Bogle, at his house in the Stockwell. All at low and reasonable prices."

"At a meeting in the British Coffee-House in Glasgow, of sundry deacons and other members of corporations, both in Gorbals and Caltoun, they there took into their serious consideration the prevailing high price of grain; and unanimously agreed, That if they could find means to get spirits made from the growth of our sugar plantations, they would not use, nor cause to be used, nor pay for any spirits made of any grain for the year ensuing. Upon which they sent for me, Robert M'Nair, to see what method could be got to that purpose. Whereupon I desired them to fix what price they could offer for spirits from sugars. They made offer of two shillings and fourpence the Scots pint, which is about sevenpence the English pint; which was four-pence less than the present pint; to which I very willingly agreed; and to sell, and continue selling, to all trades people until the end of March, or during the cold weather, at the foresaid two shillings and four-pence the Scots pint, or about seven-pence the English pint. And also, to sell them good English cheese at three-pence farthing the pound during the said time, or cold weather. And lemons extraordinary at two shillings the dozen; and good lemons at eighteenpence, and ordinary lemons at twelve-pence; and small lemons at sixpence per dozen for the said time, or during the cold weather. And besides, to furnish them in tea from London, in the fair and honourable way, at six shillings the pound And sugars of all kinds at the current prices, for the said time, or during the cold weather, viz. :— -Double refined at eleven-pence halfpenny the pound; single refined, at eight-pence halfpenny the pound; lumps at seven-pence halfpenny; powders, the best, at seven-pence halfpenny; second, at six-pence three farthings; third, at five-pence three farthings; and fourth, at four-pence three farthings the pound, if they take only one hundred pound weight at a time. And also triacle at twenty-pence the Scots pint, or about fivepence the English pint, during the said time, or cold weather. To all which we agree.

"ROBERT M'NAIR."

LONDON THEATRICALS.
From our London Correspondent.

I MENTIONED in one of my late letters the great fuss that was making at both Theatres about Robert le Diable, and I have now to tell you, that notwithstanding all that was said about the "Fiend Father" and the " Demon," that both have turned out bad

speculations. The failure of the latter at Drury Lane, has, in fact, been a severe blow to the exchequer of that establishment, and as to the former, it has done nothing more at Covent Garden than barely pay expenses. This is a sad look-out for Mr. Monck Mason at the Opera House. The fact is, English audiences are soon tired of mere diablerie, although this certainly will stand the chance of being longer tolerated, when given as it will be done at the Opera House in a foreign tongue.

What have I to tell you, nothing less than that your late townsman, JAMES S. KNOWLES, is on the eve of re-assuming the Sock and Buskin at Covent Garden, not however in any established piece, but in a new serious play of his own, called " The Hunch back, in which he is to sustain the deformed hero.

I have been told, that an agreement has been regularly drawn up and signed between Mr. Knowles and Mr. C. Kemble, and that the former is to appear as soon as the run of Miss Kemble's Francis the First shall be over. If that production should run from twelve to twenty nights, as it is looked for, then Mr. Knowles may make his first appearance in about a month. He is to have so much per night for his play, and so much per night for his performance in it, so that all his emoluments will be entirely dependent on success. The Hunchback has been ready some time, and, it is said, possesses strong and peculiar interest.

It is confidently stated, that Sophr's Opera of Der Alchemist, with all the original music, is shortly to be brought out with great splendour at Drury-lane. Mr. and Mrs. Wood will sus. tain the principal characters. I may mention, also, that Webster, late of Drury-lane Theatre, has dramatized Bulwer's novel, Paul Clifford, for the Coburg; and that Stafford is engaged in the composition of two pieces for the Surrey, to be called Reading the Will, and the Chelsea Pensioner reading the Account of the Battle of Waterloo. The subjects, as may be inferred from the titles, have been suggested by Wilkie's pictures.

FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

PROFESSORS Von Rotteck and Welcker, two of the most distinguished leaders of scientific and literary studies in the University of Frieburg, in Baden, have formed an association for the purpose of establishing a political journal, of which the first number was to appear on Thursday last. Its title is The Liberal, implying a rational advocacy of constitutional principles, and of civil and religious liberty.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

"THE History of the University of Dublin,” by Mr. W. B. S. TAYLOR, is expected to be published in the ensuing summer in a large octavo volume, with plates.

After a lapse of twenty years from its first appearance, the celebrated Orientalist, De Sacy, has published a Second Edition of his Arabic Grammar, with corrections and additions.

General Remorino, who excited so much admiration by his skill and daring during the late struggle in Poland, is engaged in writing his "Recollections of the Campaign."

า

TALES, SKETCHES, AND TRADITIONS OF THE GAEL.-No. V.

IAN CIAR DHUNOLLAMH.

THE taste for improvement, which is now observed in every part of the Highlands, is one of the many proofs which tend to shew the advantages of intercourse with the South, which, since the introduction of steam navigation, is daily increasing. On the site of the hamlet, which, a few years ago, consisted of the humble cots of a few indolent fishermen, is reared the thriving village, with its comfortable, and, in many cases, elegant buildings. On the spot where flourished the thorn and the bramble, in savage luxuriance, may now be culled the blushing rose, and the fragrant apple; while, in the heat of the day, the industrious husbandman may be seen, in his honeysuckle bower, breathing forth a prayer of gratitude to the benevolent Being who has so bountifully rewarded his labour.

Among the many small villages in the Western Highlands, which, of late, have become places of temporary residence to the family of the opulent citizen, perhaps Oban may be allowed to hold a very distinguished claim whether we consider the beauty of its situation-the attraction of its scenery-the safety and seclusion of its bathing grounds, and the comforts of its lodgings; or, whether we view it as a place in which to pitch our camp, and take an occasional drive or sail, to visit the splendid antiquities for which this portion of our country is so eminently distinguished. A few hours' sailing brings us to Iona, whose monastery still presents the faded remains of its former grandeur, and where the ashes of a long train of mighty monarchs and illustrious heroes, claim the protection of its hallowed sepulchres, and marks the superstitious veneration in which it was formerly held. Beyond it, Staffa, on its basaltic columns, dances to the music of the contending waves, which hold a revel in its roaring caverns. These are sights well calculated to allure the adventurous traveller, while those, whose timidity deter them from the perils of a sea voyage, may find healthful recreation in ranging among the plantations with which the beautiful bay that forms the harbour of Oban is tastefully skirted, or enjoy the sublime view of the island and sound of Mull, which may be obtained from the ruin of the ancient castle of Dunolly, which, though roofless and tenantless, has enough of interest still remaining, to repay the toil of the visitor, and gratify the research of the antiquary.*

1

Dunolly Castle is supposed to have been built by Somerled of the Isles, and, in accordance with the munificent liberalities of that family, to have been gifted to the Macdougalls of Lorn, for some signal service rendered. It is still in the possession of the descendants of its pristine occupants, whose name, in feudal history, holds a very conspicuous figure. Its walls do not seem to have been ever of very great extent, but, from its commanding situation, it may have been possessed of considerable strength, although little now remains to lead us to a knowledge of its former history, except what may be gleaned from the often overcharged pic

In a recess in the wall, secured by a wattled enclosure, a very fine eagle has long been kept; we believe that it is destined to be the last prisoner that is likely to suffer durance in this once formidable keep. On the floor of one of the rooms, which still remains in tolerable repair, there is, also, the figure of an eagle traced in a sort of rude mosaic.

ture drawn by the bard, and the equally vague history handed down to posterity in uncertain tradition.

Among the many noble chiefs who grace the ancestry of its present proprietor, Ian Ciar, (so named from his eyes being of different colours) stands pre-eminently foremost. While a youth of fifteen, he commanded a party of clansmen against the Campbells, in concert with Allaister M'Colladh, the celebrated Irish partizan of Montrose. At Dunavertich, they sustained a signal defeat, and, as no quarter was granted, few escaped the disastrous day. Allastair M'Colladh finding the day lost, he retreated off the field with a small party of his troops, hotly pursued by a strong body of the foe. He was cooped up in a narrow defile, where, seeing he must either submit to be tamely massacred, or sell his life at the dearest rate, he again led on his men to the unequal attack. While engaged in the murderous strife, the inequality of the parties was observed by a company of caird, or strolling gipseys, one of whom, Alexander Stewart, drew his sword, joined the weaker side, and, by his dauntless prowess, relieved the exhausted party, and turned the fortune of the day. M'Colladh, after the fray was over, called for his brave assistant-asked him who he was, and whence he came; to which he modestly replied, that he was but a tinker, and did not merit so much notice, much less to associate with such brave men. The chieftain instantly turned round to his followers and testified his gratitude for the exertions of the heroic gipsy, by saying, that he wished all his men had been tinkers that day.

Ian Ciar left alone, saw now no hope but in flight. To the few, who survived of his clan, he gave hasty orders to save themselves in the best way they could. Reluctantly indeed they left a field on which they hoped to avenge their fallen comrades, but, seeing every effort to retrieve the day fruitless, they for the first time turned their back upon the foe; but they were not fated to retire unobserved. Ian Ciar was marked out as a particular object of pursuit, and was followed by a party of troopers, one of whom, by the fleetness of his horse, was likely to overtake him. Finding his retreat cut off, M'Dougall suddenly turned back, drew his sword, clave his pursuer to the shoulders, mounted his horse, and was soon beyond the reach of his enemies.

In the year 1715, he joined the Stewarts, and took an active share in the troubles of those times. He was present at the unfortunate battle of Sheriff-muir, which at that period blasted the hopes of the Jacobites; and on which account his estate was forfeited, and given to the Campbells of Argyle, who stood true to the cause of the reigning family. A proscribed fugitive, Ian Ciar skulked about the sound of Kerrara, where the cave in which he passed many a sleepless night is shown to the visitor of those shores. Being strictly watched by his hereditary foes the Campbells, his place of refuge was found out, and, finding concealment no longer practicable, he crossed to Ireland, to claim the protection of the Earl of Antrim, to whom he was distantly allied.

His lady still retained possession of Dunolly Castle, and, instead of obeying the summons of the Campbells to leave it, she caused it to be fortified in the best sible manner, and with heroic fortitude, awaited the

pos

result. There was no species of harshness in which the enemy did not indulge. Her cattle were carried away, her crops destroyed, her garden laid waste, and her supplies cut off. While she saw any hope she held out, but, finding she could do so no longer, she left the castle disguised, sought her way to London, where on her knees she begged and obtained the freedom of her husband, and the rights of his forfeited

estates.

Ian Ciar in the meantime had arrived in Antrim, and was within a few hours walk of the Earl's palace, but coming to a wood, and uncertain of his way, he knocked at the door of a small cottage on its confines, in order to receive directions or procure a guide. The door was opened by a young woman of Amazonian stature, who invited him in and asked his wants. Being told, she strongly remonstrated with him on the danger of proceeding. "O'Hanlen's hounds are now unkennelled," said she, "and he requires a light foot, and a strong arm that will elude their scent." This intelligence had little effect on the person to whom it was addressed. "Preach your fears to women," said he, "Ireland has not produced the hound that will run down the stag of Lorn," and pushing the maiden aside, he attempted to pass; you may live to prove that," replied she, and seizing him by the middle, she refused him egress. They immediately grappled with each other, and had M'Dougall been possessed of less strength and presence of mind, he would scarcely have accomplished his vaunting prediction. He never yet had met a match at wrestling, but now he was engaged with one whom he considered an equal. The first strain he gave, the garter which bound his hose flew in pieces, but the next moment he was standing breathless over the prostrate heroine. The amazon now seemed to take a real interest in his fate, enumerated the dangers of the road he meant to take. O'Hanlen a noted robber, taking advantage of the distracted state of the country, had gathered together several hundred desperadoes, who were ready at a moment's notice to execute whatever their lawless chief demanded, and whose head-quarters were pitched in the wood through which Ian Ciar intended to pass. Anxious to get forward, he was determined to brave the worst, and a little boy in the house volunteering his services to escort him, the intrepid Highlander set forward, and gained the middle of the wood without any interruption. Here he met a mendicant clothed in rags, who supported himself on a huge crutch, which he carried in his hand, and who accosted him with the benediction familiar to the Irish peasantry. Ian Ciar put his hand in his sporran, and was offering him a piece of money, but felt an involuntary shudder, when, under the folds of the mendicant's tattered cloak, he observed the hilt of an unsheathed dagger. The other on this discovery threw off the disguise, drew his sword, avowed his name and occupation, and instead of a tottering beggar, O'Hanlen the robber, completely cased in armour, stood before the eyes of the surprised but fearless M'Dougall. Few words passed when their swords were crossed, and a furious combat began; and, as both were equally skilled in the use of their weapons, the contest between them was for a time doubtful. The giant robber showered in his blows with quickness and precision, and, had it not been that his opponent wore a concealed shirt of proof, many would have told with fatal effect. The latter finding his strength giving way, stood upon the defensive, till observing O'Hanlen getting exhausted, he closed with him and obtained the mastery, after a short but fearful struggle. With the unsuspecting confidence which is generally found in brave men, he released him, and an explanation between them instantly took place; Ian Ciar's name was no stranger to the robber, and, when he understood with whom he encountered, he used every persuasion to induce him to join his company, but all his overtures were rejected with scorn. O'Hanlen, judging farther parley

unnecessary, was determined to overpower by numbers, his generous conquerer. Depraved and harden

ed in crime as he was, it took a few minutes ere he could bring his mind to the dastardly attempt. At length, glaring on him with a fiendish scowl, “M‘Dougall," said he, " we may now have an opportunity of putting your boasting to the test, a blast from this whistle collects from these thickets, some hundreds of my followers, against whom your arm will little avail; once again, do you accept my friendship, and embrace my conditions ?" "Ungrateful man," said the Highlander, "is it thus you requit my leniencynever shall my lips utter confessions from which my soul revolts-I despise your friendship, and the terms on which it is offered." "Then," rejoined the other, "receive the reward of your temerity," and applied the whistle to his lips, but ere he had time to blow the malicious blast, the sword of Ian Ciar left its sheath, and the headless trunk of the miscreant fell at his feet. M'Dougall wiped his sword, and returned it to the scabbard, paused for a moment, to view the severed head of his treacherous foe, on whose distorted features, even in death, a grim of rage seemed to linger, then, giving the robber's sword to the boy who guided him, and who had been a witness of the dreadful encounter, he carried off the whistle, and in safety reached the border of the wood, within a few minutes walk of the Earl of Antrim's palace.

When he considered himself beyond danger, he determined to try what effects the whistle might cause, and no sooner had he sounded it, than a cry simultaneously arose from every copse and dell which he had passed, the result he did not await, but hurried on to the hospitable halls of his noble relation, whose gates were never shut upon the oppressed, nor his ears never deaf to the call of the unfortunate.

Although he was here secured from the dangers to which he was exposed in Scotland, his mind was far from being at rest. He daily learnt accounts of the barbarous measures which were used, in order to expel his family from the place which they still consider. ed their home, and having come to the resolution of sharing their fate, whatever it might be, contrary to the advice of his friends, he embarked in one of the Earl's galleys, and was landed on the coast, and in the humble disguise of a shepherd, he sought his once cheerful home. Fatigued and dispirited, he arrived at Soraba, one of the farms attached to his estate, but so much had a few months' anxiety preyed upon him, that he was unknown by the vassal from whom he begged the rights of hospitality. After a short time he enquired about his family, but found that they had been expelled from the castle-that his lady had left it some time ago-none could tell where she had gone. They recounted the grievances to which they were subjected from their upstart masters, and contrasted it with the happy times they had enjoyed under the patronage of of Ian Ciar. At the mention of his name he had almost thrown off his disguise, but, dissembling a little longer, he asked how his clan stood affected to him, after the manner in which he was obliged to leave them. "I have twelve sons," said the aged Celt, "and if my chief were returned, not only would they go with him, but I would follow him myself." "Then he is returned," said the other, and embracing his faithful vassal, who was so devoted to his interest, he retired to rest, to dream over his vanished fortunes, or forget for a moment his distressing reflections. In the morning they were awakened by the report of a gun, and, looking towards the harbour, saw a fine bark coming to anchor, whose long streamers floating in the breeze, evidently announced her one of his majesty's ships. To-day, such a sight would have created little surprise at Oban; but, then, it was looked upon as something very momentous, and, Ian Ciar, anxious to learn the reason of her visit, ventured to the beach, when the first object that met his notice, was his ladythe king, not only having granted her request, but as