said I., Le Mercier.' What! the minister of Charles VI.?' I exclaimed-Alas!' he replied, 'it was said in the town and city of Paris that we should lose our heads, and everywhere we had a most grievous renown as traitors to the crown of France. *** They who envied and hated us, condemned and adjudged us to die. *** We were every day assailed with these words, Think of your souls, for your bodies are lost. Ye are adjudged to death !'

***

"I know, I know,' I replied. It is of thee that the old chroniclers have written, That in the Castle of St. Antoine [The Bastile] which was thy prison, thou wept so much, and so incessantly, that thy sight was thereby weakened and impaired, and thou wert on the eve of becoming blind.'

6

"A painful groan burst from his lips, and I said to him, Go thy ways, old man; thou couldst teach me nothing. Thy example suits me not; and with God's help, I shall not follow it.'

"At this instant, a prodigious noise came from the outside of the fortress; it was prolonged and tumultuous. The external gates of the castle seemed as if they were shattered and falling in splinters under the efforts of an infuriated populace. The drum beat, and the soldiers seized their arms. Precipitate and numerous footsteps were heard; the sentinels challenged and answered each other along the ramparts. From the body of the tumult arose the sharp cries of Death to them! Death to them!'

66

My ear had time to become accustomed to these sounds. I pitied the error of those who were excited to utter them. They knew not what they did. I was disturbed but for a few moments, and then resumed my reverie.

"A second person came shadowing before me, cased in rich armour. In his right hand he held an enor mous sword, whose scabbard was of purple velvet, ornamented with golden fleurs-de-lis. A deep scar near one of his eyes showed that he had met the king's enemies face to face; and that the sword of constable had not been conferred upon him for nothing.

"Art thou also here, Oliver!" said I; for it was truly Clisson: I could not be mistaken. I am,' he replied. I am come to see and comfort thee. Be of good cheer.'-' With God's help, I will try, Oliver; I will try.'

***They spared thee, however, brave Clisson,' said I. No,' he replied. Hast thou forgotten? They passed a too cruel sentence upon me, for I was banished the realm as a false traitor to the crown of France.'-' Banished, Oliver! banished! Woe to me, if such a fate were mine. I know no country but France: her alone have I served, and for her have I lived. Let them do with me as they list, provided they let me die in my native land. My existence is worthless, if I am to enjoy it at the expense of all that is dear to me-if I am to eke it out far away from my friends and country. The soil of France has received the bones of my father and my children, and shall I be so accursed that it will reject mine?"

"As he finished speaking, another figure passed slowly before me. His eyes, dimmed with sorrow, seemed to seek mine, and yet fear to meet them. Though there was nothing in his appearance which either pleased or attracted me, I was impatient to hear him, and yet a sort of instinctive feeling seemed to repress the expression of such desire. His hood, long gown, and girdle with pendant tassels of gold-joined to a certain austerity which was not that of age, a dignity without any mixture of pride and ostentation showed me, that in him I beheld one of those vigilant and learned men who founded the reputation of our Courts of Justice, long, very long, before the period when I had the signal and perilous honour of being chosen to direct them.

Thou

"I called to him; he stopped with regret. What desirest thou, my son?' said he, 'consolation? must find it in thyself. If thy misfortune be great, elevate thyself to its level. If danger await thee, fa

miliarise thyself with it. Arm thyself with strength against the severity of ill fortune; and, if it come to thee in a milder shape, so it will be lighter for thee to bear."

66

My curiosity was highly excited, and I asked his name. 'What matters it to thee?' Thy fate ?'-' It would not serve thee to know it. But,' resumed he, hesitating, my fate differs less from thine, than thou wouldst suppose. I interceded with all-powerful royalty in favour of the people, and royalty mistook me for an enemy. Thy intervention was employed with the people, who have become powerful, in favour of royalty, now feeble and in danger; and the people, in their turn, have mistaken thee for an enemy. Let us pardon the errors of both-they are natural and inevitable. The people possess not the sovereignty on better terms than Princes. Neither can they know of truth more than their courtiers choose to tell them. Envious men thought it their interest to cry thee down; and they imputed to thee a mind and character resembling their own. The people believed them; and could it be otherwise? Thou wert neither seen nor heard. They who approached, and knew thee, were in small numbers, and their voice was drowned in the noise of the multitude.'

"I will not tell thee that thou shalt not die, for what means have I of knowing? Neither will I tell thee that there exists no law whereby thou canst be doomed to death; for what matters law or justice to him who is without power to enforce them? Revolutions made by the people are essentially popular; and the people comprehend not these nice and subtle distinctions. *** That which thou must guard against is hope. By flattering the mind, it softens the stubborn energy of courage. Prepare thyself for the terrible moment, for come it must, some day or other. When it does come, what matters it whether it be a day sooner or a day later? No human being has the power of making thee die twice, nor of preventing thee from dying once. Dare to look death in the face: it is not so hideous as cowards suppose. He who has lived well, has lived long enough. Death, which cannot be avoided, may yet be rendered less bitter. Let us make it honoured, and we destroy its pain and agony.'

"Is it then decided?' I exclaimed. 'No, my son; but if it were? Thy life has not been so happy as to give thee much cause of regret, nor so ill employed that thou shouldst fear it will be forgotten. What more canst thou require than to die in peace?'

"Old man,' I replied, thy language fills me with respect and admiration, but it is harsh and severe.'

"Thou wouldst have it so,' said he; thou shouldst not have have called me. Beware of illusions. Give credence to my counsels; they are good for I have myself proved them.'

"Thou!' I exclaimed. Yes, my son; and may Fate, who has betrayed thee, as she did me, spare thee at least the last trial which she forced me to undergo.' In pity,' said I, with earnestness, 'tell me who thou art; for I feel that the authority of thy name will fortify and give value to thy words.'-' Desmarets,' he replied. I threw myself at his feet. Admirable man!' I exclaimed, and is it you?-you, who, when called upon to beg mercy of the King, uttered these noble words from the very scaffold: 'I served well and loyally King Philip, his great-grand-father, and King John, his grandfather, and King Charles, his father; and these three Kings, his predecessors, found no fault in me; nor would this King, if he exercised his own authority; and I firmly believe that he is in no ways culpable for my doom. I have no reason to crave his mercy, nor that of any other man. To the mercy of God alone will I appeal.'

"Do as I did,' said he, ' I will, Desmarets.'

"Whoever thou art that readest this recital, abstain, friend, from treating it with harshness or derision. I have related the thoughts and lives of the sad tenants of my prison house."

GLASGOW GOSSIP.

THE ladies are all on the qui vive about Mr. Cunningham's Ball. To-night there will be many fair faces and handsome forms in our Assembly Rooms, and we have only to wish that the votaries of fashion may realize all the enjoyment which youthful hopes and fancies are so fond of indulging in.

Our Exchange-room gossips have had rather a gloomy theme to occupy them for some days past; but, we trust, sunshine will again return to cheer them. In the meantime, the club-room of a celebrated fraternity, immortalized by a contemporary, is crowded nightly, and there is a spirit, a life, and a knowledge, elicited anent men and matters, during their orgies, that make us lament that we have not the power of enlisting Asmodius into our service. We are led to believe, that the mercantile health of the City is as well watched over, and a report as regularly made up of deaths and recoveries, as is daily done by the Board of Health.

THE PLAY-GOER.

MR. SAPIO.

THE celebrated Mr. Sapio is now performing in Dunlop Street. Our Spectacles, of course, got the hint that their services would be required; and, being carefully wiped with the sacred handkerchief kept for the special purpose, they were dispatched to the Thespian Temple, to "mark, learn, and inwardly digest" the merits of this gentleman; and to report to us accordingly. Being, what is generally termed, "orderly persons," it could not be expected we should wait their return, so, when the bell of St. Mungo's Tower announced the Elder's Hour we separated for the night. Upon entering our Sanctum Sanctorum in the morning, we found them snugly enveloped in their little but elegant couch of morocco; and, having roused them from their slumbers, received the following brief opinion :-"We were much pleased with the manner in which the songs, incidental to that most stupid of all Operas The Seige of Belgrade,' were executed by Mr. Sapio. His voice is clear, full and powerful-his style is chaste, and has less of straining after effect than most of his contemporaries. We were glad to observe, that he also is more sparing of introducing, what is technically but improperly termed, graces, into his songs. Unlike the generality of operatic performers, Mr. Sapio pays a due attention to the acting of the piece and business of the stage; his elocution is modest and true to nature, and his articulation clear and distinct. In short, from what we could judge from one night's performance, we would say, he is about the best operatic performer of the day; but, we will be better able to express our opinion on this point, after having seen him in Weber's unrivalled Opera of Der Freischutz,' which we observe is underlined in the bill of fare for the week.

When speaking thus of Mr. Sapio, we cannot help adverting to the very tasteful and able manner in which Miss Phillips sang "Lo, here the gentle lark." This fair vocalist is making daily improvement, aud, if she only continues to study as she apparently has done, we prophesy she will yet obtain more celebrity than what a provincial theatre can obtain for her. Mr. Lloyd's performance, as usual, was excellent. This is a clever man and is sure to obtain the praise of every just and honest critic.

LITERARY OBITUARY.

THE SPECTATOR, a precocious child of the periodical press, of the Modern Athens, bade adieu to the world, after a ten weeks' lingering consumption.

"The Magician," a two-penny Miscellany of this city, yielded up the ghost on Saturday last, after a distressing and mortifying illness of two weeks, not withstanding the obstetric assistance gratuitously lent to it by Dr. A. who, at the same time, prescribed repeated dozes of pounded Chameleon, without the least beneficial result.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

We understand that Washington Irving, who has lately quitted this country for America, has left behind him the M. S. of two volumes of Tales, &c. similar in plan to the Sketch Book, but founded on Spanish and Moorish Legends and Traditions. The title it is said, is "Tales of the Alambra.”

Alexander Gordon, Civil Engineer, is about to publish "A General, Historical and Practical Treatise upon Elemental Locomotion.

GENERAL SCOTT.

THE following anecdote of this celebrated individual we extract from the "Memoirs of Sir James Campbell, of Ardkinglass,” written by himself, and just published:

"In all my intercourse with General Scott, I found him uniformly good-natured and obliging. When I received my commission, the regiment was stationed at Coventry, and he was so good as to carry me with him when it became my duty to join. As an instance of his easy disposition, considering the style of play to which he is understood to have been accustomed, I may mention how much he seemed to enjoy himself with his officers at a rubber of sixpenny whist. He seemed on all occasions to be perfectly sensible of the evils of gaming; and, as far as his influence could be supposed to operate, he discouraged it in the regiment earnestly and systematically. On one occasion, I remember, when walking out with one or two of his junior officers, whom he believed to be addicted to play, the conversation chanced to turn on the odd appearance of a dog-kennel, and on the form and number of the tiles with which it was covered. It was proposed by some one as the subject of a bet, which, with some people in the world, is admitted at all times as a succedaneum, or a stimulant to conversation, that the General would not name a number so near to the true one as he who had proposed the wager. This led to a sort of sweepstakes of a considerable amount, when each of the gentlemen having made his nomination, some were found to be above, and some below the mark; but the number named by the General was observed to be precisely the true one. 'Now,' said he, my young friends, observe the disadvantages you must ever encounter, if you allow yourselves to hazard your money so easily. In making the bet with you I had one small advantage which another might not have acknowledged: I counted the tiles of the dog-kennel yesterday morning.''

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"A CONSTANT READER'S" communication in an early number. We have put "O. L. O.'s" translation from Ossian, into the hands of our Gaelic critic. "Inverlochy Castle" is in type.

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This is Published, by RICHARD GRIFFIN & CO. Glasgow, beautifully printed by WHITTINGHAM, and Illustrated with upwards of Three Hundred Engravings, price 7s. 6d. in Fancy Boards,

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It is a collection of the most popular fairy tales and other stories for the nur sery, printed in a bold type, and forms the most captivating collection of infant mythology and light reading we have seen. There is a bundle of nursery songs for the readers to amuse their lesser brethren with; and we believe there was never before such a complete lump of young amusement put together in one volume.-Athenæum.

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It is impossible to open the Mother's Book at any page that is not pregnant with valuable remark.-Greenock Paper. We recommend this volume to all mothers who have the welfare of their offspring at heart.-Edinburgh Post. This beautiful little volume is really a work of great merit and utility.-Glasgow Courier. Of all the Books on Education that have come under our notice, this is unquestionably the best.-Scots Times. We hope ere long to see this work in the hands of every mother.-Scotsman.

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On Monday next will be Published-THE LITTLE GIRL'S OWN BOOK. By Mrs. CHILD, Author of "The Mother's Book," &c. Beautifully printed at the Chiswick Press, by Mr. WHITTINGHAM, and Illustrated with 120 Engravings, price 4s. 6d. in Fancy Boards.

Also, nearly ready for Publication-PETER PARLEY'S TALES OF NATURAL HISTORY. Illustrated with 300 Engravings, in One Volume, duodecimo. Chiswick, printing by

C. WHITTINGHAM, for THOMAS TEGG, London; and RICHARD GRIFFIN & CO. Glasgow.

64, Hutcheson Street, April 12th, 1832.

PUBLISHED, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by JOHN FINLAY, at No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by JOHN WYLIE, 97, Argyle Street; DAVID ROBERTSON, and W. R. M'PHUN, Glasgow; THOMAS STEVENSON, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh : DâVID DICK, and A. GARDNER, Booksellers, Paisley: A. LAING, Greenock; and J. GLASS, Bookseller, Rothsay.

PRINTED BY JOHN GRAHAM, MELVILLE PLACE

PICTURES OF THE PAST.-No. I.

THE FOREGROUND.

In the upland district of Renfrewshire on the face of that extensive range of hill and glen, around whose base now winds the Glasgow road to the southern counties, and in front of which, on the strath below, are now seen the several public works that have introduced trade and manufactures to the very centre of a country parish-there stood a mansion, distinguished, towards the end of the eighteenth century, by the name of Burnbrae. Its former name, the Greyhouse, had yielded to this more chastened appellation, arising out of the interesting combination of burn and brae in its locality.

It was a plain building, singularly large, built of a native stone-not the red and bricklike substance of the adjacent quarry, but the grey and harder material of a once famous rock in the more distant wood. The entrance to it, from the highway, was by a common carriage road, rocky and uneven, which gained the hill by several tacks or windings, and conducted the passenger to the left gable of the mansion-leaving him to enter it by a large front door which had neither step nor vestibule.

It was a house of ancient standing, and had been associated with all the romantic tales of shepherd, maid, and fairy, for a century back. At the bottom of the declivity, on which it stood, rolled a rivulet of the clearest crystal, famous for its trout, and recognized, by the peasants of the district, as the accustomed haunt of those spirits, supernal and infernal, who were supposed to lend their good or evil influence to the fortune of despairing lovers. The stream was rendered inaccessible to the opposite country by a very steep bank, rugged in many places, but had, here and there, become fordable on the nearer side, by the large fragments of broken whin which time had loosened from their paternal base. The house rose, majestically, from the stream, by a smooth and regular ascent of sixty or seventy yards, forming in the square, an esplanade of nearly half an acre. It was on this plat of grass and clover, enclosed by house and hedge, burn and garden, that tradition fixes the site of many a rustic tournament; for, often here, on summer eve or moonlight gloaming, have the village train met and tripped their country dance; and, oft at kirn or rocking, when every rural sport had plied its turn and the grey-eyed morn warned them of their coming labour, have they, in successive pairs, sought the venerated stream that rolled beneath, and, with a mixed sensation of awe and glee, bathed their wearied feet and eyes in the limpid element.

The original proprietor of Greyhouse was one Leonard Peckham, a descendant of the Peckhams of Roxburgh; who, having realized a few hundreds by his success in business as a cattle-dealer, and, prompted by no other motive than that of prosecuting his calling profitably, amid the retirement of a Scottish county, emigrated from his native vale in the year 1698, carrying with him a breed of English sheep, and some half dozen of prime bred colleys. He had often, in the way of his profession, visited the Lowlands of Scotland, and was persuaded of the possibility of converting the wastes of Renfrew into pasture grounds

for flocks and herds. He, accordingly, built the Greyhouse-bought a few adjoining acres of good arableentered into a lease with the landholder for the surrounding uplands-expended large sums on improvements-and, at length, by dint of great personal industry and his superior professional skill, succeeded in raising himself to an independence, equal to that of any private gentleman in the county.

The mansion and lands of Greyhouse had descended, through several generations of the Peckhams, to its present proprietor-who, by an intermarriage with the daughter of the last male descendant, had now succeeded to the house, chattels and lease of territory, so long the inheritance of the Peckham family.

Miss Martha Peckham was less confined in her information, and more accomplished in her manners, than our readers will be prepared to expect, in one whose whole life had been passed at a distance from town, and in the immediate vicinity of much that was rude and vulgarizing. Her mother had been married from a family of some consequence in the south of Scotland, and was found, when set down in the mansion of Greyhouse, to be qualified, by her intelligence and accomplishments, for moving in a sphere much more exalted than that which she occupied. Not that her accomplishments were obscured by being unfolded to the eye of a merely rustic neighbourhood-for the grace and dignity of accomplishment seldom, perhaps, appear more interesting than when reflected in the mute gaze of an admiring peasantry-but many of the habits of the shepherd life, practised on the face of a cold and sterile hill, being such as she could but little mingle in, Martha's mother felt more inclined to employ her time in the education of her daughter than in listening to the vulgar, but scientific lectures which Peckham, her husband, was ever ready to deliver, upon the different breeds he was continually introducing to the parks of the Greyhouse. And thus it happened, that, during the few years she was spared with her daughter, she had initiated her into an acquaintance with much that was then fashionable in cities, and had taught her those several maxims in housewifery, which prepared her, at her mother's death, for superintending her father's domestic establishment.

Martha, a few weeks after the death of her mother, and, indeed, at her mother's dying suggestion, received a governess from Edinburgh, in the person of a lady, who was sufficiently qualified to instruct her in all that was considered either useful or ornamental, and who joined to her professional worth, the additional attraction of an enlarged mind, and an intimate acquaintance with the sacred scriptures. She was indeed a Christian-and Martha experienced from her all the friendship and attention which a motherless girl of fif teen could seek to appreciate in a female friend. Under her superintendence, she became perfected in the household arts of sewing, knitting, and dress making, and made considerable proficiency in music, classical study and drawing. Under her affectionate tuition, she learned, also, the importance of a well-governed temper, and the grand and useful distinction between sentiment or devotion, or rather between the devotion of mere sentiment, and that of the gospel. Martha possessed great sensibility of heart, but, it had, as yet, flowed entirely from secondary principles, without any

regard to consequences, of either immediate or remote usefulness. She was endowed with a very considerable reach of understanding, but it had hitherto been exercised in the attainment of minor accomplishments only; and, she displayed, in conversation, when the subject matched her imaginative mind, a feeling and a fancy, as rich and glowing as ever furnished a poet with images. But, she wanted that principle of sedateness, and that controul over her determination, which few females, probably, at her age, do possess; and, was often led into the embarrassment of not knowing what to do first, and, not unfrequently, into the temptation of neglecting what was immediately useful, that she might the sooner arrive at that which was nearer her liking. Thus did she sometimes suffer the interest of a nursery tale, or the close connection of one chapter of history with another, to intrude upon her other engagements; and, very often, had she been known to secrete a sentimental novel in her sleeping apartment, that she might recline an hour or two, under its fascinations, before stepping into bed. But, her female adviser soon detected and overcame this vacillating principle. The instrument she employed, was the Word of God, and by it she succeeded. The single expostulation, "Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things, but one thing is needful," sent home, with all the energy and illustration on the part of her governess, that affection and intelligence could suggest, was the means of arresting her attention to the importance of a saving interest in Christ, and of converting her, finally, to the faith and obedience of the gospel. Martha, ever after, added to the fervour of sentiment with which her conversation was continually enriched, the decision and experience of a consistent Christian.

Edward Forbes was the son of the younger brother of a rich and respectable gentleman in the same county. He had become an orphan at the age of nine, and ever since that, had lived at his uncle's house, and been maintained, partly, at his uncle's expense. He was a young man of engaging manners, much good sense, and considerable accomplishment, notwithstanding that, from the dependent state in which he had been reared, his capacious mind had not been cultivated to the full extent of its susceptibility. He had been introduced to the acquaintance of Miss Peckham at a bridal ceremony, and was observed to betray, during the interview, that attachment, of which, the stolen glance, and diffident approach, are the usual indications. He had arrived at his twenty-second year, and Martha at her eighteenth, when he first presented his suit at the Greyhouse. It was urged with all the warmth of a deep-seated affection; and the sudden death of her father, which happened before she had completed her nineteenth year, gave the youth and her an opportunity of maturing that union, which had, before, been merely in progress. In the fifth month after her father's death, she and Forbes were united-she, the sole heir of Greyhouse and its appurtenances; he, bringing with him, a small fortune of his mother's, the interest of which had been applied to the purposes of

his education.

No sooner were the young couple invested with the full authority of their condition, than they determined upon the immediate completion of certain improvements, which had been begun during the days of the last of the Peckhams. The mansion house was repaired-the external blackness of its walls covered with a coat of lime and ochre-the garden was enriched with several rare plants-the offices were enlarged-the parks stocked anew with cattle-the planting was thinned of its older and heavier wood-the carriage road fenced by a hedge, and planted on each side by a row of saplings, pruned from the trees, of which the denser part of the planting had been relieved-the burn was smoothed down on the further bank, to prevent the recurrence of accidents that had been common there, and to invite the intercourse of the families liv

ing in the opposite parts; by which means, a greater air of cheerfulness, and a higher expression of comfort and independence, were communicated to Burnbrae than, as the Greyhouse, it had ever assumed.

Mr. Forbes and his lady were such a pair as Sheridan describes in his “Duenna,"

"So justly formed to please, by nature-
The youth, excelling so in mien;

The maid, in every grace of feature." Each had inherited, from nature, a richly endowed mind, and both had acquired, by education, that measure of good sense and knowledge of the world, which prevented them from forming extravagant notions of the good to be derived from a mere change of domestic condition. Consequently, during their courtship, although it was maintained with all the fondness which young and honourable love dictated, there were felt none of the feverish emotions that arise out of the

impatience of youthful desire; and, being married, there were experienced none of the disappointments of an overheated imagination. Theirs was, principally, the union of feeling and sentiment. He was somewhat religiously disposed; she a Christian, not in name only, but in power. He was charitable, accommodating and humane; she, humanity personified. He was of a philosophic, she of a poetic taste. Each was, necessarily, the preferred companion of the other; but, at the same time, recollecting that, as members of a community, their sympathy was to be directed somewhat to the body social, with which they stood connected, each found time, also, for the various duties of friendship and neighbourhood. The young Laird (for so was he very generally named) would, occasionally, pass a day at his uncle's estate, while his lady would, pretty often spend the evening at the parish manse-the clergyman's wife being a native of the parish, and a person whose Christian experience mov. ed much in harmony with her own. Sometimes, on an afternoon, when her husband projected a ride over the moors, that he might observe the state of his flocks and be privy to the diligence of his shepherds, she would accompany him as far as Mrs. Greenfield's, of the Mossneuk.

DESCRIPTION OF THE GRAND ORGAN AT HAARLEM.

WE are indebted to a friend for the following communication:-Although this magnificent instrument is generally visited by travellers, and also mentioned by them as remarkable for its size and tones, we are not aware that a description so minute as that which we now present to our readers has ever been published:

"After the stranger has procured admission to the cathedral of Haarlem, and proceeded forward, forty or fifty paces, on turning round, the interior of the most magnificent instrument in the world shines before him with extraordinary splendour. At the first glance, it appears like three immense organs piled on the top of each other. But a moment's reflection convinces him, what appears the lowest, is the choir organ! still, the height of the great organ realizes all this anticipation of its dimensions: The lofty top of the instrument is surmounted by two lions supporting a shield, below which, is a motto, not legible, from its height: the largest pipes are arranged in two handsome pillars, containing five or six each, on different sides of the instrument. The figure upon the pillar on the spectator's right is St. Asaph, on his left King David, engaged in adoration, with his harp in his hand, and his eye fixed on heaven. Still lower, and on each side of the organ, an angel upon a lofty pedestal, blowing a trumpet. Farther down, and distributed in niches in front of the organ, are four figures, apparently enjoying a concert of their own. They are all employed with different instruments, the tambourine, violin, flute, and violincello, and have certainly an airy appearance, quite unsuitable to the instrument. The choir organ

stands before the great organ, at the distance of several feet, and it is likewise surmounted with the figures of two angels, and embrace half its height by wood work, carved into various devices, and coloured white, which is also the colour of all the figures, the pedestals on each side the organ, and the arms on the top, which occasions an agreeable contrast to the silvery hue of the pipes in front, which are not gilt as in this country, but in their original state and colour. There are several reasons for finishing them in this plain manner in particular, it is supposed, when the pipes are surrounded with gilding, the vibrations are lessened, and the tones injured. There is, however, a little gilding at the mouths of the pipes sufficient to break the uniformity which the front would otherwise exhibit, and the tops are concealed by the drapery of a little gilded curtain. The wood work in front is of a light pink colour. The fore part of this stupenduous instrument is supported by four strong pillars, while behind it is rested on a thick wall, and indeed, the weight of such a body requires no common support for its security. The musical reader will learn with surprise, that the instrument contains no less than sixty stops.

The organ has three rows of keys besides those used as pedals, but their range is not extensive. It contains two tremblers, which, by alternately opening and shutting the valves which admit the air to the pipes, produce a pulsation as it were in the sound, which to most hearers is not agreeable. The vox humana stop has the most sweet and soothing tones ever heard, it seems to sound the very music of heaven, and indeed, notwithstanding the powers of the instrument, it would be difficult to detect a harsh or ill-toned pipe in the five thousand which it contains. The air is forced into the wind-chest by twelve pairs of bellows, each nine feet in length and five in breadth, to fill which, the constant exertions of two men, as blowers, are required. The largest pipe is thirty-eight feet long and fifteen inches in diameter; those in the principal 32 feet, in the trumpet and quintadeena 16, vox humana 8, roer quint 12, and bazuin 32. There is no swell in the organ, nor does it seem to be in use either in France or Holland. The organist, an obliging little fellow, played several airs, amongst others, a song of his own composition, which was pretty, and an imitation of thunder, which displayed the tremendous powers of the instrument, was astonishing. When asked to play sacred music, he immediately brought a volume of Clarke's edition of Handel's works, and, the halellujah chorus having been selected, he played it with wonderful effect, and after a short interval concluding with the old 100th Psalm. The dimensions of the Cathedral, where the organ is placed, are admirably calculated for so large an instrument, the length of this church is 391 feet, and its height 111. The organ is 108 feet high, 50 in breadth, and was built by Christian Muller, 1738.

Amateurs will be disappointed to find the touch of this instrument so stiff as to make both strength and exertion requisite in keeping down the keys. In this part of their mechanism, modern instruments are mightily superior, but it is doubtful if ever finer tones will be produced than those of the grand organ at Haarlem.

LITERARY CRITICISM.

"Some of the Moral and Religious Bearings of a Prevailing Distemper." A Sermon, by the Rev. JAMES GILFILLAN, Stirling. Stirling, 1832.

WE were led to the perusal of this Sermon, as well on account of the importance of the matter discussed, as from the known fact, that its author once laboured, like ourselves, in the field of Glasgow Periodical Literature. Mr. Gilfillan was one of the Editors of a neat little weekly miscellany, entitled, the " Student," which was published by the late Mr. Turnbull, at the beginning of the year 1817. In that periodical, we had the

germs of an acute and tasteful intellect, and we are glad to find from the work which now lies before us, that the promise of the author's spring-tide has been realized in a fair harvest of sound and valuable thought. The subject of the discourse is taken from Second Samuel, xxiv. 14, " And David said unto Gad, I am in a great strait: let us fall now into the hand of the Lord, (for his mercies are great,) and let me not fall into the hand of man." And the chief object of the writer is to prove, as the title of the work intimates, how many really moral and religious results ought to flow, from the fact of the pestilence, which is now prevalent in Europe, being at our very doors. The Rev. Author shews, that the influence of sin, in procuring calamity, has ever been strikingly displayed in the recorded cases of pestilence, the arrow of which was in every instance, shot and invenomed by the crimes of its objects; and attempts to inculcate, that the calamities which now inflict our country, must be traced to our natural and individual iniquities. The next, shews the benefits of a spiritual nature, which may be supposed to have been, and will be still realized by the presence of this all-powerfully speaking monitor of human weakness; while he winds up his discourse with the many duties which belong to the present crisis. In the following passage, Mr. Gilfillan, when speaking of the particular character of the offence, appearing in the nature of the punishment, which Heaven has seen right to inflict on us for our offences, says

The instrument which he has employed, dreadful though it is, is not the worst that he could have used. When David had the choice of one of three evils, war, famine, and pestilence, he preferred the last, esteeming it lighter than any of the other two: "Let us fall now into the hand of the Lord, (for his mercies are great,) and let me not fall into the hand of man." It was after the pestilence had failed to secure the return of Israel to their God, that a worse calamity was commissioned to assail them; and when this proved ineffectual, a more awful and nameless evil was darkly intimated: "Therefore this will I do unto thee, O Israel; and because I will do this unto thee, prepare to meet thy God, O, Israel." There are calamities which we know have taken place, and others which we can conceive, that are more direful than even the most destructive disease. Were God, for example, to give a charge to the sword or a famine to waste and destroy, were he to allow the wind to strengthen into the most tremendous conceivable hurricane, and to blow thus for a single day over our land,-or were he to cause these islands with all their inhabitants to go down into the deep,-or were he to remove the light of the gospel, and give up society to the uncontrouled dominion of human passions,any one of these supposable cases would be an event more devoutly to be deprecated than even the dark and noisome, but partially devastating plague. And there are other forms of evil, inconceivable to us, but easy to the invention of divine wisdom and to the execution of divine power, more fearful far than the one which has been devised and is now executed.

Add to all this, the goodness of God is evinced in the benefits, temporal and spiritual, which this visitation is fitted to secure— benefits already enjoyed, or reasonably to be expected. The public mind has been powerfully called to many causes of disease, that have been greatly overlooked, the result of which call may be expected to be a large accession to the general health and comfort of our population, and a consequent contribution to the cause of morality. Some very painful disclosures of the state of the poor have been made, and, while their wants have been supplied in a way which it is to be hoped will not foster idleness, but be a stimulus to industry and gratitude, many of the rich have taken an interest in the destitute which will remain with them, and have meanwhile felt in "the blessedness of giving" a pleasure purer than personal indulgence ever yielded. They have been taught, also, that if they would not, by the increasing pauperism of the country, be soon plundered of their all,-if they would not be continually afflicted with sights of wretchedness, and if they would not have their lives continually endangered by the diseases which poverty and vice create, they must see to it that more efficient means be adopted for enlightening the minds, and bettering the circumstances, and elevating the characters of the lower orders of society. It has been found, too, what a monster, even among vices, is that love of intoxicating liquors which, softened over in its more hideous features in the upper ranks of life by education and fashion, appears among those who feel no such restraints, in all its lothsome brutality. This great evil of our country, which has been spreading so extensively, and been preying like a vulture on the vitals of society, has been exposed in the scenes of wretchedness brought to light by the visits of the benevolent, and still more appallingly in those diseases which it has so mightily helped to engender and to propagate.