"It is to be lamented, that the dark and narrow views which some Christians take of the mercy of God towards his rebel children, and the way in which they presume to limit the benefits of the great salvation to a small portion of the human family, have proved a stumbling block and a stone of offence to many a sincere enquirer in the way to Zion. This excluding spirit, that I would subject the glorious plea of redemption to the measure of our limited conceptions, and would restrict its operations within a sphere unworthy of the magnificent and extensive designs of Jehovah, seems utterly at variance with the whole tenor of Scripture. We are there expressly taught, that God is no respecter of persons, all are equal in His sight, Jew and Gentile, Barbarian and Scythian, bond and free. That they shall come from the east and the west, from the north and the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven. That a great multitude, which no man can number, shall stand before the throne, of all nations and kindreds, and people and tongues. Our views are confined, in this present state of existence, to a narrow scene blighted by sin, and its consequent suffering; and, doomed as we are, by our fallen and mortal condition, to see and converse with nothing here which has not been defiled by its contaminating touch, the inquiring mind is often tempted to entertain hard thoughts of God, and to be perplexed by the apparent preponderance of evil which has been permitted to shed its baneful influence in our world. But these doubts and difficulties will all disappear before the cheering conviction that, in the merciful interposition of a Saviour for the recovery and salvation of mankind, a sufficient antidote to this moral poison has been provided; and, instead of limiting its healing influence to a few, we should rather aim at embracing those high and expanding views of the mercy of God in Christ, plainly held out to us in the word of truth, and which are so well calculated to dissipate the gloom which would, otherwise, hang over both our present and future prospects.

"It is not to be concealed, that the whole volume of inspiration, whether it proclaims the hatred of the Supreme Being at sin, or relates his past severity against transgressors, or whether it denounce his threatening as to futurity, or, above all, declare that amazing sacrifice by which his judicial anger against guilt has been manifested, unfold an appalling view of the prevalence of evil, and the state of condemnation in which the world stands before God; but, when we consider that there is no stronger testimony of the deep malignity of sin, and the dreadful penalties annexed to the love and practice of it, than there is of the infinite holiness, goodness, mercy, and love of Jehovah, we may justly infer, that all the evil permitted by a God of holiness, will be, ultimately, productive of a good that will greatly overbalance the apparent evil in the universe he rules; and this consideration ought to satisfy every candid enquirer, who is, in truth and sincerity, setting his face heavenward. In the rectitude, purity, and benevolence, exemplified in the works and character of Christ, the Christian sees the image of the perfections of the invisible God. He has been taught by Christ that the Divine goodness transcends that of all creatures, 'none is good, save One that is good.' But, along

ODDS AND ENDS.

In lower Asia, the day is alwas hot; and, as soon as the sun is fifteen degrees above the horizon, no cold is felt in the depth of winter itself. On the contrary, in the height of summer the nights are as cold as at Paris in the month of March. It is for this reason, that in Persia and Turkey they always make use of furred habits in the country, such only being sufficient to resist the colds of the nights. In Arabia and Mesopotamia, both in winter and summer, the climate still is as described by the patriarch Jacob, "in the day the drought consumed me, and the frost by night.”—Sir J. Shardin.

ON IMPUDENCE.-Impudence in an Englishman is sullen and insolent; in a Scotsman it is untractable and rapacious; in an Irishman, absurd and fawning: as the course of the world now runs, the impudent Englishman behaves like a surly landlord, the Scot like an ill-received guest, and the Irishman like a stranger who knows he is not welcome. There is seldom any thing entertaining either in the impudence of a South or North Briton; but that of an Irishman is always comic.

A SACRED MELODY, By T. Moore.

ST. AUGUSTIN TO HIS SISTER. Oh, fair! oh, purest! be thou the dove, That flies alone, to some sunny grove, And lives unseen, and bathes her wing, All vestal white, in the limpid spring. Then, if the hovering hawk be near, That limpid spring, in its mirror clear, Reflects him, ere he can reach his prey, And warns the timorous bird away.

Oh, be like this dove! Oh, fair! oh, purest! be like this dove! The sacred pages of God's own book, Shall be the spring, the eternal brook, In whose holy mirror, night and day, Thou wilt study Heaven's reflected ray: And, should the foes of virtue dare, With gloomy wing, to seek thee there, Thou wilt see how dark their shadows lie Between Heaven and thee, and trembling fly! Oh, be like this dove!

Oh, fair! oh, purest! be like the dove.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

WE are absolutely puzzled by receiving so many puzzles. Our correspondents who thus favours us must forgive us for not inserting any more for the present.

"New Version of Blank Verse" will not suit us. "Song of the Forsaken," and "The Seduced," have been sent to our poetical critic.

"On the XXIII. Psalm," in a Saturday's number.

We would advise the writer of "Sumphs and Gomrells" to apply to the periodicals that are less chary about their articles. We cater for ladies and gentlemen, but will never pander to the vulgar appetite of the rabble.

The paper "Fun and Frolic," we fear, would prove no fun to those whom it attacks.

"Lines on Breaking a Watchman's Lanthron, by a Glasgow Swell," are inadmissible. We hope the author paid a visit to the Police Office on the eventful evening. The Author of the " Sonnet to a Female Emy Grant," on her going to America, would do well to attend to his orthography.

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with whom we have to do,' let sinners bear in mind, that he is a just and holy, as well as a good God, and, let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thought, let him return to the Lord, and He will have mercy, and to our God, and He will abundantly pardon'."

Royal Exchange, from Buchanan Street,-ENTRY AT WHITSUNDAY,-The SHOP No. 11, with a LARGE SALOON behind, suitable for Booksellers, or others requiring extensive accommodations. Likewise, the SINGLE SHOP, No. 15.

Also, TO LET, the FIRST FLOOR above these Shops, extending to the corner of Buchanan Street, for a RETAIL, WHOLESALE or COMMISSION WAREHOUSE.-Apply at 205, Upper Buchanan Street.

Glasgow, 14th April, 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: DaVID DICK, and A. GARDNER, Booksellers, Paisley: A. LAING, Greenock; and J. GLASS, Bookseller, Rothsay.

PRINTED BY JOHN GRAHAM, MELVILLE PLACE.

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

INVERLOCHY CASTLE.

THERE is something in "a pleasure trip" on board a steam-boat, in fine weather, which seldom fails to gratify even the most fastidious, and, if we carefully examine the countenances and conduct of those enjoying it, the assertion will be found to hold generally true. Here we see the slave of avarice, and the prodigal spendthrift, the idol of temperance, and the offspring of dissipation, the minion of luxury, and the retainer of industry, all associating together, and all comparatively happy. Miss, just escaped from the petty tyranny of a governess; master, from that of a tutor; the clerk, in strutting importance, who, many a weary day, calculated the slow passing hours which intervened between him and his annual jubilee; the newly married pair, whose loving looks, social intercourse, and tender attentions, bespeak their felicity; the youthful fair, whose half-suppressed sighs, and unaffected blushes, reveal the tale, that hope is pouring a balsam on the wound which love has lately inflicted; prattling children, careful mothers, doating husbands and an orderly crew, complete the group we have attempted to pourtray-and, if there is one unhappy countenance on the canvas, it is lost in the general hilarity which reigns around.

To the person who has time at his command, a pleasure trip to the Highlands, through the "great glen of Scotland" must be peculiarly interesting. Does he admire nature? He here sees her, in her sternest attitude, depicted on the brow of Bennevis and the Crags of Glencoe. Who has sailed on Lochlinhee, and has not admired the verdant hills of Appin, and the fertile fields of Benderloch? As we leave Oban we pass close upon the beautiful island of Lismore, which lately contained a Catholic seminary, but where the embers of Popery are now almost extinguished. Beyond it, in cloudy magnificence, rise the towering hills of Morven, immortalized in Ossianic lay. On the south side of the loch is the royal castle of Danstaffnage the delineation of whose history has often occupied the pen of the antiquarian tourist. On a small rock, in Portnacross bay is seen Stalker's Castle, so called from its being defended by a brave man of that name, against a superior force. This castle was an outpost of the line of fortifications built in order to awe the Highland Clans; and Stalker, having incurred their resentment, or taking the advantage of the apparent weakness of his party, he was closely besieged by a strong body of Camerons, commanded by the farfamed Evandubh of Locheil. From inefficient artillery, the besiegers were unable to take it by storm, but, learning that its defenders were short of provisions, they cut off all their supplies and awaited the result. The garrison was reduced to the most painful deprivations. For several days, they subsisted on the small shell-fish found on the rock on which the castle is built; and were on the point of acceding to terms of capitulation, when the report of a superior force coming to their assistance, forced the Camerons to raise the siege and retire, for safety, to the fastnesses of their

country.

The scenery, in this quarter, is strikingly beautiful;

we are passing through a country, each stone of which might a tale unfold-each hillock furnish a legend. Island after island is passed, beauty upon beauty crowds upon the view, and wile away the time in illusive fascination, and we cannot suppress a feeling of regret when we look round, and find that the corran of Ardgour has hid them from our sight.

We now enter on a fine broad sheet of water called Locheil. On our left are the hills of Ardgour in the county of Argyle; on our right, those of Lochaber in that of Inverness. Before us we may notice the village of Corpach, whose principal feature of attraction consists in its being honoured with the remains of the gallant Colonel Cameron, who fell at Quatre Bras, and to whose memory a monument is here erected. Opposite to this place, at the base of the lofty Bennevis, stands the village of Fort-William, so named from the adjacent fortification, and, within two miles of it, northward, is the ancient castle of Inverlochy, whose ruinous appearance ill bespeaks the grandeur to which it was, at one time, accustomed.

The date of Inverlochy castle is supposed to be contemporary with that of Edinburgh. In the year 800, Buchanan, the Scottish historian, takes notice of it as being the seat of royal pomp, in which Achaius of Scotland concluded a league with Charlemagne of France, and, from the numerous causeways about it, is supposed to have been surrounded by a town of considerable size; but no traces or tradition, but those mentioned, now remain to prove, that such has ever existed. The castle, at one time, has been of very considerable strength and extent. Its fading buttresses, like aged giants, bear partial proof of what it may have been. Like the greater part of Highland tradition, its early history is much obscured. It was, during the 13th century, in possession of the Cumyns, at that time one of the most powerful clans in Scotland, and, afterwards, on the decline of that family, it was gifted by the crown to the Earl of Huntly, whose descendants now possess it. At the period when the following incidents occurred, it was inhabited by the Cumyns of Badenoch, and was the strong hold of the chief and his two sons, who lorded over their vassals with the most intolerable barbarity. They always kept a select and devoted band of their adherents, who faithfully executed their commands, however rapacious and however unjust. They lived, distrusting every person even their own vassals, and were, equally, objects of distrust; yet, such was their power, that those who murmured at their dictates and decisions, found it equally fruitless to disobey or resist them.

The Macmillans, a numerous clan, who inhabited the shores of Lochairkaig, a lake of eight miles long, which separate Morthir from Lochaber, had long groaned under the tyranny of the Cumyns, and sought the earliest opportunity to free themselves from their oppression; but, like their neighbours, they only brooded over their wrongs in secret, without seeing even a distant probability of their being redressed. The younger son of Cumyn spent a great deal of his leisure time in hunting; and, finding abundance of game among the wilds of Lochairkaig, he often repaired thither in pursuit of his favourite amusement. One day, tired with a fruitless chace, he descended to the house of the chief of the M'Millans, and commanded, rather than request

ed, the rites of hospitality for himself and his followers. This was instantly granted, and Macmillan, knowing the quality of his guest, honoured the table with the presence of his daughter, whose mother he had lately buried, and who, being their only child, he doated on with more than parental affection. The favourite beverage of the Highlands circulated freely, and Catharine, having retired from the long gaze with which Cumyn from time to time regarded her, the two were left alone, to pursue their hospitable carousals, ere they retired to rest. Few days had elapsed ere the stranger again presented himself at the mansion of Kinloch, and was again received with the wonted frankness of its owner, who little dreaded the storm which was fast gathering around him. Cumyn became now a frequent visitor, and the marked attentions which he began to bestow on Catharine, awakened the suspicions of the father, who, although he welcomed him as a guest, yet regarded him as a foe. One night, sitting later than usual over their cups, he proposed an alliance to Macmillan, by espousing his daughter, and even ventured a threat in case of refusal. The proffered honour was modestly, but firmly declined by Macmillan; at the threat his eyes flashed fire, but, deeming it prudent to dissemble his wrath, he attempted to dissuade Cumyn from his intentions, representing to him, that his daughter could not, with consistency, comply with his request, as she had, for many years, been betrothed to the young chieftain of Earachd. Cumyn who, never till now, knew what a refusal to his wishes meant, swelled with rage at the information, and, hastily rising from his seat, summoned his followers to his presence, and, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, was at Inverlochy castle ere any of the inmates had arisen. MacMillan had good reason to know, that few of Cumyn's threats were left unexecuted, but, several weeks having passed without any molestation, he thought that he might have forgotten the treatment he received; but, in order to prevent any similar recurrence, he resolved to delay the marriage of his daughter no longer. Many of their friends had gathered together to bestow their nuptial benediction. The morning was unusually fine. The young chief of Earachd arrived, attended by a small party of his clansmen, and was met by Catharine, led forth by her father on a prancing sheltie, which seemed to be proud of the burden it bore. They had to traverse several miles ere they arrived at the house of the clergyman who was to unite them-the woodland hills rang to the shouts of the followers, and echoed to the swell of the pibroch. Their destination was, at length, gained, and the ceremony performed, and were returning home, dreading no interruption, when, in a deep defile, they were startled by the sound of a horn, when, looking in the direction from whence it proceeded, they observed Cumyn, with a strong body of his clan, completely armed, advancing upon them, and whose intentions they were now at no loss to conjecture. Resolved to sell their lives at the dearest rate, although they had no arms but their dirks, the little party stood upon the defensive, and, having placed Catharine in the midst, without any parly, a furious, but unequal, combat immediately commenced. But it was of a short duration;-the bridegroom fell, pierced with many wounds, and was left for dead : his followers shared the same fate. The bride was bound on horseback, behind Comyn, and carried off in triumph, and, of all the happy party who left Kinloch that morning, none was able to tell the fate of his comrades; but the chief of the MacMillans, who, although not an inactive spectator of the fray, had yet escaped unhurt. Having eluded the pursuit of the enemy, he returned, under the cover of night, to perform the last mournful services to his friends. A groan from one of the fallen arrested his steps, and, stooping over the person from whom it proceeded, he found it was his unfortunate son-in-law. He immediately raised him on his shoulders, and, for several miles, walked

in the direction of home, till, overcome with fatigue, he was on the point of relinquishing his burden, when he observed a favourite hound bounding over the hill, and immediately followed by a band of kinsmen, who had come to celebrate the marriage, and, being uneasy at their delay, had set out to meet the party. The chief briefly related the direful tale, and, having constructed a litter, the wounded man was laid upon it and conveyed to Kinloch. Some went to bury the dead who lay on the site of the engagement, while others reared the fiery cross, and sent it round among their adherents, in order to rouse them to action, and take vengeance on the spoliators.

Cumyn meanwhile rode on without intermission, notwithstanding the cries and entreaties of his unresisting prisoner, till at length he became alarmed at her evident illness; and, slackening his pace, now that he thought his prize secure, he alighted at a small house on the banks of the river Lochy, and, leaving some of his party to guard the door, he left her in charge of an old woman, a dependant on his family, with strict injunctions to watch her closely, and tend her carefully, promising that he would call again on the morrow. According to his promise, he did call; but no sooner had Catharine fixed her eyes on the author of her misfortunes, than she fainted; and, Cumyn finding his presence embarrassing, took his leave, trusting she would be next day more composed. But that next day never came to him. Macmillan had gathered his clan, and meeting Cumyn on his way home, ere he had time to fly or defend himself, an hundred swords gleamed around him at once, and his miscreant soul took its flight from the mangled corse which lay quivering at their feet. Macmillan, now having tasted revenge, was determined to pursue his advantage, and, seizing a horn which the Cumyn carried, he arrived at night before Inverlochy Castle, and sounded a blast, which was instantly replied to from within. The gates were thrown open, and, ere the warder could rectify his mistake, the Macmillans rushed in, took possession of the castle, and slaughtered the inhabitants, whom they surprised in security. The remaining son of Cumyn was among the first who fell a victim to their rage, and the father had just time to escape through a window in the wall, when his enemies were in possession of the chamber which he had just left. Having for the time escaped the fate of his family, he fled north, in order to receive succour or protection from his powerful friends; but, being hotly pursued, and exhausted with running, he sat down to rest a few minutes at a place in Glengary, called, from the circumstance, Suidhe Chumein, but finding his pursuers com. ing up, he set off and reached Fort-Augustus, where he instantly died and was buried, from whence it is called in Gælic Cill-Chumein.+ Macmillan returned, and was met by his daughter, who being found out by some of the clan, came forth to welcome her victorious father. Through the kindness and attention of Catharine, her husband soon acquired his usual health. They lived long and happy, and from them have sprung that branch of the Camerons who claim their descent from the family of Earachd.

*

THE EASTER GIFT, a Religious Offering. By L. E. L.London, 1832.

WE were never great admirers of Miss Landon's muse. To us, the generality of her verses seemed rather fitted for the mental calibre of simpering misses and moonstruck boys, than for that of the true lover of poetry, whom nature has forced to have recourse to spectacles. There is one, however, through whose lorgnettes, every thing that the pretty authoress of the Improvisatrice has written, has appeared as valuable as the very acme of what even Sapho could have sung, and that individual

is no less than the sage Jerdan of the Literary Gazette. It is rather hard, to be sure, for an old man to find fault with a fascinating creature, especially when she worships his critical puffs as much as De Stael did those of Schlegel; but really for one who is ever declaring his critical honesty, it is rather too much to read what he is daily throwing out about his fair favourite. The fact is, Miss Landon is a lively little girl, and a sweet enough versifier, one who in early days we might have tried to compliment, in expectation of beholding a smile on a pretty face, or in the hope of whirling her round in the intoxicating waltz, and one whose dreamings would have been certainly acceptable to us, when we were suffering from the cruelty of some hard-hearted flirt, who fairly laughed at the boyish vows which, we verily believe, were too easily made to be lasting. The general characteristics of Miss Landon's poetry are, that they are unreal, sentimental and exciting. Her poems are like certain of Moore's, the embodiment of passion attired in a silver veil, which makes it float so gracefully before the young and innocent, as to seem to them a creature of light. Miss Landon, however, in the present volume, has given up her lively tripping and flippant style, and after the example of the author of the "Loves of the Angels," has taken to a serious key, and, as she says herself, has written this Easter Gift, in a spirit of the deepest humility. "The pictures are entirely sacred subjects, and their illustration has given me the opportunity of embodying many a sad and serious thought that had arisen in hours of solitude and despondency. I believe I myself am the better for their existence; I wish their effect may be the same on others. In this hurrying and deceitful world, no page will be written utterly in vain, which awakens one earnest or heavenward thought, one hope, or one fear, in the human heart."

The following poem will best illustrate Miss Landon's new style, which, we gravely suspect, will at least be found as useful to the fair susceptible readers, by whom she is most eagerly read, as any of her former passionate lines on love and friendship.

THE INFANT ST. JOHN.

Lo! on the midnight winds a young child's voice
With lofty hymn,

Calling on earth and heaven to rejoice
Along with him.

Those infant lips are given from above

A spirit tone,

And he speaks out those words of hope and love To prophets known.

He is a herald, as the morning star

Brings daylight in,

For he doth bring glad tidings from afar To man and sin.

Now let the desolate earth lift up her head, And at the word,

Wait till the mountains kindle with the tread Of Christ the Lord.

And earth was conscious of her God; he came Meek and descried,

Bearing the weight of sorrow, sin, and shame; And for us died.

Twice shall be come; even now the appointed hour
Is in its birth,

When he shall come in glory, and in power,
To judge the earth.

Not as before, to win mankind and save; But in ire,

When earth shall be but as a mighty grave In that red fire.

Do we not live now in those evil days
Which were foretold

In holy writings and inspired lays
Of prophets old?

There is a wild confusion in the world,
Like the vexed sea;

And ancient thrones are from high places hurled,
Yet man not free.

And vain opinions seek to change all life,
Yet yield no aid

To all the sickness, want, the grief and strife,
Which now pervade.

Are not these signs of that approaching time
Of blood and tears,

When thou shall call to dread account the crime
Of many years?

Then who shall bide before thee? only he
Who is all thine,

Who hath stood fast, amid iniquity,
In faith divine.

Oh, Lord! awaken us; let us not cease To look afar;

Let us not, like the foolish, call it peace When there is war.

Oh! teach us to believe what thy blest word
Has long declared,

And let thy second advent, gracious Lord,
Find us prepared.

MISCELLANEA.

HUNTING BY STEAM.-A friend of mine startled me a little by stating that he occasionally took the same horse ninety miles to cover, and after a day's hunting, brought him home a like distance. "Unless you hunt by steam," I exclaimed, "it is impossible!" "Why," says he, "that's the whole secret. I go with my horse on board the steamer at Quebec, and reach Trios Riviere in good time to breakfast, hunt with my father-in-law, who keeps a pack, and return to Quebec by the afternoon boat." -Ferguson's Notes on a Visit to the United States and Canada.

UNREQUITED LOVE.-She tried, by repeating his last words, to produce the same effect they had once had on her heart, and wept in indescribable agony at feeling those words had no meaning now for her. When lips and passion have thus rejected us, the backward steps we are compelled to tread towards the path we have wandered from, are ten thousand times more torturing and arduous than those we have exhausted in their pursuit. Hope, then, supported our hands every step we took. Remorse and disappointment scourge us back, and every step is tinged with tears or with blood; and well is it for the pilgrim, if that blood is drained from his heart; for then his pilgrimage will soon be terminated. -Maturin.

THE PLAYGOER.

OUR little friend, Spectacles, has not been idle this week-what with Cunningham's ball and Sapio's engagement, he has had quite enough to do still he murmurs not on the contrary, he openly avows his having received full recompense, for the necessary trouble and expense of his outfit for the assembly, by smiles from coral lips, glances from coal-black eyes, pressure from lily hands, and all the other delightful et ceteras attendant on such joyous occasions. Our Spectacles is the most amorous little soul in the world, and is sure to be found wherever female loveliness appears. We are, truly, sorry, he is so very seldom gratified in this respect at our theatre, and cannot at all blame him for deprecating the taste of the Glasgow ladies, who, notwithstanding the powerful inducement held out by the engagement of that Prince of Song, Mr. Sapio, prefer the delights arising from a decoction of Schouchong, or a hand at whist, to his melodious warblings; but we hope they may atone for this neglect of so clever a stranger, by supporting his benefit, which, we observe, is fixed for this evening. gentleman has been performing the parts of Prince Orlando, Rodolph, Young Meadows, and Henry Bertram, with great effect. As to his taste and execution we have already given our opinion. His fame has owed little to provincial critics-he has passed through the fiery ordeal of the metropolitan Theatres, and has there been, for many years, "a favourite." This is saying more for Mr. Sapio, than if we had the possibility of setting apart the whole of our paper to his praise. Our Spectacles speaks highly of of the "Meg Merrilees" of Miss Richardson, the "Dandie Dinmont" of Mr. Alexander, and the " Hodge" of Mr. Lloyd: we perfectly agree with him. Miss Richardson has all along proved

This

herself to be a credit to the establishment to which she is attached -she is a clever actress, possessing, alike, a just conception of her Mr. Alexander's Dinauthor, and a rigid attention to costume. mont is excellent; indeed, we believe, he is the original, and he, of course, looks upon this as one of his pet parts. If this gentleman would confine himself to his own particular walk, in the drama, and which is by no means a limited one, he would give the public prints more frequent opportunity of making honourable mention of his name. We are sure Mr. Alexander will forgive this hint, when we ask, if it be possible for any man to shine in every department of any art; where can a painter be found, who is alike successful in historical painting, landscape, portraiture, and still life? and, to find an actor fully competent to play tragedy, genteel and low comedy, melo-drama, opera, pantomime, is equally impossible; let him, therefore, play such parts as Dandie Dinmont, Weillibald, Long Tom Coffin, Peter Pullhall, &c. and he will soon find his name stand high in the profession, and his respectability as manager increase. The "Hodge" of our little favourite Lloyd is excellent; indeed, we do not remember ever having seen a better. Mr. Alexander might, with a little addition, not forgetting a little subtraction, render his establishment very respectable.

HINDOO HONOUR.

ALOO HARA, one day, returning homeward from the chace, was accosted by a Charun, who, having bestowed his blessing upon him, would accept of nothing in exchange but the turban from his head. Strange as was the desire, he preferred compliance to incurring the viserwa, or “vituperation of the bard;" who, placing Aloo's turban on his own head, bade him "live a thousand years," and departed. The Charun immediately bent his steps to Mundore, the capital of Maroo; and as he was ushered into the presence of its prince, and pronounced the byrd of the Rahtores, he took off his turban with the left hand, and performed his salutation with the right. The unusual act made the prince demand the cause, when in reply he was told "that the turban of Aloo Hara should bend to none on earth." Such reverence to an obscure chief of the mountains of Méwar enraged the King of the Desert, who unceremoniously kicked the turban out of doors. Aloo, who had forgotten the strange request, was tranquilly occupied in his pastime, when his quondam friend again accosted him, his head bare, the insulted turban under his arm, and loudly demanding vengeance on the Rahtore, whose conduct he related. Aloo was vexed, and upbraided the Charun for having wantonly provoked this indignity towards him. "Did I not tell you to ask land, or cattle, or money, yet nothing would please you but this rag; and my head must answer for the insult to a vile piece of cloth: for nothing appertaining to Aloo Hara shall be insulted with impunity even by the T'hakoor of Marwar." Aloo forth with convened his clan, and soon five hundred "sons of one father" were assembled within the walls of Bumaodo, ready to follow wheresoever he led.

GLASGOW RELIC OF THE YEAR 1745.

WHEN the Rebels threatened to burn Glasgow, in the year 1745, it is stated by Gibson, in his History of the City, that the Magistrates received a letter from the Pretender's son, demanding from the Corporation, £15,000 in money, with all their arms, and all arrears of taxes then due to Government; but that this demand was disregarded by the Magistrates, as they were in hopes of being speedily relieved by Sir John Cope, who was then on his march from the north. However, upon the 26th September, Mr. John Hay, writer to the signet, came to Glasgow with a party of horse, and being met by Glengyle, chief of the M'Gregors, with a great part of his clan, he produced another letter to the same effect with the former, but containing a power to treat with the Magistrates, in case of "their being unable to comply with the first demand ;” and Gibson farther states, that a compromise accordingly took place by the payment of £5,000 in money, and £500 in goods, which sums were borrowed upon the credit of the corporation.

This transaction has never been so satisfactorily explained by any of our City Historians as it ought to be, and we have just now before us an original document from which we would be inclined to infer, that this money was raised by contributions made by the most wealthy inhabitants, although the document is silent on the subject, being in the following terms :—

Glasgow, Sept. 1745. GENTLEMEN, Whereas the City of Glasgow is in danger of being attacked, by a force which they are in no condition to resist, and that the inhabitants and their Trade may be exposed to many inconveniences,--These are therefore Beseeching you, Andrew Aiton, Andrew Buchanan, Laurence Din woodie, and Richard Oswald, Merchants in Glasgow, Allan Dreghorn, Wright, and James Smith, Weaver in Glasgow,-In case any Such force Shall approach the City, and require to be Lodged therein, that you meet with the Leaders of the said force, and make the best terms you possibly can, for saving the City and its Trade and Inhabi

DELIGHTFUL SEA-BATHING RESIDENCE TO

LET,-Partly Furnished, or Unfurnished,-FAIRY KNOWE COTTAGE, close to HELENSBURGH; containing Five Rooms on the ground floor, Kitchen, Servants' apartments, Larder, Cellar, &c. on the under floor; and the Attics might be used as Sleeping apartments if required.

The COTTAGE is most delightfully situated in an elevated situation, commands an extensive and beautiful prospect, and is within about two minutes walk from the sea. There is an Acre or more of Ground around it, laid out with great taste, and stocked with a profusion of Shrubs and Flowers; also, a small GARDEN, planted with Kitchen Herbs, &c.

Apply at the COTTAGE, or to CHARLES STEWART, Writer, Glasgow.

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