absolute heat of the body of a person, in such a state, must be greater than in another, whose surface is more porous, and where consequently the disposition to perspire is easily excited, and where the heat is therefore thrown off as fast as it is gene rated. In this latter case, the tem perature seldom or never exceeds 97° of Farenheit. In the former, the person may be said to be in a state of fever, where the heat is always scveral degrees above the standard of health. Hence the diversity of result which a thermometer indicates when held successively in the hand of each. But this difference gradually vanishes, and that happy versatility of constitution which accommodates itself to every temperature soon manifests it self, and enables man ultimately to bear with impunity every vicissitude of climate. SIR, GAELIC Etymologies. To the Editor. them, what was formerly called a "When the streets of high Dunedin DUN. This word radically signifies a circular fort. Figuratively, it has been taken to signify a hill; nor is this at all difficult to be accounted for. These duns were uniformly built on hills, and the idea of a dun and a hill would thus necessarily become connected. But in all cases, without a single exception, though we find no dun without a hill, we find many hills without a dun; and wherever the epithet dun is applied to any hill, that hill either contains, or has contained a fort. Dun is proZ. nounced din sometimes, but more ge nerally doon, and is the radix of our modern word town, D and T being often commuted, and in the gaelic frequently pronounced so as to be hardly distinguishable. Thus from the Saxon or Danish burgh, we have the English word burgh, pronounced brugh, and sometimes burrow; and If the annexed etymologies deserve a place in your useful miscellany, you may insert them, and oblige, EDINBURGH. MILO. from the Gaelic dun, we have also either a fort itself, or built under the shelter of one, to which the inhabitants could betake themselves in cases of danger or emergency. The antient name of this town is Dunedin, i. e. the fort of Edwin. In Latin, it is elegantly rendered Edinodunum.-burgh or town, in ancient times, was Burgh is a word imported with the Danes and Saxons, and from England introduced into Scotland, for these nations never obtained a sufficient footing in the latter to establish either their language or their customs; whereas, of the former, they made a complete conquest, and by their salutary laws, and wise municipal regulations, laid the foundation of the British constitution. From DUNKELD is, in colloquial language, uniformly pronounced Dunkeli. The radical name is Dun Gael, i. c. the fort of the Gael, or ancient Caledonians. It appears to have had three names, viz. Dun-Gael.-Garb Dun, and Dun-Gael-Dun. Who Whoever is in the least acquainted with the Gaelic, will observe that these three names literally signify the same thing. As to the redup. lication of dun, in Dun Gael-Dun, it is quite in the spirit of the Gaelic language; for we say Fell-Hope-Pen (pronounced fa'-up-pen,) though fell, hope, and pen, all signify a hillPen-Christ Pen, &c. carn. CARN. This is the original word, though from different modes of pronouncing it, it has been written cairn and kern. The carns were of two kinds, Imo, sepulchral monuments, 2do, places of worship. I mean only to treat of these last at present. Carn radically signifies an artificial collection of stones, and these carns in the time of the Druids were held in great repute. Each druid had his particular diocese, and within that diocese his temple and his The carn was always placed on the most conspicuous hill in the diocese. The temple was devoted to the more private and mysterious acts of religion, but the carn to those which were common and public. The carns seem principally to have been devoted to rejoicing and thanksgiving, when they kindled huge fires, in honour of Belus. These fires were kindled at new-year's-day, the summer and winter solstice, &c. ; but the most grand, interesting, and im. portant was on the 1st of November. By this time the fruits of the earth were collected, and the Druid had his dues or stipend paid him. On the preceding evening the Celtic nations extinguished their fires with as much care as the Jews purged their bouses of leaven on the night before the passover. On the said first November, the whole diocese repaired at even to the carn, where an immense fire was kindled, round which they danced with the most ecstatic joy, and returned thanks to Belus for the goodness of the harvest, the abundance of the crop, &c. The Druid at this festival also remitted their sins for the past year, and hallowed, or sanctified them for the year to come. He also consecrated the fire, and every householder took home with him a portion of this holy fire to rekindle his own, which had been extinguished as aforesaid. The deep policy of the Druids in fixing this extinction, and rekindling of the fires, to the beginning of winter, had also a different purpose to serve. Every one who had not settled with the Druid for his dues up to that date, was excluded from any share of this hallowed fire, and all his neighbours were interdicted from lending him under pain of excommunication, which, as managed by the Druids, was worse than death. Every one was therefore necessarily compelled to make punctual payment, or live without fire to warm his family, or cook his provisions, from Novem.. ber to November. The 1st Novem ber still bears the name of Hallowe'en, i. e. the holy evening, though others, with great probability, and a stricter conformity to matters of fact, write it hallow-tein, . e. the holy fire. Be that as it may, it is evident that this festival was a general rejoicing for harvest home. The preceding narration is perhaps in itself unimportant, did it not furnish a key for explaining a custom still prevalent among us, in most places of Scotland, called the kern, or kirn, which, every one knows, is a feast and rejoicing for the completion of the harvest. This word seems to have baffled our most assiduous antiquarians, and etymologists. On the introduction of Christianity these kern or carn rejoicings would naturalry be abolished, as customs idolatrous and repugnant to Christianity. From this æra, what was before a national rejoicing would of course become an individual one, and every person would naturally make his own' rejoi-. cing at the time most convenient for himself after the conclusion of the harvest. But though no man had now need to go to the carn for the remission of his sins, or the rekindling of his fire, &c. still such is the inveteracy of custom, that hallow-e'en is still re. garded in all the Celtic regions with some degree of veneration. Fires are then every where kindled, and various cantrips (as the phrase is) practised to pry into futurity, &c. From the similarity of rejoicings, and from the coincidence of the season of the year at which they took place, as well as from the near resemblance of the pronunciation of the words, there appears no reason to doubt that Carn, Cairn, Kern, and Kirn, are synomimous terms, or rather provincial variations of the original word Carn. Curious enumeration of SCOTTISH SONGS *. To Sandy o'er the Lee. DEAR SANDY, A FTER getting some Cauld kail in Aberdeen, with John Roy Stewart, I accompanied him to The house below the hill, where Green grows the Rashes, and where two or three of The merry lads of Ayr were taking their Bottle of punch, having lately come from Don-side. The landlord was Johnny M Gill, you know he married the Souter's daughter; she gave us a hearty welcome, for Blyth was she but an' ben, and when She came ben she bobbit, and introduced us to Maggy Lauder, Mary Gray, &c. &c. not for. getting the Bony wee thing: they were all waiting the arrival of Lucy Camp *The following letter, which has fallen accidentally into our hands, may perhaps be thought amusing by some of our readers. bell from Within a mile of Edinbro, for you must know Lucy is to be married to The Ranting roaring Highlandman. So down we sat to Cakes and ale, and were very happy, when up flew the door, and in started a Soldier laddie: I thought it had been Johnny Cumin, but na faith, says Peggy Band, that's John Andersonmy jo, from Bonny Dun dee, for He wou'd be a soldier. Most of us knowing John, we invited him to a seat; he took out his fiddle and was beginning to touch The bush aboon Traquair, but was stopped by Duncan Gray, who begged he would first favour us with God save the king: Hang the king, says Charlie Stuart, who was immediately knock'd down by Jack the brisk young drummer, who is a Bonny bold soldier. We all thought that Lewie Gordon would have inter fered, who was standing in a neuck whistling Johnie Cope, when in came the Wand'ring sailor, singing Hearts of oak, with Black-eyed Susan in one hand, and The Oak stick in the other, and poor Lewie did not like A' that an' a' that, but slunk away as pale as Hosier's ghost. Duncan Davidson was begin ning to cry Kick the rogues out, when in the midst of the scuffle we had notice, by Roy's wife of Aldavalich, of the arrival of the young couple from Waulking i' the fauld; then the cry was Busk ye, busk ye, and Fy let us d' to the bridal. By this you will understand that Johnny's made a weddingo't. We were just going, when Jenny Net tles hinted that the Ale-wife and her barrel must be paid; on which we bid The good wife count her lawing; so each of us had a Sax-pence under our thumb, and Jenny's bawbee made up the sum. On coming to The back of the changehouse, where the wedding was held, near the Mill-mill 0, we were met by The lads of Dunse, gallanting the Lasses of Stewarton. The best man was Rattling roaring Willie, and I as sure you Willie is a wanton wag. The best maid was Katherine Ogie, who Our dinner LIFE and Writings. (Continued from page 419.) "All mankind in contradiction strong," SIR, To the Editor. YOUNG Have already taken notice of the most common causes of that discrepancy between an author's life and writings, which has so frequently occurred in the annals of literature. They are such as extend their influence equally to the conduct of the learned and the unlearned part of mankind, and lead them both to the same actions. But there are other causes which exclusively affect and betray those men of cultivated understandings, whose natural temperaments are endued with a peculiar sensibility, which exposes them to temptations, and excites sensations in their minds that other men can never feel. who is the Bonniest lass in a' the warld On the Contrariety between an AUTHOR'S except My jo Janet. consisted of the Roast beef of Old England, Lumps of pudding, The haggies of Dunbar, Bannocks of barley meal, &c. &c.: as for myself, There were three eggs in the pan, and after dinner we had Dribbles of brandy; the whole cry was Fill the stoup an' haud it clinking, and by no means Drink hooly and fairly; then Come giles a sang, the lady cried, so Patie come up frae the glen, and Whistled o'er the lave o't, and sung Maggy's tocher. O if you had seen Auld Rob Morris laughing at the Auld wife ayont the fire, singing, O as I was kist the streen. We were now growing Sae merry as we twa ha'e been, and some of them began to Trip upon trenchers. So the dancing eominenced, The bride came in frae the barn, and led down with one of the Bra lads of Gala water, to the tune of The Camp. bells are coming. The glancing of her apron, Silken Snood, and the Gowd in her garters, made my heart Gae pitty patiie. I danc'd a reel wi' the Maid of the mill and the Shepherd's wife, to the tune I'll make you be fain. Andrew wi' his cutty gun was at Kiss me sweetly, with Bess the gawkie, whispering a' the while, Come kiss me in a corner. In short, we all danced heartily, but I observed Jenny dang the weaver, and Scoff'd and scorn'd at him, saying, O gin ye and twenty, Tam. Af ter this, we had a Good night and joy; I came Todlin' hame, Not drunk nor The man of feeling enjoys the yet sober, and expected A bonny wee prosperous events of human life with house and a canty wee fire, but I could more lively joy than other men, and not Open the door till three, nor waken is apt to be elated beyond measure But he is also more Sleepy Maggy. At last My ain by success. kind dearie heard me, and She rose deeply wounded by adversity, and and loot me in. By this time I was feels its persecutions with peculiar Nay, events which are a sleepy body, and got to bed by the poignancy. indifferent to others, often excite selight of The bonny grey-ey'd morning. vere and painful conflicts in his bosom. Yours, He enters into the world, open, Willie Winkie. sincere, and generous; ardent in all his pursuits, and keen in every attachment. But soon the common were ane Thursday in the morn. I formerly hinted, that delicacy of passion exposes men of genius to peculiar temptatious, or, at least, renders them an easier prey to those very vices, which men of the same natural tempers, but of opposite habits, can I shall pursue this easily overcome. idea farther, and endeavour to point out the different effects this refine. ment of passion produces on different men of cultivated understandings. cares cares and disappointments of human life, wound his feelings, and real or imaginary evils perpetually tear his heart. He entertained but a faint idea of the accidents of human life, while he viewed them in security through the medium of books, and only heard the realities in faint, reverberated sounds. Then all his faculties were calm and vigorous, and his eyes sparkled with confidence of successful opposition. But when he begins to feel their malignity, and sees it is impossible to avoid them, he becomes peevish and capricious, and looks with indignation at the common course of human affairs. His sensibility degenerates into a diseased irritability of temper, nourished by the delusions of imagination, and flattered more and more by the distraction they necessarily occasion. Thus his peace is poisoned, and his happiness is corroded; so that whilst he instructs others in their conduct through life, he is unable to guide himself with prudence or success; but, on the contrary, exposes himself to the contempt and hatred of those around him. Another unsuccessful man of genius, endued with the same delicacy of passion, and of good benevolent dispositions, experiences unforeseen and unmerited failure in his best endeavours; and, from his peculiar situation, or constitutional timidity, trembles at the prospect of what he expects to suffer, or at the recollection of what he has already endured. To dissipate these embittering sensations, he precipitately flies to those vicious excesses, which his talents have been engaged in exposing to contempt. Though he cannot lull his conscience into a false security, or divest himself of his principles, yet, as his indulgences impart a momentary alleviation to his sufferings, he perseveres to banish serious reflection, and deliberately follows the fatal phantom, which "lures him to his doom." Thus he who warns others against depravation of principle, and points out the pitfalls of seduction, affords, by his own conduct, a mournful instance of hu man frailty. A third inconsistent character amongst authors is to be found in him who cultivates his imagination and taste alone, and allows his other faculties to be overgrown with weeds. He also acquires this delicacy of passion, but his reason and judgement are not strengthened in proportion. As his passions become more irritable, they also become more untuly, and gradually acquire ascendency over his nobler faculties, till at last they lead him captive at their will. Biography furnishes us with so many examples of this very frequent case, that it requires no illustration. Thus he also, who improves and delights his fellow-creatures, completely undermines his own comfort by a fatal error in his pursuits, and, by the conduct he pursues, invalidates the tendency of all he has written. These examples afford a striking lesson to those about to engage in the profession of letters, of the baleful effects of those false steps in the pursuit of literature which greater fortitude or prudence might have prevented. But we must not consider the conduct of those unsuccess ful authors, as being the result of deliberate choice. They have acted parts repugnant to the best qualities of their hearts, and "against their better knowledge, not deceived but overcome," by the peculiar tempta. tions to which their habits exposed them. But the facts concerning them form no general rule. If they tended to represent the uniform result of intellectual improvement, science in general would suffer severely by its establishment. For the vicicus are ever ready to detect the errors and faults of those who have disseminated the principles and duties of morality, and |