street, who intimated to each officer as he passed that the next turn would expose him to the raking fire of the fort, and therefore to hurry on till they came to a large mudhut on the left hand, and there to order their men under cover among the ruins, and that they would find shelter for themselves in the said hut. Gregory having received in his turn the above hint, now turned the corner, and entered the street exposed to the enemy's fire. A most interesting display here greeted him. Right in front a bright blaze presented for an instant, amid utter darkness, a high overhanging bastion, manned with black artillerymen with their spunging-rods; soldiers with spears, swords, and shields, all stood for the moment revealed in savage relief, and, as Walter Scott says, 'seemed forms of giant height,' and as he elsewhere sings, were instant seen were instant gone;' for ere the ball rattled among the ruined walls, like Alloa kirk after Tam's exclamation, 'in a moment all was dark.'

Gregory having reached the hut alluded to, which had belonged to the head man of the village, and from its greater height had escaped the general conflagration, lodged his men within the shelter of the neighbouring walls, and entered the rendezvous. The brown mud walls were lighted by a candle or two stuck upon them. The officers they had come to relieve stood ready to depart, and soon left the relieving party in possession of the den, which was in sport dignified with the name of 'Head-Quarters,' bequeathing them as a legacy a mist of tobacco-smoke and fumes, and one of a more intellectual nature, viz., rhymes and verses of various degrees of merit, from the lowest doggerel to the highest heroic, scrawled by 'desperate charcoal' on the Hindoo walls, the last place in the world where English poetry ever expected to figure. Here was seen a travestie of the siege of Troy, in allusion to the siege of Zubberghur; there a bold defiance to the host;' and yonder a tender address of some love-sick ensign-swain to the girl he left behind him,' &c.

The relief being effected, the commanding officer proceeded to allot to each officer his post and duty in the event of a sally from the garrison. We require,' said he, a party to go out to cover the pioneers at the opening of the trenches; for this duty I find by the roaster Captain Bluff and the subaltern Ensign Gregory. You will therefore be pleased, Captain Bluff, to proceed to the open plain to cover (at this word he smiled) the working party, and be all night on the alert to meet and repulse any sortie that may be made by the enemy to obstruct or frustrate the operations at the trenches.'

6

Captain Bluff grumbled the acquiescence of very good' with a bad grace. Gregory turned his eyes on the officer under whom he was destined to serve in the first of his fields. He may well be sent out to cover,' thought Gregory, 'for such a man of enormous size and fatness I never saw or heard of save in Chinese pictures of overgrown mandarins. He looks, as a friend of mine once said of another officer, more skilled in the art of cookery than the art of war.'

'Where is my ensign?' growled Bluff.

Here I am, at your service, sir,' said Gregory. 'Not at my service, sir, but of thankless John Company. I have just one wish,' continued the mass of obesity, and that is, that my dear kind papa, who sent me to be out of his way into such a situation as this, was now in it himself. But come along, there is no help for misfortune, and no use of grumbling; I only wish that those rebel rascals would come out and fight it out at once on the green,' as Paddy says, and be done with it. I have no objection to a regular battle through a regular tour of duty, but being thus ordered at a moment's notice, out of my turn and unprepared, is abominable.' So saying, he squeezed himself through the narrow hut-door, followed by Gregory and a titter of laughter from the more fortunate officers left to pass the night, with the thermometer at that season down to the freezing point, under the shelter of the village head-quarters and the fire of their pipes instead of that of the enemy.

You must not suppose,' said the capacious captain to

Gregory in an under tone, as they proceeded silently across the open plain, followed by their sepoys to cover the work. ing parties, that I am averse to the performance of my duty-far from it; I only dislike being put out of my way. You must know that I was invited to a large dinner-party, and was all prepared to set out to join it with a raging appetite, when an order arrived, requiring me to proceed immediately with my company on out-post duty, in lieu of Captain Slim, reported sick (sick of the service, I suppose), and such was the hurry that, having nothing cold in my tent, and no time to have anything cooked, I was obliged to be off with an empty stomach and a great desire to eat, to sit down on this cold open plain before this confounded fort, instead of being under a comfortable tent, set down to attack the embattled crust of a smoking pie; oh, 'tis shocking!'

As he spoke they arrived at their assigned position. The sepoys were ordered to lie down on the ground; a servant who had followed the captain took from his head a reversed armchair, which he now planted on its feet for his master's reception and accommodation. This, indeed, was a necessary and allowable indulgence, for had he followed the example of his sepoys, his prostration on the ground must have been permanent, through downright inability to rise.' Bluff having received from his bearer an enormous labada or cloak, made of cashmere shawl worked with layers of loose cotton, and having enveloped himself in its ample folds, sat down on the chair, growling, Cold and hunger! oh, ill-matched pair,' as your Scotch poet says. 'Captain Bluff,' said Gregory, as I was not taken by surprise like yourself, I was able to secure a roasted fowl, which I have here in a towel with some bread.'

Have you really?' cried the enraptured gourmand; then we'll do yet, for here is a bottle of lal (red) that I clapt into my cloak pocket. Give us hold of the dear moorghee.'

Gregory produced the hen, which Bluff took on his knees. He first tore off the legs or drumsticks, which he presented to Gregory as his share, and the rest he speedily devoured himself, ever and anon washing it down with a swig from the bottle, which he handed once to Gregory, remarking, that being English claret it was apt to go to the head of young topers, which would be highly improper in their present responsible situation.

This novel pic-nic being finished, and the stomach of Bluff being appeased for the meanwhile, he again wrapt himself in the folds of his quilted cashmere cloak, and said, 'I have given you, my young friend, I hope, satisfactory and cogent reasons for not passing the bottle oftener to you; and should you be inclined to think that I took the lion's share of your splendid chittigong, which did credit both to the feeder and roaster, I can give two equally satisfactory reasons for so doing; in the first place, you will not deny that my corporeal state requires at least threefold sustentation of yours; and secondly, it is a wellknown fact that we Englishmen fight best under the satisfaction of a full belly, while you Scotchmen lay about you to most effect under the irritation of an empty one; and as there is no saying what we may have to do in that way before morning, you will allow that I have acted the part of a skilful general in being prepared for the worst; and now, my young friend (friend in need, I may truly say), it affords me great pleasure to think that I have it in my power to make some return for your opportune supply of commissariat. As I am the responsible man on this most responsible duty, I must keep strict watch during the night; go therefore, my lad, and enjoy your sleep; I'll call you up if anything particular occurs, unless some one of those straggling shots that are hissing around us takes away the power of speech, in which case you will excuse me giving you a rousing kick with my foot.'

Gregory not approving of beginning his actual service by sleeping on his post, politely declined the proffered indulgence, saying he would prefer the pleasure of keeping his honour company.

'I will not hear of such a thing,' said the kind-hearted captain, who was now all good-humour and good-nature—

'I will not hear of it-it is yours to obey and mine to command, so go and sleep this instant.'

Gregory, seeing that it would be more than useless to dispute the point with his well-meaning commandingofficer, thought the best way would be to practise a ruse de sommeil; so, pretending to comply with the captain's mandate, he stretched himself on the ground at his feet; had he wished a secure protection from either the cannon or matchlock balls whizzing through the air he might have taken up a very safe position under the captain's lee. Having lain down, the next business was to feign a slumber-breathing. It was well for both captain and subaltern that it was only a feint on Gregory's part, for in five minutes a snore, in which there was no mistake, announced that the worthy commandant was oblivious, and almost at the same moment the ensign saw the field-officer of the day, through the dusky night, advancing in his round of visits to the outposts and piquets. Had Gregory been in the same state as his captain, that night might have proved both the first and the last of his fields. Gregory sprang up, shook the snoring centurion, and said, "The fieldofficer!' In a moment Bluff was on his legs, his roquelaure | was cast behind him, his sabre flashed from its scabbard; he advanced to meet the visiting-officer, saying, as he came up with him, The parole?' Vigilance.' All right,' said the captain, dropping his sword; 'we are all vigilance here; pass visiting rounds.' The officer and his staff having passed on, the captain sheathed his sword, resumed his cloak and armchair, and then addressed Gregory as follows, Ay, that was something like a surprise. But the best will err, aliquando dormitat Homerus; 'tis well you kept awake!'

'I think it was,' said Gregory. I hope you wont order me to sleep again while under your command.' 'Certainly not-experientia docet. I must profit by my error, and be more true in future to the parole of to-day, as I value my commission; for the loss of that and a linner on the same night would be too much of a good thing.' It was now midnight, and the fire from the fort had entirely ceased, and all was profound silence. But this was soon broken, in rather an amusing and laughable way, though attended at the same time with a solemn kind of effect, tending greatly to assist Bluff in keeping himself from nodding again. The Indian tactics within the fort were not of that regular and systematic order practised in the besieging army. Instead of relieving the batteries and different posts by successive watches, the whole were under arms till a certain hour of night, and then went to sleep for a certain number of hours. To supply their place in the interim, the spiritual adviser and oracle of the fortress, a burly and strong-tongued dervise, took his seat on the loftiest pinnacle of the citadel, and, though all unseen, was heard distinctly, to a mile's distance all around, exclaiming, in a deep, solemn, impressive tone, Come on, come on, ye craven-hearted Englishmen! Why do ye not come on in fair daylight to open combat? why work ye, like cowardly moles and rats, under ground at night a subterraneous road to our ditch? Beware, beware how you show your noses through your hole at our glacis; we've got snuff here that will set you a sneezing. Give over such grovelling ways, keep above ground, like men, and cease to degrade yourselves like burrowing bandiooots! This fire of abuse was kept up till the first streak of dawn appeared in the east, when the captain and Gregory, according to the orders they had received, withdrew their detachment, and returned to camp.

FUNERAL CUSTOM S.

SECOND ARTICLE.

THE primitive Christians were very careful in observing funeral rites, many of which they had adopted from the pagans. These were forced to give way, however, before the denunciations of the Church. The decent customs of composing the limbs and closing the eyes were too natural to be reprehensible; but the lavish expenditure of unctions, and fine robes, and perfumes, was condemned as vain and

even sinful. The early Christians, who were careful in distinguishing themselves in all things from the Jews, were particular in their use of coffins, in contradistinction to the Hebrews, who wrapped their dead in linen. The corpse was placed in its narrow receptacle, adorned and covered with a pall, and friends and relatives watched it constantly till the time of interment, while attendants chanted psalms. The body was borne to the grave amidst torchbearers and chanters of psalmody, and then an oration was pronounced over the grave; this custom is still prevalent, under a modified form, amongst all the Christian churches save those in Scotland. The death of a relative was considered a peculiar season of charity. The beautiful practice of adorning the grave with flowers seems to have been confined to the more humble portion of the Christian community, and to have been viewed with leniency by the censors; and the adoption of mourning weeds is also one of the earliest practices. The burial-places of the ancients were all without the walls of their cities, and the Christian emperors were long peremptory in their prohibition of burials within the walls; but the pestilent habit of interment in churches and in grounds surrounding them began about the beginning of the sixth century, when Gregory assumed to be head of the Christian church, and commenced to consecrate the earth for such purpose.

The following was the formula at Roman Catholic funerals, as described by Picart, in the beginning of the seventeenth century. Immediately after decease, the body was washed and stretched, a crucifix placed in its hand, a vessel of holy water was laid at its feet, that visitants might sprinkle it, and priests remained beside it, to pray, until interment took place. If the deceased was an ecclesiastic, he was dressed according to his order, and borne by his brethren only. The clergy never wore mourning for their relatives; being dead to all relationship save that of the church, they only attended funerals, even of their own fathers, in their sacerdotal character. The rites of ecclesiastical burial were denied to the Jews, apostates, infidels, heretics, schismatics, excommunicated or interdicted persons, those who had struck an ecclesiastic without rendering satisfaction previous to death, suicides, duellists, blasphemers, and those who lived in open mortal sin, and died unconfessed. The coffin was generally placed in the hall of the house, with the feet to the door, and surrounded by waxen tapers. When the priests arrived to form the procession, the crucifixbearer stood at the head, the minister officiating at the foot, and the holy-water carrier to the right of and a little behind the minister, who sprinkled the corpse with holy water, while the priests who were ranged around chanted the De profundis and Miserere. The light-bearers headed the procession towards the church; then followed the seculars; next came the clergy, two and two, preceded by the crucifix and water-basin; and the minister immediately preceded the body. Psalms and requiems were chanted as they moved along. The body was supported on each side by children bearing flambeaux, while the friends and relatives followed, in long black cloaks. The service for the dead was then performed, concluding with mass, the sprinkling of holy water, and the delivery of an oration. All stood uncovered at the grave, over which the body was placed, with the feet towards the east. A prayer was now pronounced, the grave and body again sprinkled and censed, and then the anthem, 'I am the Resurrection,' was begun, while the body was again three times sprinkled. A prayer and two anthems followed, when the body, being lowered into the tomb and sprinkled by the mourners, was covered up. The practice of the Armenians possibly varied little from that of the Roman Catholics. Easter Monday was reckoned a day of commemoration of the dead in that church, and most unseemly howlings, screechings, and scenes of dissolute festivity took place on these occasions.

The ancient Scandinavians burned their dead, and then they buried in barrows, laying the corpse on the surface of the ground, and covering it with stones and earth. The Anglo-Saxons adopted this method even in the churches, thus rendering them too pestiferous for the celebration of worship; and feasts of the most rude and boisterous cha

dressed-'you all know that our illustrious guest is a native of Glasgow; that here he was educated; that here he first poured out his soul in song, and breathed forth the first accents of his enchanting poetry. With his well-earned fame we feel ourselves associated: and well it becomes us to hail his re-appearance in his native city with the pure unmixed tribute of respect for his great talents, and admiration of his poetic genius. That admiration is co-extensive with the language he has cultivated, co-extensive with the wide range of English literature, and unalloyed by any contradictory or debasing feeling. No passage in his works offends the eye of purity; none can disgust the most fastidious delicacy; none that any reader would, for a moment, wish to be blotted out. The feeling of admiration which we now indulge in is most gratifying; but it is mingled with one still more delightful-the effusions of gratitude. On this last feeling he has a most powerful claim. It is the triumph of the true poet that he recalls to us those deep emotions which we have experienced without being able to clothe them in adequate expressions; that he invests them with the glowing colours of his own imagination; that, flowing from him, they become thoughts that breathe and words that burn;' and consequently that, in presenting to us sentiments and language of which we recognise at once the truth and energy, he furnishes us with additional means of expressing our feelings, and even adds to those feelings additional warmth and interest. How does every one who has felt the pangs of parting dwell on the solemnly pathetic farewell of the banished man to his daughter! How sadly does the bosom of the patriot beat over the downfall of Sarmatia's hero! Who that has tasted the sweets of domestic bliss can ever forget the lonely repose, the tranquillity of affection, which encircles the abode of Gertrude? What soul of excursive fancy and pensive musing but has melted at the sad, bewildering tale of 'O'Connor's lone and lovely child?' Oh! lives there a son of Britain whose heart has not leaped, as at the trumpet's sound, to hail the meteor flag of England, and glory in the renown of her mariners? How deeply then are we indebted to one who has contributed so largely to augment a most valuable class of our purest and most enraptured enjoyments! Yet we owe still more to our distinguished countryman. We owe to his presence, and his kind acceptance of our invitation, the pleasure of this day's meeting. Each of us has had his day-dreams-his happy moments of bright illusion, in which his fancy soared above the dull realities of life, and roamed in fields of visionary bliss. As we advance in years, the crushing and wasting pressure of earthly engagements, the incessant toils of this hard-working world, render such moments in indulgence, if they visit us at all, few and far between. But when we meet on such a day as this, these gay visions must return in all their greenness and freshness; the atmosphere of poetry is breathed around us; we rise for a time above the anxious cares, the dull routine of every-day occupations, and revel in a luxury of enjoyment purely intellectual and imaginative.'

While, from the above remarks, something of the poet Campbell may be learned, and a desire excited to know more of him, admirable was the reply which he returned to the compliments so frankly heaped upon him. 'The thought,' said he, has frequently crossed my mind since I came among you, and I have before expressed it, that if my guardian spirit had appeared to me in early life, and put into my hand a blank book wherein to write my future history, though many of the circumstances arising from the faults of my fate I should have gladly amended, yet, in coming to the present time, I could not have bespoken any chapter of events more justly gratifying, or any reality more shaped on the image of ideal felicity, than the reception I have met with in my native Glasgow. I vow to you that I would scarcely exchange the consciousness of your disposition to exaggerate my merit for the cold triumph of believing myself independent of it. For who could wish the brethren of his own household not to be calculators of his character and talents ? Tokens of

fraternal cordiality could my born brothers have bestowed beyond what you have now shown? Every circumstance, therefore, which hushes the more selfish vein of vanity in my breast, only deepens the calm and holy sabbath of my social affections on this occasion. Yes, my friends, this jubilee era of my existence has been religiously solemnised by many touching associations. I have laid my hand on the heads of the grandchildren of those who laid their hand on my youngling head-who gave me fruit from their gardens when I was a child, and books from their libraries when I was a boy, and their blessing when I departed, a young man to seek my fortune in the world. And when I shall have been gathered to my fathers, it will be no mean record of my existence to tell that, in this reputable city, not consanguinity and friendship alone have met me, but that worth, and public respectability, and genius, and learning, and talents, have sent their representatives to bid me welcome. Gentlemen, I cannot use guarded or cautious expressions whilst my breast is brimful of emotions; I speak only what I feel in assuring you that there are not on the face of this earth those who could be the substitutes of your presence, or excite in my mind the pride and gratification that now visit it. When I look round on this assembly, within a bow shot of the spot where I was born, within the hearing of our native bells that make me forget the present in thinking of departed time-recognising among you brother-like kindred and kindred-like friends-seeing on all sides my wellwishers, and seeing their meeting academic as well as civic, by its including the principal and heads of our alma mater, I use nothing of hyperbole, in farther declaring that, by this day and its connected events, I have been more blessed than I could have been by the acquisition of enormous opulence. What would it have been to me to have returned to you with equipage, and outriders, and grooms, besmeared with gold, if you had cast on me the cold gaze of alienation, compared to my being thus welcomed by the extended arms of your hospitality ?'

FOX AND BURKE,

No event in the life of Mr Fox was the source of such constant regret to him as the loss of Mr Burke's friendship; and, even after their political separation, it would have given him great pleasure for them to have remained on terms of private intimacy. But Burke, who seemed to love extremes, whenever Mr Fox's wishes were mentioned, positively declared that nothing should induce him to hold any communication with that great statesman again, unless he would publicly abandon the principles he then supported. Insulting as such a proposition was, Mr Fox's affection for the author of it was never diminished; and, when Mr Burke was in his last illness, Mr Fox, anxious for a reconciliation, wrote to Mrs Burke, informing her that he should pass through Beacon's Field in a day or two, and would, if permitted, call to see Mr Burke. Mrs Burke acknowledged the receipt of Mr Fox's letter, and said she had mentioned the subject of it to Mr Burke, who had desired her to reply that, living or dying, he would never swerve from the declaration he had made.

BYRON.

Of this poet, numerous and lengthened descriptive references of a biographical nature might be selected from old newspapers-all of them characteristic. But I shall content myself with a description which he is represented to have himself given of one part of his history, and close this section with the letting down of life's curtain upon him. His address,' it is said, 'was the most courteous and affable, perhaps, ever seen; his manners, when in good humour, and desirous of being well with his guest, were winning-fascinating in the extreme, and, though bland, still spirited, and with an air of frankness and generosity-qualities in which he certainly was not deficient. He was open to a fault-a characteristic probably the result of his fearlessness and independence of the world; but so open was he, that his friends were obliged to live upon their guard with him. He was the