Yet although both seemed to pursue the same path, the objects they had in view were essentially different. Andrew courted Knowledge, because he sincerely loved her; Francis prized Learning, only as the ladder by which he might climb to wealth and honour in the world. Still, with these incongruities in their disposi tions, a growing intimacy took place between them; they visited each other during the vacation, and at the commencement of next Session took lodgings together. Their professional studies were now less fatiguing, and they had more leisure for excursions in the regions of fancy, or in disputing with each other, for which they had an ample field; as they not only differed from each other on many topics, but on some subjects held opinions diametrically opposite. For instance, Andrew held the Latin adage of poëta nascitur non fit, in its most unlimited sense, considering it as of universal application. Had the system of Gall and Spurzheim been then broached, he would have been among the first proselytes, and would have beat the Baronet and the Lecturer hollow, both with arguments and illustrations; although the system has so direct a tendency o materialism, that he would have found some difficulty in reconciling t to the general orthodoxy of his creed. But amidst his abstract speulations, it never occurred to him, that genius could be made palpable, and the fingers could decide on the properties of the mind; but one little circumstance seems to have escaped the observation of Phrenologists, although known to every old woman in the country, namely, that a child's head is very often rubbed and pressed, till it assumes another shape; this is particularly the case with a hollow which runs across the crown, often very large in young children; and where it continues so through life, it is generally affirmed that the arch of wisdom has been neglected in infancy; this is surely doing violence to Nature; and how shall the disciples of Spurzheim judge whether she or the nurse has filled up the worse than barren cavities in the skull? But this is digressing; let me return. Andrew, although most fully convinced that man was formed by Nature for some particular study or pursuit, knew no better way of discovering her intentions, than by waiting till they developed themselves, not by bumps on the pericranium, but by the slow progress of youth displaying a liking and decisive partiality for some one particular pursuit. From this doctrine Francis differed in toto; for he maintained, that unless when some of the physical organs were defective, there were very few instances where Nature had not imparted powers, requiring only persevering application, to attain a proficiency, even arrive at excellence, in any art or science. He affirmed, in the most unqualified manner, that for any thing that Nature had to do in the business, Shakespeare and Newton might have changed places, that Wolfe might have compiled Johnson's Dictionary, and the Lexicographer triumphed at Quebec. These opposite opinions led to many a long argument, but never produced conviction; for Andrew would exclaim with Pope, One science only will one genius fit; So vast is art, so narrow human wit; and would then add, that we might as well plant the weeping willow on the highest ridge of Arthur's Seat, and the English oak in the middle of the moss of Kincardine, as do violence to Nature, by attempting to make a philosopher of him whom she had destined for a hero, and vice versâ. To this Francis replied, that poetry was not proof, and similes were sophistical arguments; yet to answer him in his own way, it was not long ago since that exotic and beautiful tree, the larch, was reared in a greenhouse, being imagined too delicate for our climate; but we now find it in rich luxuriance on the hill and in the vale, as if it were indigenous to the soil; and he closed his argument thus, that what we reckoned innate propensity in boys, was nothing more than the effect of early and accidental associations; as boys in seaporttowns often become sailors, while those in the interior of the country never think of it. To this Andrew would reply, that Nae crown to grace her joyless brow, In courts that rang wi' the warrior's tread, The long grass waves, an' the nettle springs. Sair, sair, abune the bluidy graves, An' aye when she lifts her wae-bent head sea, She takes a lang an' a wistful gaze, But the sails o' her Charlie nae mair glad her e'e. picked up a little flinty pebble from the Scottish side,-drew my breath long and deep, and, quivering through every limb, withdrew my feet from the soil of my dear native land, which it had never before quitted, and to which I felt as if firmly rooted. As we were then too deeply wrapped in thought for engaging in conversation, little more passed between my comrade and me till we came in view of Netherby-hall, when our attention was immediately drawn to it, no less by the recollections it awakened, as the scene of the song of "Young Lochinvar," than by its uncommonly beautiful situation. Without the least recollection that the whole is only a fiction of the poet's fancy, we But the day may come when the light o' endeavoured with great care to ascer her e'e Shall kindle again as it did of yore, When "Wallace wight" led her warriors on, An' "the Bruce" her bluidy lion bore: An' her spreading thistle bauld an' free Its armed head may uplift again : An' the race o' her Stuarts wear the crown, An' yet in their father's ha' may reign. When we found ourselves well refreshed, we set out on our journey again, my lively companion much improved in spirits, and keeping me from indulging in gloomy reveries. Some miles below L we cross ed the E by a very fine romantic bridge, or rather two bridges, one upon the other, occasioned by the exceeding depth of the craggy banks between which the river is confined, and boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders through with great beauty and grandeur. My companion beguiled the way with many a song and many a merry tale, till at length we came where the road is crossed by a small stream, not so large as the stream of your little spring-well, but which is said to be the boundary between Scotland and England. On approaching it, all our mirth instantly vanished;-we looked at the small stream-into England-back into Scotland-around on its hills, and glens, and green fields, and waving hazels and brushwood, then on each other, but spoke not a word. I placed a foot on each side of the stream,— pulled a small tuft of grass, and tain where the young hero had crossed the river; and we saw him, in the heat of our awakened imaginations, dash into the E-, burst through its wooded banks, and sweep across "Cannabie lee" like a falcon, bearing off his prey in triumph. Tales and ballads of a similar tendency kept the E, and entered Lus in conversation till we recrossed - just as "gloamin'" displayed its finest shade, neither light nor dark, but that dusky greyness so favourable to calm and solemn contemplation. I had, however, another thing to engage my attention, quarters for the night were to be sought, which I procured after a good deal of trouble, occasioned by a fair in the town, which had filled nearly all the houses of public entertainment. I then parted with my fellow-traveller, after an agreement to meet next morning, and continue our journey together. In the house where I stopped I met with a doctor and a painter, two very singular characters in various points of view, but both distinguished for cordial good fellowship over the "barley-bree," and warm-hearted genuine kindness. If it were in my power to relate to you their conversation, and describe the peculiarities of their behaviour, it would make ample amends for the wearisome dullness of this letter. I have never seen a pair of such frank, kind, eccentric men. The doctor, in particular, is a delightful oddity; but all that I could say about him must be reserved till I have the pleasure of a real conversation with you; for, were I to tell you all in my letters, I would have nothing new and strange to talk about when we meet, as I hope we yet may, though I cannot guess when. After a very comfortable night's rest I continued my journey, but without meeting my companion of the preceding day: on I went, however, alone, and something "dowie;" often looking back upon the retiring hills of my dear native land, becoming fainter and fainter, and forward upon the lofty Cambrian mountains, becoming gradually more and more distinct. The morning was beautiful, calm, and mildly sunny; the wind just strong enough to be heard whispering and breathing through the young green unfolding buds of the earlier trees; the lark sung loud, clear, and melodious, high among the purple-streaked clouds; and the jolly Cambrian "hynd" was raising his rude strain in a ruder voice as he followed his plough. The day passed on, the sun reached the middle of the sky, and shone warm and strong, when I came at last in view of C, and stopped on a height to take a survey of it at leisure; but my powers of description are completely inadequate to give you any thing like an idea of its appearance. From the place where I stood, the first object that attracted my attention was the majestic and beautiful flow of the E-, winding past the city with a gentle bend, spanned by a newly-built and stately bridge. The banks of the river on the north side are adorned with a number of elegant mansions; the south bank, in one part, bristles with a variety of houses, lanes, and streets, of all dimensions, but all disorderly, dirty, and apparently in convenient; in another, the grey battlements of the castle, and the narrow windows of the prison, frown "grim and horrible;" over all float ed a dark mass of smoky vapour, penetrated in a few places by the spires of a church or a cathedral. In the distance appeared the mighty forms of Skiddaw and Saddleback, huge and high. Turning round, behind me, I beheld the hills of Rshire, and the neighbouring part of Dshire, mellowed and VOL. XV. obscured by the distance; yet Burnswark was distinctly visible, lifting his singular, and, as it were, artformed brow above the rest, and farther west my own Criffel, which raising its giant size above the Solway, met my view, and awoke the fondest feelings of my heart. I gazed upon it till my eyes grew dim, iny bosom heaved deeply, and my head swam with a sickening and confused pain; then drawing a long farewell sigh, I broke off my reverie, and bent my steps toward the town. I was not then in a capacity to make any impartial remarks, therefore you must not look for any at this time. My heart panted, my whole frame shuddered, and the blood burned o'er my cheek and brow, when I entered the Scotch-gate, where formerly the heads of my gallant, though misled countrymen, blackened in the sun and storm. I did not make any stop in the town,-I could not,-it was not a place for me; but as I was struggling through the crowd in the market-place, my ear was assailed by the well-known sound of a bagpipe. I instantly drew near, and saw and heard an old man in tartan dress, with a true weather-beaten Highland face, playing “Lochaber no more." I stood as if petrified; a thousand burning recollections flashed across my brain, rousing me to frenzy; then the long wailing fall smote upon my heart, till my blood chilled with the agony of woe. of the old man cast a supplicating glance around the crowd; the unfeeling brutes heeded it not; his strain quivered, sunk, and changed; I threw something into his hat, held by a little boy, grasped my stick firmly in hand, and rushed through the crowd like a maniac, scarcely able to restrain my maddened feelings from venting themselves in furious words and frantic actions. The eyes TOWN AND COUNTRY CLERGYMEN. He was a fool through choice, not want of wit: the very top And dignity of Folly we attain By studious search, and labour of the brain. Wilmot. THERE are few who have reached their grand climacteric without ha ving renounced many of their early opinions, and viewed men and things in a very different light from that in which they appeared to the juvenile mind; and there are perhaps still fewer, at that stage of life, who, were it in their power to retrace their steps, would pursue exactly the same track on the journey. But that know ledge which we derive from experience comes generally too late to be applied to any efficient purpose; our choice of a profession, or a business, has been made, and it is too late to change; and our habits have been so long formed, that, in the quaint style of the proverb, they have become second nature. Although it must be confessed that too many adopt no plan, but pass recklessly forward, or rather allow themselves to be impelled by their passions, which are often excited by trivial circumstances; yet it must also be admitted, that specious theories for the regulation of our conduct, however plausible they may appear, and however obstinately they may be maintained, often fail in producing the expected result. The effeminate slave of Pleasure, and the mad votary of Ambition, often find the paths which they tread lead to objects very different from those which were anticipated. Mark Antony, in the arms of Cleopatra, thought not of suicide, after being betrayed and deserted by those in whom he had confided. Did Charles V., when dictating to the Sovereigns of Europe, calculate upon closing life by counting his beads in a cloister? Buonaparte, when leading five hundred thousand warriors into Russia, never imagined that he was pursuing the direct road to an insulated rock in the Indian Ocean, where he was to be doomed to writhe under the petty insults and caprice of a satellite of power, who, a short while before, would have reckoned it a high honour to have been permitted to appear in his presence. Still more uncertain are our schemes for promoting the happiness of our posterity; the father starves himself, that his son may die of a surfeit ;— the mother destroys her daughter's health by empirical cosmetics, to improve her beauty ;-Mary Queen of Scots was left heiress to a crown which conducted her to the scaffold; the Earl of Chesterfield wrote four large volumes for the instruction of his son, whom the fond father expected to see the most accomplished gentleman of his age, and the disappointed parent had the mortifica tion to find him turn out a fool. So true is the couplet of BurnsThe best-laid schemes of mice and men Gang aft a-gley. These reflections occurred to me, when glancing over the obituary of an old Magazine, in which the death of my friend, the Reverend Andrew Baxter, was recorded. Of this man I think myself warranted in saying, that whatever might be his foibles, they were the errors of the head, rather than of the heart. Andrew had, from his earliest years, a most insatiable thirst for learning; he was an excellent classic at twelve, and went to College in his fifteenth year, where he pursued his studies with unremitted assiduity, and almost unrivalled success. Early in the first session he formed an acquaintance with Francis Halliday, a student, also in his noviciate. As both were intended for the church, there was much similarity in their studies: Francis was at least two years older than Andrew, and of course had reflected more upon his future progress in life. Both, like race-horses nearly matched, pressed hard on each other in their progressive studies; but they were generous rivals, influenced by no passion less dignified than a laudable emulation. Yet although both seemed to pursue the same path, the objects they had in view were essentially differ ent. Andrew courted Knowledge, because he sincerely loved her; Francis prized Learning, only as the ladder by which he might climb to wealth and honour in the world. Still, with these incongruities in their disposi tions, a growing intimacy took place between them; they visited each other during the vacation, and at the commencement of next Session took lodgings together. Their professional studies were now less fatiguing, and they had more leisure for excursions in the regions of fancy, or in disputing with each other, for which they had an ample field; as they not only differed from each other on many topics, but on some subjects held opinions diametrically opposite. For instance, Andrew held the Latin adage of poëta nascitur non fit, in its most unlimited sense, considering it as of universal application. Had the system of Gall and Spurzheim been then broached, he would have been among the first proselytes, and would have beat the Baronet and the Lecturer hollow, both with arguments and illustrations; although the system has so direct a tendency to materialism, that he would have found some difficulty in reconciling it to the general orthodoxy of his creed. But amidst his abstract speculations, it never occurred to him, that genius could be made palpable, and the fingers could decide on the properties of the mind; but one little circumstance seems to have escaped the observation of Phrenologists, although known to every old woman in the country, namely, that a child's head is very often rubbed and pressed, till it assumes another shape; this is particularly the case with a hollow which runs across the crown, often very large in young children; and where it continues so through life, it is generally affirmed that the arch of wisdom has been neglected in infancy; this is surely doing violence to Nature; and how shall the disciples of Spurzheim judge whether she or the nurse has filled up the worse than barren cavities in the skull? But this is digressing; let me return. Andrew, although most fully convinced that man was formed by Nature for some particular study or pursuit, knew no better way of discovering her intentions, than by waiting till they developed themselves, not by bumps on the pericranium, but by the slow progress of youth displaying a liking and decisive partiality for some one particular pursuit. From this doctrine Francis differed in toto; for he maintained, that unless when some of the physical organs were defective, there were very few instances where Nature had not imparted powers, requiring only persevering application, to attain a proficiency, even arrive at excellence, in any art or science. He affirmed, in the most unqualified manner, that for any thing that Nature had to do in the business, Shakespeare and Newton might have changed places, that Wolfe might have compiled Johnson's Dictionary, and the Lexicographer triumphed at Quebec. These opposite opinions led to many a long argument, but never produced conviction; for Andrew would exclaim with Pope, One science only will one genius fit; So vast is art, so narrow human wit; and would then add, that we might as well plant the weeping willow on the highest ridge of Arthur's Seat, and the English oak in the middle of the moss of Kincardine, as do violence to Nature, by attempting to make a philosopher of him whom she had destined for a hero, and vice versâ. To this Francis replied, that poetry was not proof, and similes were sophistical arguments; yet to answer him in his own way, it was not long ago since that exotic and beautiful tree, the larch, was reared in a greenhouse, being imagined too delicate for our climate; but we now find it in rich luxuriance on the hill and in the vale, as if it were indigenous to the soil; and he closed his argument thus, that what we reckoned innate propensity in boys, was nothing more than the effect of early and accidental associations; as boys in seaporttowns often become sailors, while those in the interior of the country. never think of it. To this Andrew would reply, that |