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"But stille to gairde the virtuous herte
From pathis of dainger and of woe,
Shall bee myne earneste, deireste parte;
Then tell me, daime, quhare dost thou goe?"

"I go to meite myne awne deire lofe,
True happynesse with him to seike,
The comelyest and kyndest youthe
That evir kyssit ane maydinis cheike."

The Spyrit shoke his sylver hayre,

That stremit lyke sunne-beime thru the rayne, But there wals pitye in his eyne,

Though mynglit with ane mylde disdayne.

He whuppit the mayde up in his armis
Als I wolde lyfte any tryveal toye
Quod hee, "The upshotte thou shalte see
Of this moste pure and virtuous joie !"

Hee toke two strydis, he toke but two,
Although ane myle it semyt to bee,
And showit the mayde hir own true lofe
With maydin weping at his knee;

And, och, that maydinis herte wals sore,
For stille with teris sho wet his feete;
But then he mocked and jeerit the more,
With thretis and language moste unmeite.

Sho cryit, "O deire and cruelle youthe,
Thynk of the lofe you vowit to mee,
And alle the jois that wee haif pruvit,
Benethe the beilde of birken tree.

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"Now, maydin," sayde the mightye shaide,

"Thou seest quhat daingeris waited thee;
Thou seest quhat snaris for thee were laide
Alle underneathe the grenewode tree.

"Yet straighte on ruine woldst thou runne!
Quhat thynkest thou of thyne lovir meike;
The comelyest and the kyndest youthe
That evir kyssit ane maydinis cheike?"

Then sore sore did poore Marjorie weipe,
And cryit, "This worlde is ane world of woe,
Ane plaice of synne, of snaire, and gynne;
Alace, quhat shalle poore woman doe?"

"Let woman truste in hevin highe,
And bee alle venturis rashe abjured;
And nevir truste hirself with man,
Tille of his virtue welle assured."

The Spyrit turnit him round about,
And up the glenne he strod amayne,
Quhille his whyte hayre alangis the hevin
Stremyt lyke the cometis fyerie trayne.

Highe als the egillis mornyng flighte,
And swifte als is his cloudy waye,
He bare that maydin throughe the nyghte,
Enswathit in wondir and dismaye,

And he flang hir in the Dominyis bedde,
Ane goode softe bedde als bedde colde bee;
And quhan the Dominie hee came hame,
Ane rychte astoundit man wals hee.

Quod hee, "Myne deire swete Marjorie,
Myne beste belovit and dawtyit daime,
You are wellcome to myne bedde and borde,
And this braif housse to bee thyne haime.

"But not tille wee in holye churche
Bee bounde, nevir to loose againe ;
And then I wille lofe you als myne lyffe,
And long als lyffe and brethe remaine."

Then the Dominie toke hir to holie churche,
And wedde hir with ane gowden ryng;
And he wals that daye ane joifulle man,
And happyer nor ane crownit kyng.

And more unsmirchit happynesse

Nere to ane yirthlye paire wals given;
And all the dayis they spente on yirthe,
They spente in thankfulnesse to hevin.

Now, maydinis deire, in grenewode shawe,
Ere you maike trystis with flatteryng menne,
Thynk of the sychtis poore Marjorie sawe,
And the GREAT SPYRIT of the Glenne.

MOUNT BENGER, July 9, 1828.

NOTICES, TRAVELLING AND POLITICAL, BY A WHIG-HATER.

MY DEAR NORTH,

SUPPOSE a well-written and flowery introduction to this letter; and let us come to the point at once. I most heartily congratulate you upon the last grand change in the Ministry. I ought to have done so before, and shall presently explain why I did not; in the mean time, I have gained this advantage by the delay, that it enables me in the same letter to congratulate you on the cheering display of political strength in the last Number of Maga, that renowned periodical, of which you are at once the inspiring and the tutelary genius. This is no flattery, my excellent friend, but the simple truth; you are not only witty and vigorous and spirited yourself, but you are the cause of wit and vigour, and spirit, in others. What man, except he be a Whig or an idiot -for they are not always synonymous -can read a page of Maga, and not feel his mind braced, and his very frame invigorated, by the stream of ideas which has been poured into him! There are other modes of exhilaration -a swim for fifteen minutes in the rough sea, while the saucy waves bear you along, swift as a wild-duck, upon their foamy tops-a gallop on your favourite hunter against the breeze upon a fresh October morning-a caulker of whisky as you pursue grouse upon the heathy mountain's side-each and all of these are excellent in their season; but they produce nothing like the flow of life and spirits which an honest man imbibes from a page of Maga. A politician who wishes to write a good dispatch-a lawyer who intends to make a powerful speech, or any man who is weak in the hams, let him read a page of Maga before he "goeth forth to his labour in the morning." There are only two cases in which this is dangerous, and these are when a man intends afterwards to put on tight breeches or tight boots. If he reads Maga previously, he will tear the best buckskins all to pieces at the first haul; or, at the first chuck of his brightly-polished Wellingtons, away come the straps with a crack, and the unlucky man knocks out both his eyes with the handles of the boothooks. I can tell, by seeing a man sit down to read, what Magazine it is

he has got in his hands. When it is the New Monthly, he fixes his fundamental feature upon the outer edge of a chair, and leaves his legs sprawling out, as if courting disturbance from the mere idling in which he is engaged. Then if you watch his face, you shall perceive his lips relaxing into a smile half-contemptuous, and halfmirthful, as he reads some far-fetched pun, or elaborated piece of small wit. You can see that he turns over two pages or three at a time, till at last he comes to some politics of Lady Morgan, or Sir James Mackintosh, and then with a "pish," he takes the Magazine betwixt his finger and thumb, and tosses it to the far-end of the table. Far different is the treatment of Maga: the servant, a shrewd elderly man, whom experience hath made wise, asks, as he lays it on the table, "Shall I say not at home, sir?""Yes, John, except to any one that I know." And then the worthy subscriber proceeds towards his favourite chair, the gold box-for he takes snuff in moderation-is laid before him on the table, and he seats himself firmly and deliberately, as one who should say,

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"Now am I fixed for two good hours of rational enjoyment." o'clock comes, and reluctantly he is obliged to quit his beloved Maga, for he is on a Committee of the House of Commons, to which he must attend. The sharpness of his queries, and the sagacity of his remarks that day, are felt by all his brother committeemen; and it is whispered from one to another, as he leaves the room, that if the member for Senseborough had chosen an official life, he would by this time have been Prime Minister. It is the spirit of North which has been upon him, and the effects of his inspiration have drawn forth these praises. Such, my dear friend, are the reflections which the mention of your last month's political articles have drawn forth. I used to glory in the strength which you displayed during those less auspicious times, when good men spoke of the state of the Government with regret; and then I said that you seemed to soar above circumstances, and became more powerful as your task became less encouraging; but now I perceive that you have been

able to gather fresh vigour from success, and that your march as a conqueror indicates yet more energy than your rapid step when you went forth to battle.

But it is time to tell you why I am thus late in congratulating you upon the "fall of the Liberals.' The fact is, I was roaming in the country, endeavouring for a season to forget politics. As soon as our late spring had acquired settled strength, and the balmy breath of May was felt along the hill-side, I set forth to regain the health and vivacity, which the anxie ty, that I in common with all good Tories had felt during the absurd administration of Lord Goderich and Company, had in some measure taken away. From the time that the Duke took the command in the Cabinet, I of course felt tolerably comfortable on the score of politics, notwithstanding the admixture of a few Liberals, be

cause I was confident that he would

not allow them to do mischief; yet while it was winter, and while things were not entirely as one could wish, the lost ground was not to be recovered, and I gladly seized the first opportunity to leave the dusty atmosphere of this metropolis, which was crammed beyond all endurance, and to seek

bling maze

cadaverous appearance, the aspect of these latter is utterly unendurable by a genuine Whig-Hater, whose nervous system is a little out of order.

Away then I sped, and never stopped till I paid my compliments to Helvellyn, and drank down the mountain air beneath a blue and cloudless sky, delighting in my loneliness, and in the glorious silent majesty of nature

"To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,

With the wild flock that never needs a fold, Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to

lean

This is not solitude, 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and see her stores unrolled."

I

believe I ought here rather to have quoted Wordsworth than Lord Byron, both because it is to Wordsworth it is peculiarly owing that this is classic ground, and because he surpasses all intensity of feeling, which is best men in the depth, and almost holy fitted for such scenes, and for their description; but what is writ, is writ. Lowther I visited too, its sweet romantic river, and thick woods, where Wordsworth tells us he wandered in his youth. You should have been there too, my dear North, you who are such a famous brother of the an

"The woods, the mountains, and the war- gle, and who love trees so well. You soon would know, if you do not know already,

Of the wild brooks."

I do not know that I ever enjoyed them so much. In the first place, I was far away from the sight of Whigs, and those people yet more detestable, who call themselves Liberals. It was impossible to get into vigorous health, while I was under the necessity of meeting these fellows every day, as I walked down Whitehall at four o'clock. You know how I hate the sight of them-it sends all the bile from the liver, whizzing through the system

"Fervens difficili bile tumet jecur," and the discharge is repeated, till the whole frame is saturated. Now, this is bad enough in winter, when the sharp air causes not only the aforesaid Whigs and Liberals, but even decent honest people to be wrapped up in great-coats, and to look meagre and sorry, with a drop at their nose; but when winter passes away, and the honest people begin to look rosy and hearty, while the others retain their VOL. XXIV.

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And, Lord save us! what heaps of trout you would catch-they are not large, but the river is full of them. "There softly stealing with your watery gear

Along the brook, the crimson-spotted fry You may delude; the whilst amused you hear,

Now the hoarse stream, and now the zephyr's sigh Attuned to the birds, and woodland melody."

Keswick, too, I saw, beautiful Kes wick! and crossed the brook to "cloud-cleaving" Skiddaw. Next day I found myself at the bottom of a Whitehaven coal-pit-This was by way of variety. But I had almost forgot. We had a thunder-storm between Keswick and the coal-pits,

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which was the grandest thing imaginable. We drove under the shelter of a thick wood, and by the margin of that huge lake-You know its name, which I cannot remember-and you will recollect the mountainous shore opposite to that on which we were. The change from clear hot sunshine to thick dark clouds, came with a rapidity only known amongst the hills, and the lake almost seemed to scowl with a grim and awful tranquillity. Thun, der is magnificent anywhere. Even in a city, it is awful to lie upon one's bed in the silent night, and listen to the majestic sound, which comes upon the soul like the dread voice of Deity; yet how poor is it when compared with thunder amidst lakes and mountains! Down it came, bellowing and rocking from side to side of the gorges of the mountains, until it burst in one wild roar upon the wide surface of the lake, while the sheeted rain struck upon the water with a hissing sound, and thick dark mist shut up the view. From Whitehaven I got a steamer to Liverpool, a seaport on the west coast, which at present returns Mr Huskisson to Parliament. Thence made direct for Capel Cerrig, and after three hours' sleep, climbed Snowdown, whose top I reached earlier than the sun-beams. The evening of that day found me at the Menai Bridge, a stupendous and magnificent work, which, were it at Cape Horn, it were well worth going to see. 'Tis a pleasant morning's drive from the strait to Holyhead, from which six hours of a steamer brings you to Ireland, a Popish country, annexed to the crown of Great Britain, and governed by a self-elected body called the Roman Catholic Association. This is a fine country, and were English law put in force here, I doubt not but it would hecome a rich and pleasant place. Nothing, however, can exceed the distraction which prevails in consequence of the violent misgovernment of the Association. I went to one of their debates, and was quite shocked to think that an extensive country should be left to the management of such a rude, illiterate, and boisterous set of people. They spoke a kind of corrupted English, with a strange uncouth accent, accompanied with occasional yells, and strange gesticulations, which convinced me that most of them were partially, if not wholly,

deranged. It is well known, that formerly, the Imperial Parliament used to make laws for this country, and the executive took care that they were put in execution; but by some unaccountable neglect, those who were of late years charged with the execution of the Parliament laws, omitted to enforce them, and the strange misgovernment of this Association arose in consequence. The Association is a mixed assembly of laymen and ecclesiastics; the former are the most active in the debate, (if indeed their discussions may be dignified with that name,) and the latter charge themselves with putting the edicts of the assembly in force amongst the people.

I understand a seat in this assembly, and consequently a voice in making these edicts, can be obtained for a small sum of money; but the general character of the members for violence is such, that no one ventures to go in amongst them, and endeavour to restrain the popular frenzy. If any one did so, the probable consequence would be, that an edict would be passed against him, which being handed over to the priests for execution, they would give the necessary orders to the mob, and the rash patriot would be immediately torn in pieces. The Association raises considerable taxes, the payment of which is enforced by the executive, that is, the priests, and severe punishment inflicted upon those who go in arrear; but with all this appearance of strength in the govern ment, it is the most destructive imaginable, for its energy is to be found in nothing but acts of seyere oppres sion, to which the bigoted and ignorant people submit with a delirious passion for slavery, that is quite revolting. The Association neither encourages arts, nor agriculture, nor manufactures, nor education. To the last the priests openly avow their determi ned opposition, and yet the besotted people suffer themselves to be driven along by them, in droves, like swine with rings in their noses.

It was not, however, to view the politics, but the mountains of Ireland, that I came to this country; so, after a brief sojourn in Dublin, I started off over the hills for the county of Wicklow. It could hardly be believed that within ten miles of so large a city as Dublin, I came upon a wild billy tract covered with heath, where, but for the

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