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his return was truly kindling. It made one almost in love with auld langsyne. We are quite sure that, with all its faults, we should at the moment have been content to barter it for "this ignorant present."

All that part of the novel relating to Sir Hildebrand and his sons is omitted, as well as the splendid description of the escape of Rob Roy; and also every thing that occurs previously to the stoppage of the house of Osbaldistone. In other respects, the story is pretty closely followed; and, as we before mentioned, the very words of the principal scenes; and we are so unused to any thing of the kind in new pieces, that they seemed to come upon us like meeting a friend in a foreign country.

The opera was excellently performed. The character of Rob Roy might have been looked better than by Mr Macready, but it could not have been played better. His first scenes were extremely easy and spirited; and some of the last had a power and pathos-a fine homely pathos-that was delightful. Liston was Nicol Jarvie, and a most amusing person he made of him. But when he talked about "dangling like the sign of the golden fleece over the door of a mercer's shop on Ludgate Hill," we could not help echoing his "My conscience!" When an actor presumes to make a joke of his own-for such this must have been-he should at least take care not to let it be a bad one.-Blanchard and Tokely played Owen and Dugald admirably. There was a fine resemblance, and at the same time a fine contrast, between them. Each was devoted to his patron, but each in his own way: one with the mechanical, counting-house devotion of an automaton, and the other with the fiery, headlong devotion of a beast. The one could have been manufactured nowhere but in "Crane Alley, London," and the other could have been bred nowhere but in the Highlands of Scotland. Rashleigh Osbaldistone, though not made a prominent character, was well performed by Abbot.-Mr Sinclair was as little like Frank Osbaldistone as Miss Stephens was like Diana Vernon; but then the one was a change sadly for the worse, whereas the other was perhaps for the better. A young gentleman who can do nothing but

sing a song, is but a poor substitute for one who can do every thing but sing a song; but a timid, retiring woman, who seems made only "within a gentle bosom to be laid," is perhaps more attractive than a dashing highspirited lady, who can leap a five-bar gate, and be in at the death.-They both sang delightfully. We never remember to have heard any thing so exquisitely delicate and beautiful as a duet to the air of Roy's Wife, which was given without the accompaniment of the orchestra. Besides this air, we recognised The Lass of Patie's Mill, Auld Langsyne, and some other favourites.

The scenery of this opera is very fine, particularly the bridge at Glasgow by moon-light, and the two scenes in the Highlands.

THE MARQUIS OF CARABAS, or PUSS IN BOOTS. A piece with_this title was produced on the 30th of March. It is said to have been quite worthless, and was completely rejected by the public; but notwithstanding this, the plebeian managers of this theatre, profiting by the noble example of the lords and gentlemen at the other house, seemed to have it in contemplation to force it upon the town again. The audience, however, had the spirit to take the law into their own hands, and threaten destruction to all the finery within their reach. This was as it should be, supposing the condemnation of the piece in question to be just; of which, however, not being present, we do not pretend to judge. This summary way of proceeding is the only resource the public have against the insolent pretensions and overweening power of these exclusive people; and it brought them to their senses in a trice. They sent forward their mouth-piece to explain how much it was "their inclination, as well as their duty, to comply with the sense of the public," and so forth— after they had had the insolence to endeavour to drive them away, by throwing the theatre into almost total darkness.

Drury Lane Theatre.

ROB ROY, or THE GREGARACH. On the 25th March a play was pro duced, called ROB ROY, or THE GRE GARACH, The name of this piece was

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This piece is by Mr Soane, who seems to be the accredited agent for supplying this house with the article of melo-dramas. We guess that he received an order for one on the subject of Rob Roy, to be delivered by a certain time; but finding that Mr Pocock had been beforehand with him in the market, he ventured to substitute a spurious commodity under the same name, relying on the ignorance of his customers for the cheat not being detected. But he might have known, that if " noblemen and gentle men" can find something better to do than to read Rob Roy, other people cannot; and he might have been sure, that any one who had read that work would not tolerate such a parody on it as he has given. It is a sort of "Hamlet Travestie," only without the fun. "The burthen of the mystery," from beginning to end, is Rob Roy in love! Think of the Macgregor in love! Sighing away his life at a lady's feet! Breathing forth soft vows, to the sound of his own pibroch, beneath a bower of roses (raised by magic, no doubt), among his own mountains! We wonder it did not occur to Mr Soane to bring Rob Roy to London, put on him a pair of tight pantaloons and a stiff neckcloth, and make him fall in love with an operadancer.

We shall not waste the reader's time, or our own, by saying any thing more of the plot and characters of this piece, than that they differ, in almost every respect, from those of the novel. To such as properly appreciate that work and its companions, this will seem almost like falsifying the truth of history; like writing an historical play, in which Alexander should be made a coward, or Cicero a fool, or Brutus accept a place under government. The truth is, Mr Soane has wandered into the Highlands without

his guide, and has lost himself there; and we do not much care if he never finds his way back again, at least if he is determined to write plays, and cannot write better ones than this. We cannot dismiss it, however, without noticing the performance of Mr Wallack, in Dugald. It was admirable; and but for this the piece would not have been heard half out. At the close it was completely damned; but the "noblemen and gentlemen" thought proper to announce it the next day for " every evening till further notice," in consequence of the applause, &c. it had received. This in any body else would have been a great piece of impertinence, to say nothing of its falsehood.

THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT. A new farce, with this title, was produced on the 1st of April. It is written by Mr Penley, of this theatre, and is one of the drollest we have seen for a long time past. It makes no pretensions to wit or character; but all the fun depends on the situations and equivoques, which are extremely well contrived. We do not recollect any farce that has so striking and complete a conclusion; but the audience lose this, by a foolish and ill-mannered habit which they have of getting up to go away the moment they perceive that the last scene is arrived. The whole weight of the piece lay on Mr Harley, who played most exquisitely. A Mrs Hughes, whom we had not before seen, played the character of a waiting-maid with becoming pertness and vivacity.

EFFECT OF FARM OVERSEERS ON THE MORALS OF FARM SERVANTS.

I THINK it was Professor Dugald Stewart who some time ago remarked, that" what was known in the last generation to a few philosophers, in the present came to be publicly taught in the schools, and in the next would become familiar to the people." If we take a slight view of the last thirty years, we shall most probably find this observation of the philosopher abundantly verified; and if it is capable of general application, and we had the power to put our eyes behind the Professor's spectacles, and

to look forward, we would most undoubtedly have strange things placed in our view. We really can assign no limits to the human mind; it is evident, that the more we know, our capacity for acquiring knowledge is enlarged in proportion, and it is probably like every thing else that is progressive, and increases according to some determinate ratio, although, like a late great conqueror, carrying along with it the means of its own future obstruction, or sometimes it may resemble a winter flood in a rapid river, that goes on tearing up the ice-boards before it, and adding to its force and velocity, until the accumulation becomes too vast to move within the old banks, and it wastes its strength by overflowing and devastating an adjoining plain. But this is wading into the strength of the flood, while I only meant to try to examine some things that I thought I observed floating down the edge of the current, although I am some little alarmed, not only for what is already afloat, but for what is beginning to move with the stream.

To drop any further metaphor, the fact is, Mr Editor, that truths, which in my younger days we durst hardly mention to one another as we rode home after the presbytery dinner, are now discussed boldly in every alehouse (I heartily wish there were fewer of them) in the parish. This has been to me no small cause of consternation, to say the least of it. It is too evident that there is something wrong, Mr Editor, when people grow wiser than their teachers.

The three learned professions may and ought to be considered, capable of judging what is good for all ranks of society, for they are generally conversant with each and all of them,-from the laird to the cotter, and from the bailie to the burgess.

In a future letter (that is to say, if this shall be deemed worthy to be honoured with a place in your pages), I may perhaps communicate some observations which I have had the opportunity of making upon the influence of the higher on the middle classes, and through them upon the people at large. Upon this subject I would wish to enter somewhat into particulars, and try to do some justice to its importance, for it appears to me that a change has been taking place through the whole body of the com

monwealth, like the veering of the ice in the Polar Seas, during which some terrible gratings and jarrings have been heard, and even once or twice (it can be nought but the cold weather that puts these frozen similitudes in one's head) the whole field threatened to be broken up by a ground swell. In my present communication I shall try to confine myself, if possible (for I got an early habit of wandering from my text), to some unpleasant circumstances in the situation of a numerous class of the common people.

I have no small hesitation in saying, and I hope I shall not be thought to derogate ought from the proper dignity of the clerical character when I do say so, that I seldom refuse to partake of the good things of this life, with those more wealthy farmers in my neighbourhood who are still in a substantial condition. I do this the less reluctantly, that it belongs to my profession, not only to mix occasionally among the people, but to become all things to all men.

But, in good truth, the heritors have almost all left the country. Of the immediate causes of this emigra tion, I shall refrain from saying much at this time. I myself have felt some little of the pressure of the times; and having a title, at next Martinmas come a twelve months, to claim an augmentation to my stipend of one chalder and a half of victual, I shall remember the proverb, and “let sleeping dogs lie."

As I said before, I have frequent opportunities of associating with the more wealthy farmers. The whole economy of their households is now superior to that of their landlords when I came first to the parish. I sometimes venture to tell them that they have got into their lairds' places ; but they reply, that all trades and callings are advanced. This, however, when I recollect that my predecessor was enabled to provide himself with the comfort of a snug chaise, does not strike me with the force of an argumentum ad hominem.

My own residence is confined to one of the fertile coast-side districts, where the people had rather the start in agricultural improvements. As the old race of farmers acquired property (I speak of forty years ago), they began to educate their sons in proportion. Of these some applied to trade, to the

law, or they went abroad and obtained employment in our different colonies. The head of the family, in the mean time, went on and prospered ;-he enlarged the bounds of his farm by taking leases of those belonging to his less enterprising neighbours ;-his son, who had remained at home for the purpose of succeeding him in his business, was relieved of his share in the usual labour, and promoted to assist his father in the superintendence of his increasing concerns;-or the son, or other relation who succeeded, continued to proceed in the same enter prising way. Thus the tenantry came to double and treble the original size of their farms, which were commonly from 60 to 150 acres when the land was good, but were now swelled even to the extent of 1000, in some in

stances.

left almost entirely to the superintendence of the overseer.

Some two years ago, I went to visit an old acquaintance in the hilly part of the country. Among these dales the sheep farmers are wont to keep only as much land under tillage as can be accomplished by the labour of one pair of horses; they have more women servants in proportion to this, as they are needed for hoeing the crop of turnips and potatoes,-for assisting at the sheep-folds, at the periods of assorting the flocks,-and in making the natural meadow hay, of which there is usually a considerable quantity along the banks of the rivulets. Excepting when assisting at the folds, where the master always attends himself, the servants are very often sent to their work without any person to oversee them; they are, of course, told that it is expected they will be diligent, and that they are left to the admonition of their own consciences to urge them to their duty.

At my friend's house I met with a sheep-farmer of extensive property, who showed much acuteness of intellect and shrewdness in his remarks. He seemed to have studied closely the characters and motives of all with whom he had been led to be connect

All this, besides the contemporaneous advance in general wealth, mightily tended to enlarge the information, alter the manners, and extend the ambition of this important class of people. During the progress of this change, a space was opened between the farmer and his labourers that required to be filled up; and a new sort of person, called a grieve, or overseer, made his appearance. One of the steadiest of the ploughmen was commonly elected, and to have taken wonderfully deep ed to this office,-he attended to the execution of his master's orders while he rode to markets and sales. The master then began to find that, even in the intervals between these, the overseer continued to relieve him of his usual attention to much of the detail of the farm-work ;-he began, in process of time, to give himself still more latitude, he took still more distant journies, he visited his neighbours, and saw their horses, cattle, and feeding-stock; inspected the success of their new modes of culture, and the effect of their improved implements.

Knowing that his work was going on in the mean time, always under the eye of a person who was answerable, at the risk of his place, for the perfection and extent of the work performed, he came to have small hesitation in staying to dinner and spending the afternoon with his friends, who were similarly provided with substitutes. His neighbours, in their turn, visited him, and in this way the ploughman and labourers came to be

views of the structure of society. He told me, that within these last twenty years or so, the system that the arable farmers had betaken themselves to of keeping overseers for their servants and day-labourers, had had the effect of greatly corrupting their habits. I was much startled with this remark at first, and then began to suspect that the gentleman was carrying his knowledge of mankind to a fanciful extent.

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"That appears to me an odd prejudice," said I; we view the matter in another sort of light in my part of the country, where grieves are more generally kept by the farmers, than in the arable part of the country contiguous to where we now are.'

He said, that the demoralization he complained of he had ascertained, from several years' experience, to be a certain fact;-that in my district of the country he had no doubt that it was still worse, as it would prevail exactly in proportion as the system of vicarious management existed;-and from the universal prevalence of the prac

tice we had necessarily remained ignorant of the effects.

I now began to see that this might be the case; that in fact there could be very few opportunities of the evil being noticed; and when such did occur, the coincidence of such an acute observer was a thing not to be reckoned upon. I recollected too, that it was a common enough complaint among the old people, that servants were grown worthless in comparison to what they were since they recollected. My new friend went on to declare, that for his part, he now carefully avoided hiring a servant if he could discover that they had been in the service of an arable-farmer who kept a grieve; they not only were idle, he said, whenever they were out of view, but they had generally acquired wrong ideas of the duty of a servant, and were very apt to infect the others with their idleness and corrupt principles.

I inquired if he did not think that the constant presence of the overseer with the labourers would rather have the effect of training them to habits of diligence and industry. He replied, that as well might we expect that the sound of the whip would train the negroes to such habits. He shewed, that he had fully investigated the subject, and made himself well acquainted with the former and present state of the people in the arable districts.

Two things, he observed, combined to render labourers less industrious and tractable under the inspection of a grieve; first, he was one of their own order of society, and all men submit with unwillingness to the authority of an equal; secondly, he has not his own interest to plead for, urging their diligence, and consequently the workers naturally (though unjustly) considered him as less entitled to be strict in his superintendence. Thus situated, the grieve either endeavoured to diminish the odium attending his official duty, by conniving at neglect or laziness; or enforcing it with strictness, it became the general and common object of the labourers to elude his vigilance by every possible device. In either case, the character of the labouring class was ruined since the principle was introduced among them of doing as little for their wages as they possibly can, which perhaps

leads the way to their defrauding their masters otherwise, and more directly.

He said, that formerly, when the farms were small, there were but two or three hands employed, and the master working himself occasionally along with them, they came to have a greater interest in the work; and when he had to be absent from them, every person could get the credit of his own diligence; it was not lost and overlooked among the work of a number, and any remissness, where it did occur, was more easily detected, and charged upon the identical person in fault. The whole household also constituted one family, which looked to the gudeman as their natural and patriarchal head, and considered his interest as in some degree connected with their own. The words, our har'st and our crops, were commonly used to express those of their master. They heard his ideas and plans, communicated their own remarks, and became interested in the success of the whole. All this kindly communication is cut off by the introduction of this delegated authority to the grieve, which of course removes the person, the views, the interest of the master, so much farther out of the sphere of the labourers' observation and attachment. That attachment was of course diminished, as subjects cannot be supposed to entertain that loyalty to the person of a viceroy as to that of their native sovereign residing in the bosom of his country.

It was then also well understood, that eye-service, as they termed it, was disgraceful and dishonest; and it was a common saying among them, that "if a man did not serve his master well for love, he would never do it for fear. That an eye-servant was the devil's servant, but he who wrought when no eye saw him wrought to God."

On the large farms the labourers are never left at any time to the impulse or control of their own feelings. The overseer goes out with them in the morning; his watch regulates their time of rest, and the hour when they cease from their labour for the night. Diligence is here no virtue; there is really no room for fidelity and the pride of an honest mind; and it is impossible for them to acquire the approbation and esteem of their superiors, so flattering to, and congenial

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