of them are still supposed to be haunted, is considered by themselves as a misfortune, on account of the many dreadful images it is said to obtrude upon the fancy. I have been told that the inhabitants of some of the Alpineregions do likewise lay claim to a sort of second sight. Nor is it wonderful that persons of lively imagination, immured in deep solitude, and surrounded with the stupendous scenery of clouds, precipices, and torrents, should dream, even when they think themselves awake, of those few striking ideas with which their lonely lives are diversified ; of corpses, funeral processions, and other objects of terror; or of marriages and the arrival of strangers, and such like matters of more agreeable curiosity. Let it be observed, also, that the ancient Highlanders of Scotland had hardly any other way of supporting themselves than by hunting, fishing, or war, professions that are continually exposed to fatal accidents. And hence, no doubt, additional horrors would often haunt their solitude, and a deeper gloom overshadow the imagination even of the hardiest native. What then would it be reasonable to expect from the fanciful tribe, from the musicians and poets, of such a region? Strains expressive of joy, tranquillity, or the softer passions? No: their style must have been better suited to their circumstances. And so we find in fact that their music is. The wildest irregularity appears in its composition: the expression is warlike and melancholy, and ap proaches even to the terrible. And that their poetry is almost universally mournful, and their views of nature dark and dreary, will be allowed by all who admit of the authenticity of Ossian; and not doubted by any who believe those fragments of Highland poetry to be genuine, which many old people, now alive, of that country, remember to have heard in their youth, and were then taught to refer to a pretty high antiquity. Some of the southern provinces of Scotland present a very different prospect. Smooth and lofty hills covered with verdure; clear streams winding through long and beautiful valleys; trees produced without culture, here straggling or single, and there crowding into little groves and bowers, with other circumstances peculiar to the districts I allude to, render them fit for pasturage, and favourable to romantic leisure and tender passions. Several of the old Scotch songs take their names from the rivulets, villages, and hills adjoining to the Tweed near Melrose; a region distinguished by many charming varieties of rural scenery, and which, whether we consider the face of the country, or the genius of the people, may properly enough be termed the Arcadia of Scotland. And all these songs are sweetly and powerfully expressive of love and tenderness, and other emotions suited to the tranquillity of pastoral life. [ROBERT TANNAHILL, one o. the most popular of the song-writers of Scotland, since Burns, was a native of Paisley, born in 1774. He was bred a weaver; and his favourite pursuit was to recover old and neglected airs, to which he adapted new words. "I would I were a weaver," says Falstaff; "I could sing all manner of songs." He continued to work, with some exceptions, in his native town; where, at the beginning of this century, he made an acquaintance with Robert Archibald Smith, a musical composer, who set some of his songs to original music, and adapted others to old airs. In 1807 Tannahill collected his songs into a volume, which was decidedly successful. The higher success, which he more prized, was to find his songs universally known and sung amongst all classes. But the poet was the victim of a morbid melancholy which embittered his existence. His means were above his wants; he had no special nnhappiness. But he died, as Ophelia died," where a willow grows aslant a brook,"-perhaps "chanting snatches of old tunes." This event occurred in 1810, near Paisley.] JESSIE, THE FLOW'R O DUMBLANE. The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, To muse on sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. And far be the villain, divested of feeling, ; Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet flow'r o' Dumblane. And reckon as naething the height o' its splendour, THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER. Keen blaws the wind o'er the Braes o' Gleniffer, Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain, For, O gin I saw my bonnie Scotch callan, The dark days o' winter were simmer to me! THE MIDGES DANCE ABOON THE BURN. The midges dance aboon the burn, The dews begin to fa', The paitricks down the rushey holm, Set up their e'ening ca'. Beneath the golden gloamin' sky, The mavis mends her lay, While weary yeldrins seem to wall Gaes jinking through the thorn. Spread fragrance through the dell. The redbreast pours his sweetest strains, The simple joys that nature yields Are dearer far to me. AH! SHEELAH, THOU 'RT MY DARLING. Ah! Sheelah, thou 'rt my darling, It brings the hour when we must part; And face the proud insulting foe, Thou hast my soul's devotion, My heart is thine where'er I go; Ah! Sheelah, thou 'rt my darling, My heart is thine where'er I go. When toss'd upon the billow, And angry tempests round me blow, O'ershade thy lovely lily brow : And, like sweet William, wed thee too: Think on our days of pleasure, While wand'ring by the Shannon side, When summer days give leisure To stray amidst their flow'ry pride: Is far upon the stormy main, Farewell, ye lofty mountains, Your flow'ry wilds we wont to rove; Ye woody glens and fountains, The dear retreats of mutual love.- O! Sheelah, to thy vows be true One fond embrace, and then adieu ; 300.-THE LANDLORD AND THE AGENT. MARIA EDGEWORTH. [MARIA EDGEWORTH, the daughter of Richard Lovell Edgeworth, was an author for half a century. She was associated with her father in writing 'Practical Education,' published in 1798. Her novels have survived many changes of fashion and opinions;-her merits, as a delineator of Irish character and habits, always having in view the great cause of social improvement, will give her a high place amongst the writers of the days of George III. The evening of her life was as happy as her long career had been useful. She died in 1849, aged 83.] The execution came gripers, and my son My poor master was in great trouble after my lady left us. down; and everything at Castle Rackrent was seized by the Jason, to his shame be it spoken, amongst them. I wondered, for the life of me, how he could harden himself to do it; but then he had been studying the law, and had made himself attorney Quirk; so he brought down at once a heap of accounts upon my master's head. To cash lent, and to ditto, and to ditto and to ditto, and oats, and bills paid at the milliner's and linen draper's, and many dresses for the fancy balls in Dublin for my lady, and all the bills to the workmen and tradesmen for the scenery of the theatre, and the chandler's and grocer's bills, the tailor's besides butcher's and baker's, and worse than all, the old one of that base wine merchant's, that wanted to arrest my poor master for the amount on the election day, for which amount Sir Condy afterwards passed his note of hand bearing lawful interest from the date thereof; and the interest and compound interest was now mounted to a terrible deal on many other notes and bonds for money borrowed, and there was besides hush money to the sub-sheriffs, and sheets upon sheets of old and new attorneys' bills, with heavy balances, as per former account furnished, brought forward with interest thereon; then there was a powerful deal due to the crown for sixteen years' arrear of quit-rent of the town-lands of Carrick-shaughlin, with driver's fees, and a compliment to the receiver every year for letting the quitrent run on, to oblige Sir Condy, and Sir Kit afore him. Then there were bills for spirits and ribands at the election time, and the gentlemen of the committee's accounts unsettled, and their subscription never gathered; and there were cows to be paid for, with the smith and farrier's bills to be set against the rent of the demesne, with calf and hay money; then there was all the servants' wages, since I don't know when, coming due to them, and sums advanced for them by my son Jason for clothes, and boots, and whips, and odd moneys for sundries expended by them in journeys to town and elsewhere, and pocket-money for the master continually, and messengers and postage before his being a parliament man; I can't myself tell you what besides; but this I know, that when the evening came on which Sir Condy had appointed to settle all with my son Jason, and when he comes into the parlour, and sees the sight of bills and load of papers all gathered on the great dining-table for him, he puts his hands before both his eyes, and cried out, "Merciful Jasus! what is it I see before me?" Then I sets an arm-chair at the table for him, and with a deal of difficulty he sits him down, and my son Jason hands him over the pen and ink to sign to this man's bill and t'other man's bill, all which he did without making the least objections. Indeed, to give him his due, I never seen a man more fair and honest and easy in all his dealings, from first to last as Sir Condy, or more willing to pay every man his own as far as he was able, which is as much as any one can do. 'Well," says he, joking like with Jason, “I wish we could settle it all with a stroke of my grey goose quill. What signifies making me wade through all this ocean of papers here; can't you now, who understand drawing out an account, debtor and creditor, just sit down here at the corner of the table, and get it done out for me, that I may have a clear view of the balance, which is all I need be talking about, you know?" "Very true, Sir Condy, nobody understands business better than yourself," says Jason. "So I've a right to do, being born and bred to the bar," says Sir Condy. "Thady, do step out and see are they bringing in the things for the punch, for we've just done all we have to do this evening." I goes out accordingly, and when I came back Jason was pointing to the balance, which was a terrible sight to my poor master. "Pooh! pooh! pooh!" says he, "here's so many noughts they dazzle my eyes, so they do, and put me in mind of all I suffered, larning of my numeration table, when I was a boy at the day-school along with you, Jason-units, tens, hundreds, tens of hundreds. Is the punch ready, Thady?" says he, seeing me. "Immediately; the boy has the jug in his hand; it's coming up stairs, please your honour, as fast as possible," says I, for I saw his honour was tired out of his life; but Jason, very short and cruel, cuts me off with-"Don't be talking of punch, yet a while; it's no time for punch yet a bit-units, tens, hundreds, goes he on, counting over the master's shoulder, units, tens, hundreds, thousands ?" "A-a-ah! hold your hand," cries my master: "where in this wild world am I to find hundreds, or units itself, let alone thousands ?" "The balance has been running on too long," says Jason, sticking to him as I could not have done at the time, if you'd have given both the Indies and Cork to boot; "the balance has been running on too long, and I'm distressed myself on your account, Sir Condy, for money, and the thing must be settled now on the spot, and the balance cleared off," says Jason. "I'll thank you if you'll only show me how," says Sir Condy. "There's but one way, says Jason, "and that's ready enough when there's no cash, what can a gentleman do. but go to the land?" "How can you go to the land, and it under custodian to yourself already," says Sir Condy, "and another custodian hanging over it? and no one at all can touch it, you know, but the custodees." "Sure can't you sell, though at a loss? sure you can sell, and I've a purchaser ready for you," says Jason. "Have ye so?" said Sir Condy; "that's a great point gained; but there's a thing now beyond all, that perhaps you don't know yet, barring Thady has let you into the secret." "Sarrah bit of a secret, or anything at all of the kind, has he learned from me these fifteen weeks come St. John's eve," says I; "for we have scarce been upon speaking terms of late; but what is it your honour means of a secret ?" Why, the secret of the little keepsake I gave my Lady Rackrent the morning she left us, that she might not go back empty-handed to her friends." "My Lady Rackrent, I'm sure, has baubles and keepsakes enough, as those bills on the table will show," says Jason; "but whatever it is," says he, taking up his pen, we must add it to the balance, for to be sure it can't be paid for." "No, nor can't till after my decease," said Sir Condy; "that's one good thing." Then colouring up a good deal, he tells Jason of the memorandum of the five hundred a-year jointure he had settled upon my lady: at which Jason was indeed mad, and said a great deal in very high words, that it was using a gentleman, who had the management of his affairs, and was moreover his principal creditor, extremely ill, to do such a thing without consulting him, and against his knowledge and consent. To all which Sir Condy had nothing to reply, but that upon his conscience, it was in a hurry and without a moment's thought on his part, and he was very sorry for it, but if it was to do over again he would do the same; and he appealed to me, and I was ready to give my evidence, if that would do, to the truth of all he said. 66 66 The pur So Jason with much ado was brought to agree to a compromise. chaser that I have ready," says he, "will be much displeased, to be sure, at the incumbrance on the land, but I must see and manage him; here's a deed ready drawn up; we have nothing to do but to put in the consideration money and our names to it." "And how much am I going to sell ?-the lands of O'Shaughlin's town, and the lands of Gruneaghoolaghan, and the lands of Crookagnawaturgh," says he, just reading to himself,—“ and—Oh, murder, Jason! sure you won't put this in the castle, stable, and appurtenances of Castle Rackrent." "Oh, murder!" says I, clapping my hands, "this is too bad, Jason." Why so?" said Jason, "when it's all, and a great deal more at back of it, lawfully mine, was I to push for it." “Look at him,” says I, pointing to Sir Condy, who was just leaning back in his arm-chair, with his arms falling beside him like one stupefied; "is it you, Jason, that can stand in his presence, and recollect all he has been to us, and all we have been to him, and yet use him so at the last?" “Who will you find to use him better, I ask you?" said Jason; "if he can get a better purchaser, I am content; I only offer to purchase, to make things easy and oblige him: though I don't see what compliment I am under, if you come to that; I have never had, asked, or charged more than sixpence in the pound, receiver's fees; and where would he have got an agent for a penny less?" "Oh, Jason! Jason! how will you stand to this in the face of the country and all who know you?" says I; "and |