A True History

Are we the men
To turn again

Of a dreadful Accident that happened From the lifting of a coffin?
last Fastern's Eve, being a Warning
to all RESURRECTION MEN.

GOOD people all and sundry,
Come listen unto my song;
You need not think it strange
If my muse may range,
For a ballad should be long.
The tale that I tell to you,
Trust me, you may believe;
For though it be new
And strange, 'tis true;

And it happened on Fastern's eve.
The Doctor sat in his study,-

Not a limb can I buy or borrow,
Not a skull or a leg

Can I steal or beg,

So what must be done for to-morrow?

Our rulers who feel for a corpse,

And provide both guard and box for't,
Will ruin us all,

Both great and small,

"Lead on, lead on the way,
Let's have no more demurrage,
When side by side

Our trade we've plied

So long, do you doubt our courage?"
Then up the street incontinent
John led with stealthy pace;

And his way he took

To the eastmost nook

Of the crowded burying-place,

He turned him north, he turned him south

At length the green sod spying,

He knew by the sign

That this was the mine

Where the treasure he sought was lying.

So they set to work forthwith,
These men of might and merit,
And they raised the coffin
With joke and scoffing,

For they feared neither body nor spirit.
And they lifted the hostler bodily,

And make Edinburgh no better than Ox- No sight to them was shocking,

ford.

"Come here, my trusty John,

Hearken, my honest fellow,
You must sail to-night
By the pale moonlight,

So see that you be not mellow.

"The hostler at Inverkeithing's dead, To lose him would give me sorrow; He died of the stone,

So he alone

Will do for my lecture to-morrow.
"You must take two trusty fellows,
And their pay shall be the greatest,
So hire a boat,

And be afloat

By ten o'clock at latest."

John bowed to his master's order,
Says he, "Sir, I'll not fail ye;
I'll do the job,

And the grave I'll rob,
In spite of cobler and bailie."

And he did not lose a minute,

For the job was to his liking;

He was in his boat,
And fair afloat,

When ten o'clock was striking.

The boat danced over the waves,

For the winds were gently breathing;
The stars shone bright,

And at deep midnight

He landed at Inverkeithing.

Then out spoke John to his comrades true,

"Cheer up, my lads, be hearty,
Be bloody bold,

For five guineas in gold
Shall be shared among the party."

Then answered him his comrades true,
4 Why, John, you're surely scoffing;

And they carried him down
Through the sleeping town

To where their boat was rocking.

The Inchkeith light bore north-north-east
And a cloud o'er the moon was spreading,
When these hearts of steel
Began to feel

A strange unusual dreading.

With a creaking noise each good screw na
From the lid of the coffin started,

And there was a sight

To strike with fright,

I trow the boldest hearted.

In his shroud upright the hostler sat,
His colour was ghastly yellow:
"Hail, brothers hail,

Since together we sail,

Shake hands and be free with your fellow."
That ghastly look, that creaking sound
Made them all melt with fear,

When the hostler's voice
Exclaimed," Rejoice,

Our voyage endeth here!"

Down sunk the boat, while

a fiendish

laugh
Shook the hostler's empty carcase,

"In my shroud for a sail

I'll catch the gale,

And my coffin a glorious bark is.

"Good night my friends, I'm off, good night, We'll soon have another greeting,

Ere to-morrow's light

If I guess aright,

Below we shall all be meeting."

Long, long may the Doctor look for John,
He never shall meet his sight,

Five fathom deep

He lies asleep,

South-east of the Inchkeith light.

ON THE SPRING.

“And mighty nature bounds, as from her

birth,

The Sun is in the Heav'ns, and life on

earth!

Flow'rs in the valley, splendour in the beam,

Health on the gale, and freshness in the

stream.

"

LORD BYRON.

OUR most exquisite pleasures in life are derived from contrast: We never

fully feel the blessings of health, till sickness has unnerved the languid limb, and taught us the value of those every day enjoyments which we had passed over and forgotten, merely because we had never been bereft of them. We never know what sweetness there is in "the common earth, the air, the skies," till we come forth from the melancholy sameness of a sick room, to enjoy them. Then every sense seems to have received fresh vigour-then the eye sees beauty, the ear hears harmony, which the common sights and sounds of nature had never before appeared to convey. How beautiful this provision of a beneficent Being, and how admirably calculated to enhance the value of his gifts to man! It is not enough, so transitory is the impression left upon our minds by the continual display of power and goodness, to keep on an unvarying round of blessings. Although there must be system in the operations of Providence, sufficient to jus tify us in the expectation, that what has been shall again be-although the unalterable nature of the Divine Being must be made manifest in his works, yet the changeful and fickle

nectarine are seen, and the green leaves sprout."* Those to whose minds the beautiful composition of which these words form a part, have long been familar, will be at no loss in conceiving the pleasure it gives to turn to them again on every returning spring. They will remember with what delight their childish fancies compared the faithful description of natural objects, which had, by means of these hymns, been impressed upon their minds, with the objects themselves, then first presented to their perhaps exclaim with me, as far a eyes in all their freshness, and will their influence is concerned." May we be always children! May the day never arrive when we shall unlearn There is something delightful in rethe lessons they have taught us.”curring to the pleasures we first tasted, on feeling ourselves awakened to: a sense of the beauty that surrounds us; but it is still more cheering to find, from the experience of those who have numbered many returns of this reviving season, that the timeshall enjoy them less, provided our seems never likely to arrive when we minds be preserved in that purity without the pervading presence of which all created things are through a distorted medium. A relish for the simple pleasures of nature, formed in early life, seems to wear better and last longer than any other taste. It is, moreover, on the whole, certainly a cheerful taste,— though even here there is room for the operation of that strange perversity of mind which delights to dwell only on the austere and gloomy, instead of the smiling and productive. Some will turn away from the culti- a nature of man must also be accommodated, and the condescension of Pro and seek the barren heath or the aw vated scenes of nature with disdain, vidence, blending, with its general ful precipice. It is useful, no doubt, decrees, some portion of uncertainty occasionally to catch a glimpse of the in its operations, fixes our slumbering sublime, if only to impress on our powers, and arouses our flagging at minds the idea of the immensity of tention. "Summer and winter, seed--the Deity-to show us that, as his time and harvest, shall not fail." We love is, so is his power. But let us know that the spring will come, but not be called effeminate, if we express as winter may reign over the year for a doubt whether there are many a shorter or longer time, there is room minds which will be materially imfor the emotions of joyful thankfulproved by such contemplations. They ness when its storms and terrors are lead us to form an idea of the Creator past.

"The winter is over and gone-the buds come out upon the trees-the crimson blossoms of the peach and

seen

rather resembling that which we che

Mrs Barbauld's Hymns for Children

rish of some of the boasted heroes of
antiquity: We see them all might
all power-We forget the attributes
of goodness. The view of the more
terrific scenes of nature, of the eter-
nal rocks piled one above another,
surviving the wreck and the ruin of
human greatness, and wearing the
same solemn and sublime aspect amid
all the changes of human affairs,
brings home to our bosoms, in an
overpowering degree, the feeling of
our own nothingness. Let what will
become of us who are gazing on them,

follow up the analogy which we are
taught to believe subsists between our
own fate and that of the objects on
"Shall the rose and
which we gaze.
the myrtle bloom anew, and shall
man perish? Shall goodness sleep in
the ground, and the light of wisdom
be quench'd in the dust, and shall
tears be shed over them in vain!-
They also shall live-Their winter
shall pass away."

AND ZACHARY BOYD.

T.

[The following letters, (now for the first time printed,) though not perhaps of high intrinsic interest, seem worthy of preservation, as characteristic memorials of the two extraordinary, though very dissimilar individuals, by whom they are written. Such of our readers as may wish for farther information respecting the transaction, so strangely narrated, and lamely apologized for in Fraser's second letter, will find some account of it, and of his other villanous achievements, in an excellent article on the "Culloden Papers" which appeared some time ago in the Quarterly Review. The letters now given afford a good specimen of that mingled finesse and ferocity for which this intriguing and desperate adventurer became so remarkable. Of old Zachary we have some thoughts of giving a more particular notice on a future occasion.]

they will continue the same till the ORIGINAL LETTERS OF LORD LOVAT world shall be no more. It seems, too, as if we were contemplating the most awful attributes of the Deity-as if he had there stamped the image of his unapproachable Majesty, and unalterable resolution, instead of the milder features of his love. There may be something of weakness in this, yet surely the error is not so great as its opposite. Surely that is no barren and unproductive taste which prompts us to live with man and for man, rather than in the abstract contemplation of power. Surely the order and happiness of created things should be of more account in the eyes of a human being, than the displays of incomprehensible and seemingly useless energy. "What I do thou knowest not now." We turn from what is unknown to what is known. Why the hand of nature should have been so busy overturning the foundations of the earth, and laying bare her mysteries where human eye seldom penetrates, we know not; but we do know why the rain falls; why the dew descends: Why the whirlwinds of winter should shake our habitations to the ground, we understand not now, but we see the spring sun shining on the tender blade, and feel that there are blessings around us which demand our thankfulness. For those storms which have taken away our far more valuable treasures,

“The kind, the cheerful,

and the gay, They who have gladden'd the domestic board

And cheer'd the winter round"

We cannot penetrate into the designs of the Being who has sent them; but while we see all nature bursting into Afe and beauty around us, we gladly

From Simon Fraser (afterwards Lord Lovat) to Sir John Hill, Governor of Fort William.

RIGHT HONORED,-I beg your pardon sincerly for trobling you w the inclosed. I hope your good and christian temper will importune you to save me and ye whole Nam. Notw'standing of all yt I could gather to a head of men, since my Lady Lovat is wt me under capitulation, and y she hes oblidged her self upon honor, y none will trøble us till our treating be over, I will keep no body of men at all together but a few prettie fellows to guard myself and ye prisoners. I hope you will pity him who is in all duty and sincerity your ffathfull much oblidged serv', SIM: FRASER.

Beaufort, y 8 of October.

From the same to the same; inclosed in the preceding.

RIGHT HONORED,-The great sense I have of your great honor and