Ultima Thule; and when my spirits, revolted by the shameful indecency of the opera dancers, flies homeward for repose, sometimes I see the more modest operation of Janet dancing on blankets in a tub, but oftener the agile roes half appearing through the lofty native pines that shelter from the north our storm-beat mansion. How graceful, how elegantly these fine-turned forms and fleeting gambols, compared with those odious animals, those decorated Yahoos, who having but half the number of legs, are content to stand on one, and point out and quiver the other to delight educated gentlemen and modest ladies! Do not think, however, that these reveries are frequent, or that I do not take pleasure in all that others are innocently and decently pleased with. But I must first vent my chagrin at what displeases, and next get used to heartless hurry and frozen politeness. When this is all settled, I shall feel, or feign, much pleasure in seeing crowds, and dresses, and pictures; and when this fever of admiration is a little worn off, I shall have that sober certainty of waking bliss which is derived from the access of new ideas, from a nearer approach to illustrious characters, and from contemplating the highest efforts of human ingenuity in the fine arts. I am sure a philosophical and contemplative mind must and ought to have pleasure in seeing this human hive busied in bringing and circulating wealth from all quarters of the globe, and in finding enjoyment in the occupation that enriches their country, as well as individuals. I know I ought to like to see the bustle and the ferment, but I cannot. I cannot, for my life, conceive myself as having an idea in common with these worldlings, yet I try to regard them with benevolence, as those to whom we owe many of our enjoyments. When I meet one of my father's bare-headed gillies, or one of our dairy maids returning from the fold, I am not sure that their thoughts may not be employed pretty much in the same manner as my own. The song and story that gives identity and animation to all the wild objects in sight, are as familiar to them as to

me.

The sun going to rest in the western isles of the blessed, the sea rolling in light beneath the mild splendour of the full moon, the dirge of

the departed hero, and the maiden walking in the light of her beauty, with her slender arrows towards the hill of roes,-all these images, early imprest on my mind, live in more vivid reality in theirs, where nothing worldly or modern has intruded to mingle with them. The strains of native music that even here come to my ear like the voice of a friend, speak the same language still more forcibly to theirs, because oftener recalled, and more fondly cherished. I have gold which they have not, but they have silver in common with me. From my higher acquisitions they are excluded, happily perhaps, but all the alphabet of feeling and imagination we read in common. Yes, now new light opens to me. Now I know what I could never before account for, why Highlanders, though far more respectful to their superiors than Saxons, on either side of the irremeable Tweed, regard thein with much more affection, and mingle fondness with the veneration with which they regard the heads of their tribes. This, too, tells, why native unspoilt gentlemen treat those inferiors with all the graceful courtesy of high born benevolence. They are mutually conscious of not only springing from the same stock, but of wandering together in the same Elysian fields of fancy, meeting on the same ground of pathetic and heroic story, and drawing tears and smiles from the same source. O that the "majestic teacher of moral wisdom," when he wandered darkling through our bare unsightly isles bad known this!—had known the treasures of thought, and the raptures of song, concealed in a language which he was taught, even in our own division of the island, to consider as barbarous! Little as he could feel affinity with those imagined savages who accompanied the dash of their oars with the unintelligible boat song, I feel much less with the sons of lucre and their satellites here. I cannot like them, because they do not like each other. I think no classes of mankind have less sympathy with each other than the vulgar rich and the vulgar poor; I, for my part, can sympathize with neither. I am certainly very selfish in pouring out my recollections and opinions to you, instead of telling you what I hear and see. Something of this I tell to others,

much beauty, that I could not find time to discover what part of it was real and which artificial; and so much dress, that my imagination is crowded with waving plumes, orient pearls, sparkling diamonds, and flowers of artful bloom, like some of the wearers, so that I have no distinct image remaining of any one person. Men there were in abundance; but, as they paid very little attention to me, I shall pay as little to them at present. Depend, however, on a full and true account of the next party; and do not suppose me dazzled or overawed; I am only, as my aunt was last night, over-crowded. A little usage will serve me, like a prism, to distinguish and arrange the colours that fleet before me.

In the mean time, I return to Dr Johnson, so long my daily thought and nightly dream, when his shade seemed to walk between Slate and Taliskar. You do not much relish this vindication, but I am wiser than you by four years, and not so proud of my country, though I love it just as well. Consider in what state the Highlands were when Johnson travelled through them. All that was heroic, primitive, and noble in manners, in feelings, or exterior circumstances, were languishing after the dreadful blast of Culloden, that withered even what it did not touch, for those that were not plundered and confiscated, suffered and sympathised with those who were, and shared with them the little they had. The rough plenty and ancient customs in gentle men's houses of the second order had given place to awkward and feeble attempts at modern fashions, which were as yet so imperfect, that they were more honoured in the breach than the observance. The summer, too, which was singularly warm and dry, was succeeded by an autumn no less wet and stormy, and the luckless philosopher entered the Highlands at the very season when he should have been leaving it. He left Fort-Augustus in a bright and dry day, but scarcely met with another in his whole journey. He neither had nor affect ed rural taste. He had lived in cities; his enjoyments, setting aside a good dinner, were all intellectual. Books, and intelligent conversation with people of enlightened minds, were all that

he delighted in. What privations, then, must he have suffered, where there were neither books, learned or intelligent society, nor well-dressed dinners! Boswell might be supposed some consolation, but, instead of enjoying the dread sublime of nature amid the stormy Hebrides, he was the greatest of possible Cockneys; and, in perusing his own account of his travels, we find that he was much less calculated to take pleasure in the journey than the philosopher, much sooner wearied of places and people, much more sensible to inconvenience and privations. There were, indeed, some persons in Skye learned in the languages, and a few who had been abroad in the world; but the "paucity of insular conversation," to which the mighty moralist alludes, appeared to him much greater than it was. At least to islanders, the topics which furnish conversation of great interest are such as could make little impression on the minds of strangers; the homefelt affections diffused through all the island, though more concentrated in the tribe and name, give an importance to all that happens, of which strangers can form no adequate idea. My father, who might have shared that celestial colloquy sublime, which suited best the taste of the traveller, was then in Holland. So were several others that might have contributed to his amusement. uncles, though all sensible and intelligent, compared with most country gentlemen of the second order, stood too much in awe of his superiority, and were too much afraid of committing themselves, like all genuine Highlanders, to be amusing as companions. They did not understand what he came out into the wilderness to see, certainly not men clothed in soft raiment. Far less men in the least resembling the members of his far-famed Club. He came to read a new chapter in the volume of human nature. And could our kindred have got over the sensitive dread of ridicule that sealed their lips and clogged their very thoughts, the Doctor might have seen and appreciated the Highland character, at least been amused with its specific difference from most others. He was condemned by the reverence with which he was beheld, to share the

Our

melancholy fate of the great, who, always moving in a self-same circle of people like themselves, are necessarily excluded from the view of varied character, the freshness of originality, the simple beauty of humble virtue, the raciness of broad humour, and many other amusing views of life that are obvious to those who occupy the middle station, that happy medioerity from which we can look up without being too much dazzled, and down without being much disgusted. Encumbered with his own greatness, and the flippant restlessness of his travelling companion, mounted on a horse not high enough to keep his feet fairly off the ground, and travelling in heavy rain through the worst possible roads; or else in our open fishing-boats, exposed to the autumnal blasts, without a cover or a dry seat. And all this in immediate contrast with the luxuries, the library, and the conversation of Streatham. Whoever does him the justice to think of all this, must read his admirable Tour with unmixed pleasure. And instead of blaming him for not feigning the delight he could not feel, wonder at the quiet fortitude with which he endured such hardships and privations; and still more at the pleasure he expresses in a letter to Boswell, at the recollection of his visit to the Hebrides, and his wish that they could make together such another tour. Now, I hope I have softened your prejudices, my dear proud cousin. I am satis fied with fondly loving my country, knowing exactly what its appearance must be to strangers, and no more expecting they should see it with my eyes, than that they should look with the same delighted reverence on the venerable countenance of my dear father. To that beloved uncle I refer you for the political facts and opinions which my brother has borrowed from our London uncle. From my mother you will hear what directions and advice I have received from my English aunt, she whom I was determined not to love, for being the means of fixing my uncle in England. She is, however, so good herself, and so kind to me, that I have been forced to forgive, and am even in danger of loving her. Perhaps I shall bye and bye And out much to like, at least among

people that I now consider as living in too great and too frivolous a hurry to have time for affection. If I find I have sinned in not loving these neighbours as myself, I will not only repent, but confess to you, the sole witness of my guilt in this respect, for I have not left my Highland habits, of something between caution and delicacy, behind. My uncle may guess, but my aunt does not even suspect, how slowly I render myself up to the pleasure of meeting strangers and seeing sights.

I imagine you hear frequently and faithfully of all we do and see, from him "who drags at each remove a lengthening chain." For this I lament daily. Alas! for the withering heart, sick with hope deferred at home, and the exile who looks vainly back through the vista of long years to the distant home where his affections centre! I would not, if I had power to prevent it, see two so dear to me thus entangled. It would be wisest to say, 'Write not, come not, think not once of me;' but who is so wise? It is vile in you to be so amiable, and very bad, indeed, to be so grateful. I have many crimes of this kind to charge you with. Why is your form graceful, your temper sweet, and your heart affectionate? and why do cousins know and love each other so well? Why will not some of our full-fledged nabobs that are preparing for a homeward flight, come and gather the flower in its beauty, before the blast has passed over it? Such an event might cost the parting cousin one strong pang; but how much it would save him eventually! You think me a wretch for admitting such a thought. Constancy fed by hope is very well, but to keep it starving with cold and hunger, is no wiser than the reasoning of your foster-father, Angus, the year of the hard winter, when with only enough to support one cow, he would keep two, and every argument about the want of fodder was answered, by his assuring your mother that two cows were better than one. You know the result, may the omen be averted. Prays your affectionate cousin, M. M.

(To be continued.)