We cannot, in a short paper like this, enter at greater length into these general views; but we mean to take an early opportunity of resuming the subject in a separate article, where we shall advert to the share which has been taken in these important labours by Mrs Hannah More, Miss Taylor of Ongar, and others of inferior name. We think that Mrs Brunton's genius is much superior to either of those two ladies we have just named. She manifests, like them, an unsleeping vigilance in turning every incident of her narrative so as to make it bear on moral or religious feeling; but we think her conception richer, her range of fancy more extensive, her style more vigorous, and her principles less rigid and forbidding. The latter we think one of the greatest excellencies of Self-Control and Discipline. Religion, in them, is seldom brought directly and nakedly on our view. We are left to discover the operation of its principles in the conduct of the characters, more than in their language. In no part of her writings do we recollect any thing which could be stigmatized as religious cant,-the most disgusting garb that vanity or hypocrisy can assume. The chaste and dignified tone of religious feeling, indeed, which characterizes her, is as foreign to the sickening whine of the Tabernacle, as to the demure and mysterious aspect of the rigid and overrighteous Puritan. To guard against these, every author who joins this illustrious school should be most watchful, as any tinge of this unpalatable leaven will infallibly defeat and neu tralize every other means of influence attempted on the hearts of the most numerous class of readers, who will take instant alarm, and shut a book, never to re-open it, the moment they are assailed by any thing in the shape of technical divinity. There is one point of view in which Mrs Brunton stands very superior to Hannah More and Miss Taylor; she never, so far as we recollect, talks of religion as a thing which ought to engross all our time and attention exclusively. They would make it the only business in life, the sole employment of our thoughts and actions daily and hourly; they would have us look on all around us as things with which we have nothing to do but to despise, while we steadily direct every thought and every action to the world which is to come. Now, all this may sound very well from the pulpit; and the preacher may tell us authoritatively, that, unless we carry our Christianity constantly about with us, and make it the leading portion of all our thoughts, we must be content to rank with the reprobate and profane; and the Methodistical novelists may take up the theme, and exhibit characters who never open their mouths but in biblical phrase and sectarian jargon; yet we are quite certain, that such principles of exclusive thinking are utterly impracticable by the present race of men, not excepting even their strongest advocates themselves; nay, that they are principles altogether opposite to those which characterize Christianity as taught in the Bible,--a wild perversion and absurd caricature of what was inculcated by the holy Apostles. Such preposterous doctrine is only fit to be ranked with the pitiable practices of the Popish Monastics, one of whose farces was to keep literally to the injunction, "Pray without ceasing," by establishing a relay of monks to relieve one another in a perpetuated, forced, and dull routine of formal praying. Our author understood Christianity better than to fall into so foolish a deviation from its genuine spirit. She showed in her own character the beautiful effect of religious principle in modifying every thought and action, without the disgusting obtrusiveness of cant and pretended abstraction from the concerns of the world; and what she was herself, she has made prominent in her writings. It is to this circumstance, as much as any other, that we are to trace the extensive popularity of Self-Control and Discipline, which, we are certain, have been read by hundreds who would have thrown aside Coelebs and Display as quite unreadable. It is in this that Mrs Brunton coincides in purpose and in plan with Miss Edgeworth and Mrs Hamilton,-that places her novels among the Popular Tales and by the side of the Cottagers of Glenburnie. In all of those we are instructed and made better by irresistible example, without the exhibition of technical maxims or formal morality being impertinently thrust in our way, while we are merely seeking for amusement. We are no advocates, indeed, for the modern practice of turning schools into toy-shops, and smoothing away all the difficulties of education by amusement and mechanism; such are only fit to gull half-educated and upstart shopkeepers, who think that their offspring must become accomplished if they pay profusely for a countless train of teachers, and patronize every new short-cut to learning. But, while we strongly deprecate the inaking of instruction an amusement, we as strongly recommend the making of all amusements, as far as possible, instructive, or at least harmless. To accomplish this successfully requires powers of no ordinary cast, as there is evidently something incompatible in the combination, and we are very apt to be jealous of the attempts made upon us to administer drugs in the shape of sugar-plums. In this very difficult task, however, Mrs Brunton has succeeded to admiration. She does amuse us and interest us by her strong and lively pictures. She leads us on from incident to incident with increasing eagerness. We float unthinkingly and delighted along the tide of her narrative, mingling with the groups she embodies, and partak ing of the distresses and sympathies of her characters, without ever thinking of the end she aims at,-the impressing on the mind the beauty of religion, the undeviating rectitude of a spirit truly Christian, and the consolation and support which, in the hour of distress, is never distant from the upright in heart. Yet, when we reach the conclusion of her histories, and look back on the scenes which her imagination spread in such fresh and lovely colouring before us, we feel that it was the all-pervading principle of religion which breathed a charm over all, which was the only refuge to her heroines in difficulty and distress; and we are forcibly and uncontrollably impelled with the desire to go and do likewise. We would not, indeed, envy the person who could rise from the perusal of her tales without a warmer glow of religious feeling, a firmer purpose of upright conduct, a more expanded benevolence of heart, and more marked revolting at vice.. and crime. We think we cannot be accused of vanity when we say, that such is the effect produced on our own minds; we feel more religious and more moral at every fresh perusal ; but her's is a religion untinctured with any thing gloomy or disgusting. It is a pure and refreshing balm which is free from every root of bitterness; a sweet air of music wafted from heaven, with which nothing earthly mingles, and which never jars on the feelings, but comes fraught with soothing and consolement to every heart. In ail this Mrs Brunton made a faithful portraiture of her own mind and heart. She was deeply imbued with Christian principles and Christian feelings; and they were pure, genuine, and fresh drawn from the well-spring of life. Religion in her produced, what it should always produce, a lively cheerfulness which no worldly concern could extinguish, even when the chill of misfortune came upon her. It produced a 'deep sympathy for the distresses of suffering humanity, the main-spring of that active benevolence which she so unwearyingly exercised. And we think it also produced much of that vigour of mind which is so conspicuous in her works, and was no less conspicuous in her intercourse with the numerous circles of which she was the ornament and the delight. She was not one of those writers whose characters are so markedly opposed to their works; who try to draw pictures of virtue which they themselves never possessed, and feelings which they never shewed nor could shew in their own practice. She drew her pictures from nature, and they have much of the sweetness of the original." She inculcates no precept which she had not herself proved and practised. She did not, like Seneca, moralize on the utility of bearing pain and privation, while she herself was indulging in the luxurious gratification of sensuality. She carefully sought for the suffering and the wretched, and gave them all the consolation which religious charity can bestow; and the pictures of distress which she has so vividly and feelingly drawn are copied with fidelity from those with which her charitable principles brought her in contact. In a course of active inquiry, to which her desire to promote charita ble institutions led her, she unavoidably became acquainted with many instances of unprincipled crime; but if she fails at all in the truth of her delineations, it is in depicting the schemes of villany. Some of these have an air of improbability, which, to readers of less lively fancy, may destroy the charm which her fictions would otherwise wear. We think that the wild expedition to America in Self-Control fully authorizes our remark. The whole character, indeed, of Hargrave is rather an overcharged picture of a domineering and licentious passion. Lord Frederick de Burgh in Discipline is more true to nature. Of her heroines we greatly prefer Louisa Montreville to Miss Percy, though there is certainly a far mily likeness between them, which it is pleasant to trace in an author's works, when not too closely drawn. In conclusion, we beg leave to rank among the admirers of Mrs Brunton; and we regret that she did not live to gratify the world with another display of her admired powers, in the completion of a tale which she is understood to have left unfinished. But with all our admiration for her character, and notwithstanding the pleasure which we have derived from her works, we doubt that they are scarcely such as will survive the present age. We admire them unfeignedly, but we think them much inferior to the tales of Miss Edgeworth, or to the Cottagers of Glenburnie. Had Waverley and Rob Roy never appear ed, the picture of Highland manners in Discipline might have kept it afloat; but in interest it is certainly inferior to Self-Control. Neither of them shews much originality either of plot or incident; but the interweaving of engaging narrative, with a display of the effects of religious principle, will make them long regarded as among the best books of amusement which can be put into the hands of the E. E. young. EXECUTION OF ROBERT JOHNSTON. THE circumstances with which this Execution was attended have excited the public mind in a much greater degree than their importance would at first seem to warrant; but, on reflection, we are forced to admit that VOL, IV. every thing which is truly and obviously abhorrent to human feeling, will make an immediate and strong impression; and that every thing which touches the fair administration of the laws, ought to make a lasting one. The temporary interest which has been so strongly felt, is thus easily accounted for; and the proceedings involve so many serious legal principles, and suggest so many questions of policy and expediency, both to the legislator and the administrator of the laws, that it will not be wonderful if they shall be found to possess an interest of some perma nency. Since they took place, we have had account upon account, and pamphlet upon pamphlet, and yet it is by no means certain that the public are satisfied they have had enough. The first publication is rash and intemperate, without displaying much talent; but it proceeds manifestly from one who had just witnessed the revolting scene; and some allowance must be made for excited feelings, and even some credit given to the writer for possessing them. The second pamphlet on the same side, if not from the same author, has been written obviously because it was thought it would sell, but without The two consideration or ability. letters on the other side are as obviously written with the view of giving the discussion a political turn, of which it had nothing in the outset ; and for the purpose of creating a diversion in favour of our city executive; but they are both so virulent, and so utterly destitute of talent, and one of them in particular, of common sense, that they must have injured the cause which they were meant to defend. Into these wretched polemics we have no desire to enter; but we may mention, as a curious circumstance, that the account which has made the greatest noise, was written, as we have been informed, by a gentleman who holds political sentiments directly the reverse of those which have been imputed to him, and that his writing on the subject at all arose from the accident of being confined by indisposition to a room which commanded a complete view of the whole unhappy and disgraceful transactions. But, being thus compelled to be a witness, he found it impossible to resist being also a historian; and it was perfectly G natural that any thing which he wrote at the moment should be coloured by his lacerated feelings. The most valuable publication which has yet appeared on the subject, however, is the Letter to the Lord Advocate of Scotland, a tract which is written in a decided tone, certainly, but, in so far as we can judge, in a fair spirit; and which, at the same time, displays an extensive legal knowledge, and considerable force of reasoning. But that our remarks may be understood, it is necessary to give some account of the circumstances; in doing which, however, we shall endeavour to separate opinions from facts, assuming those to be correct which have been specially stated by the different eyewitnesses, and not denied in the state ment from authority. Johnston, the miserable culprit, was the son of parents in Edinburgh, who have always preserved a reputable character. As to himself, it is under stood, that he became what is known by the term a low blackguard, occasioning much sorrow to his relations, and at last committing the crime of highway-robbery against Mr Charles, candlemaker, and merchant-councillor in Edinburgh. No great address appears to have been displayed by Johnston and his two accomplices, Galloway and Lee, nor was the crime accompanied either with such aggravated circumstances as would abso lutely exclude the hope of mercy, or with such mitigating circumstances as could point him out as a fit object for pardon. His life, in short, was just ly forfeited by the laws of Scotland; and there was nothing in his case to excite any unusual degree of attention or commiseration. The same remark cannot be made, however, as to the place of execution. Criminals had, at one time, been executed with out the walls of the city, and not far from St Leonard's, the situation assigned in the Tales of my Landlord for the residence of David Deans and his family. At another time the place of execution was on Leith Walk, and for a long period it had been in the Grassmarket, the widest street in Edin burgh, and one which is now least of a thoroughfare. For some time previously to the removal of the OLD JAIL, the executions took place' upon an elevated platform, which communicated with the prison, and which formed the roof of a building connected with it. No criminal, however, had yet been executed since the re moval of the old Tolbooth, and all the buildings connected with it and as it was rumoured that Johnston was to expiate his offences near the old place of execution, in front of the library rooms belonging to the Facul ty of Advocates and Writers to the Signet, petitions or remonstrances were made against this to the ma gistrates by the inhabitants of the Lawnmarket, and by the Society of Writers; and the measure was also previously objected to in the public prints; and other places for execution suggested. The gibbet, however, as originally intended, was fixed in or to the west wall of St Giles's Church, and the scaffold rested on that venerable cathedral. The apparatus, it is said officially, was prepared by a skil ful tradesman, and was inspected, and certified to be fit for its purpose by the surveyor of public works. But, however this may be, the distance between the beam and the scaffold, which has not been positively stated in feet and inches, was supposed by various spectators to be too limited. To the scaffold, such as it was, Johnston was brought out on the 30th of Decenber last, and placed on a quadrangular table, erected upon it, which was intended to answer the purpose of a drop. He walked from the jail, and took his station on the table with firmness and composure, paying much attention to a silk handkerchief, which is said to have been the gift of a girl with whom he had lived. This handkerchief, when removed from his ncck, he anxiously secured about his person; he displayed some reluctance to allow the rope to be fixed round his neck, and from the changing of his countenance, and the convulsed state of his muscles, it was plain that his courage had given way. He gave the signal for his fate, however; but through the culpable negligence of those concerned, a minute nearly elapsed before the table could be forced down, and even when that was accomplished, it was observed that his toes rested on the scaffold. This was more than human patience could well suffer. It is quite certain, we think, from all accounts and circumstances that there was nothing preconcerted on the part of the multitude, nor even apredisposition to commit any outrage. We have heard it said, indeed, that some sailors and rope-makers had a pique at the hangman, from his having been one of their fellow craftsmen; but this is probably a mere ru mour; and all agree in this, that no sympathy beyond what will always be felt for the last throes of a human being was felt for Johnston. But, without speculating farther on the causes, we shall now give the results, first, from the Eye-witness pamphleteer, and secondly, from the Eyewitness correspondent of the Scots man. "I turned my back upon the scaffold, and was about to withdraw, when a person who stood next me exclaimed, Good God! the man's feet are not off the scaffold! I farned round, and it was so! he stood upon the platform! a partial compression of the wind-pipe, occasioned by the sudden jerk, insufficient to cause death, but suffi cient to produce exquisite agony, convulsed his whole frame, but did not appear to have destroyed or suspended his mental powers, for thrice he bent his legs upward, evident ly on purpose to accelerate the termination of his sufferings; still he touched the platform; he made several attempts to assist in his own strangulation, but could not succeed. During all these efforts at selfdestruction, unutterably horrible, you, Ma gistrates of Edinburgh, stood passive. Ar chibald Campbell was the first man to call out for carpenters, to try and get the wood below the table cut away. When they came, they were at least ten minutes smashing with axes, and could make no impression upon the machinery; the wretch remained convulsed in every fibre, till the motion of his limbs attracted the notice and the sympathy of the immense crowd assembled, The moment they perceived the awfully protracted torture of the unhappy man, one spontaneous burst of indignation resounded from the Parliament Square to theCastle Hill; then followed a pause, still as the stillness of death, for a few seconds, but when they saw the protracted throes of suffering humanity, and did not perceive any attempts to relieve them, another shout arose, but it was accompanied with expressions of indigna tion, natural to a mob when they imagine themselves neglected, especially if they have been pleading the cause of humanity; a shower of stones aimed at the scaffold, accompanied the second expression of popular indignation. And what was your con duct, Gentlemen? (addressing those who officiated.) You deserted your posts; you fled for refuge, like convicted cris minals, to the church as a sanctuary; in alsཎྚིདཧཱུཾrf!:Ríce ! $u° $ c! stead of doing your duty you rushed into the Tolbooth Church; you left scaffold! criminal! all! to the mercy of the mob; you left your officers without a man to direct them! without council-without advice-without a head. When you had fled, when you had deserted your posts, a gentleman who had observed the ineffec tual struggles of the malefactor to rid himself of life, sprung forward, and relieved the generous, though rude feelings of the spectators, by cutting the man down; and here, I desire you to mark, (you were too much terrified to observe it, but I insist upon your looking at it,) one of the noblest traits of a Scottish Mpb. When they obtained their end, they were satisfied. A cry of No rescue,' shewed the sense the people of this country entertain of the su preme obligation of the law, and there was no mischief done beyond the breaking of a few panes of glass in the church, where you, Gentlemen, had taken refuge. Thus far, Gentlemen, I saw."' What follows is from the other Eye-witness before mentioned: "The populace then took possession of the scaffold, cut down the unhappy man, loosed the rope, and, after some time, succeeded in restoring him to his senses. They then endeavoured to bear him off, and had proceeded some way down the High Street, when the officers of police (who had, in the manner above mentioned, abandoned their post of duty at the scaffold) proceeded with bludgeons to assail the individuals who were about the half-dead man, of whom they at length recovered the possession. "A spectacle now presented itself which equalled in horror any thing ever witnessed in the streets of Paris during the Revolution. The unhappy Johnston, halfalive, stript of part of his clothes, and his shirt turned up, so that the whole of his naked back and upper part of his body was exhibited, lay extended on the ground in the middle of the street, in front of the Police Office. At last, after a consi derable interval, some of the police of ficers, laying hold of the unhappy man, dragged him trailing along the ground, for about twenty paces, into their den, which is also in the Old Cathedral. Johnston remained in the Police Of fice about half an hour, where he was im mediately attended by a surgeon, and bled in both arms, and in the temporal vein, by which the half suspended animation was restored; but the unfortunate man did not utter a word. In the meantime a military force arrived from the Castle, under the direction of a Magistrate. The soldier having been ordered to load with ball, were |