224 Gaelic and Norse Popular Tales; An Apology for the Celt. The flocking shadows pale Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; And the yellow-skirted Fays Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their moonlov'd maze. The old theological theory, here so poetically expressed, that the supernatural beings of the popular belief still do actually roam the universe as real existences, and are the cashiered and degraded gods of the extinct mythologies, is, as all are aware, no longer in fashion. And here, had we space, we might consider Mr. Campbell's work in a third aspect not only as an interesting illustration of the Gaelic character and mode of thinking, and a collection of stories readable on their own account; but also as a contribution to the science of Mythology, or to that branch of it which Mr. Campbell-in order, we suppose, to distinguish between tales of the ordinary kind and religious legends -calls, somewhat uncouthly, "the science of Storyology." Referring, however, to Dr. Dasent's essay for a full statement of the doctrine now offered by authorities in this science, we can but indicate its nature. The fact upon which the inquirers lay stress, and which is the starting point of their inquiries, is the ubiquity of certain legends or types of legend. A tale which is found among the Gaels of Scotland is found also among their Celtic kinsmen of Britain or the Continent; and not only amongst them, but amongst the Gothic peoples also; and not only amongst them, but amongst the Slavonians also; and not only amongst them, but also in India and the East generally. Nay, the same tale may be traced back in time, till it is found amongst the ancient Greeks and Romans, or the primeval Orientals. Fables which we read in ancient Sanskrit books, in The Arabian Nights' Entertainments, in the Greek Esop, in Latin authors, in Boccaccio," in the Countess D'Aulnoy's French collection, &c., turn up at the present day, as still current, illiterate peasantry in remote European districts. The number of such instances of the ubiquity of legends, of their universality in all times and in all tongues, is so great as to press for some hypothesis to account for it. First there presents itself the obvious hypothesis of intercommunication-the hypothesis that a striking or significant tale, originating in one spot or country, has radiated gradually from that spot or country, taking on changes, till some form of it is found everywhere. This hypothesis, however, the authorities dismiss, as not adequate to the facts which they profess to bring forward. There are cases, they say, where the same fable crops out at points of time and space so far apart as to make intercommunication, direct or circuitous, inconceivable. Equally they set aside the hypothesis of coincident imagination. There remains, therefore, the theory of historical ramification. This is the theory actually adopted. The tales and legends which we find common among the Celtic, the Gothic, the Slavonian, the Latin, and the Greek nations of the present Europe, and which we find also among the Indians, are, as it were, the water-rolled drift which has come down traditionally among these nations, through their several channels, from that primeval and pre-historic time when as yet they had not disengaged themselves from the great Aryan or Indo-European mass to which they are traced back also by the evidence of common vocables in their several languages! Nay, just as a profound philology detects latent identities between the Indo-European family of tongues and the Semitic or the Mongolian, so a profound mythology will not despair of finding traces of legend carrying us back beyond the grand Aryan disentanglement to a still earlier, and more inscrutable, period. For the argu ments on behalf of this startling conclusion to which, we think, there are objections deserving consideration -we must again refer to the works CATHAIR FHARGUS. (FERGUS'S SEAT.) A Mountain in the Island of Arran, the Summit of which resembles a gigantic Human Profile. There's nothing new beneath the sun, I wot: I, "Fergus" called-the great pre-Adamite, Who for my mortal body blindly sought Rash immortality, and, on this height There's nothing new beneath the sun, I say. Below me, know, I, too, spent my life's sum, O! what is man that he should mouth so grand Through his poor thousand as his seventy years? Or swayed by tongue or pen my meaner peers, What matter? The star-angels know it all. They who came sweeping through the silent night 1 Till, fighting 'gainst me in their courses bright, Hence, Heaven cursed me with a granted prayer; My pageant of majestic lone despair, While one by one into the infinite deep And there I lie. Where are my glories fled? My grand primeval women fair, who shed Their whole life's joy to crown one hour of mine, And lived to curse the love they coveted? 1 "The stars in their courses fought against Sisera. Gone-gone. Uncounted æons have rolled by, Can only mock the dead man's peaceful face, And straightened arm that will not labour more; Yearning for e'en the meanest six-foot space To moulder in, with daisies growing o'er, Rather than this unearthly resting-place; Where pinnacled, my silent effigy Against the sunset rising clear and cold, Startles the musing stranger sailing by, And calls up thoughts that never can be told, While I-I watch this after world that creeps O glorious shame! O royal servitude! High lowliness, and ignorance all wise! Pure life with death, and death with life imbued ;— Therefore, face upward to the Christian heaven, Dumb emblem of the faith to me not given; The clouds drop chrism, the stars their midnight psalm Chant over me, who passed away unshriven. "EIGHT bells, sir." A MIDDLE-WATCH CONFESSION. BY ROBERT PATON. "Strike it, quartermaster, and call Mr. Treweeke." On being struck the bell told that it was midnight, and a lovely night it was; clear, starry sky o'erhead, and calm, grey, sleeping sea around. We were half-way over the Atlantic, and our ship's ponderous engines revolving ceaselessly with a monotonous sound and untiring power, the paddles sending a long line of gleaming water astern, while a streamer of black smoke, unrolling itself from the funnel, broadened gradually, till it formed a thick murky cloudisland on the eastern horizon behind us. Pacing up and down the white decks, from the helmsman to the look-outs, I mused on a sailor's life, and on the singular chance which had brought my old chum and shipmate, Fred Treweeke, and myself together again, after so many years' knocking about in different directions. We had parted with no hope or expectation of further companionship in a ship-board life, and yet here we were, relieving each other this night as officers of the same steamer! Then, what a happy-go-lucky mortal he was, with a wild and unchecked love of pleasure; no relation left in the world to care for, full of fun and practical jokes. Now, I had found him in every respect changed. He was thoughtful, hard-working and steady; it seemed as if he had gained some settled convictions that gave him self-reliance and selfrespect, and one thing was particularly noticeable in him-a continual discouragement of the silly banter and light talk amongst the rest of our mess. Many new incidents in his career I had already learnt from him, but I felt certain there was something he had not told me of; something which in a peculiar mood of mind he would reveal, as we had always throughout our appren ticeship been great chums: and I had longed for an opportunity to have a quiet chat, and hear what had happened to cause such an alteration and improvement. Quick reliefs as a rule he always gave, and soon appeared on deck; and, after some talk about the watches, I transferred the night order book to him, remarking that I had taken an observation of "Procyon," and that he would find the latitude on the log slate. "Indeed!" he muttered, "by Procyon," adding aloud, after a while, "A lovely night! This is a middle-watch for reflection! What quartermaster cons?" "Yes," said Fred, "these old fellows like to have full faith reposed on them, or they are apt to become rusty, and creak on their hinges. I don't blame them. I always make a point now of studying each man's character, and trusting him as much as I possibly can. I find it raises them in their own estimation to be thought well of by us, and I am seldom deceived. But what's our latest rule now?" "The officer of the watch shall keep his watch on the forecastle, going aft occasionally to look at the compass."" (I quoted this glibly from our regulation book.) "Ah! so it is," he replied, laughing. "How quickly we are getting hedged in by rules and injunctions! Soon, we shall not require to think at all; but this last is not a bad one, especially now-a-days, when one may have a few 2 "Why, Fred! you're quite a philosopher," I said. "What has happened since those rollicking days and nights in the old town? You don't like to have them brought up again.' "You are right; I don't like the memory of our old days brought up, and if you are not longing for your bunk, and will keep me company for a little, I'll let you know why. It won't be a very bad mode to pass a watch, I think, provided we keep our senses alive. It's a fine night, and but little fear of ships hereabouts." Pleased with his proposal, and at having got him in so chatty a mood, I willingly followed him forward. I "You think I'm altered since the old times?" he began. "I am, thank God! and I'll tell you how. It's a very short and simple yarn. Don't think I have forgotten those days. By no means. think of them sometimes, but not with pleasure; other lines have crossed my path, which are more grateful sources of reflection. "You remember when we parted, I went second mate in the old ship, but only for one voyage. On our return I transferred my services to Old Martin, as he was called by every one who knew him at home or abroad, as his mate in the Buda. What a good man I found him! Never a better. He had been. very unfortunate; the loss of two ships, and with them nearly all his own hard-won savings of a life-time, had changed him greatly, and he was chastened and softened down by his adversities, from the blustering martinet that few could sail two voyages with, into a quiet, kindly old man, carrying far too smile, and even a joke ready, when his former ways and success were mentioned. "You know what a terrible mess a sailing ship is generally in at leaving dock, and what a time the poor mate has. Why! our life here, in these sailing kettles, is princely compared to it. What with the crimp-enslaved crew coming on board drunken and unfit for work; provisions and scraps of the cargo. arriving at the very last moment; the mind filled with fears of gear not having been bent properly, of chains not being rightly shackled; with some things perhaps that are required just starting into one's mind when too late; but little time has a mate to take note of anything save his own duties; and so we were round Holyhead, and fairly standing down Channel, before I had time to look about me. "To my surprise, I then heard of our having A LADY ON BOARD, and naturally wondered at not having been told by the captain of her coming, nor of my noticing any preparation made for her. "It turned out to be a young relation of the old man's, and she was accompanied by a nurse. We were some days out before I had an opportunity of seeing her. Our after cabin went right across the stern, and was large, commodious, and nicely fitted up, and entering it immediately on coming on board, she had not yet quitted it, but I learnt from the nurse- -"Ursy," as the tars soon got into the way of calling her, from her name of Ursula that Miss Hay was a niece of Captain Martin, that she had been long in delicate health, and that only a day or two before sailing he had consented to take her with him, although she had been for some time looking forward to, and prepared for a voyage. "We were getting the ship into nice order, and settling down into the daily routine of a sea-life, and I was rather proud of the whiteness and tidiness of our poop-deck, (flattering myself she would admire it, as, somehow or other I began to find her in most of my thoughts, having, as you know, had rather a leaning towards the fair sex,) |