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The taste for improvement, which is now observed in every part of the Highlands, is one of the many proofs which tend to shew the advantages of intercourse with the South, which, since the introduction of steam navigation, is daily increasing. On the site of the hamlet, which, a few years ago, consisted of the humble cots of a few indolent fishermen, is reared the thriving village, with its comfortable, and, in many cases, elegant buildings. On the spot where flourished the thorn and the bramble, in savage luxuriance, may now be culled the blushing rose, and the fragrant apple; while, in the heat of the day, the industrious husbandman may be seen, in his honeysuckle bower, breathing forth a prayer of gratitude to the benevolent Being who has so bountifully rewarded his labour.

Among the many small villages in the Western Highlands, which, of late, have become places of temporary residence to the family of the opulent citizen, perhaps Oban may be allowed to hold a very distinguished claim: whether we consider the beauty of its situation—the attraction of its scenery—the safety and seclusion of its bathing grounds, and the comforts of its lodgings; or, whether we view it as a place in which to pitch our camp, and take an occasional drive or sail, to visit the splendid antiquities for which this portion of our country is so eminently distinguished. A few hours' sailing brings us to Iona, whose monastery still presents the faded remains of its former grandeur, and where the ashes of a long train of mighty monarchs and illustrious heroes, claim the protection of its hallowed sepulchres, and marks the superstitious veneration in which it was formerly held. Beyond it, Staffa, on its basaltic columns, dances to the music of the contending waves, which hold a revel in its roaring caverns. These are sights well calculated to allure the adventurous traveller, while those, whose timidity deter them from the perils of a sea voyage, may find healthful recreation in ranging among the plantations with which the beautiful bay that forms the harbour of Oban is tastefully skirted, or enjoy the sublime view of the island and sound of Mull, which may be obtained from the ruins of the ancient castle of Dunolly, which, though roofless and tenantless, has enough of interest still remaining, to repay the toil of the visitor, and gratify the research of the antiquary.*

Dunolly Castle is supposed to have been built by Somefled of the Isles, and, in accordance with the munificent liberalities of that family, to have been gifted to the Macdougalls of Lorn, for some signal service rendered. It is still in the possession of the descendants of its pristine occupants, whose name, in feudal history, holds R very conspicuous figure. Its walls do not seem to have been ever of very great extent, but, from its commanding situation, it may have been possessed of considerable strength, although little now remains to lead us to a knowledge of its former history, except what may be gleaned from the often overcharged pic

* In a recess in the wall, secured by a wattled enclosure, a very fine eagle has long been kept; we believe that it is destined to be the last prisoner that is likely to suffer durance in this once formidable keep. On the floor of one of the rooms, which still remains in tolerable repair, there is, also, the figure of an eagle traced in a sort of rude mosaic.

ture drawn by the bard, and the equally vague history handed down to posterity in uncertain tradition.

Among the many noble chiefs who grace the ancestry of its present proprietor, Ian Ciar, (so named from his eyes being of different colours) stands pre-eminently foremost. While a youth of fifteen, he commanded a party of elansmen against the Campbells, in concert with Allaister M'Colladh, the celebrated Irish partisan of Montrose. At Dunavertich, they sustained a signal defeat, and, as no quarter was granted, few escaped the disastrous day. Allastair Ms Colladh finding the day lost, he retreated off the field with a small party of his troops, hotly pursued by a strong body of the foe. He was cooped up in a narrow defile, where, seeing he must either submit to be tamely massacred, or sell his life at the dearest rate, he again led on his men to the unequal attack. While engaged in the murderous strife, the inequality of the parties was observed by a company of caird, or strolling gipseys, one of whom, Alexander Stewart, drew his sword, joined the weaker side, and, by his dauntless prowess, relieved the exhausted party, and turned the fortune of the day. M'Colladh, after the fray was over, called for his brave assistant—asked him who he was, and whence he came; to which he modestly replied, that he was but a tinker, and did not merit so much notice, much less to associate with such brave men. The chieftain instantly turned round to his followers and testified his gratitude for the exertions of the heroic gipsy, by saying, that he wished all his men had been tinkers that day.

Ian Ciar left alone, saw now no hope but in flight. To the few, who survived of his clan, he gave hasty orders to save themselves in the best way they could. Reluctantly indeed they left a field on which they hoped to avenge their fallen comrades,but, seeing every effort to retrieve the day fruitless, they for the first time turned their back upon the foe; but they were not fated to retire unobserved. Ian Ciar was marked out as a particular object of pursuit, and was followed by a party of troopers, one of whom, by the fleetness of his horse, was likely to overtake him. Finding his retreat cut off, M'Dougall suddenly turned back, drew his sword, clave his pursuer to the shoulders, mounted his horse, and was soon beyond the reach of his enemies.

In the year 1715, he joined the Stewarts, and took an active share in the troubles of those times. He was present at the unfortunate battle of Sheriff-muir, which at that period blasted the hopes of the Jacobites; and on which account his estate was forfeited, and given to the Campbells of Argyle, who stood true to the cause of the reigning family. A proscribed fugitive, Ian Ciar skulked about the sound of Kerrara, where the cave in which he passed many a sleepless night is shown to the visitor of those shores. Being strictly watched by his hereditary foes, the Campbells, his place of refuge was found out, and, finding concealment no longer practicable, he crossed to Ireland, to claim the protection of the Earl of Antrim, to whom he was distantly allied.

His lady still retained possession of Dunolly Castle, and, instead of obeying the summons of the Campbells to leave it, she caused it to be fortified in the best possible manner, and with heroic fortitude, awaited the result. There was no species of harshness in which the enemy did not indulge. Her cattle were carried away, her crops destroyed, her garden laid waste, and her supplies cut off. While she saw any hope she held out, but, finding she could do so no longer, she left the castle disguised, sought her way to London, where on her knees she begged and obtained the freedom of her husband, and the rights of his forfeited estates.

Ian Ciar in the meantime had arrived in Antrim, and was within a few hours walk of the Earl's palace, but coming to a wood, and uncertain of his way, he knocked at the door of a small cottage on its confines, in order to receive directions or procure a guide. The door was opened by a young woman of Amazonian stature, who invited him in and asked his wants. Being told, she strongly remonstrated with him on the danger of proceeding. "O'Hanlen's hounds are now unkennelled," said she, " and he requires a light foot, and a strong arm that will elude their scent." This intelligence had little effect on the person to whom it was addressed. "Preach your fears to women," said he, " Ireland has not produced the hound that will run down the stag of Lorn," and pushing the maiden aside, be attempted to pass; "you may live to prove that," replied she, and seizing him by the middle, she refused him egress. They immediately grappled with each other, and had M'Dougall been possessed of less strength and presence of mind, he would scarcely have accomplished his vaunting prediction. He never yet had met a match at wrestling, but now he was engaged with one whom he considered an equal. The first strain he gave, the garter which bound his hose flew in pieces, but the next moment he was standing breathless over the prostrate heroine. The amazon now seemed to take a real interest in his fate, enumerated the dangers of the road he meant to take. O'Hanlen a noted robber, taking advantage of the distracted state of the country, had gathered together several hundred desperadoes, who were ready at a moment's notice to execute whatever their lawless chief demanded, and whose head-quarters were pitched in the wood through which Ian Ciar intended to pass. Anxious to get forward, he was determined to brave the worst, and a little boy in the house volunteering his services to escort him, the intrepid Highlander set forward, and gained the middle of the wood without any interruption. Here he met a mendicant clothed in rags, who supported himself on a huge crutch, which he carried in his hand, and who accosted him with the benediction familiar to the Irish peasantry. Ian Ciar put his hand in his sporran, and was offering him a piece of money, but felt an involuntary shudder, when, under the folds of the mendicant's tattered cloak, he observed the hilt of an unsheathed dagger. The other on this discovery threw off the disguise, drew his sword, avowed his name and occupation, and instead of a tottering beggar, O'Hanlen the robber, completely cased in armour, stood before the eyes of the surprised but fearless M'Dougall. Few words passed when their swords were crossed, and a furious combat began; and, as both were equally skilled in the use of their weapons, the contest between them was for a time doubtful. The giant robber showered in his blows with quickness and precision, and, had it not been that his opponent wore a concealed shirt of proof, many would have told with fatal effect. The latter finding his strength giving way, stood upon the defensive, till observing O'Hanlen getting exhausted, he closed with him and obtained the mastery, after a short but fearful struggle. With the unsuspecting confidence which is generally found in brave men, he released him, and an explanation between them instantly took place; Ian Ciars name was no stranger to the robber, and, when he understood with whom he encountered, he used every persuasion to induce him to join his company, but all his overtures were rejected with scorn. O'Hanlen, judging farther parley

unnecessary, was determined to overpower by numbers, his generous conqueror. Depraved and hardened in crime as he was, it took a few minutes ere he could bring his mind to the dastardly attempt. At length, glaring on him with a fiendish scowl, "M'Dougall," said he, " we may now have an opportunity of putting your boasting to the test, a blast from this whistle collects from these thickets, some hundreds of my followers, against whom your arm will little avail; once again, do you accept my friendship, and embrace my conditions?' "Ungrateful man," said the Highlander, "is it thus you requit my leniency— never shall my lips utter confessions from which my soul revolts—I despise your friendship, and the terms on which it is offered." "Then," rejoined the other, "receive the reward of your temerity," and applied the whistle to his lips, but ere he had time to blow the malicious blast, the sword of Ian Ciar left its sheath, and the headless trunk of the miscreant fell at his feet. M'Dougall wiped his sword, and returned it to the scabbard, paused for a moment, to view the severed head of his treacherous foe, on whose distorted features, even in death, a grim of rage seemed to linger, then, giving the robber's sword to the boy who guided him, and who had been a witness of the dreadful encounter, he carried off the whistle, and in safety reached the border of the wood, within a few minutes walk of the Earl of Antrim's palace.

When he considered himself beyond danger, he determined to try what effects the whistle might cause, and no sooner had he sounded it, than a cry simultaneously arose from every copse and dell which he had passed, the result he did not await, but hurried on to the hospitable halls of his noble relation, whose gates were never shut upon the oppressed, nor his ears never deaf to the call of the unfortunate.

Although he was here secured from the dangers to which he was exposed in Scotland, his mind was far from being at rest. He daily learnt accounts of the barbarous measures which were used, in order to expel his family from the place which they still considered their home, and having come to the resolution of sharing their fate, whatever it might be, contrary to the advice of his friends, he embarked in one of the Earl's galleys, and was landed on the coast, and in the humble disguise of a shepherd, he sought his once cheerful home. Fatigued and dispirited, he arrived at Soraba, one of the farms attached to his estate, but so much had it few months' anxiety preyed upon him, that he was unknown by the vassal from whom he begged the rights of hospitality. After a short time he enquired about his family, but found that they had been expelled from the castle—that his lady had left it some time ago—none could tell where she had gone. They recounted the grievances to which they were subjected from their upstart masters, and contrasted it with the happy times they had enjoyed under the patronage of of Ian Ciar. At the mention of his name he had almost thrown off his disguise, but, dissembling a little longer, he asked how his clan stood affected to him, after the manner in which he was obliged to leave them. "I have twelve sons," said the aged Celt, "and if my chief were returned, not only would they go with him, but I would follow him myself." "Then he is returned," said the other, and embracing his faithful vassal, who was so devoted to his interest, he retired to rest, to dream over his vanished fortunes, or forget for a moment his distressing reflections. In the morning they were awakened by the report of a gun, and, looking towards the harbour, saw a fine bark coming to anchor, whose long streamers floating in the breeze, evidently announced her one of his majesty's ships. To-day, such a sight would have created little surprise at Oban; but, then, it was looked upon as something very momentous, and, Ian Ciar, anxious to learn the reason of her visit, ventured to the beach, when the first object that met his notice, was his lady— the king, not only having granted her request, but as a tribute of respect to her unparalleled devotion and heroism, ordered a frigate to escort her in safety. Let those who may have enjoyed such a moment, fancy the raptures with which they greeted each other. The occupiers of their castle were obliged to quit it at a day's notice, and ordered to refund whatever property they had destroyed, and which, Iah Ciar> was not tardy in enforcing. They, afterwards, lived long and happy, and, as the chief, in 45, took the side of neither of the contending parties, the estate is still in the possession of Ian Ciars descendants, who, with a degree of pride, which may be justified, exhibit to the visiting stranger, the sword and the whistle which their brave ancestor won from O'Hanlen, and which, among other relics of antiquity, are kept at Dunolly house, as some of the proofs of the unflinching bravery which marked the Macdougalls of Lorn.


[through the kindness of our London publishers, we have been favoured with a sight of a few sheets of Lander's Travels, the adventurous discoverer of the termination of the Niger, now in the press, from which we extract the following interesting sketch of a nocturnal voyage down that mighty river.]

"We passed several beautiful islands in the course of the day, all cultivated and inhabited, but low and flat. Tin1 width of the river appeared to vary considerably, sometimes it seemed to be two or three miles across, and at others, doubled that width.. The current drifted us along very rapidly, and we guessed it to be running at the rate of three or four miles an hour. The direction of the stream continued nearly east. The day had been excessively warm, and the sun set in beauty and grandeur, shooting forth rays tinged with the most heavenly hues, which extended to the zenith. Nevertheless, the appearance of the firmament, all glorious as it was, betokened a coming storm; the wind whistled through the tall rushes, and darkness soon covered the earth like a veil. This rendered us more anxious than ever to land some- where, we cared not where, and to endeavour to procure shelter for the night, if not in a village, at least under a tree. Accordingly, rallying the drooping spirits of our men, we encouraged them to renew their exertions by setting them the example, and our canoe darted silently and swiftly down the current. We were enabled to steer her rightly by the vividness of the lightning, which flashed across the water continually, and by this means also we could distinguish any danger before us, and avoid the numerous small islands with which the river is interspersed, and which otherwise might have embarrassed us very seriously.

"But though we could perceive almost close to us several lamps burning in comfortable-looking huts, and could plainly distinguish the voices of their occupants, and though we exerted all our strength to get at them, we were foiled in every attempt, by reason of the sloughs aud feus, aud we were at last obliged to abandon them in despair. Some of these lights, after leading us along way, eluded our search, and vanished from our sight like an ignus j'atuus, and others danced about we knew not how, But what was more vexatious than all, after we had got into an inlet, and toiled and tugged for a full half hour against the current, which in this little channel was uncommonly rapid, to approach a village from which we thought it flowed, both village and lights » seemed to sink into the earth, the souud of the people's voices ceased of a sudden, and when we fancied we were actually close to the spot, we strained our eyes in vain to see a single hut, all was gloomy, dismal, cheerless, and solitary. It seemed the work of enchantment ; every thing was as visionary as * sceptres grasped in sleep.' AW' had paddled along the banks a distance of not less than thirty miles, every inch of which we had attentively examined, but not a bit of dry land could any where be discovered which was firm enough to bear our weight. Therefore, we resigned ourselves to circumstances, and all of us having been refreshed with a little cold rice and honey, and water from the stream, we permitted the canoe to drift down with the-currcnt, for our men were too much fatigued with the labours of the day to work any longer.

"But here a fresh evil arose which we were unprepared to meet. An incredible number of hippopotami arose very near us, and came plashing, snorting, and plunging all around the canoe, and placed us in imminent danger. Thinking to frighten them off, we fired a shot or two at them, but the noise only called up, from the water and out of the fens, about as many more of their unwieldy companions, and we were more closely beset than before. Our people, who had never in all their lives been exposed in a canoe to such huge and formidable beasts, trembled with fear and apprehension, aod absolutely wept aloud, and their terror was not a little increased by the dreadful peals of thunder which rattled over their heads, and by the awful darkness which prevailed, broken at intervals by flashes of lightning, whose powerful glare

was truly awful. Our people tell us, that these formidable animals freqently upset canoes in the river, when every one in them is sure to perish. These came so close to us, that we could reach them with the butt-end of a gun. When I fired at the first, which I must have hit, every one of them came to the surface of the water, and pursued us so fast over to the north bank, that it was with the greatest difficulty imaginable we could keep before them. Having fired a second time, the report of my gun was followed by a loud roaring noise, and we seemed to increase our distance from them. There were two Borneu men among our crew who were not so frightened as thereat, having seen some of these creatures before on lake Tchad, where, they say, there are plenty of them. However, the terrible hippopotami did us no kind of mischief whatever ; they were only sporting and wallowing in the river for their own amusement, no doubt, at first when we interrupted them; but had they upset our canoe, we should have paid dearly for it.

"We observed a bank on the north side of the river shortly after this, and I proposed halting on it for the night, for I wished much to put my foot on firm land again. This, however, not one of the crew would consent to, saying, that if the gewo roua, or water elephant, did not kill them, the crocodiles certainly would do so before the morning, and I thought afterwards that we might have been carried off like the Cumbrie people on the islands near Yaoorie, if we had tried the experiment. Our canoe is only large enough to hold us all when sitting, so that we have no chance of lying down. Had we been able to muster up thirty thousand cowries at Uabba, we might have purchased one which would have carried us all very comfortably. A canoe of this sort would have served us for living in entirely, we should have had no occasion to land, excepting to obtain our provisions; and, having performed our day's journey, might have anchored fearlessly at night.

"Finding we could not induce our people to land, we agreed to continue on all night. The eastern horizon became very dark, and the lightning more and more vivid ; Indeed, I never recollect having seen such strong fork lightning before in my life. All this denoted the approach of a storm. At eleven p.m. it blew somewhat stronger than a gale, and at midnight the storm was at its height. The wind was so strong, that it washed over the sides of the canoe several times, so that she was in danger of filling. Driven about by the wind, our frail little bark became unmanageable; but at length we got near a bank, which in some measure protected us, and we were fortunate enough to lay hold of a thorny tree against which we were driven, and which was growing nearly in the centre of the stream. Presently we fastened the canoe to its branches, and wrapping our cloaks round our persons, for we felt overpowered with fatigue, and with our legs projecting half over the sides of the little vessel, which, for want of room, we were compelled to do, we lay down to sleep. There is something, I believe, in the nature of a tempest which is favourable to slumber, at least so thought my brother; for, though the thun>< der continued to roar, and the wind to blow,—though the rain beat in our faces, and our canoe lay rocking like a little cradle, still he slept soundly.

11 The wind kept blowing hard from the eastward till midnight, when it became calm. The rain then descended in torrents, accompanied by thunder and lightning of the most awful description. We lay in our cauoe drenched with water, and our little vessel was filling so fast, that two people were obliged to be constantly bailing out the water to keep her afloat. The water-elephants, as the natives term the hippopotami, frequently came snorting near us, but fortunately did not touch our canoe. The storm continued until three in the morning of the l?th, when it became clear, and we saw the stars sparkling like gems over our heads. Therefore, we again proceeded on our journey down the river, there being sufficient light for us to see our way, and two hours after, we put into a small, insignificant fishing village, called Dacauuie, where we landed very gladly.

"Before we arrived at this island, we had passed a great many native towns and villages, but in consequence of the early hour at which we were travelling, we considered it would be imprudent to stop at any of them, as none of the natives were out of their huts. Had we landed earlier, even near one of these towns, we might have alarmed the inhabitants, and been taken for a party of robbers, or, as they are called in the country, jacattces. They would have taken up arms against us, and we might have lost our lives; so that for our safety we continued down the river, although we had great desire to go on shore."

Professional Jealousy.—The trial of an English medical gentleman, Dr. Southcote, lately took place at Dieppe. A blacksmith of this town, while engaged at work, some time since, received a spark in his eye (a very common accident in his trade), which produced that very painful disease called staphyloma. For this he was successfully treated by Dr. Southcote, after the failure of the French practitioners. He even relieved the patient by an advance of money. Mark the consequence. His French contemporaries instituted a prosecution against him, for practising without a license, and proved their case by the evidence of the fellow whom he had cured, and to whom he had, in addition, rendered pecuniary assistance! Dr. Southcote has been, in consequence, convicted and sentenced to fine and imprisonment.


There are very few of our citizens, who, in their perambulations through the streets of Glasgow, can have missed observing the ideot musician, who lately attributed to himself, the lofty title of the Scottish Paganlnl. His figure was one which was peculiarly striking, and ever attracted the notice of the delineator or painter of character. The expression of his countenance was in fact a study for the Physiognomist, and the seat of the finer passions of the soul, viz. the mouth, might have afforded materials for the elucidation of Lavater's most interesting theories. Alas, that figure is now beneath the sod, and that open mouth is for once and for ever closed! The Cholera, that fearful scourge of the world, has borne away from the Trongate, another of its wellknown characters, and deprived the younger portion of our population of a pastime, in which, at least, for the comfort of the poor musician, they frequently too warmly Indulged. The poor fellow bade adieu to the miseries of life, and to the mockeries of music, on Wednesday; and has left behind him a character and a name, which mayhap will outlive many of his wiser and more fortunate contemporaries. How strange is posthumous fame! Blind Alick is associated with the history of our City at the close of the last and the commencement of the present century, and the poor Major, who has no grave-stone to mark where his ashes rest, stands every chance of being recollected, when those who have marble mausoleums are utterly forgotten!

The Major's musical knowledge, although, like many other ambitious characters of the age, be attributed to himself a great name, was neither very scientific nor tasteful. His instrument was not like that of Mori's, manufactured in Cremona. It was his own handiwork, while his bow, which he wielded with a peculiar fire, resembled more the orehestra-ruling sceptre of Dragonettl, than any thing that we have ever seen applied tea common violin. His most famous Concerto was founded on that most grateful of all melodies to a droughty musician, "Jenny put the Kettle on," the very thought of which, so moved the minstrel himself, that it fairly set him in motion, and made him caper as nimbly as if he had got lessons from Terpsichore herself.

We believe the poor Major never knew either the bliss or the woe of matrimony. His form and bearing, in fact, were not well calculated to win a woman's heart, and without gaining that citadel of the affections marriage is nought but misery. If he was not united to woman by the ties of love and the blessings of the church, he was,nevertheless, bound to her by the mystic bond of pelf and business. The fact is, the musician formed a co-partnery in his peripatetic wanderings with one, who, although she had never studied at the Acadeniie de Musique at Paris, was a first rate danseuse. Around the violently excited violinist she frisked and pirouetted, if not with the grace of a Taglioni, with all the grimace of a Grimaldi. This interesting personage was no other than the well known 11 Coal Mart," who realized, in her cast of countenance* and in the number of her reticules, (Scottice pokes) the truth of her noble and aristocratical designation. The co-partnery continued long, and was carried on, we believe, with success. The duet and the pas de deux, touched many hearts, and the performers hence touched many coppers. A dispute, as in many more lucrative co-partneriea, arose, from a supposition of a maUdivision of profits. It was alleged, on the part of his fair partner, that the Major was appropriating, to himself, a too great proportion of the self. This called for an explanation on the part of the musician, who, out of the honourable feelings of his breast, and, no doubt, with no feelings of selfishness, slyly, yet, boldly, stated, to Coal Mary's allegation, "weel, Mary, my hinny, I'll tak a' the bawbees, and you'll get a' the pennies!"

Whether this speeeh soothed the suspicions of Mary towards the musician, in truth we know not, and it is at this hour, alas! of little moment to speculate, whether it did or did not. The Cremona of the Major now hangs silent in his lonely cabin in the Double Dykes, whence its owner was carried away, under the pangs of the disease which now peculiarly affects the poor and naked, while the reticules of Mary will occasion no disputes among her numerous heirs—we mean the heirs of poverty and wretchedness as to

whom these momentos of the pirouetter now belong! Peace to the manes of the Major and his Mary!


A Memoir of the Early Operations of the Burmese War, by Lieut. H. Lister Maw, Is in the press.

A Treatise on the Preparation of Printing Ink, both Black and Coloured, by William Savage, author of Practical Hints on Decorative Printing, is announced for immediate publication.


We have just seen the most faithful and beautifully executed portrait, of that distinguished individual Lord Brougham and Vaux that has ever yet appeared. It is a mezzotinto engraving by the celebrated " Lnpton," after a painting by " Lonsdale."

The Chancellor is represented as If listening to some applicant— the eyes and the whole countenance are most powerfully expressive, and the effect of a searching and comprehensive mind appears equal to the most obtruse or complicated circumstances that might on any occasion present themselves.

As a work of art it is most creditable, both to the painter and engraver—the attitude is easy and well chosen—there is no appearance of restraint or stiffness, as if sitting for a picture, and indeed, the drawing, throughout, is managed with artist-like dexterity. Were we inclined to find any fault, it would be, that the legs appear rather too long, and gradually tapered, for the muscular dimensions of the body.

The same objection applies to the hands, but these are not the essential points of such a picture as this, nor are we sure, that in making this assertion, we may be correct. Mr. Lupton is a firstrate mezzotinto engraver, and on this subject he seems to have exerted his talents to the very utmost. Nothing can be more clear in the lights, nor more delicately touched in the details, without in the least disturbing the repose or general effect of the whole. This print will surely have a very extensive sale. The patriot's friend—the admirer of genius—the lover of justice and exalted morality, will surely all show their respect for an individual, who possesses and practises all of these great qualities, to the utmost of human power, by securing one of these prints, the best likeoeuyet published. In particular, we think those who have had long, tedious and vexatious law suits, equitably, satisfactorily, and expeditiously settled by his promptitude and energy, will furnish themselves with a memorandum of the man to whom they are so much indebted.


"Actions" is under consideration. We fear, however, that he is too personal for our columns.

Lines " On the Cholera" are put into the hands of our critic

"E. H." and " W. S. M." have been received. "O. P. Q.'s" East Country Reminiscence will appear as as possible.

On referring to the MS. of the last number of the "Tales, Sketches and Traditions of the Gael," we find that our ingenious correspondent is correct, and that we have been in error, when we substituted Og for Hug, we were in part led into this mistake from the existing differences of opinion regarding Celtic orthography, not being aware to what rule the writer of the article adhered. As it is necessary for the sake of the majority of our readers to give explanations of such Gallic phrases and cognomens as may be used, we shall feel obliged by the author furnishing them himself, as we daresay he will think—Is mairg a raehadh air a blurs naig is a theanna aig fein. If he will be at the trouble of doing this, he shall find, that in future, we shall only act according to the old proverb, take little more than cuid an f searraich do'n cliatha.

fjf All communications for the Editor of " Tan Dat" are requested to be left with the Publisher, Mr. John Finlay, No. 9, Miller Street.


Morning. Evening.
h. m. h. m.

Friday, 6 25 6 54.

Published, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Finlay, at No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by John Wylie, 97, Argyle Street; David Robertson, and W. R. M'phon, Glasgow; Thomas Stevenson, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh .- DaVid Dice, Bookseller, Paisley.- A. Laing, Greenock; and J. Glass, Bookseller, Rothsay.








The study requisite to qualify a clergyman, for the arduous duties of his profession, demands of him unwearied and persevering attention. He must not only be zealous in the service of the great congregation, but he must be unceasing in the less obtrusive exercises of the closet. Such a life, conscientiously pursued, a life dedicated to the interests of another and more enduring scene, a life in which the traveller to Zion does indeed exist and move in bodily presence, amidst his fellow mortals; yet, his soul already breathes the atmosphere of Paradise, his eye is fixed upon the celestial city, his Heaven has already commenced; for on earth he walks with his Father and his God! Nature demands, however, that such a life should at times have its hours of comparative relaxation, studies, more ethereal in their nature, must, occasionally, take precedence of the more severe ; and hence the number of pious ministers who have assumed the lyre, attuned it to songs of gratitude and praise, and thus converted their hours of recreation to the benefit and improvement of mankind.

It is, perhaps, not altogether just, to apply the strictest canons of criticism to works thus produced. These are, sometimes, to be considered off-shoots from the regular studies of their author. Generally, indeed, they will be found to convey virtuous and correct sentiments, under the pleasing garb of poetry, but it is too much to expect in them either power forcibly to impress the reader, or genius to confer on them an abiding immortality. Our observations will apply with peculiar force, when such works have been published after the death of their author, who probably, never anticipated that the lighter studies of his leisure hours should meet the public eye, and whose pretensions to the cultivation of poetical powers were, probably, intended to be restricted to his domestic circle.

The author, whose name we this day introduce to our readers was born in London, in the year 1702. It is said, that his mother taught him the history of the Old and New Testament before he could read, by the assistance of some tiles in the chimney of the room where they sat. At an early age he was deprived of both his parents, a circumstance to which he alludes, in his Sermon to Young People, entitled, " The Orphan's Hope."—" As I know the heart of an orphan, having been deprived of both my parents at an early age, in which it might be reasonably supposed, a child should be most sensible of such a loss."

About the time of his father's death, he was removed to a private school in St. Albans, under the care of Nathaniel Wood; and, during his residence there in 1716, he began to keep a diary, in which he detailed the manner his time was occupied, and, so highly were the moments prized by him, that even the hours he spent in exercise were employed in reflecting upon, and recollection of the previous studies of the morning. Subsequently to the year 1718, the subject of our memoir was introduced by an uncle, to the notice of the noble family of Bedford, and the Duchess, being informed of his inclination for study, informed him, if he chose to enter the ministry of the church of England, she would afford him a suitable education,

and would advance him in that church, but he declined this proposal with the warmest gratitude. In 1719, he was placed under the tuition of Mr. Jennings, at Kilworth, where he was soon distinguished for his piety and diligence. Besides attending academical lectures, and reading the volumes to which his tutor referred, he had, in one year, perused sixty books, read, not superficially, but with care and close study. Dr. Doddridge entered upon his ministerial labours in 1722, and of his devotion to these labours, after a long trial, we are sufficiently assured, by the following letter :—" I have been wonderfully supported in the midst of almost incessant labours for the space of twenty-seven years I esteem the ministry the most desirable employment in the world, and find that delight in it and those advantages from it, which, I think, hardly any other employment on earth would give me."

In October, 1725, we find him residing at Market Harborough. The diligence of Dr. D. had, at an early period of his studies, elicited the approval of his tutor Jennings, who had given it as his opinion, that, in case of his removal, our author was the most proper person to follow out the scheme of education he had introduced. Accordingly Dr. D. at midsummer, 1729, opened his academy, but, in a short time afterwards, he was called to another important station, that of pastor to a dissenting congregation at Castlehill, in Northampton. This appointment appears to have been unexpected by him, and the subject of much serious thought before he accepted it. The following incident seems to have led to that determination :— "Having been much urged on Saturday evening, and much impressed with the tender entreaties of my friends, I had been asking direction of Heaven, under the apprehension of engaging in more business than I was capable of performing, considering my age, the largeness of that congregation, and that I had no prospect of an assistant. As soon as ever this address was ended, I passed through a room of the house in which I lodged, where a child was reading to its mother, and the only words I heard distinctly, were these, "and as thy days so shall thy strength be," and, although it appears he at first refused the appointment, he was induced, afterwards, to look on these words as a message from on high; for, ere long, he was removed to and settled in Northampton.

As a preacher, Dr. Doddridge was highly esteemed. He was earnest and pathetic. A strong impression of divine truths on his own heart, expressed in ardent language, impressed the mind and attracted the attention of his audience. He frequently visited the cottages of the poor, and, by his address, his kindness and his disinterested desires for their benefit, he soon induced them to hail him as a father and a friend. This good man felt a peculiar interest in the improvement of the young, and published several works for that peculiar purpose. In some of these compositions he has united the graces of an elegant style with perspicuity and plainness. In 1736, he published ten sermons, which were soon after followed by his Practical discourses, and, in 1745, his highly popular work "Tho Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul," was given to the public. Of his principal work, "the Family Expositor," it is only necessary to say, that it breathes the genuine spirit of religion, and remaius an

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