A MOONLIGHT RAMBLE AT THE TROSACHS.

Two or three years ago, tired of the gossip, and scandal of a watering-place on the southern coast of England, in which I had for two months been seeking to recruit my health, I eagerly snapped at a proposal made by one of my friends to accompany him and his aunt on a short tour to the Scotch Highlands. The month was September, the weather propitious, my companions agreeable, and the time passed unheeded, until we found ourselves one fine evening, when on our way home, comfortably installed in the only available sittingroom of the hotel at the Trosachs. We had performed our ablutions, and were holding council upon the advisability of refreshing ourselves by rolling into one an early tea and late dinner, when we were attracted to our window by the noise of a droski driving into the yard. Two ladies and a gentleman alighted, and entered the inn. Mr. Smith, my companion, hereupon observed to his aunt, Miss Jones, running his fingers through his huge black whiskers, with that peculiar shrug by which a cockney always expresses his satisfaction at having anticipated somebody else in seizing upon something, thereby making the said cockney an object of envy, and procuring him a reputation for sharpness,-"Egad, we've nicked 'em; just too late, they'll have to sit in the coffee-room, or else go to bed." His keen sense of the ludicrously uncomfortable nature of this alternative here displayed itself in a guffaw which shook the building, and we sat down to tea with renewed zest, when we reflected upon the peculiar advantages which we were just then enjoying. We had not commenced, when a knock at the door heralded the entrance of the

gentleman newly arrived. Smith put on a face of sourness and dignity, and Miss Jones, poor old woman, never raised her eyes. I looked mild and patriarchal, and to me the stranger addressed himself with an air of easy confidence. He was an American I saw at a glance-short-tailed, longbodied coat, whiskers under the chin, waist slightly compressed for want of braces to support trousers, height five feet seven or eight, features sharp but intellectual, forehead lofty, and a calm conciliating eye.

"We've just arrived from Dumbarton,” said he, "two ladies and myself, and find that all the sitting-rooms are engaged, and I have come to request of you the favour of allowing us to share yours for the remainder of the evening, as it would be unpleasant to be obliged to remain in the coffee-room."

I saw Smith's lips beginning to move, I knew what was passing in his mind: he had paid for the room and wished to have it to himself besides, his aunt's health (the old woman was never better in her life)—people travelling must take chance, and all that sort of thing. With desperate promptitude I anticipated him by responding, "Certainly, sir, certainly with great pleasure,-show the ladies up."

And in they came. The first was tall, her figure rounded and plump, her hair a light brown, and her face clear and radiant, candour and truth in every feature, and a soft bright eye which darted kindliness in every glance. Every lineament seemed moulded to express happiness.

While she was performing that mysterious operation which novelists call "swimming gracefully" into the room, but which men of less vivid imagination have no hesitation in pronouncing to be ordinary walking, although the process is unseen, I had full time for observation, and the result was certainly most serious. I felt myself struck "all of a heap," to make use of an idiom common somewhere in the country. From being a free Briton, living under a constitutional limited monarchy, and exulting in the consciousness that were my garden in Islington capable of producing a fig-tree, which it was not, I might dwell under its branches in peace, hurling defiance at the occupants of the adjoining premises,

I found myself suddenly descended into the condition of an abject slave-a slave to a fine figure and a fine face. “That lady,” thought I, "shall be my wife, unless she is already somebody else's wife. I will have her in the face of

any obstacles, how stupendous soever (this last phrase I ran over twice, it seemed a huge obstacle in itself)-"how stupendous soever. I would marry her were she utterly destitute of all those appliances which the fall of man has unhappily rendered necessary; or supposing, that in consequence of the present police and poor-law arrangements such a case be extreme, or in fact impossible,-supposing that she has not yet remunerated the respectable tradesman from whom her present attire has been obtained, why then I will marry her, and pay the bill!" Having passed these magnanimous sentiments through my mind, and it took but a second to do so, I glanced at her companion, and found that they were the opposite poles of a magnet in appearance-one attracted, the other repelled. Her features were regular and even handsome, her eye large and dark, with a dash of fire in it, calling up some few confused notions about senoras, mantillas, lattices, gondolas, orange groves, knives, mysterious disappearances, and sorrowing friends, but the ensemble was cold and a little forbidding.

I now arose, and announcing myself as Brown (supposing, for the sake of harmony, that my name was Brown), introduced Miss Jones and Mr. Smith in due form. I was informed, in reply, that the strange gentleman was Mr. Lynn-that the object of my admiration was Miss Lynn, and that her companion was Miss Blackwood, the author of "The Moral Beauty of the Planets." Hereupon arose a confused murmur, in which the words "Brown," "Jones," "Smith," "Lynn," and "Blackwood," were indistinctly heard: then a general nodding and smiling, and moving of chairs, and finally we took

our seats.

The conversation at tea was lively. Miss Lynn's remarks were put in so mildly, and so winningly, that let one disagree with them ever so much, he would feel it a heartless thing to say so, but were withal so imbued with a spirit of love for whatever was pure and lofty in man, and grand or beautiful in nature, of loving trust in humanity and in its high destiny, and the final triumph of great and regenerating truths, that at every word I felt my chains rivetted more closely, and escape became more hopeless. Miss Blackwood was rather silent and reserved, but occasionally gave evidence of latent enthusiasm. Lynn was chatty and a little argumentative, and Smith silent, the conversation not being in his line. Miss Blackwood, I saw, had formed anything but a good opinion of him, from the contemptuous glances which she occasionally directed towards him.

And thus passed the evening, and bed-time came at last. Miss Lynn found her feet cold, and proposed going down to the coffee-room to warm them. Her brother suggested a walk as an agreeable substitute; the night was clear, the moon shining brightly, and the Trosachs, by moonlight, was a novelty. It was agreed on all hands, except that particular direction in which Smith and his aunt lay, who declined joining us on account of the cold. Lynn took charge of Miss Blackwood, I, to my inexpressible delight, of Miss Lynn. He and his companion led the van, I and mine brought up the rear, and we struck out at a rapid rate towards the hills. The first few minutes was spent in repeating those common-places with which a lady and gentleman mostly endeavour to shake off the embarrassment which seizes them irresistibly upon finding themselves alone together for the first time. We were progressing but slowly-more slowly than I would have expected, considering the pleasant chat we had at tea, when suddenly the lady's cloak came loose, and fell off. "My gracious, how stupid!" exclaimed she. "Oh, dear no," said I, as I ran to pick it up,-"anything but that. Such things will happen, you know." In my heart I looked upon the occurrence as the most fortunate one that could have happened at this juncture. The cloak had fallen on a furze bush, and somehow had got so fastened and entangled, that it took me a long time to loosen it. Miss Lynn stooped down to help me, and I believe the process seemed then more intricate than ever. At last, however, we succeeded; and having duly replaced the offending article on her shoulders, we resumed our walk. Our companions were out of sight, and we

hurried on, but to our surprise could not succeed in overtaking them.

Miss Lynn at last began to get alarmed, I whistled, and was answered. This restored her confidence, and we still advanced, but still they came not in sight; we now, however, felt assured they were but a short distance before us, and we resumed our conversation. The night was calm, and the moon shone brightly on the lake and mountain with a mellow light. A soft breeze now and then gently sighed through the bushes, and seemed to whisper

"Summer nights were made for love,
And love was made for summer nights."

There was inspiration in the hour and the scene, and we both seemed to feel it. I waxed eloquent on subjects about which I could scarce have uttered a word a few minutes before, and as Miss Lynn looked upward, her fine open face seemed just such an one as the goddess of the night, the silent witness of so many tearful, prayerful vigils, so many whispered vows, so many fairy dreams, so much purifying penitence, and so many vain regrets, in whose calm light so many solemn musings teach the heart to suffer and be strong, would love to shine on; and those cheerful eyes, whose clear, steady gaze bespoke a mind at ease, and a life of unassuming goodness, seemed to gather from the pale orb a tenderer and more subduing radiance. Ah, Brown! thought I, as I gazed upon her, thy race is run; this night thy doom is sealed. No more bachelor suppers shalt thou have; no more shalt thou and thy friends entertain each other with those choice anecdotes with which the gentlemen of the Stock Exchange beguile their leisure hours; no more shalt thou repair unto those nocturnal haunts of giddy men, known as "Cider Cellars," and "Coal Holes ;" no more suppers at Verrey's; no more latch-keys-that is, if thou canst help it. Thou shalt lay aside thine old habits, and put on the new man, for the web of thy destiny shall now be woven by the hand of another.

On we walked. The hours passed quickly-it was now near midnight. Miss Lynn was thoroughly frightened at not having seen or heard of her brother and friend, and was getting into a state of extreme agitation. Besides she was overcome with fatigue, and at last declaring she could walk no farther, sat down on a rock, and begged of me to run on and search for the missing couple.

To hear was to obey. I ran a mile or more, shouted till I was hoarse, and whistled till my lips refused their office; but every sound came back from the rocks with a mocking air. I returned crest-fallen to my fair charge, and now began to feel that matters had assumed a serious aspect. We could not be less than three miles from the hotel, over a rugged and toilsome path, and the night was far advanced. I hardly knew how to act; but never was perplexity so pleasing. Was ever man in so glorious a position—at midnight, by moonlight, on a lonely mountain in the Highlands, far from all assistance, and the woman, whom of all others, I wished to please in sore distress and difficulty, and none but I to help her out of them. Here was a position more full of unalloyed triumph and gratification than that of any conqueror the world has ever seen. There is a story, that Xerxes surveyed the ships by thousands, and men in nations, which moved and lived to do his bidding, from the rock over seaborn Salamis, with proud satisfaction. Mighty conquests were, as he thought, before him; but what were they when compared to that which I might look for, did I but use with skill and discretion the power with which I was at this moment invested. I had not yet breathed a word of love; I felt it was too soon for that; but I felt assured that my fate lay now in my own hands. Great attention, great delicacy, great devotion might gain the lady's heart; gratitude for being helped out of "a fix" is a feeling, which in a woman's breast is nearly allied to love, and often induces it.

I now told Miss Lynn that there could hardly be a doubt that her brother and Miss Blackwood had gone home by another path, and were already at the hotel; and by dint of

encouragement and suasion succeeded in rousing her to set out homewards.

On our way downwards she became calmer, and droppe.. her cloak once more. This restored her at once to her habitual cheerfulness, and I actually began to arrange my thoughts for the purpose of making a formal exposition of the state of my feelings. I felt that this was not the time nor place, and that I was hardly warranted in taking such a step in consequence of anything that had happened.

Unhappily, however, doubts and scruples carried the day, and my lips remained sealed.

As we neared the hotel, we saw lights gleaming, heard dogs barking, horses galloping, and found the whole house in a state of alarm. Our lost companions had arrived before us in dreadful anxiety, had roused the inmates, and set a general search on foot; as we came up I saw the servants grinning and winking, and began to feel a little sheepish, but was relieved by Miss Blackwood rushing up to Miss Lynn, casting herself upon her neck, and kissing her repeatedly. My feelings here overcame me; the wish rose so strong in my breast, that I might be Miss Blackwood, pro tempore, that to banish the preposterous notion from my mind I turned away, and sauntered towards the inn door. I there learned from Lynn that Miss Blackwood was so terrified by our absence that she was near going into hysterics, and was, in fact, terribly shocked. I was entering into explanations, and comparing times and distances, when the two ladies passed us at the door; but just as they reached the stairs, Miss Blackwood fell in a swoon. Smith, whom the noise had roused, was standing upon the stairs, and with his aid I carried her to her bed-room, where the application of a little cold water soon restored her. Smith was busily engaged in chafing her hands, when she regained her consciousness, and her first exclamation, uttered without noticing his presence, was, “Oh, my dear Emily, how glad I am it was not the one with the black whiskers who was out with you?" Smith paused for a moment, saw at a glance the force of the insinuation, and walked away. The iron entered into his soul; he seemed to shrink in dimension before my eyes, and become a fitting object for the scorn of gods and men. Smith, who was known all over Camberwell as a model of unimpeachable properness, who was a council member of four different religious and mutual improvement societies, and lectured five nights out of every week upon Cruelty to Animals, the Music of the Spheres, and the Dignity of doing Nothing to Nobody, the idol of the pious young ladies of the congregation which he adorned, and considered a nice young man for a small tea-party by the elderly ones,-Smith, who spoke like a book, never read a novel, had a mission, didn't believe in love, because he never loved, and wasn't ever going to be married,- -to have it insinuated that he was not to be trusted with a young lady upon a mountain by night! Oh, it was too bad! And his whiskers, too,—that they should be made a matter for imputation-the only worldly vanity which he had retained, cherished and greased. He went to bed in high dudgeon, declared his intention of returning to town on the morrow, and started at an early hour.

I strolled out for a walk before breakfast, intending to propose another excursion with Miss Lynn during the fore-noon; and then bring matters to a crisis. On my return, to my horror and astonishment I found the bird had flown. They were gone twenty minutes before! Here was a disappointment; she had told me they were proceeding to London. I determined to follow, and I did. Many a day since have I searched and inquired, and offered rewards and employed detectives to discover her whereabouts, but in vain. Are that dropping of the cloak, and that midnight ramble which was the consequence of it, and all those hopes, and fears, and plots, and schemes, to go for nothing, and leave me still the same Brown as before going to Scotland? Or am I under the benign influence of my divinity to become one day another and a different and a better Brown? Am I to transmit my name and virtues to posterity, or are they to die with me, and leave no mark on the sands of time?

OUR illustration shows the little river Meise, flowing through the narrow street of a picturesque old town. We are struck by the beauty of the shadowy foliage, the quaintness of the buildings, the old castle on its rocky height, the exquisite tracery of the cathedral spire, and our interest is increased, when we learn that this is Meissen on the Elbe, where, in 1710, the materials and fabrication of porcelain were, after many weary trials, discovered and perfected for the first time in Europe. Never since then has its furnace-fires died out; and the porcelain manufactory, peacefully enshrined in the old feudal castle we behold, sends forth to the tables of kings and nobles, and the cabinets of the wealthy, those masterpieces of ceramic art known as Dresden china. It seems as though the centres of fictile art were necessarily associated with the picturesque and lovely in nature. The classic Etruria was embosomed amidst hills and vineyards; the manufacturing cities of Asia-Minor looked out upon blue seas and golden sands; and this little town of Meissen, not a whit less lovely in its way, stands on the green undulating shore of the Elbe, with a noble bridge across the wide and rapid stream, and beyond a road-a ceaseless avenue of trees--that at the end of fourteen miles brings the traveller to the walls of Dresden--not inaptly called the "Florence of Germany." It is indeed an art-city-with its library of 250,000 volumes, its incomparable picture-gallery, in which hang masterpieces of Raphael, Coreggio, Titian, Paul Veronese, Carlo Dolci, Julio Romano, Guido, and Tintoretto, and a collection of home and foreign porcelain, that, containing 60,000 pieces, is barely enshrined in eighteen rooms! Such a place is worthy of possessing, as it does, a modern Veii or Tarquinii, with its chemists, its fabricators, and its artists, amidst the vineyards of its neighbouring hills

Art, in all its branches, bears so obvious a relation to the character and degrees of civilisation, as to be no other than a relative term. To say that art dies, is in our opinion a minor sort of atheism; to lament that types of it become extinct, as far as creativeness goes, is a fallacy begotten by ignorance. Were its creative and fabricating power ever so masterly, no modern nation would think of exhausting the wonders of ceramic art to form lachrymatories for tears, and wins for the ashes of the dead; for the simple reason, that the sentiment necessary to such a type of art passed away with the barren philosophy and morals of the classic ages. When it rose again in its new birth, its character was wholly changed. Acted upon, though unconsciously, by the dawning spirit of a new and great age, men now sought to make utility the foundation of art. This they did coarsely, rudely enough at first, particularly in relation to what was fictile; but at length, as they advanced, as the truth began to dawn upon them, that UTILITY would still be more divinely served through an alliance with BEAUTY, then, like eager children, they sought far and wide to give effect to this first glimpse of a divine idea. Simultaneously, yet without concert, they strove to this end in many countries, through many difficulties and hindrances, by many methods-the honour at length falling upon the little town of Meissen on the Elbe, in Saxony.

From the date of the tenth to the nineteenth century, much had been done in Europe- by the Moors in the VOL I-No. IV.

H

Spanish peninsula, by the Italians at Faenza in the States of the Church, and by the Dutch and French, in the improving and glazing of earthenware. But when, in 1518, the Portuguese begun the importation into Europe of the exquisitely fabricated, though ill-shaped, porcelain of China, it was soon seen, as this passed commercially from hand to hand, that much had to be discovered, as well as practised, before the exquisite hardness, glaze, and pellucidity of the Chinese porcelain could be imitated. The spirit of eager inquiry was roused in all directions.

In England it took

its usual healthy course, that of individual enterprise: in other countries, less emancipated from feudal influences, royal and governmental patronage stepped in with effects and institutions that continue to this hour.

The great need was to discover a clay like that called by the Chinese " 'kaolin," for by this time moulding, baking, turning, and other operations of the potter's art were well understood. At length this was effected by an accident, only rivalled by one to which Astbury, the English potter, owed his greatest fictile improvements. Previous to this, in 1701, a youth named Böttger, apprenticed to an apothecary of Berlin, began to be widely known for his reputed skill in alchemy. He pretended, and probably believed, that his researches in the transmutation of metals would lead to the fabrication of gold. These reports reaching the King of Prussia, Frederick William I., he manifested so much interest as to alarm the apothecary's apprentice, who, fearing he might be seized for the purpose of extracting his secret, fled from Berlin into the state of Saxony. He was, however, pursued and arrested at Dresden; but Frederick Augustus I., King of Poland, and elector of Saxony, sharing in some degree the King of Prussia's belief in the virtues of alchemy, refused to surrender Böttger, or the Maker of Gold, as he was more popularly called. He was conducted to Wirtemburg, and consigned to what might be considered solitary imprisonment, though supplied with all the means of pursuing his chemical researches, and treated with great kindness and consideration. With an abnegation, or rather an unconsciousness of what constitutes the rights of personal liberty, that reads more like a fact of the twelfth than of the commencement of the eighteenth century, this strict surveillance was continued over Böttger, the elector wishing to secure to himself the prospective golden results of his researches. These, as might be expected, were looked for in vain; and ceasing, perhaps, at length to have faith in their probability, the Elector placed Bottger in communication with a person named Tschirnhaus, who had been engaged for some time in experimental researches relating to the fabrication of porcelain. The elector possibly thought, and wisely too, that the skill and chemical knowledge which had failed in solving the secret of the transmutation of metals, might, in a more practical direction, assist in the coveted discovery of the ingredients of which porcelain was composed. Tschirnhaus, who had already succeeded in discovering a clay in the neighbourhood of Dresden of value, though not of the kind sought, for it had neither whiteness, translucency, or fineness, wisely seconded the elector's new opinion, and dissuading Böttger from the further pursuit of experiments so barren of result as his had been, led him, at length, to become his co-operator in researches not only