Some few years must be supposed to have elapsed since the battle between the Indiaman and the French frigate. The child was fast advancing towards manhood, and his father was in the habit of sending him every year during the hunting and shooting season to some of the native chiefs in the neighbourhood of Madeira for four months at a time, in order that he might acquire the native dialects and practise the gymnastic exercises of the people. It so chanced one day, that while hunting with the chief, who was said to have purchased the urn, the boar they had in pursuit made a dash at young Johnston's horse. By great good fortune he wounded the infuriated animal with his hunting-pike, when the chief coming up, despatched it. The courage and address of the lad so pleased the chief that he publicly demanded in the presence of all his attendants, "In what way would you that I should show my respect and regard?" He answered, that if it were true the chief had bought the silver urn belonging to Mrs. Johnston, he would feel that no greater favour could be bestowed upon him than by returning it. As a farther inducement to the Hindoo to comply with this request, he explained all the circumstances connected with the supposed talisman. The chief, having listened attentively to these details, replied, "It is quite true that I

have bought the urn you speak of for a large sum, but I knew not that it had been stolen from your mother. Independently of this, the brave should have sympathy with the brave, whatever may be the difference of nation or religion. I consider it, therefore, my duty to fulfil the wishes of the brave man whose heart is in the urn, and whose desire it is that it should be possessed by his descendants. For that reason I shall willingly restore it to your mother."

The next day, the Indian chief, having first presented his visitor with six of his finest dogs and two of his best match-locks, dismissed him with the urn and a gift to Mrs. Johnston of some shawls, and a dress of golden tissue. These were accompanied by a letter expressing his great regret that he had innocently been the cause of her distress by purchasing the urn, which he would not have done, had he known that it had been stolen from her. The chief who acted in this noble and delicate way, was the same who rebelled against the authority of his supposed sovereign, the Nabob of Arcot, and who, after having behaved with the most undaunted courage, was defeated and made prisoner by a body of English troops. Being delivered over to his enemies, he was, as a matter of course, condemned to death, and the sentence was to be carried into immediate effect.

Upon hearing this, the story of Montrose's urn came upon his memory, and he expressed a hope to some of his attendants that those who had loved and admired him would preserve his heart in the same way that the heart of the European warrior had been preserved in the silver urn.

The adventures of the vase were not yet over. In 1792, Mr. and Mrs. Johnston returned to Europe, and visited France at a time when the revolutionary government required all persons to give up their plate, as well as gold and siver ornaments, to the State. As the only means of saving the urn, Mrs. Johnston entrusted it to the care of an Englishwoman at Boulogne of the name of Knowles; but this person died soon afterwards, and it was never heard of more.

The treasure has been thus described by Sir Alexander Johnston, in a letter to his daughters:

"The steel case was of the size and shape of knob, as is done in opening a watch-case. Inside an egg. It was opened by pressing down a little was a little parcel, supposed to contain all that remained of Montrose's heart, wrapped up in a piece of coarse cloth, and done over with a substance like glue. The gold filagree case was similar in workmanship to the gilt worked vases in which the Venetian flasks at Warwick Castle are enclosed.”

THE SWANS OF CLOSEBURN.

IT must seem strange to any one reflecting on the past, how Louis Napoleon ever made his way to the throne of France, but it seems to be a yet more singular event that the wife of his choice should be of British origin. Yet such is the fact. French, the Spanish

Eugenie, Empress of the Countess of Theba, may claim a descent, though a remote one, from the family of Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, in the county of Dumfries, to whose Castle of Closeburn a singular legend is attached, which acquires a peculiar interest under existing circumstances.

At a remote period, Closeburn Castle was surrounded, or nearly surrounded by a large lake, which probably served the double purpose of defence as well as ornament,-no indifferent consideration at a time when no man was safe for

long together, whose hand could not protect his head. The building itself was a vaulted, quadrilateral tower, the walls of which, as high as the ground-floor, were of prodigious strength, being no less than twelve feet thick. In it were three series of apartments, all separated from each other by arched roofs; and, though there is no inscription in any part of the tower to decide its precise date, yet from the general appearance and the mouldings of the doors it cannot be less, and may be more, than eight hundred years old. Near it at one time was a chapel dedicated to St. Patrick, which gave the name of Kirkpatrick to the farm whereon it stood, and hence, no doubt, the family appellation of Kirkpatrick. But even the ruins of this venerable pile, that existed only a few years ago, have now entirely disappeared.

The lake to which we have alluded, was not only beautiful in itself, but it was doubly interesting to the inhabitants of the castle from the legend attached to it; a legend not without its counterpart in other localities, and even in more than one district of England. Whenever any member of the Kirkpatrick family was about to die, either by accident or disease, a swan that was never seen but on such occasions, was sure to make its appearance upon the lake, coming-no one knew whence, and passing away as mysteriously when the pre