a (my love the people had for litigation, and "Thon man has bet me in the la'shoot, sir. I ped ten shillings to get wee Sam Sproule out o' Rameltonthe 'torney; and my oh! but wee Sam gave it them in the talk for better nor sax hours. Ech, but he bates a' at the la'; and so, sir, though I lost the shoot, it's a comfort to think it was so weel wrangled." One of the company quoted a case from Butler somewhat in point, which made us all laugh— "Now, you must know Sir Hudibras With such a nature gifted was, He ne'er believed a lie, unless 'Twas proved by competent false witnesses." We spoke of Alaac M'Craub; and a young gentleman, fresh from College, and preparing for the ministry, who was on a visit to my friend, very pleasantly described his having seen him marching to the Meeting-house on the preceding Sunday. He said 66 his hat was like the Prometheus Bound' of Eschylus, not having enjoyed a nap for many years; and that his best blue coat, only donned on Sabbaths, like the blessed sun, never seemed to wear out; a long steel chain dangled from his fob, supporting a pinchbeck seal, the size of a pear. Stiffly and sturdily he strode along, ten yards in advance of his womankind, his wife, Creüsa-like, and his pretty, modest daughter following behind; his nose, a genuine aduncus, fiercely cocked at the horizon; his VOL. XLI.NO. CCXLV. feet turned out in a perpetual perpe- "At each step feels his advanced head But this was nothing to what he was three hours afterwards, when returning from worship, when all the divinity of polemics was stirred within him, and theology came mended from his tongue. Then in a high, dry, conceited tone he would argue, and re-argue, and rebut, and answer again; and prove, and reprove, and disprove, and shake it up, and shake it down, and twist it this way, and twist it that way, and wrangle it weel (like little Sam Sproule), till there was not a bone or sinew in the whole body of the unhappy sermon which he had not dislocated or fractured, to the satisfaction of himself and his hearers, who, no doubt, considered him in the matter of theology as another Berengarius, of whom it was said that he was "de omne Scibili peritus," if they had ever heard of such a person, which I am pretty certain they never had. One of the young ladies at tea related an anecdote of a neighbour of theirs, a well-to-do farmer, illustrating this self-sustaining complacency, though in a different shape. One morning the family were astonished at an unwonted odour, of a peculiarly ungrati. fying nature, pervading the place and grounds, and floating in at the open window. On going to the door the cause was at once traceable to human agency; for there were Zecharias, commonly called Zeacky M'Grain, and his farm-servant, covering the - lawn with soaked flax, in order to dry it on the grass. On remonstrating with him on this unwarrantable liberty, Zeacky waxed wroth, and defended himself stiffly, muttering between his teeth something about our rance," snuffing the air with his nose, and professing himself greatly hurt at our not appreciating the compliment he was paying us. "Sure every man 66 egno 20 that has the least oonderstanding at a' ought to know that flax water was the finest of top-dressings to a bit of a spongy lawn like yours, full of fog;* and as ye have always been ceevil, quiet like, modest neighbours," Zeacky had decided, as he said, "to give us the prafference." After tea our host proposed that we should all stroll to the summit of a very high hill, which rose westward from his house, the premier pas to a loftier mountain behind, from whence there was a splendid view of the sun setting behind the great mountain of Arigle, or "The White Arrow," which is the giant of the Donegal highlands. To this there was a glad assent given; and, accompanied by all the family, we commenced our walk. Just outside the avenuegate we met a decent-looking man and his wife going home in a country car. I have seldom seen two countenances more expressive of sweetness and sense than these people had. My friend stopped them, and shook hands with them, asking how all the folk were at G-, and receiving a warm greeting in return, with "How is it wi' you the day," and "Ech, but you look reightly, and that's a truth;" and "Well, but I'm proud to see you ony way;" and such other little accustomed courtesies as were duly understood and appreciated. On parting, he said, "Well, Charlie, shall I see you on Sunday at church?" "Depend on it, sir, the whole town will be in it on Sabbath; we will all be out." My friend told me of this townland, how it was tenanted by people all of the same name, descendants of three English brothers, and that the name was a Christian name, Thomas; and the confusion and want of individuality was frightful among the community; and recourse was had to personal marks to distinguish its members, such as White, and Black, and Brown, and Yellow Thomas; and Pock-pitted, and Purty (pretty) Thomas; and Longshanked, and Short-nebbed Thomas; and Thomas wi' the freckles, and Thomas wi' the skelly (squint), and Thomas wi' the twa thumbs, which last was our friend in the car. He amused us much by narrating a characteristic anecdote of one Walter M'Avee (pronounced Muckavee), a steady, sim ple young fellow, very hardy, and im- We had a breathing walk up the tended Church service, and was as attentive an auditor of sermons as Alaac M'Craub himself, though not so keen a critic. She greeted our ladies warmly, and not ungracefully, rising from her seat; they told her they had come to see her, and ask after her sick child and her own pains and rheumatism, and hear her conversation, and admire her fine view. She answered in a singularly clear and sweet tone of voice, and less of the Scotticé than I had yet heard, and rather, I thought, in a queenly way, like one accustomed to be listened to. "Ah, madam, you are always good and kind, the child is better, and the view is a grand one; and I am as God would have me. I went to the town yesterday to sell a tub of butter, and as I passed along the road, I thought the birds from the hedges, and the cattle in the fields were all talking to me, and crying, Maggie Colhoun, death is coming on you,' and I smiled at this, and my heart was pleased, yet sore too; for though I should like to leave a cauld world for a that we should go on a little, and visit the hut of a very singular old woman, of a style of mind and feeling superior to the other peasantry, and who preserved her enthusiasm intact, under the pressure of illness and great poverty. He added, "We call her The Lady of the Fort,' because her cabin is in the shadow of an ancient structure of this nature." Her house was small, and so full of smoke, that were the practice of kapnomancy, or divining by smoke, to be revived, a more suitable spot than this mountain-cabin could scarce be found. On arriving at the place, there issued from the door a cur dog, yelping, and tail depressed, with several flying turf-sods rebounding from his sides. This shower of fuel was intended to usher in the sunshine of a welcome to us; and the voice of a child from the room invited us to "walk up and take a glaze (meaning of this word unknown) at the fire." Such an invitation came rather malapropos, inasmuch as it was the end of July; and we were thoroughly heated by the walk. We saw two large bright eyes glittering through the bright one, yet sorry would I be to murky gloom; they were those of the quet himself and the childre, and they speaker, a sick girl, who was sitting so young, and Nanny so donsy and on a stool by the fire, and who had puny, poor wee thing! Yet, nae doubt, ejected the dog in that summary way madam, 'tis all want of faith. Sure for fear of his alarming the ladies. and certain am I, that all my childre, Her mother, she said, was "out on the and Robin himself, will be delivered brae-head;" we gave her a trifle, and from the house of bondage and from left her. My friend described the mo- the land of Egypt-ay, ay-there will ther as a half-educated woman, who not be a hoof of them left behun. had a touch of insanity about her. She worshipped myself for many a year of had lived as servant in respectable fa- sorrow and of sin on the dark side of milies, and was, at all events, a sinthe mountain. Like the woman who cerely religious woman. When we had would not give our Lord a cup of reached a green knoll which lay at the cowld water and she at the well, I glenward side of the fort, and looking worshipped I know not what: but at boldly from a great height, command- last I got such a view; and it came to ed a finer and further range of the val- me, madam, in the visions of the night, ley than anything I had yet seen, we and now I am all changed, and I do found the object of our search, sitting not know what to do for joy, and hapon the mound, and diligently knitting. piness, and pleasure. It was just sixShe was a tall, thin, erect, and peculiar- teen years ago, and I dreamt I was looking woman, with an appearance of lying in my bed, and a great gust of pain on her corrugated brow, and a wind took the side of the house, and wild light in her small, dark eyes; yet rifted the thatch, and burst the door the cut of the lips was expressive of reopen; and up I got, and went round finement, and the habitual compression the walls, holding by the stones, for of the mouth denoted energy and dethe storm was out and raging in the cision. As she talked, I recognised in valley. And what did I see in the her language much of the quaint and, grey dawn, but a large sea eagle from at times, picturesque phraseology of the the cliffs beside Ummara, sailing down Methodist body; and I believe she had the hollow, backwards and forwards, been amongst them in her youth, and as the manner of them creatures is, got no harm from them. Now she at and barking for its prey; and then I the river swelled, and the waters in the hills began to gather, and roar down the gullies. And Asmashen, which you see so caulm over yonder, was all like soap-suds, with the strength and madness of its stream. And, in a short time, the valley was a wide, deep sea, and the water swelling and swelling up the hill-side, and rippling against the rocks, and foaming over the bushes. Up it came, closer and closer; and the middle of it boiling and whirling, as if a thousand fountains were springing under it from the heart of Glen Swilly. In a few moments it wet my feet. It was verra cauld, and I thought the day of judgment was come. By-and-bye it came up to my knees, and my waist, caulder and caulder; and all my sins came round me then, and they were caulder on my heart than the water. I grasped the bough of a tree in my agony, for the great waters were rising to my shoulders, and I shouted for my husband and my childre, but my voice had no sound in it; and I wept sore, and cried to God, for his dear Son's sake, to come and pu' me out of these waves. Just then came a sweet voice, 'Look up,' it said, 'for your salvation draweth nigh.' I heard the rushing of a boat coming across the valley, and the noise and plash of oars, and it came nearer and nearer; and six rowers were in it, dark men with beards to their breasts, like the pictures I have seen of the fishermen of Galilee; and a figure of glory sat in the stern, and I saw it was my dear Lord, for I knew his scarred brow where he had worn the thorns for my sake; and I cried to him for life or death, whichever he would gie' me I was content and pleased to take, but he smiled at me, and when I touched his hand I woke up; and indeed, indeed, my heart has never been asleep since, after a' the suffering and love Himself taught me in that sweet dream.” The sun is now sinking like a huge round shield of burning copper, behind Arigle. "The White Arrow" is now black as ink, its pointed summit standing sharply out against the evening sky, like a cone of jet painted on crimson. Muckish also rears its long immense back, while a crowd of mountain tops about and around them, glitter with a golden smile in the far distance, as if wishing the dying sun good night; then fade one after another into gloom, and darkness shrouds them-and it is night among the hilis and valleys which girdle and grace Glen Swilly. A sweet summer night, soft, balmy, tranquil, and warm; slowly we descend the hill, silent, and our spirits much softened and attentive. On the left the mountain rises, capped with impe netrable gloom; on the right we look down into the valley. Lights are twinkling there, and from the hill-side hamlets. Voices, too, float the up; far off bark of a dog, the clap of a gate, or the lowing of cattle in the darkened fields, or the rush of Swilly amidst her stones, like man's unquiet spirit, still murmuring onwards with fretful activity through the darkness and light of his chequered existence. Now we hear the runnel in the little glen which faces our friend's house; now we gain the black belt of plantation which stretches round his lawn; and now we are among candles and books, and music, and drawings, and friendly faces, and sweet voices, discus sing our pleasant day's ramble; and planning great things to be achieved in our ride to Horn Head to-morrow; and so, dear Mr. Poplar, I wish you a happy good night, and a hopeful az revoir till next month's meeting.' B. STIRLING'S CLOISTER LIFE OF CHARLES v.' THE importance of the period of History which may be described as commencing with the reign of Charles V., can scarcely be too highly estimated. How far the changes in European politics, which date from that time, were affected by the personal character of the princes who then filled the thrones of the great monarchies, is a question which we have no thought of now discussing, nor is it one in any way suggested by the volume which it becomes our present duty to examine. The volume is one as purely of biography as it is possible that any book should be which deals with a man whose public and private life can scarcely be separated-of a man whose private life could never have been a subject of interest or curiosity from any reason unconnected with his historic character. Mr. Stirling's work s confined to the period of Charles's life when he sought to lay aside the cares of empire, and to act upon the feeling, which there are few elderly men in any station who do not feel, but on which men seldom act, or, indeed, can act-the feeling so admirably expressed by Scott, in Kemble's farewell address: "Higher duties crave Some space between the theatre and grave; That, like the Roman in the Capitol, I may adjust my mantle ere I fall. My life's brief act in public service flown, The last the closing scene-must be my own." The retirement of Charles has been the subject of speculation to almost all the writers who have had occasion to mention it, and has been ascribed by almost all to his jealousy of his son Philip a cause no doubt adequate, had the imputed jealousy any foundation in fact. This, with other theories, is for ever set at rest by Mr. Stirling's book. The intention of retiring from the direction of public affairs, to such seclusion as the neighbourhood of a monastery promised, was a thought which often passed before the mind of Charles. Charles survived his empress, Isabella of Portugal, full twenty years; and, while she yet lived, the prospect of such retirement was his consolation in the fatigues of business. He had agreed with her that as soon as the ages of their children would permit, he should retire into a convent of friars-she into a nunnery. "In 1542, he confided his design to the Duke of Gandia; and in 1546 it had been whispered at court, and was mentioned by Bernardo Navagiero, the sharp-eared envoy of Venice, in a report to the Doge." His purpose was adverted to by him, in a remarkable document. In a letter to his son he mentions that Mary Tudor, the heir to the throne of England, had intimated to him her willingness to become his second empress. The union of Mary with the Emperor was an old and favourite project of Henry VIII. In 1521, Wolsey wrote to Charles, urging the matter with great earnestness; and, in 1524, Henry himself wrote to Charles, making the proposal. Mary was then a child, and her succeeding to the crown was one of those contin gencies on which none could think of speculating. It was a more serious affair when the mature virgin fixed her imagination on the widowed princes of Spain, and intimated that father or son would do. "Devotion wafts the soul above, And heaven itself descends in love." Mary's love was itself devotion, and the great charm which either Philip or Charles possessed was Catholicity. - Charles was not more than fifty; but gout had done its work and he had projects, he said, to his son, inconsistent with matrimony. The crown of England, however, was not to be despised. A great people was to be reclaimed from heresy. Philip himself was luckily a widower, and might hope to be as likely to please Mary as his father. True, he was already engaged to another, but some pretence might be created for getting rid of such difficulties. In short, Charles would not marry; and the interests of "The Cloister Life of Charles V." By William Stirling. London: Parker. 1852. |