Facts and Inferences, Grave and Gay

’ ‘Tis life, -whereof our nerves are scant,
Oh life, not death, for which we pant;
More life, and fuller, that I want. — And forth into the fields I went,
And Nature’s living motion lent
The pulse of hope to discontent.” — Tennyson.

“Leibgeber especially admired in his satirical foster-brother the diamond-pin which united poetry and mildness with a world-braving stoicism.” — Richtek.

Theee is a wicked passage in “Elia” where he says,” I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am obliged to desist from the experiment in despair. They cannot like me, and in truth I never knew one of that

nation who attempted to do it His conversation is

as a book. You must speak upon the square with him. He stops a metaphor like a suspected person in an enemy’s country. Above all, you must beware of indirect expressions before a Caledonian. Clap an extinguisher on your irony, if you are unhappily blest with a vein of it,” And possibly, for this last insinuation, there may be foundation in fact: at least, we have often been amused by witnessing the effect of the more indirect and subtile kinds of wit on our sincere and solemn countrymen. Yet, upon occasion, a Scotchman can be merry, and the land which gave birth to Robert Burns and Harry Erskine, to Andrew Thomson and Thomas Guthrie, can both produce and appreciate humour. But it must be admitted that the humour which suits us best is that sort which possesses a certain breadth and vigour, and in order to be successful amongst so grave a people, sly strokes and “pauky” hits must bo hard enough to penetrate a mail of more than average thickness. Any frivolous creature can be tickled with a straw; it needs a battering ram to shake the sides of Behemoth.

But the wit of James Wilson was hardly Scottish. Quite distinct from the rollicking exuberance and contagious glee of Christopher North, as well as from the diverting drollery of Dr Thomson; and still more remote from the coarse buffoonery and caustic malice of Clerk of Eldin, it was more akin to the easy playfulness of La Bruyere, or the quiet, kindly humour which glistens over the more familiar epistles of William Cowper. Charles Lamb and James Wilson would have understood each other.

Such as it was, his wit was inexhaustible. It flowed like light from the lantern-fly, like the phosphorescence from a Medusa in a summery sea; and whether it wandered zigzag like a will o’ the wisp, or settled at the masthead like the fire of St Elm — whether it syarkled up in a pungent and unexpected repartee, or spread out for the whole evening in a subtile and fantastic aurora, — spontaneous and abounding, to restrain it was the effort, to exert it was none: but, never malignant, it made no enemies and hurt no feelings, and, under a vise man’s control, it had the rare excellence of stopping in time.

“He was the prince of punsters,” as his friend Dr George Wilson once remarked to us. But what of that? Who can photograph a flying shot? or what can be poorer than a printed pun I

“It is very difficult,” writes the Duke of Argyll in a letter of characteristic recollections,” in the form of anecdote, to give an impression, to those who did not know him, of the inimitable fun and light-in-handness of his conversation; for it is veiy rarely that this kind of humour can bear formal repetition. I recollect one instance of that humour which much amused those who heard it, connected with the Fishery question. The subject of fishing for herring with what are called trawl nets had been under discussion — whether it was or was not to be considered’ as an illegitimate mode of fishing, — most of the company being very adverse to it. The conversation happened to change suddenly, and a gentleman present speaking of the health of his wife, who was a great invalid, mentioned that her room was under a chapel, and, as she was unable to move, she had a gutta percha pipe carried through the ceiling to the pulpit, by which means she heard the sermon perfectly. James Wilson observed, with the greatest gravity, that he could not approve of such a proceeding; ‘it is in fact a kind of trawling for sermons, The gravity of his countenance and the tones of his voice were great

elements in the effect which he produced, and these cannot 35 t FACTS AND INFERENCES, GRAVE AND GAY.

be recalled to strangers. It was on the same occasion that as much amusement was occasioned by an argument he had with a member of the Peace Society. There being at the time some rumour of difficulties with France, with reference to the Newfoundland fisheries, the peace-apostle spoke with, horror of ’ the idea of going to war for some codfish;’ and Wilson only replied, ‘Very true; but then ye see they’re such very (vurra) fine codfish.’ His opponent gave up the argument in despair, and joined very heartily in the general laugh. But I fear that such recollections as these do not bear carrying.”

In the same way we might mention random instances: how in regard to a prosing and pedantic entomologist he remarked, “It explains the saying, ‘The grasshopper shall be a burden:”’ and how, during a severe illness, when a friend connected with the Stamp Office came to see him, and when some one said, “Take care, Mr C, where you set your feet, for there are a good many carpet-nails scattered on the floor,” Mr Wilson, who was in much distress from the oppression on his chest, had still breath to say, “Mr 0. will pick them up; he ’s a fac&s-gatherer (tax-gatherer).’”’ During one of the Highland excursions, when the party had risen from the hay and were comparing exjjeriences round the breakfast-table, Martin Barry said, “I was awakened by a hen pecking at my ear.” “No wonder,” retorted Mr Wilson; “she mistook it for an ear of Barley.” “Nay, replied Dr Barry, “there is no I in my name.” “Give me an inch and I ’11 take the I (ell)/’ was the ready rejoinder. “But, friend,”’ urged the Quaker, “I spell my name with two ?*’s.” “Beally,” rejoined his tormentor, “in a hen you might excuse the rr (error).”

Flat as are all such sallies when written down, they were irresistible at the moment; and it is hardly necessary to add, tli at much as he excelled in a jeu des mots, few men could have less patience with those weariful word-snappers who, always on the wait for double meanings, will interrupt with wretched puns a conversation to which they have nothing else to contribute. Even wit itself was far from being in Mr Wilson’s eyes the best of gifts. He would have heartily accorded with what Douglas Jerrold has said in one of his letters to Dickens: “I am convinced that the world will get tired (at least I hope so) of this eternal guffaw at all things. After all, life has something serious in it. It cannot be all a comic history of humanity.” Much as he contributed to the amusement of others, Mr Wilson was himself a grave and earnest man, and even when he made people smile, he had no wish to make them frivolous; nor have we any doubt that a good man’s playfulness will do more to make his neighbours wise and thoughtful, than a dull man’s solemnity.

From the papers which Mr Wilson contributed to various journals, a volume or two of miscellanies, at once interesting and instructive, might easily be compiled, and they would bring out the chai’acteristics of his mind better than these can be described in any words of ours. In the meanwhile, as it has been our lot to go over his very extensive authorship for ourselves, and as we can scarcely hope that the leisure of many readers will permit a similar exploration, it may be an acceptable service if we bead together on one string a few pearls and bits of amber — a few of his poetic fancies, as well as of those facts which carry a grotesque idea or good lesson in them.

TEE CRABS OF ARRAN.

Although crabs, lobsters, and other edible shell-fish, are more or less distributed over all parts of the Arran coast, they are most numerous in the southern district near Pladda. We remember, during a former visit, beii:; witness to what was to us a novel mode of catching crabs. We hap] ened to be astir in a small boat in Brodick 1. about three o’clock one beautiful summer morning. Our chief object was to watch the soft uprising of those “fleecy folds, voluminous and vast,” which during early twilight hours brood over the yet sombre valleys at the basj of Goat-fell, and to watch the rosy tints as they descended from peak to peak, while

“Fair Aurora, lifting up her head.
All blushing rose from old Tithonus’ bed,”

But we soon perceived two men in a small craft, who seemed quite unconscious that

“The flaming chariot of the world’s great eye”

was now almost upon them. Their little boat hung motionless on the then waveless mirror of the Bay, in about ten feet depth of water; and after for a minute or thereby holding their faces close upon the surface, they seemed suddenly to pull a long pole out of the water, with something adhering to its extremity. We soon found that they were taking advantage of the glassy stillness of the water to overlook the early walk of crabs. They no sooner saw these crusty crustaceans on the subaqueous sand, than they poked them behind with their long staves — the crabs turned round to revenge the indignity, and, like Russian gens-d’armes, seized upon the unsuspecting poles. These latter were slightly shaken by the fishermen, as if in pain or terror; the angry creatures clung all the closer, and were then rapidly hoisted into the boat. The moral we drew at the time, and have since maintained, was, iii.it neither crab nor Christian should ever lose his temper.* — Voyage round Scotland.

* This crusty spectacle was probably witnessed on the morning ao beautifully described at page 109. — Ed.

GULLS VERSUS GOATS.

As we were rowing ashore from the cutter, we observed a singular kind of encounter on a small island in Loch Laxford, between a troop of goats and a flock of sea-gulls. The goats were all as black as pitch, and the old ones wire accompanied by some young retainers, which to us looked not much bigger than jackdaws, though as nimble as monkeys. Our notice was first attracted by seeing some of them descend from their rocky ledges, and gambol over a piece of green moist meadow ground. They had not done so, however, for more than a few seconds, before they were attacked most fiercely by a flock of gulls, which dived directly down upon them, and each time they did so the goats made a great spring, as if they found the horny beaks too much for either their fore or hind quarters. They were in a regular quandary, or what the Germans call a ffunke, and it was curious to observe how the gulls achieved their object, by always keeping the goats between themselves and the rocks, and thus at last driving them upwards from the meadow, where, we doubt not, lay their “callow young” — small, soft powder-puffs in woolly garments, which the horny hoof of kidling might have sorely incommoded, but for this brave parental interference. So the goats were gulled, and the gulls not kidnapped. — The Voyage.

LOCH BROOM,

It appears, possessed a very powerful preacher in the troublous times of 1 745. His proper name was Robertson, although he was usually distinguished by the name of “Am Ministeir l&idir,’’ or, the Strong Minister. While present one day during divine service in the church of Fearn, a Gothic kind of building, covered with immense gray flags in place of slates, the roof came suddenly down upon the congregation. Mr Robertson remained upright, and making his way to the principal door, perceived that the lintel was gi ing way at one end; he instantly placed his shoulder beneath it, and stood in that supporting position till those who belonged to the movement party made their escape. He then re-entered among the crumbling ruins, and extricated his clerical friend from beneath the sounding-board of the pulpit, under which he lay ensconced with the addition of a mass of stones and rubbish. Having afterwards gone to London on business connected with the polities of the period, he was introduced to the Duke f Newcastle, who gave him a fair promise of pardon to one Hector Mackenzie, a condemned retainer of the Earl of Cromarty. The Duke on his departing proffered him his hand, which the Ministeir laidir squeezed with such energy that his grace reiterated his promise twice over, and the man was saved. He (the Minister, not of State, but of Loch Broom) was once attacked in his own parish by two strong ruffians, to the child of one of whom he had refused baptism, on the score of the parent’s unsuitable character and qualifications. Finding him at some distance from the manse, they threateningly renewed their application for the ordinance, which was as resolutely refused, upon which the fellows laid violent hands upon the pastor, swearing they would never let him go till he complied. A desperate struggle ensued, and Donald, perceiving that the minister was stronger than himself and his neighbour, drew his dirk, and inflicted a deep wound on Mr Robertson’s right arm, notwithstanding which he beat them both, and sent Donald home again to study his catechism. It happened curiously enough, at an after period, that while crossing the Thames in a boat, Mr Eobertson was assailed by a stentorian voice from one of the hulks in the river, — “0! a Mhaisteir Seumas, am bheil thu’ g am fhagails’ an so?” — [Oh! Mr James, are you going to have me here?] Recognising instantly the speaker’s voice, he answered, “Ah! a Dhonuil, bheil cuimhn agad air l’a na biodaiff?” -[Ah! Donald, do you remember the day of the dirk ?] This was rather a home-thrust, which the despairing convict tried to i any with, “Oh! a Mhaisteir Seumas, is olc an t-aite cuimhnachan so.” — [Oh! Mr James, bad place for remembrance is this.] And here the conversation ceased; but the minister, in the true spirit of his holy calling, lost no time in employing his influence, which was considerable (he had from the first espoused the Hanoverian cause, and been personally serviceable both to Lord Loudon and President Forbes, on their retreat from Inverness to the Western Islands, on the return of the then victorious clansmen from the battle of Falkirk), and succeeded in obtaining a pardon for his enemy. The reader will be glad to learn, that after the culprit’s return to his native country, he commenced and continued one of the most attached and grateful of his reverend benefactor’s pari shioners.

“So Donald Dhu, who till that time
Had been the wildest of his clan,
Forsook his crimes, repress’d his folly,
And after ten months’ melancholy,
Became a good and honest man.” — The Voyage.

SUMBURGH ROOST.

When informed by the captain that we were off Sumburgh Head, the secretary, in spite of some tremendous lurches, made his way to the foot of the companion stairs, the higher portion of which he found blocked by the body of Jack, the cabin servant, who immediately removed himself upwards. At this moment a heavy sea struck the cutter on her weather quarter, and went right over her.

The shock made her lurch so to leeward that an immense surge came right over the lee gunwale, unceremoniously meeting the secretary in the face, and washing the aforesaid Jack off his legs. Meanwhile there was a corresponding row below. For ourself, knowing that we could. in no way alter or amend the state of matters either by speech or action, we continued in a state of complacent, or at least uncomplaining repose. But an acquaintance in the after-cabin, connected with the Fishery service, became alarmed by the concussions which were taking place around. Fie was just about to spring from his berth, when unfortunately a large bag of potatoes, which had been somewhat hastily stowed away in his too near neighbourhood, suddenly opened its mouth, and after gaping at him for a couple of seconds, discharged its entire contents with angry violence on his unoffending person. However, he extricated himself with inconceivable rapidity, and made his appearance in dishabille to inquire into the cause of such contentious doings.

“He tax’d not you, ye elements, with unkindness; He never gave yon kingdoms, called ye daughters;”

but he thought that Jack ought to have turned the key of the potato store. We ourselves, inhabiting the main-cabin, escaped with a bottle of ink upon the bedclothes, while Mackenzie’s Charts, an excellent work in three volumes elephant folio, flew across the cabin like so many butterflies, but fortunately falling rather short of our position, made harmless obeisance at our feet. It is possible that the sea would not have been shipped had the man at the helm manoeuvred more skilfully, but at the same time we would strongly advise all those who desire to prolong- the peaceful pleasure of a morning nap, to avoid yerching in Sumburgh Roost.- — The Voyage.

THE BIRCH FOREST MADE INTO BOBBINS.

We were somewhat surprised to find a bobbin manufactory about to be established here [Port Sunart]. The proprietor of the woods, as we were told, has agreed to deliver his birches at the mill door for seven shillings a ton. This seems a low price, but whether the bargain may be good or bad, it is a melancholy and fantastic thought to dwell on, that these fair woods, cut into pieces of a few square inches, are so soon to be set a-whirling amid the ceaseless din and flocky atmosphere of a cotton mill in Glasgow. “Everything is beautiful in its season,” as O’Connell said to the curds and cream, and cotton mills are extremely useful in their way, — but whoever may have seen, as we did, the splendid crags, and the fair silvery stems of that

“Most beautiful of forest trees,
The lady of the woods,”

oGi FACTS AND INFERENCES, GEAVE AND GAY.

might have almost consented to go with undarned stockings for a month, sooner than that the insidious substance should be wound around their very hearts. Besides, if Bobbin & Co. have made too good a bargain, the greater is the pity that such fringing woods should be despoiled even to the laying bare of old majestic mountains, while the proprietor, whatever may be made of cotton, is himself worsted. — The Voyage.

Our next extracts from “The Voyage” let us a little deeper into the heart of the writer. In them we have g’i npses of his love of home, his faithfulness to old friendships, his piety, his admiration of all goo*1 less.

ORCADIAN LINNETS.

Close to either side of the southern end of the bridge which leads across to the northern promontory stands a great sentinel stone, as if the remains of a gateway or barrier. On the top of one of these a beautiful pair of linnets sat twittering and preening, secure as they thought upon almost the loftiest elevation which the neighbourhood afforded, and of course we did nothing to scare them from their stony height. They seemed quite tame, and very cheerful, as linnets arc wont to be. We could see their little sparkling eyes and sharpened beaks, and we thought of our own linties at home, and of the door at which they hang in sunny days, and of all that there go in and out, and for a time the dread worship of the Druids, and the cruel sacrifices of the sons of Odin, and the fierce contentions of the Sea-Kings, and even the actual presence of these mystical symbols of “the unknown God,” all faded from our view; and we could see a low-roofed cottage, with leafy windows and an intertwining porch, and numerous shrubs and trees, and winding walks and many-coloured wreaths of “bright consummate flowers,” and human hearts affectionate and true, and we blessed God for all His mercies. — The Voyage.

A SABBATH AT IONA.

It was the Sabbath morn, but the church service not being expected to commence for several hours, we thought the time in no way misspent in landing to meditate among the tombs. It is certainly, however, one disadvantage of the life we were at this time leading, that any regular attendance on stated ordinances can scarcely be relied on, so much in some respects are we at the mercy of winds, tides, and lee-shores, and are thus too frequently obliged to shape our course accordingly; but our private services are performed on board with regularity, and it is hoped we all know and remember, that wherever we be,

3GG FACTS AND INFERENCES, GFAVE AND GAY.

the same heavenly guidance is vouchsafed to those who seek it, and thus, though we;’take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall Thy hand lead us, and Thy right hand shall hold us.” The greater disadvantage is, perhaps, that of the sailors, with whom this erratic mode of life is so much more frequent and prolonged, but they seem always well disposed to take advantage of whatever opportunities occur; and we have endeavoured to occupy their leisure hours on ship-board beneficially, by placing expositions of the great Christian doctrines in their hands in various forms.

It was not without a mournful feeling that we found ourselves again among these venerable ruins. It had been our fortune to visit Iona many long years ago, with a young enthusiastic German, who has since, “spurning the unprofitable yoke of care,” attained a name of note in the literature of his country, and we now thought of bygone times more than became the interest of the sacred scene around us. It is probably one source of the confusion of misty minds like our own, that the suggestive principle should often be so strong within us as to cause the past alone to be seen through the present, while the present is only dimly caught during some distant future. At all events, we now found ourselves insensibly reverting towards early days, when the sun was blighter, and the

A SABBATH IN-IONA. 3(>7

grass greener, the waves more lustrous, and the mountains far more magnificent than they have ever been in these degenerate times.

“Then did no ebb of cheerfulness demand
Sad tides of joy from melancholy’s hand.”

But, indeed, when we looked along the silent shore, and beheld the memorials of other days, and the many mournful emblems of decay and desolation which lay so thick around, what marvel was there that Time’s mutations, and that heritage of woe, of which sooner or later all must be partakers, should have changed or chilled a feeble human heart. — The Voyage.

ST KILDA AND ITS MINISTER.

The day was yet in its prime, a lustrous summer day which might have gilded the palm-crowned glories of an Indian isle. The sky was bright above, and the great ocean heaved around us with a motion so subdued and gentle, that our hearts might have filled with “joy and gladness,” were it not that the spirit of nielanchory seems never far distant from what is at once so solemn and serene. In truth, the ringer of God was in all things more visible than the hand of man, and as we glided through the “great waters,” we strongly felt the grandeur of “His wonders in the deto.” Therefore was our cheerfulness almost changed into reverential awe, as we gazed around on all the “dread magnificence” by which we were encompassed, for we felt as if we had entered into one of the great temples of the God of Nature! And if a scene which, however majestic, was still “of the earth,” and destined to pass away, could create such elevating thoughts; to what height, past utterance, will not an entrance raise us into that house “not made with hands, eternal in the heavens,’” where no storms nor tempests rage, either in the scowling skies or the far darker bitterer heart of man, but an everlasting joyfulness prevails. “as the angels in heaven!”....

Caverns prevail along the bases of these ponderous cliffs, and one of the most remarkable of those on the southern side is that named Damph-an-Eiranich, so called from the fact which follows. An Irishman was crossing an inlet of his own green isle, with a keg of whisky, to make merry with his father and other friends one Christmas morning, but being carried out to sea by a squall, he was driven he knew not where, till he found himself at the mouth of a cave in St Kilda. He was descried by the natives from the cliffs, who at first entertained a superstitious fear of an individual who they thought must have either dropt from the clouds, or risen from the sea; but so soon as they perceived his boat, they lowered their ropes, and drew him up, when he was almost gone from want.

He remained with them for about a year, before an opportunity occurred of his being conveyed to his own country. As it was now the close of day we did not land again, but sent our good minister ashore in the boat. We could then observe that almost the entire population of the island was assembled to receive him at the landing-place, and our men told us that it seemed a truly happy meeting. He himself had greatly enjoyed his little cruise from home of nearly two days and a night; and the Soa-side of St Kilda he had never before seen from the sea. We ourselves were much gratified by all we saw and heard, and will long cherish the recollection of scenes which made a deep impression upon our minds, however feebly we may have conveyed it to those of others. Our acquaintance with Mr Mackenzie was also a source of great satisfaction, and we hope for its renewal at some future time. There is something, we think, very solemn and even elevating in the idea of that person’s position, humble and almost furlorn though it may seem. Separated so entirely from the world, with not a single native on the island who can enter into any community of subjects with him, so far as relates to the ordinary topics which occupy the minds of other men, or to those unforgotten though departed periods of his own earlier life to which in secret he cannot 1 lp reverting, his thoughts must become disentangled from

many frivolous and vain expectations and pursuits by which

2 A those of others are so often “disquieted within them:” — and so turning from a world which he cannot reach, and has ceased to desire, what in exchange does he seek for? He gees up to the mountain of the Lord, to the “House of the God of Jacob;” and so his barren rock, with all its bitter endurances, when softened by a Saviour’s love, is made to yield that fountain of sweet water which springeth up into eternal life, and thus he finds rest unto his soul. What, then, to him are the howling tempests, or the ragings of the winter sea, as it rolls its tumultuous waves in vain though dread array around those lonesome dwellings? Why should he encourage vexing thoughts, or any “fearful looking forward,” who possesses “the peace of God, which passeth understanding?” Does he not daily behold, in congregated myriads, those “fowls of the air” which sow not, neither reap, nor gather into barns, though “their heavenly Father feedeth them?” Therefore he takes no thought, saying, “What shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall we be clothed?” for his heavenly Father knoweth that he hath need of all these things, and “He is faithful who prom ised.” — The Voyage.

CGLONSAY.

The weather unfortunately now became more moist and dull, but although we know not the number of long years

OLD FfilENDS WITH NEW FACES. 371

of mingled joy and sorrow which may have passed away since our last visit, we had no difficulty in recognising, in .spite of mist and vapour, many an old familiar scene. It often happens that a few repeated persevering look; at what were once familiar places, have much the same effect as clearing away the moss and lichens which encrust an ancient tomb-stone, or rubbing the rust from off some old time-honoured coin. All that wa 3 dim, or even dead, in our remembrance, gains gradually increase of strength, till at last the sad waters of oblivion roll slowly backwards, and sunny scenes of youth or early manhood are brought to view in all their original brightness. So is it also with the well-remembered aspect of a much-loved, long-lost friend, — some one in whom a score of years (and no furlough) beneath a burning clime has changed the fair fresh hue of youth to that of the Nabob’s hoarded gold, and has grizzled redundant locks once glossy as the raven’s wing. The gay aid limber youth, as wild with glee as any mountain fawn, can scarcely at first be recognised in the staid features and somewhat sombre bearing of the highly respectable middle-aged gentleman (retired upon a good allowance, and not without thought of the East India direction), who unexpectedly presents himself before you, under an old familiar name. And yet before the first cheerful evening you spend together has elapsed, the voice, the eye, the manner, .node of speech, the very hair (even though it should afterwards prove a wig), return upon you as those of the self-same friend who gladdened the glory of your morning life with unalloyed affection, and before you part he not only seems in everything to be exactly as he was of old, but has also become one of the youngest men, except yourself, you ever met with. — The Voyage.

THE SARDINIAN SHEEP AND THE SAVANT.

M. F. Cuvier records an instance of what he regards as extreme stupidity on the part of these animals. Such as live in the Garden of Plants are exceedingly fond of bread, and when any one approaches their barrier, they draw near with a view to obtain it. This device is frequently made use of to entrap them, so as to enable their keepers to fasten collars around their necks, to prevent accidents previous to any one entering their domiciles; and although they seem exceedingly tormented and unhappy when thus held in bondage, they never acquire, from experience, sufficient sagacity to mistrust the collar which they see held in one hand if there is a slice of bread in the other. They are, in short, unable to combine their ideas in such a manner as to connect the collar with their captivity; and the younger Cuvier consequently holds them in some contempt. Now, wo feel rather inclined to advocate the cause of the monflon, and. without doubting that M.

F. Cuvier, from his long-continued experience as director of the Parisian Menagerie, v ill continue, by some means or other, to circumvent the most sagacious sheep that ever enters the capital of the great nation, we yet cannot see, in the fact recorded, anything more than another fact easily evoked from it, viz., that the animal in question had so familiarised itself with man, as to feel the desire of obtaining a favourite morsel more strongly than the fear of disagreeable consequences. There is no “bread at discretion” among the mountains of Sardinia; and more intellectual creatures have suffered from their love of good cheer. — Quarterly Journal of Agriculture.

AN APOLOUY FOR INSECTS.

If the value of a pursuit is to be estimated by the comparative ease with which it may be followed by persons of the most moderate fortunes, few can rank higher than entomology. While the specimens sought for by the mineralogist and student of geology are frequently heavy and cumbrous, and not seldom extremely expensive, and while that sad representative of the beauties of the living Flora, called a Hortus Siccus, is but a frail and fleeting memorial of the “days of other years,” presenting, even after a tedious and troublesome process of preservation (by courtesy so called), no trace of their original brighto74 FACTS AND INFERENCES, CRAVE AND GAY.

ness; the most exquisite examples of entomological beauty, if not too roughly handled at the period of their capture, remain, with the most ordinary attention, for a lifetime in their pristine state, — and what that state actually is, all may satisfy themselves in the course even of the most superficial examin at ion, —

“For nature here
Wantons as in her prime, and plays at will
Her virgin fancies.”

Exceeding in amount of species all the other subjects of zoology, — unrivalled in the dazzling brilliancy of their colours, which combine the clearness and decision of tint possessed by flowers, with the exquisitely varied markings of the feathered race and the metallic splendour of the mineral kingdom, — surpassed by no other work of creation in the wonderful structure of their parts, and certainly surpassing all in the adaptation of that structure to the perfect fulfilment of those natural, though to us still mysterious instincts, which in every age have excited the admiration of mankind, — is it to be wondered at that the study of insects should occupy a prominent place in our pursuit of knowledge? Much more do we wonder that thousands of the best educated, and in other respects most enlightened minds, should still feel averse to a study which unfolds such a world of unseen wonders. The subject, too, is literally inexhaustible; and while some who love to methodise, and thereby to circumscribe, the subjects of human knowledge, or who err in their estimate of the perceptive powers of the human mind as applied to other matters of inquiry, may be deterred by the vague boundaries of such a field, a greater number, and with more propriety it is hoped, may be induced to enter it, from the very consideration of such a rich and unreaped harvest. While a fragment of inert matter, which chemical analysis determines to differ in its constituent proportions from other fragments previously examined, is once in a lustre dignified by the name of a new species, and the name of a Haiiy or a Dolomieu is bestowed on the unconscious mass. — and while, even in the richer domain of British botany, the student of that science, however much he may extend our knowledge of the localities of plants, labours with but a feeble chance of adding to the actual list even of indigenous species, and has probably no chance at all of ever refreshing his eyes with the sight of a plant which nobody ever saw before, — it is far otherwise with the innumerable tribes of insect life. The “gilded summerflies “’ are numerous as leaves in Vallombrosa. No recess of the forest so obscure but there the “winded messengers” are seen to sport and play; and each summer sunbeam falls not alone on the dewy herbage of the open glades, but lights up the gorgeous lines of those bright creatures which a mystical philosophy has ennobled as the types of the disencumbered human soul, and which even the sombre Dante has named angelical.

“Non v’accorgete voi, che noi siam vermi,
Nati a formar 1’aDgelica farfalla.”

Every pool of water is pregnant with life; each lonely moor or old deserted quarry, which scarcely “feels in its barrenness one touch cf spring,” is the chosen abode of thousands of living creatures, of small dimensions it is true, but of singular beauty, both of form and structure, and often adorned with hues

“Which make the rose’s blush of beauty pale,
And dim the rich geranium’s scarlet blaze.”

Even the pastoral melancholy of the green mountains is enlivened by the occurrence of many interesting species. One of the most beautiful of European coleopterous insects (Carahus nitens) occurs among the peat hags, and other places where heath and turf abound, and where its sparkling coat of gold and green, tinged with a brighter lustre than that of rubies, is singularly contrasted with the blackness of the soil in which it seems imbedded. — Encyclopedia Britannica, Art. Entomology.

THE SILK- WORM.

Had these insignificant secreting organs not existed in the silk-worm, or other allied species, what a difference of character would have been manifested in the lustrous aspect of baronial halls, and even of the courts of kings! It is curious, indeed, to consider how the breeding of a few millions of caterpillars should occasion such a disparity at different times in the circumstances of different tribes of the human race. When the wife and empress of Aurelian was refused a garment of silk, on account of its extreme costliness, the most ordinary classes of the Chinese were clad in that material from top to toe; and although among ourselves week-day and holiday are now alike profaned by uncouth forms, whose vast circumference is clothed “in silk attire,” yet our own James the Sixth was forced to borrow a pair of silken hose from the Earl of Mar, that his state and bearing might be more effectiv< in the presence of the Ambassador of England, — “for ye would not, sure,” said the royal pedant, “that your kingshould appeal’ as a scrub among strangers.” — Encyclopcvdia Britannica, Art. Entomology.

THE RED-BREAST.

The red-breast is perhaps the most beloved of British birds, and is remarkable for its combination of familiarity and independence. When left to its;’own sweet will,” it enters houses freely in cold or snowy weather, will perch night after night on corniced book- case, or seek repose

upon the golden scallop of a picture frame; but it hates all forwardness in others, and will not voluntarily come hi contact with any hand, however beautiful. It hops delighted, singing as it goes with low and plaintive note, along the comfortable carpet, or, darting up suddenly towards the window-frame, will utter a louder gush of angrier melody on seeing some orange-breasted brother, perched on leafless spray, still braving the increasing darkness. For a time, just before nightfall, he seems himself to suffer from some uneasy instinct, or probably desires, from habit, to secure his usual perch in old fantastic yew or thick-screened body; but, on second thoughts, he soon assumes some quiet corner, above the reach of curious children’s hands. Not seldom, when the evening fire burns brightest, he descends on muffled wing, his large and liquid eye dilated less with fear than quiet wonder, and after a brief survey, he re-ascends his place of safety. Although this bird remains about our doors throughout the summer, building near out-houses and in orchards,

yet

“Some red-breasts love amid the deepest groves
Retired to pass the summer days. Their song
Among the birchen boughs, with sweetest fall
Is warbled, pausing, — then resumed more sweet,
More sad. that to an ear grown fanciful,
The babes, the wood, the men. rise in review,
And robin still repeats the tragic line.”

We have a notion, that in Scotland the female red-breast

MATERNAL AFFECTION”. 379

is migratory. At least, in the vicinity of Edinburgh, we recognise her not throughout the long-enduring winter. — Encyclopcedia Britannica, Art. Ornithology.

THE HEN AXD HER BROOD.

Who knows not (now divinely told) how the hen doth gather her brood beneath her wings; how she shelters them from the chill of the morning and the dews of night, expanding her downy breast and feathery pinions, till she becomes a populous tabernacle, a living temple of maternal love, beset with small protruding bills, and bright but gentle eyes; how she will dare, with upraised ruffled plumes, the fiercest onset of the direst foe: — the callous schoolboy with his threatening club, the snarling cur-dog with his ivory fangs, the insidious weasel, creeping so serpent-like through tangled herbage, or the bolder bird of prey, “lord of the lion heart and eagle eye,” descending swift and sure like thunder-bolt from heaven. What are each or all of these in dread array, with death itself, to her, at other times a fearful creature, but now pervaded by the deep intensity of mother love! — Illustrations of Scripture.

WATERFALLS.

Another charming characteristic of Norway is the sparkling abundance of running waters, — its noble rivers and impressive falls forming, perhaps, the finest of its features. Our chief objection to waterfalls in our own country is, that during the summer season of research in that department they generally contain no water. The traveller may be inundated for many a moist and misty week among the mountains, but when he comes to some great rocky chasm famed for its cataract, he seldom sees anything but giay and ghastly crags, silent as death, or shedding a few sad tears in memory of more jovial (Jupiter pluvialis) days and nights gone by.

“The sounding cataract haunted him like a passion,” is the great Laker’s account of one who may have carried cascade-hunting to excess, and was morbidly affected thereby. If made the exclusive object of a journey, it seldom fails to produce disappointment, and the mind, keeping itself as it were shut up from other and far finer things which are beautiful upon the mountains and clothe the earth as with a garment, allows itself to be cheated by the indulgent expectancy of that deafening wonder. The cataract is also a very cold place for a pic-nic for any but a party of the most determined teetotallers, and even they frequently feel it too much for them, and sometimes require to be actually carried home — such is the force and efficiency of strong waters. In a very sultry and elsewhere airless day, the undulations of the atmosphere, and the mist-like showers of broken spray, are most refreshing; but there is almost always a deficiency of good grassy slopes on which to lay ourselves out reposingly, like ancient Romans, and foolish young people are ever and anon making still more foolish old ones cry out screechingly, by “going too near the edge,” or standing on picturesque perching places, where men and maidens love to congregate, “and dally with the wind and scorn the sun.” We quite agree with Professor Forbes, that small waterfalls, unthought of till discovered by one’s self, and enjoyed by not more than two at a time, are, on the whole, the best. You feel a pleasant and not unjustifiable pride in your position, and believe for the time that it is unknown to all the world but yourselves; and so those silvery streamlets, in their “innocent brightness,’-’’ often convey a higher and more vivid sense of beauty, and produce a more pleasing impression, than do the awful and gigantic gorges where resound the dreadful voices of the sons of thunder. Now, Norway abounds in cataracts of every kind, beyond all calculation, and hence its charm. — North British Review, vol. xxi.

SIMPSON’S PERSUADER.

We have ourselves invented some of the best loch-trout flies now in use, although we don’t desire to dwell much on that matter. It is a good, if not a great thing to be modest as well as meritorious; but we cannot refrain from here alluding to our latest and not least ingenious application of science to art, in the way of a ground-bait. This consists of a small pellet, used like a salmon-roe, with which it may be intermingled, and made of chloroform paste. We name it “Simpson’s Persuader” in honour of an Edinburgh professor, who has successfully introduced the use of chloroform into other arts than those of angling. A trout no sooner takes one of these pellets into its mouth than it falls into a sweet sleep, and may be instantly drawn ashore and put to death without its knowing anything more about it. We expect a first-class medal from the “Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” and surely deserve it far more than do long-winded wearisome clergymen their i?10 a-piece, for inflicting on their fellow-creatures the annual Gibsonian sermon on the subject. — North British Review, vol. viii.

THE DODO. [One of Mr Wilson’s most amusing papers appeared in Blackwood s Magazine for January 1849. It was a review of his friend Mr Strickland’s work on “The Dodo and its Kindred.” Amidst its pleasantry and waggishness, it abounds in information.]

What was the Dodo? when was the Dodo? where is the Dodo? are all questions, the first more especially, which it is fully more easy to ask than answer. Whoever has looked through books on natural history — for example, that noted but now scarce instructor of our early youth, the “Three Hundred Animals” — must have observed a somewhat ungainly creatine, with a huge curved bill, a shortish neck, scarcely any wiDgs, a plumy tuft upon the back — considerably on the off-side, though pretending to be a tail — and a very shapeless body, extraordinarily large and round about the hinder end. This anomalous animal being covered with feathers, and having, in addition to the other attributes above referred to, only two legs, has been, we think justly, regarded as a bird, and has accordingly been named the Dodo. But why it should be so named is another of the many mysterious questions which require to be considered in the history of this unaccountable creature. No one alleges, nor can we conceive it possible, that it claims kindred with either of the only two human beings we ever heard, f who bore the name : —” And after him (Adino the Eznite) was Eleazar the son of Dodo, the Ahohite, one of the three mighty men with

David, when they defied the Philistines that were there gathered together to battle, and the men of Israel were gone away” Our only other human Dodo belonged to the fair sex, and was the mother of the famous Zoroaster, who flourished in the days of Darius Hystaspes, and brought back the Persians to their ancient fire-worship, from the adoration of the twinkling; stars. The name appears to have been dropped by both families, as if they were somewhat ashamed of it; and we feel assured that of such of our readers as admit that Zoroaster must have had a mother of some sort, very few really remember nowa-days that her name was Dodo. There were no baptismal registers in those times; or if such existed, they were doubtless consumed in the ‘great fire’ — a sort of periodical, it may be providential, mode of shortening the record, which seems to occur from time to time in all civilised countries.

RACES LATELY EXTINGUISHED.

Several local extinctions of elsewhere existing races arc known to naturalists — such as those of the beaver, the (•<ar, and the wolf, which no longer occur in Great Britain. Their extinction was slow and gradual, and resulted entirely from the inroads which the human race made upon their numbers. The beaver might have carried on business well enough, in his own quiet way, although frequently incommoded by the love of peltry on the part of a hat-wearing people; but it is clear that no man with a small family and a few respectable farm-servants, could either permit a large and hungry wolf to be continually peeping at midnight through the key-hole of the nursery, or allow a brawny bruin to snuff too frequently under the kitchen door (after having hugged the watch-dog to death) when the servant-maids were at supper. The extirpation, then, of at least two of those quondam British species became a work of necessity and mercy, and might have been tolerated even on a Sunday between sermons — especially as naturalists have it still in their power to study the habits of similar wild beasts, by no means yet extinct, in the neighbouring countries of France and Germany.

But the death of the Dodo and its kindred is a more affecting fact, as involving the extinction of an entire race, root and branch, and proving that death is a law of the species, as well as of the individuals which compose it — although the life of the one is so much more prolonged than that of the other that we can seldom obtain any positive proof of its extinction, except by the observance of geological eras. Certain other still existing species, well known to naturalists, may be said to be, as it were, just hovering on the brink of destruction. One of the largest and most remarkable of herbivorous animals — a species of wild cattle, the aurochs or European bison (B. priscus) — exists now only in the forest of Bialowicksa, from whence the Emperor of Russia has recently transmitted a living pair to the Zoological Society of London. Several kinds of birds are also evidently on their last legs. For example, a singular species of parrot {Nestor productus), with the termination of the upper mandible much attenuated, peculiar to Phipps’s Island, near Norfolk Island, has recently ceased to exist there in the wild state, and is now known as a living species only from a few surviving specimens kept in cages, and which refuse to breed. The burrowing parrot from New Zealand is already on the road to ruin: and more than one species of that singular and wingless bird, called Apteryx, also from the last-named island, may be placed in the same category. Even in our own country, if the landed proprietors were to yield to the clamour of the Anti-Grame-Law League, the red grouse or moor-game might cease to be, as they occur nowhere else on the known earth save in Britain and the Emerald Isle. — Blackwood’s Magazine, 1849.

METALLIC LUSTRE IN ANIMALS.

We may here say a few words regarding the occurrence of this so-called metallic lustre throughout the general range of the animal kingdom, including therein that perpendicular biped — the lord of the creation. Many people are rich in gold and silver — and not a few abound in brass — but, notwithstanding the received name of “Copper Indians,” no man, not even an American, has in his own proper person — and barring the buttons — a metallic lustre. Amono- the other tribes of the mammalia that lustre is extremely rare. At present we can recall only a single instance in which it is exhibited — that of the chrysochlore, or Cape mole, of which a portion of the fur is radiant with reflections of a green and copper colour. Throughout the ornithological kingdom this peculiar adornment is not unfrequent, as — “On the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold,” It is also very striking among some birds allied to the thrushes; is well known to invest a great portion of the peacock as in a kingly coat-of-mail; but is most sumptuously manifested among the many exquisite forms of the Trochilidse. In the descending scale the next great class is that of fishes; and, truly, amid the great waters we behold the wonderful works of the Lord. When we consider the obscurity in which at a certain depth of ocean all things are enshrouded, it is surprising to perceive so much emblazoned lustre emerging from the sunless deep, where no human eye can ever behold its beauty. But so it is. There are few created things more resplendent than many of the southern fishes, among which all metallic splendour is combined with the milder effulgence of the hues of flowers, the whole harmonising with a chaste fulness of effect which Titian and Rubens might envy, but could never equal. For what reason, it has been asked, has all this lavish adornment been bestowed on creatures which, as we suppose, can scarcely discern each other amid the dim perpetual twilight of the deep? “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.” Does not the same Shakspearian observation apply with equal truth to “the waters beneath the earth?” Among the countless tribes of insects we have also innumerable examples of this bright effulgence in its highest state. The “Diamond Beetle” {Entimus imperials) is richly inlaid with all precious gems; and many butterflies are emblazoned with gold and silver. No mention need be made of shells. Even among the still lowlier forms of worms or vermes (Annelida) we find the golden aphroclyte, a slug-like creature, partially covered by silky hair of bright metallic lustre, varying as the play of light falls on it through the wavering and translucent sea. — Excelsior, vol. ii.

FARMERS AND FISHERMEN.
“The weary ploughman plods his homeward way,”

but seldom fails to find it. The

“Swniked hedger at Lis supper sits,”

and soft is the mossy bank beneath him, and sweet the air around, redolent with the balmy breath of flowers, and filled with the melody of birds singing their evening hymn. How rarely does the extinction of life from other than natural causes overtake these dwellers on the land, compared with the frequent fate of those who do business in the great waters! How astounded would be the natives of our inland vales, and the shepherds on a thousand hills, if ever and anon their hitherto steadfast and enduring boundaries were rent by earthquakes, and, literally “adding field to field,” one fine piece of pasture was lifted up and laid upon another, entombing for ever alike the corn and its cultivators, the shepherds and their sheep. No very pleasant greetings m the market-place would ensue among the grain-merchants, wool-growers, and cattle-dealers, when the morning’s news might chance to be — that the Lammermoors had subsided 1500 feet, and were entirely under water; that “Eildon’s triple height” had been turned over, peaks downmost; that the debris of Penicuik was scattered over the vestiges of Peebles; and that the good town of Dalkeith was lying (its fine body of militiamen fast fossilising) at the bottom of a coal-pit. Yet equally disastrous, though not quite similar, calamities not unfrequently befall those whose precarious lot it is to cultivate the sea. — Blackwood’s Magazine, March 1856.

MARE MORTUUM.

There is another loch near these two (Loch Achilty and Loch Borley), which contains neither trout nor char, and as a fact of this kind is not at once instinctively discovered by the angler, and was not previously communicated to us, we fished it for half a day with more skill than success. Our movements were steadily watched the whole time by a south-country shepherd, who, rolled up in his plaid, his dog Yarrow close beside him, and both beneath the cosy shelter of a whin dyke, seemed curious to ascertain how long we would continue our attempt at sport. When at last, despairingly, we turned us homewards - — a hospitable and most pleasing home was Mrs Scobie’s — and neared our pastoral friends couched in their “sunny lair,” the “human,” without moving either head or heel, drawled out as follows: — “Ye ’11 no hae killed mony trouts there?” “No, we ‘ve had no sport at all,” “Na, na, it ‘sweel kent there was never a trout in that loch frae the beginnin’ o’ the creation,” He thus possessed the key to our discomfiture; but from some unknown silential principle, on which we have since deeply pondered but failed to ascertain, he had declined, or at least delayed, to reveal the secrets of that dark abyss. However, we consoled ourselves with the “experientia docet” of Dr Ruddiman, and philosophically repeated as we travelled across those breezy uplands —

“Happy the man who, studying nature’s laws,
From known effects can trace the secret cause.”

—The Rod and the Gun.

EXAGGERATION.

We do not here desire to dwell upon that painful portion of the character of certain anglers — of whom the present reader is not one — which induces them to magnify their captures both in size and number. We have met with many men who never killed a trout under a pound weight, even by accident, and who never angle for an hour or two before breakfast or after lunch — -this is their easy tooth-pick way of talking — without luring to destruction several dozens. We know that we dined lately in company — a person can’t always choose his friend’s companions — with one of these same boasters, who told the frequent tale of weight and number. Of the latter we were somewhat careless, but curious exceedingly about the former, because, for a special purpose, we were anxious to obtain that very night a well-sized trout. We asked if he had brought his finny captures home beneath the roof where we were then rejoicing ? — the answer, “To be sure.” Feeling ourselves at ease, and receiving an approving nod from our hospitable y himself a single-minded man, as full of truth as two eggs — we rang the bell, and desired an agreeable looking footman “to please to pick” from the different panniers a few of the largest trouts which had been captured during that blessed day. He speedily returned, bearing a splendid assiette of China’s purest clay — our friend is rather proud of his eastern ware, and his old housekeeper knows that failing well — with slant-eyed Mandarins, their pipe in hand, small-footed damsels drinking from cups that cheer but not inebriate, bridges high in air, and swallows and summer-houses mingling together in the clouds; but for the “take of trouts,” oh! what a falling-off was there, my countrymen! Where were the coupleof -pounders now? There were a few of three-quarters of a pound, (and pretty fish these same,) ascertained, however, by a red thread through their gills, to have been caught by a highly respectable and very round-faced clergyman of the Episcopal persuasion, who, silent though not unseen, was sipping some light summer tipple, and holding the long slender stalk of a rather large yet delicate thin-edged glass so neatly in his small white hand, that we had known for several hours he was an angler; thus proving how a naturalist, by the observance of a seemingly unimportant attribute of the outer man, may throw a flood of light upon his prevailing character and disposition. It did not appear, however, that the braggart himself could identify with certainty a single parr, of which a few ha<l been .-lily placed upon the platter by some observant valet down below, probably as a memento to him whose bark had been so much more powerful than his barb. Now, we give him due warning, that if he does not mend his manners, restrict his imagination, and study the specific weight, dimensions, and amount of the few small fishes he may chance to capture, we shall publish his name in the Gazette, with no delay and less remorse, as an ensample to all who cast a stain upon our innocent craft, by having thus

“Foregone the home delight of constant truth, And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth.”

—The Rod and the Gum.

WALTONIAN MUSINGS.

Let all innocent amusements be sought after with assiduity and gladness, if in due subordination to more pressing or important duties; and especially, with never-ceasing reference to the great Giver of all earthly blessings, of which a tranquil and contented disposition is the chief. Let the angler in the midst of all bis light amusement remember to what high and holy calling his ancient predecessors were promote’!, and so walk

“As ever in his great Taskmaster’s eye,”

though casting not his nets by Galilean shore. When the cheerful spring and all its glad remembrances rejoice his heart, let him forget not in redundant health, how many worthier far than he lie on a bed of sickness racked with pain, or with sinking spirits toil for daily bread — no murmuring stream within their downcast view, no freshening air around their throbbing temples. If summer heat o’ercomes him, and he rests, not undelighted, by gray romantic keep, or rustic bridge, or old umbrageous tree, let him remember while gazing on these frail memorials — in reference to bis puny frame, how long enduring! — his immortal state, and think with solemn heartfelt awe upon that “shadow of a great rock,” within which the weary and heavy laden rest for ever. If autumn’s ruddy streams are roaring loud, let him not, as one rejoicing in his strength, trust to that strength alone, and so “surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh thee.” When stormy winter has embroiled the sweet serenity of this green earih, and with “elemental strife” rages among icy crags and leafless trees, and the shepherd’s hut and the lone mountain shieling lie buried beneath the drifting snows — then let the angler, with grateful if not with gladsome heart, acknowledge the blessings of his fireside comforts, the numerous home delights with which he is surrounded, the goodness and mercy which have followed him “all the days of his life.” If he is the son of living parents, let him reverence their

THE AUttLEK’S MEDITATIONS. 395

gray hairs — the first commandment with promise. If, his quiver full of arrows, he be the fond father of many hopes, “provoke not your children to wrath,’’ but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. If childless, keep God’s covenant, and He will give you a place and a name “better than of sons and of daughters.” If master, “forbear threatening,” knowing that there is no respect of persons in heaven. If servant, be obedient to your master, not with eye-service, but in singleness of heart — inasmuch as ye all know that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, “the same he shall receive of the Lord, whether he be bond or free.” — The Rod and the Gun.