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tended. The man Anderson made an un

to me.

Lord will help you, and do not be asham- to speak, eccentric charm of Edinburgh, ed of the death your poor husband will have the inextricable commingling or, as it were, suffered. The judges seemed against me; jumbling up of wild nature with modern and from the rigid manner of the Court, civilization. Her principal street is boundI could not get in all the explanation I in- ed by a green and fresh ravine, full of founded statement, and so did Gordon; but his trees, and grass, and precipitous banks, testimony was different from the deposition. and looks straight on a castle-crowned rock The judges took the former and erased the lat- as grim of aspect and abrupt of line as any ter. It seemed that I was to be sacrificed. I rock upon the Rhine, but at the bottom of know nothing of the man Bogle. I never ad- the ravine runs the locomotive, and by the vised him to the act or acts which have brought side of the gray castle stretch gray houses, me to this end. Please write to Mr. Chamer- tall and gaunt, with odd gables and strange ovzow, Lord Brougham, and Messrs. Henck-points and towers, which look as if they nell and Du Buisson. I did not expect that, not had existed for ever, but are covered with being a rebel, I should have been tried and disposed of in this way. I thought his Excellency gilt advertisements. Out of the very tuthe Governor would have allowed me a fair mult of the main street, at the point where trial, if any charge of sedition or imflammato- it is hottest, almost touching with its feet ry language were partly [? fairly] attributable the post office, and theatre, and High to me; but I have no power of control: may School, rises sharply a green hill far above the Lord be merciful to him. General Nelson, the city, and at the top of it, an ascent of who has just come for me, has faithfully prom- a minute, the visitor is in a new world, ised to let you have this. May the Lord bless looking down upon the city stretched out him, and all the soldiers and sailors, and all like a panorama, with every building and men. Say farewell to Mr. Phillipps, also Mr. Licard, Mr. Bell, Mr. Vinon, and Mr. Henry street distinctly visible, and upon the gleamDulasse, and many others whom I do not now ing Forth, which seems from that height alremember, but who have been true and faithful most to ring it in. He may lie under the trees As the General has come I must close. on the Forth side of the hill and believe himRemember me to Aunt Eliza in England, and self in some remote county, till, as he turns to tell her not to be ashamed of my death. Now, descend, he reads the blunt notice that any my dearest one, the most beloved and faithful, woman addressing any man upon the hill the Lord bless, help, preserve, and keep you. will be prosecuted, and remembers that he A kiss for dear mamma, who will be kind to you is in a great city, amidst a great city's and Janet. Kiss also Annie and Jane [his three vices. Or stand upon Dean Bridge. Besisters]. Say good-bye to dear Mr. Davison and all others. I have only been allowed one hour. low the spectator on each side is a deep, I wish more time had been allowed. Farewell narrow ravine, untouched by art, with a also to Mr. Espent, who sent up my private brattling burn at the bottom rushing over letter to him. And now may the grace of our the loose stones as if in the wilderness, Lord Jesus Christ be with us all. and beyond are the towers of Donaldson's Hospital, the "only palace in Scotland," as the Queen, half-envying, is reported to have said, and far away the stateliest building in the capital. Or, finally, drive from Princes Street in a cab, the cab of civilization, roomy, and soft, and clean, the cab which has not reached London yet, and in five minutes you are in the true wilderness, toiling up a range of hills as green, and bright, and free from enclosure as if they were in Argyllshire, with its own valleys, and knolls, and rocks, and steep descents, and little lakes, in which the rocks above them throw a shadow so sleepiTHERE is at least one subject on which ly deep that the ripple caused by the boys' the national vanity of Scotland is well rods as they fish for minnows never dis- . justified, and that is the beauty of her turbs it. Arthur's Seat, which is not, we capital. Few cities in Europe rival Edin- may tell Londoners, an abrupt knoll, but a burgh in the beauty of its site, none is so range of great mountains as seen through unique in characteristics. Paris and St. the smail end of a telescope, belongs to Petersburg excel her in buildings, and Switzerland, and the gas-lights go all round Naples looks down upon a lovelier scene, it. That is to our minds the peculiarity of but no place can show the special and, so Edinburgh,-art and nature, the wilder

"Your truly devoted and now nearly dying husband,

"G. W. GORDON.

"I asked leave to see Mr. Panther [Minister of the chapel he attended], but the General said I could not. I wish him farewell in Christ. Remember me to- auntie and father. Mr. Bamsey has for the last two days been kind to me.

I thank him."

From the Spectator.

EDINBURGH.

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ness and the street, the lake and the aque- that the interest felt by each in each does duct, in such close juxtaposition as almost not degenerate as in county towns into to suggest the idea of collision, yet, art nev- espionage, that the people can and do live er conquering, there is from the collision no four and five independent families in a resulting vulgarity. The total absence of house without jar, or bickering, or over vulgarity, of garishness of any sort, or ex- much watchfulness of one another, that no cessive inconsistency, is indeed a marked man hesitates to say, "I cannot afford it,” feature of Edinburgh as a city, as it is also, no woman to affirm "I cannot abide waste,' although in a less degree, of Edinburgh or as she probably pronounces it, "wast," life. The city has no parks as we under- that dogs and cats are universal and very stand the word it means, Scotticè, a grass beautiful-it does not seem etiquette in field but their place is supplied by the Edinburgh to steal animals that every "Meadows," the playground of Edinburgh, local celebrity is known and defended insituated in the very heart of the houses, stead of being attacked, and that every yet in their common-like look still keeping man, woman, and child in the city speaks up the air of rustic life. Outside, the town, of it and its belongings as if he had created which Londoners are apt to believe con- them all, and would never quite forget to tains only one hill, is girdled in with low glorify his handiwork. Those traces indibut varied ranges, from the dim but round- cate a pleasant people, though there is ed hummocks which somehow, though on another side, and perhaps no words of ours the opposite side, seem to conceal the would indicate the mixture of characterisForth, to the Braid Hills beyond Morning- tics better than these two trifling facts. side, which just suggest the full height of "Flats" or storeys of houses are, in Edinthe Pentland range beyond. And beneath burgh, bought and sold and lived in as freethem all, like a burn below a ravine, lies holds. Imagine the hearty kindliness and the fresh green sea rolling at one corner respect for rights and reasonability there over deep white sands a mile broad, and must be in a proud, punctilious people who then at another breaking over sharp red can do that, whose wives do not quarrel boulders, so oddly placed as to suggest the with the wives overhead or on the ground thought that giant children have been play- floor, who can bear the hourly touch of ing at building houses and causeways, and, violent disparities of fortune, who can absuddenly interrupted, left their giant brown stain from espionage, whose servants can pebbles there. Twenty minutes take you keep from flying, under those circumstances, from Edinburgh to a sea bath, thirty more at each others' throats. On the other place you again on a mountain side, as hand, look at this. It is the custom in fresh, and green, and breezy, and for all Edinburgh, as in London, for the better purposes of prospect as high, as the wildest class to quit the city in August and Sephill in Wales. tember for the beautiful watering places scattered all over Scotland, and when going they leave their houses absolutely without inmates, simply lock them up as if Edinburgh were already the place "where thieves do not break through nor steal." Well, they lock the pet cats out too. Imagine the trace of hardness, hardness as of granite there must be in the people who, able to take a summer tour, can yet do that! The poor "beasties" run about half wild, eating what they can get by chance, possibly benefiting, like their masters, by unwanted exercise and fresh air, but growing awfully thin, and then return with prominent ribs, and hungry eyes, and torn fur to the house, to be petted, and over-fed, and made much of till next September. The custom does not arise from want of consideration for animals, for the citizens love dogs, you never see a cab without one on the box seat calmly surveying mankind, and visibly pet them; it is just hardness. The cats can live somehow out

Of Edinburgh life it does not become a mere visitor to speak, for he is almost certain to misunderstand it, but its special external characteristics as apparent to a mere visitor seem to be these. Edinburgh is socially what no other city in the islands now is, what no city in France. is, but what many cities are in Germany. a provincial capital. There is nothing of London about it, and nothing whatever of the county town. Life is far simpler than in London, far kindlier, far more penetrated with true and beneficial municipal feeling. Old residents complain that the ancient simplicity is dying of railways, tourists, and the wretched English freehandedness and love of ostentation, but this is not apparent to the visitor. What he sees is that a man may live in Edinburgh as he chooses, doing with or without man-servants or carriage, as it pleases him, may exhibit any amount of eccentricity Edinburgh is still full of characters without social loss. He sees

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side for the month, and why should there be "wast" on cats' meat? That is the Scotch character, full of the most gentle kindliness and consideration, yet with a ⚫ vein of flint in it somewhere, from which it is true you may draw fire, but a sudden stumble on which draws only pain to the stumbler. For the rest, a simplicity like, but not equal to, that of Germany, a frankness as of those who know no superiors and cannot conceive any necessity for appearances, still seems to us to linger in Edinburgh society, sometimes softening, occasionally hardening, all intercourse, but always enriching it. From the pestilent county-town habit of detraction it is, except when its clergy are concerned either as subjects or as operators, almost entirely free.

The best point about Edinburgh, however, the one which most strikes a stranger, is the character of its lower class. The Scotch themselves often decry it, and do not like it, saying that it has been corrupted, but to a stranger it seems one of the best yet attained in any capital. Its main feature is reasonableness, reasonableness of the kind which produces a grave and somewhat slow courtesy and independence. However low his class, the "rough" in Edinburgh will always listen gravely and reply quietly, never gibes without a reason, and never puts on that brutally sullen manner with which the Englishmen of the same kind cloaks the mauvaise honte which comes of inferiority. The sense of equality, though not so externally patent as in France, is just as strong, and rather more real, the reverence for money being distinctly less. There is no trace of colonial feeling in this bearing, servants in Scotland submitting to a discipline which would drive servants in England frantic, and the social inferior almost always giving place, say, for example, in a crowd, to the social superior; but there is a self-assertion, a distinct dislike of that condescending, half-satirical manner which makes educated Englishmen so hated in all countries but their own, and in their own keeps classes so terribly apart. A Scotch cabby, for example, can converse, a thing no Englishman of the lower class ever attempts and an Edinburgh tradesman of the lowest order, though far more anxious for custom than a Londoner, talks with his eyes on yours, and without eternal Sirring." Perhaps the best illustration of the internal difference is a little external In England one can judge approximately of a man's degree by his name, in Scotland one cannot. There are names all

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over London which, as we read or hear them, we know do not belong to gentlemen; but in Edinburgh a Murray is marquis and tobacconist, a Campbell earl and pawnbroker, a Scott duke and costermonger. Stewarts by dozens drive cabs, we counted eight Johnstones in one walk among the lowest tradesmen, Frasers keep ginshops, and Hays sell sweeties and halfpenny numbers of the London Journal. Eleven-twelfths of the names over Edinburgh shops are not vulgar names, and the fact, the result originally of clan connections, reveals the truth within. The Edinburgh man is as fond of getting on as the Englishman, and pushes much harder, but he does not hate social superiors in the same way, is quite capable of feeling for them, if needful, a pitying kindliness, of judging them in fact as he would judge his own class. The latent suspicion of intended wrong which never quits the English servant or workman is in the Edinburgh native entirely wanting. The influence of grade does not weigh on him, or the influence of money. He is rarely without humour of the quaintly-satirical kind, and is invariably devoid of that tendency to confuse insult with retort, which George Eliot points to in Silas Marner as universal among uneducated Englishmen. Grade he judges of necessity by something other than dress, being very often, if a Scotch gentleman is his interlocutor, decidedly the better dressed of the two, and he does not in his heart either admire or expect freehandedness. More than his due is acceptable of course, for it swells the stocking-foot, but he asks still in his mind, "Wharforr do ye wăst the maircies?" One accidental advantage contributes very much to this visible equality. The low Scotchman has no vulgarisms to fight, no "h" to pick up, no uncontrollable habit of using, and therefore abusing, words he does not understand. The Edinburgh costermonger's talk differs only in accent from that of the Edinburgh middle-class man- unless the latter talks English - and there is therefore no consciousness on the score of utterance. Then he is educated in a way, and shares with the Parisian a profound and genuine respect for knowledge of any kind, could not comprehend, much less sympathize with, the low Londoner's hatred of "softspoken " men. He has his bad qualities no doubt, the most prominent ones being a visible disbelief in cleanliness, and a tendency when drunk to put himself out of civilization, but taken for all in all the lower Edinburgh citizen, workman or small

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shopkeeper, is the best result of a training which, though unsuited for other countries, does visibly suit Scotland. The result is a kindlinesss in the intercourse of classes which is exceedingly pleasant, and which in English cities tends to disappear. The Edinburgh employer will have his due and more than his due, drives very hard and counts farthings very keenly, but he never

bullies, knows all about his employé and his family, and never treats him with that silent, unquestioning indifference, which so galls all races but our own. We have seen a master in Edinburgh chat in the genuine sense with a servant- -an event which in London has probably not occurred in this century, and the fact is worth a volume as an illustration of social difference.

THE CLOSING SCENE.

BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.

THE following is pronounced by the London Westminster Review to be unquestionably the finest American poem ever written. WITHIN the sober realms of leafless trees,

The russet year inhaled the dreamy air; Like some tanned reaper in his hours of ease, When all the fields are lying brown and bare. The gray barns looking from their hazy hills, O'er the dun waters widening in the vales, Sent down the air a greeting to the mills, On the dull thunder of alternate flails.

All sights were mellowed, and all sounds subdued,

The hills seemed further, and the stream sang low

As in a dream the distant woodman hewed
His winter log with many a muffled blow.

The embattled forests, erewhile armed with gold,

Their banners bright with every martial hue, Now stood like some sad, beaten host of old,

Withdrawn afar in Time's remotest blue.

On sombre wings the vulture tried his flight; The dove scarce heard his sighing mate's complaint;

And, like a star slow drowning in the light, The village church-vane seemed too pale and faint.

The sentinel cock upon the hill-side crewCrew thrice- and all was stiller than before; Silent, till some replying warder blew

His alien horn, and then was heard no more. Where erst the jay within the elm's tall crest, Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged

young;

And where the oriole hung her swaying nest, By every light wind like a censer swung; Where swung the noisy martins of the eaves, The busy swallows circling ever nearForeboding, as the rustic mind believes,

An early harvest and a plenteous year; Where every bird that waked the vernal feast Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at

morn;

To warn the reaper of the rosy east:

All now was sunless, empty and forlorn.

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And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir Of his thick mantle trailing in the dust.

While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom,

Her country summoned and she gave her all;
And twice war bowed to her his sable plume-
Re-gave the sword to rust upon the wall.
Re-gave the sword, but not the hand that drew

Nor him who, to his sire and country true,
And struck for liberty the dying blow;

Fell 'mid the ranks of the invading foe.
Long, but not loud, the drooping wheel went on

Like the low murmur of a hive at noon; Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tone.

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