meet me, that we may concert several things respecting your re-appearance in this metropolis. Your ever faithful and affectionate Geysler."

This letter threw the heart of Eric into great agitation. He shed some tears, and felt some remorse. He read it again; and was folding it up with extreme emotion, when he received the following note from his friend. "I just now learn that your father had given orders for having a deed written, by which you were to be disinherited, and your fortune bestowed on your hypocritical kinsman Kenrick. But, thank your stars, the old fellow had not time to sign it."

The resentment of Eric was thus renewed; and his imagination rioted in the prospect of unbounded opulence. He hastened to the place appointed; and the sight of an elegant house and gardens, of which he now thought himself the sole proprietor, transported him with exultation. "Here," said he, " I shall have many a smart party with Geysler." Geysler soon arrived; but with a countenance clouded with seeming anxiety and disappointment. Eric flew eagerly to his einbrace, and to receive his congratulation. "Nay," said his artful associate. "We have been shamefully and most vilely deceived. The report of your father's death was without foundation. It was invented and circulated by himself; and with the base intention of imposing upon me, so that I might reveal your situation, and the place of your concealment. He is now leagued with your creditors; wishes you may languish out your life in a jail; or go in a most dependent condition to some Danish factory in the East or West Indies. In the meantime he has actually made the settlement I told you of; and has declared Kenrick the heir of his fortune." The various effects produced by this guileful narrative on the mind of Eric may easily be conceived. Need it be added, that rage, envy, and revenge were the three furies that scourged

his heart?

But the skies and groves did not frown with corresponding horror. The sky was serene; and the sun was setting bright in the west. The Birch-wood was adorned with his rays, that crowned with splendor the opposite mountains of Sweden. The intervening sea was calm; and a multitude of the vessels of all nations lay at anchor in the Sound. The father of Eric was then returning from Copenhagen, whose steeples and edifices were seen at a little distance. His intention was to pass the night at his charming villa, and derive from its peaceful retreat as much consolation as affliction for his son's mis

conduct would suffer him to enjoy. He was descried at a little distance by the dissolute pair, who concealed themselves by the side of a thicket. He was walking slowly, and alone, by a solitary path, which he had reserved for his own convenience, that he might not be disturbed by carriages or passengers, as he went to or returned from the city.

It will readily occur to the reader, that the abandoned Geysler was not unapprized of his coming, nor need it be difficult to conceive, that he meant to profit by the frenzy of Eric's passions, and prompt him to desperate parricide. He might, no doubt, have perpetrated the crime himself; but he chose to have it done by the unhappy victim of his avarice, in order that being privy to his guilt, he might for ever detain him in bondage, and extort from him what he chose as the price of his silence. He accordingly represented to him that if his father were to be slain in the wood, it would naturally be supposed that he had been killed by the band of robbers which at this time infested Denmark, and particularly the island of Zealand. Yet, incensed and furious though Eric was, his seducer had to encounter difficulty and hesitation, before he could prevail with him to grasp the sword which he offered him.

With irresolute and trembling step, ferocious but timid look, eyes glaring with the horror of self-condemned resentment, and a heart wrung with conflicting passions, the youth advanced. His father saw him-shuddered. "Whence?" said he, with faltering accent, " and what is your savage purpose?" Eric paused. "Pause not," subjoined his father, now recovering from his amazement; "perpetrate the bloody deed; and free me from a life which your follies and vices have rendered miserable." The sword fell from the hand of Eric. He threw himself at his father's feet, and hid his face on the ground. The seducer was seized with terror. He saw they would immediately be reconciled, and beheld in that reconciliation his own infamy and destruction. No other resource was left him; both father and son must perish. He fired a pistol; missed his aim; Eric started up at the report; seized his sword; rushed upon the assassin, who was drawing the trigger of another pistol; plunged the steel in his heart; and had his own bosom at the same instant pierced with the fatal bullet. Geysler died on the spot; but Eric, languishing for several days, afforded his father and other relations the sad consolation of hearing his confession, and witnessing his sincere and pious repentance. Dying he said, it afforded some

Wit, humour, talent, true desert, rich fun. Ventriloquist-a songster-young, or oldA Major Longbow-Jonathan, or scold;

madden'd

was pressing forward to the gate, in order to meet the Lords who had come to take him, Thomas, Master of Glammis, put his foot to the gate, and held the King in. James burst into tears at this rude but prudent, conscientious conduct on the part of his guardian, who sternly observed, "Better that bairns weep, than bearded men."

And give a mawkish feeling to his style.

Νο. 4.-YOUNG.

Happy is your grace

Sir Gideon Murray, ancestor of Lord Elibank, held the office of treasurer-depute of Scotland under James the Sixth, with whom he was a great favourite. Once, when upon a visit to the King at London, happening to drop his glove in the bed

Into so quiet and so sweet a style!

AS YOU LIKE IT. The deep voluptuous masteries of the mind, By eloquence and feeling strong defined; A fine conception of the allotted part,

sent, James, though old and stiff, stooped and lifted it up. My predecessor, Queen Elizabeth, thought she did a favour to any man who was speaking with

66

might take it up and give it to her again; but, Sir, you may say that a King lifted up your glove."

William, eighth Earl of Douglas, in 1451, having been invited by James the Second of Scotland to Stirling Castle, and splendidly entertained, the monarch, after supper, took him aside into a secret chamber, and there proceeded to remonstrate with him concerning a rebellious league he had entered into with the Earls of Crawford and Ross. The haughty Douglas positively refused to break the confederacy; when the King drew a short sword and stabbed him, exclaiming, " If you will not break this league, I shall."

The exclamation of James the Fifth, when, on his death-bed, he heard the news of his Queen having been delivered of a female child, was long remembered by his people. He turned his face to the wall, and was heard to mutter-" It came with a lass, and it will go with a lassdevil go with it!" These, his last words, referred to the circumstance of his family having acquired the crown by marriage.

The Gaelic language is said, by its admirers, to be peculiarly calculated for emphatic expression. It is for this reason that so many of the names of families and places throughout the country took their rise from occasional sayings, such as those we are now collecting. An instance of what we mean is found in the popular tradition of the origin of the name of Douglas. The first of this family came to distinction on account of his achievement in one of Bruce's battles. When the conflict had ceased, Bruce inquired after the hero whose feats he had such particular occasion to admire; and, in doing so, described him as the dhu-glass -that is, "the dark grey man." This supplied him with a name.

One of the numerous popular stories told in ridicule of the Scottish Highlanders, is pointed by a very droll and laconic expression. A north-country man travelling one day upon a road, met a black snail, which, under the mistaken idea that it was a dried plum, he took up, and proceeded to eat. On biting off and swallowing a part of the body, he discovered what it was; whereupon, being unwilling to acknowledge his disgust, and wishing rather to conceal, if possible, from himself the real sentiment under an affected

one, he threw away the remainder of the creature, with this angry ejaculation,"Cot tam-take you tat for bein sae like a plhumtaimas!"

The perfection of contemptuous indifference was expressed by Mary of Guise, Queen Regent of Scotland, when, on receiving a letter from John Knox, containing some severe animadversions on her conduct, and, especially, on her attach ment to the Catholic faith, she handed it to the Archbishop of Glasgow, with the words, "Please you, my lord, to read a pasquil."

Acts of heroism have sometimes been

accompanied by very brief and very emphatic expressions. The Scottish sirname Dalyell is said to have originated in one of such. King Kenneth the Second, upon one occasion, having expressed a regret that the body of a near and favourite kinsman was ignominiously exposed upon a gibbet by his enemies; and having made offer of a great reward to any one who would rescue it, and bring it to him, none of his barons could be found possessed of sufficient hardihood to undertake so hazardous an enterprise, till at length an obscure man started forward, exclaiming, ing, " Dal yell," that is, in the old Scots language," I dare." This hero performed the exploit to the King's complete satisfaction, and afterwards was honoured with a permission to bear in his armorial coat the figure of a man hanging on a gibbet, together with the words I dare for a motto; both of which the Dalyells still assume.

Of a similar character is the spiritstirring anecdote related of Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. This brave gentleman, having rescued Kinmouth Willie, the celebrated reiver, from his place of confinement at Carlisle, was summoned by Elizabeth to answer for his misdeeds at her Court. On being introduced to the presence of her majesty, she upbraided him with great bitterness, and concluded by saying, that she wondered how he dared to do what he had done. "Madam," said the high-spirited borderer, turning away from her with contempt," what is there that a man dare not do?"

THE DEPARTING LOVER'S FAREWELL

TO HIS LADYE. (For the Olio.)

Farewell, my love! 'tis glory calls;

The stirring trumpet sounds;
Our banner floats on Acre's walls,
Where din of war resounds:
'Tis there we go, with axe and brand,

To hew the pagans down,
And trophies win in Palestine,
And deeds of high renown.
Nay, droop not, gentle ladye bright,
Where'er this heart shall be,
In festive hall or raging fight,
'Twill fondly cling to thee.
Behold where rides my gallant barque

Upon the ocean blue,
The trumpet sounds-they call me-hark!
One long, one last adieu.
T. F.

A GRATEFUL NATION.

So long as public men, in public stations, exert themselves in those situations, to fulfil the duty demanded from them by the public, they will always find the British nation ready to heap upon them the utmost extent of gratitude, and its applause. LORD NEJSON.

THE HUNTER'S SONG. (For the Olio.)

Give me the naked heavens above,
The broad bare heath below,
A merry glance from her I love,
My fleet hound and my bow.
I crave no red gold for my pouch,
No wine cup mantling high,
Nor broider'd vest, nor downy couch,

On which the care-worn sigh.
With conscience clear, and stedfast mind,
My cares I whistle to the wind.

If I am hungry, I can wing
The wild bird as he flies,
Or thirsty, yonder crystal spring
My sparkling draught supplies:
The deer must yield his dappled coat,
My vig'rous limbs to don;

The heron his dark plume to float

My fearless brows upon. I am content-can ye say more, With pride, and pomp, and treasured store ?

R. W. S.

CLASSIC ETYMONS AND ORIGINS. (For the Olio.)

Mus Aquaticus. A rat of India, of the bigness of a cat, which creeps into the crocodile's mouth when he gapes, and eating his bowels, kills him.

Crepitaculum. Childrens' rattles, made of cockles and muscle shells and little bones put together in rows, as bells on the legs of morris dancers.

Canon. A certain rent paid for every acre of land, from which payment none can be freed, but the prince.

Præfextati. A robe, or ephod, made together of blue silk, having round about the skirts 72 pomegranates of blue silk, purple and scarlet, and as many bells of gold between them.

Vimen. A little white rod that ambassadors used, going to entreat for peace.

Commentaculum. A rod that the prætor used among the Romans to lay upon the head of a servant, and so make him free.

Scirpi. A great rush in Egypt, growing in fens, whereof were made large leaves, and from which the first paper was made.

Papyrifer. The rush whereof the weeks of watch candles are made-hence rushlights.

Sacculus. A sack of leather, into which parricides were put, and thrown into the Tiber.

Hecatomphonia. A kind of sacrifice done by women only, in a secret place; neither was it lawful for any man to be present.

Refriva. Sacrifices yearly made from the parts of beasts near the tail, for the bishops.

Hecatombe. A sacrifice made of a bean to the Gods for good luck of corn.

Primetium. Sacrifice to Hercules for those about to take a journey. Salinum. A salt foam which issues out of the canes growing in the fens.

Triplices. Scrolls of parchment, wherein were written the commandments, which the Pharisees wore on their heads.

Furfurosus. He that hath his head pilled or peeled, by reason of scurf. Hence the origin of the apostrophé"poor pill (or pilled) Garlic!'

Secundarius. A certain drink, made of grapes, after they are newly pressed. Nastitiosi. He that sees in the day time well, in the evening a little, at night nothing!

Auctionarius. He that trims up bondmen, or ware, to make them more saleable. Hence the origin of auctioneer. P.

ving resolution, which, in such a cause, seemed obstinacy, or madness, or worse. In the present enlightened age, I should not like to say he was bewitched, or to attribute to any supernatural influence the strong impulse which led him on to do as he was doing, in spite of his better sense and better feeling-in spite of the love he had unquestionably borne his wife-in spite of the danger which he felt he was thrusting himself into and feared; and yet I equally dislike to suppose that he was tempted to this severe trial of his wife's love and duty either by too great faith in them, or a want of it; though something, perhaps, of a similar nature was the trial to which Henry put his Emma, and Posthumus "his Imogene; in neither case, indeed, so severe a one, nor, for his personal safety, may be, so dangerous; but what ever might have been his motive, it certainly to himself was as s inexplicable as he owned it to be irresistible. Again, therefore, he transgressed, and was again threatened; again he reiterated his offence, and then his wife said to him the next day, "Goest thou forth to-day, Martyn?"

"I must, indeed, Alice," he answered, "I have weighty business to do to-day." " Then mark me, Martyn. I am not going to pray thee; but I have warned thee once, and I have warned thee twice, and I now warn thee for the third and for the last time. Go at thy risk, and see thou heed this warning better than thou have done mine others. Go not forth to-day, Martyn; or, going, come not back to me as thou hast been wont of late to come. Better that thou stay from me altogether; but better yet that thou stay with me altogether, Martyn."

"Nay, nay, I needs must go, Alice." "There needs no plea, Martyn, but thine own will-thine own stubborn will-that will not bend to thy wife's prayer. Ay! I said I would not pray thee, but I do now. Look! see, Martyn! I am on my knees here to thee

and there are tears in mine eyes!-and, kneeling and weeping thus, I pray thee go not forth to day. I have had dreams of late-dreams of bad foretoken, Martyn; and only last night I did truly dream that" (Here she gulped, as if for breath.] "Thou wilt lose thy life, an thou go forth to-day, Martyn." But Martyn Lessomour, like Julius Cæsar, was not to be frightened from a fixed purpose by a wife's dreams, and he answered her

"Wife, wife, thou art a fearful woman, and makest me fear thee; but, natheless, I shall go."

"Go then," she said, and rose and left him; and he shortly after went from the house. He returned in the evening in the same assumed state as before, and went to bed. For the last two days that he had played this part, since his wife had begun to use threats, he had gone when he left his own house, either to a friend's or a tavern, where he slept away all the time he was absent, in order that he might lie awake during the night, to watch what his wife would do, but during this day he had not, for disquietude of mind, been able to sleep at all; but now that he was in bed, such a drowsiness came over him, that in spite of all his endeavours he soon fell into a sound sleep. From this he was aroused by his wife's getting out of bed; yet, although he at once started into thorough wakefulness, he had the presence of mind to pretend to be still asleep, and lay still and watched her. She had thrown a night gown around her-but her hair was loose, and hung straggling about her neck, and as she passed the foot of the bed, the light from a a lamp that was burning on a table, fell through her locks upon her face, and Martyn saw that it was of that livid paleness, and that her eyes were brightened by that hateful snakelike look, which he had only once before beheld in reality, though in memory thousands and thousands of times : he saw too that she held a small knife in one hand. Slowly and stilly, like a ghost-she glided on-but away from him: and going up to the place where she had hung her gown up when she undressed, she took it down, and ripped open one of the sleeves of it, and took something out; she then went to the hearth, where there was a fire burning, for it was winter, and having laid the knife and whatever else she held in her hand, beside the lamp upon the table, she seemed searching for something about the hearth. At last Martyn heard her mutter, "Not here---how foolish-heedless of me-I must go and fetch it from below." She moved towards the doorMartyn's heart beat high within him, as he thought the moment she should be gone, he would leap from his bed and rush past her down the stairs, and out of the house-for he strangely felt to be alone would be more dreadful than to be in her most dreaded presence. She stopped, however, at the door-laid hold of the latch, but did not raise it-and continued in a low mutter, "Not here, mayhap it was for some good end that I forgot it-mayhap that I should give him one more trial yet-shall I? I shall