appeared in view, and I gazed on it with unaffected delight.

Who has not heard and read of Staffa! Who has not seen the island of pillars and caves represented in paintings, in pictures, and in drawings, with whitewinged sea-fowl hovering over it, and the wild waves of excited ocean lashing its lonely shores? Great, however, is the difference between looking at a picture of Staffa and approaching the place in rough weather, tossed about on the boisterous deep. Professor Wilson speaks eloquently when the tempest-driven clouds are franticly hurrying to and fro, of delivering himself up to the genius of some savage scene in the islands of Scotland, rent and riven by the fury of some wild sea-loch, and hardly can a wilder or more desolate scene be presented to the eye, than that of the isle of Staffa on a stormy day, when the frowning heavens are hung with gloom, when the rushing winds are sweeping round the rocks, and the frothy spray of angry ocean is flying over the clustered pillars and resounding caves.

When wintry blasts prevail, the dreary sound
Extends a sterner solitude around.
The misty caves are dark, the rocks are bare,
And desolation holds dominion there.

At first the pillared part of the isle of Staffa appeared to be low, and on a miniature scale; but on a nearer approach, its proportions became more and more extended, and my wonder was more fully called forth by its singular formation. When we inspect a small specimen of curiously formed stone, as it lies on the palm of one of our hands, we regard it with attention and pleasure; but when we see a whole island principally formed of natural pillars, varying from thirty to more than sixty feet high, and from one to four feet in thickness, we regard it with a kind of incredulity, and scrutinize it closely, as if to be certain that we are not gazing on the work of art instead of the production of nature. Staffa bas its name, which is Norwegian, from Staf, its pillars resembling stones. Its length is about three quarters of a mile, and its breadth half a mile. It lies about eight miles westward of Mull, and its most elevated part, the southwest, is nearly a hundred and fifty feet high. The whole island seems formed of three tiers of rocks, inclined somewhat to the east; the lowest is a trap-rock, the middle is composed of basaltic pillars, most of them perpen

dicular, and the upper tier trap-rock mingled with smaller basaltic columns. Over all is a rich verdure, where in summer black cattle find an abundant pasturage.

So rough was the sea, that it seemed dangerous to venture upon it in a small boat. The desire, however, to land on the island was stronger than the fear of the ocean, and every passenger entered the boat, which had to make several trips between the steamer and the shore. All were delighted with their ramble over the tops of the basaltic pillars which formed the pavement on which we trod, and no one more so than myself. With the grey hair on my head, my heart beat with all the enthusiastic emotions of a boy.

The varied positions of the pillars, at different places being upright, inclined, and bent like the ribs of a ship, and the curiosities of Clanishell Cave, Cormorant's Cave, and the Boat Cave, excited much interest; but every foot quickened its pace, and every eye sparkled as we approached Fingal's Cave, which is between two and three hundred feet long. The steamer lying off the island, the boat moored to the shore, yet tossing up and down on the waves, the stormy sky occasionally lit up with the gleams of sunshine, the sea-gulls winging their way along the surface of the deep, the awful opening of Fingal's Cave, together with the human group spread over the basaltic pavement of the rock, formed a novel and an animated picture.

The

Uaimh Binn, or the Musical Cave, is the Gaelic name of Fingal's Cave, the awful opening to which, formed of clusters of natural pillars, sixty feet high, resembles a huge Gothic arch. mind becomes immediately solemnized on entering the vast and gloomy rift. Some prefer rowing a boat into the cave, while others, holding by a thick rope made fast to the rock, clamber along its rugged sides. The sea was too rough when I was there for a boat to enter, for the waves dashed wildly into the cave, resounding hoarsely against the rocky barrier at the end that opposed their further course. Solemnized as I felt, I longed to hear bursting from every lip the voice of psalmody. I longed to hear reverberating from the lofty roof of that rocky temple the words,

"All people that on earth do dwell,

Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
Him serve with fear, his praise forthtell,
Come ye before him and rejoice."

But instead thereof, the National Anthem was proposed, and " God save the queen" echoed through the ocean cave, and issued from the elevated portal. All were pleased, but some were deeply affected. In Fingal's Cave, the mere lover of novelty glances around and hurries onward; but the lover of nature is not so easily satisfied, for he holds a deep communion with the impressive scene. He is not only an admirer of Nature's temple, but a worshipper of its almighty Maker.

He stands entranced in solemn thought profound,
With Nature's awful temple spread around;
And hears, with joy, when angry tempest raves,
The pealing organ of the winds and waves.

I tarried so long in the cave after my companions had left it, that I began to fear they would embark without me. Impressed with this salutary fear, I hurried over the basaltic pavement by which we had approached the place. When I call to mind the gloomy sublimity of Fingal's cave, its great extent, its stupendous columns, its rocky sides, its lofty roof of varied colours, and its goodly and arresting entrance, I cannot but congratulate myself in having visited its solemn

recesses.

Even now the sunlit bright blue water at the entrance of the cave, and the snowy foam of the dashing waves in its darker termination, appear to be present to me. I see the rosy, weedclad bases of the outward columns, feel the smooth basaltic pavement beneath my feet, hear the whistling winds, and listen to the hoarse resounding waves. Staffa and Fingal's Cave have yielded me much delight, and furnished me with after hours of grateful meditation.

As the distance from Staffa to Iona is not more than nine miles, we soon arrived at the latter place, which is about three miles long and one broad. The village of Threld, on the island, has perhaps as many as five hundred inhabitants, who appear to be extremely primitive and simple in their manners. No sooner had we leaped from our wavetossed boat, on the seaweedy rocks, and reached the shore, than we were beset with a goodly number of children of different ages, having sea-shells, stones, and other curiosities to sell. Their slender knowledge of English occasioned humorous mistakes, for a shilling, sixpence, and a penny were promiscuously asked for the same parcel of shells by the same person.

Most of my readers know that Iona, or

Icolmkill, is celebrated on account of its having become, so far back as the year 565, the residence of Columba, an Irish Christian preacher of learning and piety, who founded a cell of monks on the island, and was made a means, in holy hands, of doing much good. The monastery, in after years, became the dwelling-place of the Cluniacenses, a class of monks who obeyed the rule of Bennit. Iona was added to the bishopric of Argyle, at the time of the Reformation. The meaning of the name Iona is, "the island of waves," and the signification of Icolmkill," the island of Columba's call." The remains of Columba were interred in the royal burial-ground of Iona. The following eloquent burst of poetry, in praise of Iona, is very appropriate :

"Lone isle! though storms have round thy turrets rode

Though their red shafts have sear'd thy marble brow

Thou wert the temple of the living God,
And taught earth's millions at his shrine to bow.
Though desolation wraps thy glories now,
Still thou wilt be a marvel through all time,
For what thou hast been; and the dead who rot
Around the fragments of thy towers sublime,
Once taught the world, and sway'd the realm of
thought,

And ruled the warriors of each northern clime.
Around thee sleeps the blue sky; and the sun
Laughs-and will laugh for aye on thy decay.
Thou 'rt in the world like some benighted one-
Home of the mighty-that have passed away!
A thousand years upon the earth have done
Dreadful destruction! Yet a happier day
Once bless'd thy sacred mansion-and the ray
Of Christianity blazed forth, and won
The Druid from his darkness; from thee ran
That fire which lit Creation in her youth,
That turn'd the wandering savage into man.
And show'd him the omnipotence of truth.
Hail, sainted isle! thou art a holy spot,
Engraven on all hearts; and thou art worth
A pilgrimage, for glories long gone by,
Thou noblest college of the ancient earth,
Virtue and truth,-Religion's self shall die,
Ere thou canst perish from the chart of fame,
Or darkness shroud the halo of thy name."

The ruins of the cathedral, the nunnery, and St. Oran's Chapel create an intense interest in the mind of the spectator. He cannot call to remembrance that he is standing in the great sepulchre where Scottish and Irish and Norwegian monarchs were buried for many generations, without being moved to reflection. He struggles withhis bewildered thoughts, and bygone ages appear to come back again when regarding the sculptured effigies before him. Beneath his feet lie the mouldered bones of forty Scottish kings, as well as of bishops, and priests, and friars. There lie the lords of the

isles, and the Highland chiefs of other days; the Macdonalds, the Macleans, the Macduffs, and the Macleods. "That man," says doctor Johnson, "is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona." Legh Richmond thus describes the island:

"Iona is delightful! You can form no idea of the characteristics of everything and everybody around me. The novelty, simplicity, and singularity is indescribable. Here, amid the ruins of ancient grandeur, piety, and literature, surrounded by the graves and mouldering gravestones of kings, chieftains, lords of the isles, bishops, priests, abbesses, nuns, and friars, the scene decorated with the fine and romantic remains of cathedral, colleges, nunnery, chapels, and oratories; with views of islands, seas, rocks, mountains interspersed with the humble huts of these poor islanders; I am just preparing to preach to as many of them as can understand English, in the open air;-a rock my pulpit, and heaven my sounding-board. May the echo resound to their hearts!"

Wherever our party went, whether in the chapel, the nunnery, or the cathedral, I was always the last to quit the spot, and thus lost much of the description given by one acquainted with the ruins; but I could not get away from the tomb of Columba, and from the uncouth sculptured stones which marked the restingplaces of the illustrious dead. My emotions were akin to those I had felt in Tintern Abbey, the old chapel at Holyrood, and the cathedral of Westminster. An imperfect and confused historical knowledge of Iona troubled me, and a desire to collect the scattered facts with which memory supplied me, kept me pondering over the sepulchres of the departed; but above all came upon me a prevailing sense of the fading nature of human life, and the instability of earthly glory. All things around me seemed to say, "Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth?"-"Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils; for wherein is he to be accounted of?""Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that may know how frail I am,' Ps. xxxix. 4.

While the time-worn tablets, and broken inscriptions and tombs around me proclaimed the humiliating truth that the

might of kings Fergus, and Congall, and Kenneth, and Donald the odious, and Gregory the valiant, and Ethus the swift, and Silnoth the idle, and Maol-Colum the wise, and Achia the good, was departed, and that the glory of the Macleans, the Duairts, the Lochbuys, the Mackinnons, the Macquaries, and the Mackenzies was no more, well might I look onward with solemnity to my own approaching mortality. Truly may we all exclaim, "There is but a step between me and death," 1 Sam. xx. 3.

I was alone, by the elegant cross of St. Martin, in the court of the cathedral. I was alone, at the black marble tombstone of the abbot M'Fingon, graven with the recumbent figure of the departed, in his flowing robes, with his crosier in his hand, and four lions at the corners. And I mused alone in the dreary cloisters of the place, and at the grave of Oran, the friend of Columba.

I felt as if on holy ground

With solemn thoughts my bosom beat, For Death had spread his symbols round, And kings were crumbling at my feet. After leaving the ruins, I snatched a hasty opportunity of entering some of the cottages of the poor islanders, bought another packet of shells from the children around, and then once more, with my fellow-passengers, trudged over the rough sea-weedy rocks to the boat that bore us to the steamer, bidding adieu to Iona, the island of waves-the sea-girt home of a simple people-the sepulchre of learned and pious men-the resting-place of kings-the Westminster Abbey of the Highlands, and the ancient and timehonoured cradle of Christianity.

THE TRUMPET AND ORGAN.

In the Book of

THE trumpet is a very ancient instrument, and has been long employed in military music. It is not, however, confined to this one use. Numbers, of the Old Testament, we are informed that Moses made two silver trumpets to be used by the priests; and Josephus informs us that Solomon provided two hundred, constructed in the same manner for the use of the Levites in the Temple. If we consider the pastoral habits of the Israelites when they first settled in the land of Goshen, under the protection of Pharaoh, it will appear very unlikely that they introduced the instrument into Egypt; the probability is, that it was invented and used

by the Egyptians, and the Jews were made acquainted with it by them. There are representations of this instrument on the arch of Titus.

The Greeks had several kinds of trumpets; but without entering into a description of the varieties, it will be merely necessary to state, that the instrument was known in the time of Homer; and in the year 396 before Christ, prizes were given to the best performers at the Olympic games. Timæus, of Elis, was the first who obtained a prize, and may therefore be considered as the best performer of his day. Herodotus, of Megara, who lived nearly a hundred years after, gained ten prizes at the different Grecian games.

The trumpet has long been used on the field of battle to give the signals of onset or retreat. Lighted torches were first employed for this purpose; and afterwards shells, which were the first trumpets. But although the instrument is admirably adapted for this purpose by its bold and full tone, it is well calculated, when judiciously introduced, for the performance of other music.

the

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The trumpet has a great compass, but is by no means a perfect instrument, and can only sound a certain number of notes, called by musicians trumpet-notes. In Philosophical Transactions for 1692,* there is a paper by the honourable Francis Roberts, called, "A Discourse concerning the Musical Notes of the Trumpet and Trumpet-Marine, and of the Defects of the same.' To this paper we would direct the attention of those who are curious to investigate with more minuteness the advantages and defects of this instrument.

The organ is an ancient instrument; but although many were made at different times, it did not come into what may be called general use until the eighth century. St. Jerome says that there was one at Jerusalem which could be heard as far as the Mount of Olives. The first organ that was brought into France was sent from Constantinople in the year 757, by the emperor Constantine Copronymus as a present to king Pepin.

There can be little doubt that the organ was known to the Romans, from the testimony of Vitruvius, and the epigram in its praise by the emperor Julian. Mersennus says, that "the Sieur Naude sent him, from the Matthei Gardens at Rome, the form of a little cabinet of an * Vol. xvii. p. 559.

organ, with bellows like those made use of to kindle a fire, and a representation of a man placed behind the cabinet blowing the bellows, and of a woman touching the keys."

Luscinius, a Benedictine monk, and a native of Strasburg, who wrote a treatise on music, called "Musurgia," gives a description of all the most important instruments of his own day. After speaking of those which consist of vibrating strings, he introduces the wind instruments, which, he says, as they are more costly than others, so they excel all others in harmony; the former are made for the use and pleasure of man, but the latter are generally dedicated to the service of God. The organ is then mentioned as the most important. In his day there were two kinds, one he calls the portative, because it could be carried, like many other instruments, from one place to another; and the other the positive, for it was usually fixed in churches.

Authors are by no means agreed as to the time when the organ was first introduced into the church service. It is generally supposed to have been done by pope Vitalianus, who was raised to the pontifical chair in the year 663. Previous to this time, however, instruments were used in divine service, as appears from the united testimony of Justin Martyr and Eusebius. St. Ambrose, who lived about fifty years after Eusebius, caused them to be employed in the cathedral church at Milan. Some authors have maintained, that the organ was introduced in the year 1290, by Marinus Sanatus, and to support their opinions assure us, that musical instruments were not known in churches at the time of Thomas Aquinas. But they are met by the statement, that Gervas, a monk of Canterbury, mentions an organ in his description of Lanfranc's church, before the fire in 1174. From these conflicting statements it may be fairly concluded, that the precise time when the organ was first introduced into churches cannot be fixed with certainty.

It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the organ consists of a series of pipes, which are supplied with air by a pair of bellows. Some of these tubes are closed, some of them are open, and the modes of vibration are consequently different. By the means of certain stops, the communication may be opened between different sets of tubes, and the quality of the tones greatly varied.-Higgins on Sound.