home, his castle, is watched every night by his adherents. This, which was probably a very necessary precaution in ancient times, has now degenerated into a mere form or compliment; and is discharged by some gentleman of the clan sitting up in the great room of the castle, with his servant, till daybreak. One of these watchmen came to perform this duty not very long ago, and brought with him a young lad, who had never seen a large room or a large picture in his life, and seemed very much struck, from his first entrance, with the silent array of family portraits which gazed upon him from the walls. His master sat down quietly by the fire; and the youth in the recess of a window, at a respectful distance.

"The master, after watching till near morning, was overpowered with sleep. The servant, full of wonder and speculation, was kept awake by the novelty of the scene around him. He perceived, however, that his master slumbered, and, feeling a sudden chill, attempted to rise and awaken him. He was suddenly arrested by astonishment, when the great folding doors were silently thrown open, and two footmen in the family livery came in bearing lights. They were followed by some of the family who had been dead for years, and whose wan and ghastly visages "looked not like inhabitants of the earth." Their dress and behaviour, however, exactly resembled that of their fellow-mortals in the same condition of life. Pope tells us of female Sylphs or Gnomes, who, "though they play no more, o'erlook the cards!" but these phantoms went further;-the card tables were placed, and they actually sat down to play. They conversed, too, a great deal; but though this intruder on their amusements saw their lips moving, and their gestures varying, he never heard the sound of their voices.

"His terror was much augmented by recognizing in one of the footmen a kinsman of his own, who in his lifetime had served in the castle in that capacity; the dusky gray of the dawn now began to appear; the shadowy troop rather hastily returned the way they came. In passing, however, one of them turned towards the watcher, and breathed upon him-It was a cold breath, that seemed to freeze the blood in his veins. The cock crew, and his master wakened. poor visionary begged to be carried home, being unable to move. His request was immediately complied with; he called his friends about him, and narrated all that had happened to him, adding, that the hand of death was upon him, and nothing could save him. He died in three days after, of a fever and delirium." I. p. 228-230.

The

Fairies abound greatly in the Highlands; and bear the same character for courtesy, nimbleness, and occasional attachment to mortals, which endear them to the inhabitants of the plains. They are far better accommodated, however, with suitable scenery, if Mrs. Grant has not exaggerated in the following and several other descriptions.

"In the narrow part of the valley through which the Spey makes its way from the parish of Laggan downwards to that of Kingussie, there is some scenery of a very singular character. To the south, the Spey is seen making some fine bends round the foot of wooded hills. It is bordered by a narrow stripe of meadow, of the richest verdure, and fringed with an edging of beautiful shrubbery. On the north side rises, with precipitous boldness, Craigow, or the Black Rock, the symbol and boundary of the clan who inhabit the valley. It is very black, indeed; yet glitters in the sun, from the many little streams which descend from its steep, indeed perpendicular, surface. In the face of this lofty rock are many apertures, occasioned by the rolling down of portions of the stone, from which echoing noises are often heard. This scene of terror overlooks the soft features of a landscape below, that is sufficient, with this association, to remind us of what has been said of "Beauty sleeping in the lap of horror." An eminence, as you approach towards the entrance to the strait, appears covered with regularly formed hillocks, of a conical form, and of different sizes, clothed with a kind of dwarf birch, extremely light-looking and fanciful, sighing and trembling to every gale, and breathing odours after a calm evening shower, or rich dewy morning. In the depth of the valley, there is a lochan (the diminutive of loch) of superlative beauty. It is a round, clear, and shallow bason, richly fringed with water lilies, and presenting the clearest mirror to the steep wooded banks on the south, and the rugged face of the lofty and solemn rock which frowns darkly to the north. On the summits, scarce approachable by human foot, is the only nest of the gosshawk, now known to remain in Scotland : and, in the memory of the author, the nearest farm to this awful precipice was held by the tenure of taking down, every year, one of the young of this rare bird for the lord of the soil.

"The screaming of the birds of prey on the summit, the roaring of petty waterfalls down its sides, and the frequent falls of shivered stone from the surface, made a melancholy confusion of sounds, very awful and incomprehensible to the travellers below, who could only proceed on a very narrow path on the edge of the lake, and under the side of this gloomy rock. It did not require a belief in fairies to look round for them in this romantic scene. If one had merely heard of them, an involuntary operation of fancy would summon them to a place so suited for their habitation." I. p. 265-268.

These regular little eminences, beset with bilberry and foxglove, and overgrown with the light foliage of the birch and mountain-ash eternally playing round them, are called tomhans, and universally believed to be the habitation of this innocent and amiable race. The youths that tend their cattle in the open solitudes around, are frequently cheered by the music of small sweet pipes, issuing from those lovely hillocks; and some daring mortals have lingered among them long enough, to hear them turning their bread on their tiny platters within, and to smell the odour of the oatcakes which they were baking over their central

1

fires! Their poetry abounds in songs and little wild stories, relating to this wonderful population.

"One of these," says Mrs. Grant, "which I have heard sung by children at a very early age, and which is just to them the Babes in the Wood, I can never forget. The affecting simplicity of the tune, the strange wild imagery, and the marks of remote antiquity in the little narrative, gave it the greatest interest to me, who delight in tracing back poetry to its infancy.

"A little girl had been innocently beloved by a fairy, who dwelt in a tomhan near her mother's habitation. She had three brothers, who were the favourites of her mother. She herself was treated harshly, and tasked beyond her strength: Her employment was to go every morning and cut a certain quantity of turf from dry heathy ground for immediate fuel and this with some uncouth and primitive implement. As she passed the hillock, which contained her lover, he regularly put out his hand with a very sharp knife, of such power, that it quickly and readily cut through all impediments She return

ed cheerfully and early with her load of turf; and, as she passed by the hillock, she struck on it twice; and the fairy stretched out his hand through the surface, and received the knife.

"The mother, however, told the brothers that her daughter must certainly have had some aid to perform the allotted task. They watched her, saw her receive the enchanted knife, and forced it from her. They returned; struck the hillock, as she was wont to do; and when the fairy put out his hand, they cut it off with his own knife. He drew in the bleeding arm, in despair; and supposing this cruelty was the result of treachery on the part of his beloved, never saw her more." I. p. 285, 286.

Their other superstitions are not very remarkable. They have a strong impression of the impiety of boasting, or making an ostentatious display of the advantages with which Providence may have blessed them; and firmly believe, that such conduct is sure to be punished by a speedy privation of the good fortune thus unsuitably borne. Mrs. Grant has a great number of stories in proof of this severe retribution. Upon the same principle, it is held to be of very ill omen to praise a young child-or even a calf, without a previous invocation of the Deity; and if, this prelude should be omitted by an ignorant or irreverent stranger, it is immediately supplied, in a tone of anger and alarm, by the orthodox bystanders; and the whole family are uneasy for a week, for the consequences of so rash an action. Besides a whole system of deep learning about evil eyes, and social spirits of all complexions, they have personified a variety of diseases and sources of evil, which have not had that honour, we believe, in any other country. The small-pox, in particular, is spoken of with great respect and veneration, under the form of a beautiful woman clothed in green, who may be frequently seen in

the gray dawn, leaning over the beds of dying infants; and whom no careful mother will ever mention by any other name than that of Boiadch, or "the Beauty." It is remarkable, however, that they use no such ceremony with the inoculated smallpox, of which they speak boldly, and with some degree of contempt, under the name of "the Doctor's small-pox.'

From this view of the character and superstition of the Highlanders, as they existed under the ancient frame of their society, Mrs. Grant is naturally led to consider the changes which have been recently produced by the Southern education and multiplied wants of their chieftains. In our review of Lord Selkirk's work on Emigration, we have a very full detail of the circumstances which have led to this partial depopulation, and of the plans that have been suggested to soften the necessary sufferings by which it is attended. Mrs. Grant speaks very feelingly, and very sensibly, on the subject. She draws a striking picture of the wretchedness and degradation which the Highlander necessarily experiences, when he is driven out from this Eden of his imagination, divorced forever from the dwellings of his fore-fathers, and from all the objects, occupations, and amusements, to which his habits and affections were conformed. Nature never meant him, she says, for a manufacturer;-fixing him to a loom is like yoking a stag in a plough, and will not, in the end, turn out a more profitable experiment. Even the villages which have been established on the borders of his own country, cannot save him, or intercept his fall. According to our author, there is but one effectual resource.

"If any thing recovers him from his hopeless apathy, it must be the spirit-stirring fife,' or the martial pipe of his ancestors, calling him to the field of honourable strife. Here, if at all, the Highlander resumes the energy of his character, and finds room to display once more the virtues of habit and of sentiment; for here he is generally associated with beings like himself, and here his enthusiasm finds an object. His honourable feelings, his love of distinction, his contempt for danger, and, what is of equal importance in the military life, his calm fortitude, stern hardihood, and patient endurance, all find scope for exercise. Here, too, mingled with his countrymen, he tells and hears the tales of other times,-beguiles the weary watch of night with the songs that echoed through the halls of his chief,-or repeats, on the toilsome march, the loveditty inspired by the maiden that first charmed him with the smile of beauty, and the voice of melody, in his native glen.

"These recollections and associations preserve, in pristine vigour, the fairest trait in the Highland character. Social and convivial as Donald's inclinations are, when others join the mirthful band, and share the cup of festivity, he retires to his barrack or his tent, and adds the hard-saved sixpence to the little hoard, which the paymaster promises to remit home, to pay his father's arrear of rent, or purchase

a cow for his widowed mother.-Poor Donald is no mechanic: he cannot, like other soldiers, work at a trade when in quarters: Yet, day after day, with unwearied perseverance, he mounts guard for those who have this resource, to add a little to this fund, sacred to the dearest charities of life-the best feelings of humanity. This sobriety preserves alive the first impressions of principle, the rectitude, the humble piety, and habitual self-denial, to which a camp life, or the unsettled wanderings that belong to it, are so averse " II. p. 135-137.

From the touching view of the condition of the exiled retainer, Mrs. Grant turns to contemplate the altered character and manners of the chief, by which this exile has been made necessary; and is very eloquent in contrasting the substantial power, dignity and enjoyment of their forefathers, with the paltry conveniencies and luxurious accommodations for which their descendants have sacrificed all this happiness and glory.

"When a Highland chief," says she, "looked, from some eminence, into his subject Strath, and saw the blue smoke of twenty hamlets rise through the calm air of a bright summer morning, when he viewed those quiet abodes of humble content, with the perfect consciousness that there was no individual contained in them, but what regarded him, with fond and proud attachment, as his friend and protector, to save or serve whom he would cheerfully die,-what monarch would compare with him in genuine power, and heartfelt consciousness of being loved and honoured beyond all other earthly beings And how perverted is the taste that would induce a man to deprive himself of such faithful adherents, and drive them out to miserable exile, for all the paltry profits to be derived from the change!"-" To tear them," she adds, "from their birthplace, and the tombs of their fathers, is to inflict a more unhallowed torture than Æneas, when he tore up the myrtle plants from the grave of Polydorus, and saw the roots drop blood at parting from their parent earth! And, would that the lord of his native home would but regard the anguish of the expatriated Highlander with half the compunction, which this phenomenon excited in the breast of the pious chief!"

She then proceeds to show, and we think in a very satisfactory and convincing manner, that though the chief may raise his rents by the expulsion of his ancient followers, he cannot possibly succeed in making the Highlands a place of luxurious abode, and must either return, in some degree, to the ancient system of manners, or adopt the more usual, but degrading, alternative of an entire town life. A country laid out into one vast desert of sheepwalks, she observes, can supply nothing but wool and mutton to its inhabitants; and almost every article that is wanted for the consumption of a luxurious family, must be brought, by impassable roads, from a vast distance. Even if the proprietor should endeavour to obviate this inconvenience, in some degree, by