prevented; he may still be unfortunate, or he may be dead; whatever be the cause, I believe my husband, who says, his errors were those of the head, not the heart." "You are an admirable woman! and it gives me pleasure to- -"but as he spoke, a bustle was heard at the door, and George entered with John on his arm, while his brother-in-law escorted the younger branches.

This meeting should have been seen-may be imagined-but cannot be described; there seemed some danger of joy proving as injurious to Mary as sorrow; but the presence of the stranger had a salutary effect. He had been overlooked in the bustle of this happy meeting; but had looked on with delighted eye, and now said, "I, too, have been out in the storm, and losing my way, made my land fall here, where I am happy to find the fond wishes of every heart fulfilled; and trust I shall not prove an intruder, nor any obstruction to the general happiness." "You are most heartily welcome, and I only regret that we have not better accommodations to offer," replied George. "With so many happy faces around me, I shall deem myself in a palace; but were this the meanest hovel on Scottish ground, I have had infinitely worse lodgings.' "You have travelled, Sir, I presume?" said John. "A little; I have been in all the quarters of the globe." "And I, you see, am a rough sailor; so I hope we shall both think ourselves at home, and safe moored. Now, mother, we have had tough work and a long spell; suppose we should have supper." All were happy, and all were hungry; the supper was savoury, and all fared heartily and cheerfully. After the cloth was removed, George addressing the stranger, said, This day, Sir, is the anniversary of my inarriage, the birth-day of my wife, and also of my eldest son, whom we this inorning believed to be drowned, and whom Providence has now placed in good health at my side. Have I not then reason to be grateful and happy?" "It is certainly an eventful day in your history; has no unpleasant circumstance ever marked it in the calendar of life?" "Never but once; and that is now so long ago that it is

unfelt and forgotten; and least of all do I wish it called to my recollection at present." John now drew from his pockets a couple of bottles, from his sea stock, saying, "Let us have New-year's-day, in auld use and wont.' The stranger, with much feeling and animation, gave the toasts suited to the occasion; after which, he said, "I beg leave to propose another, in which, I hope, all present will join." He then, with peculiar expression of face, pronounced, "Old friends; and a happy meeting to George Melville and Charles Campbell !" George started, gazed upon the stranger, and at last cried, "It must be--it is soyou are Charles Campbell!" and he held out his hand; but the stranger had started to his feet, and clasped George in his arms, crying, I am indeed Charles Campbell-can youwill you forgive me?" "I have done so long ago." And you have

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also taught that angel, your lovely Mary, to forgive!" No-there you are wrong-she taught me.” “Well, I have never forgiven myself-never can I atone for the wrongs I have heaped on your heads; my reckless folly hurled you from respectable competence, to waste your best days— your ncon of life, in poverty and painful labour; that cannot now be recalled-but what I can, shall be done. I find you doomed to servitude and toil, but still you have been free Britons, while I have suffered shipwreck, and the galling chains of Algerine slavery; but I had deserved it, and regretted my fate not less on your account, than my own. Fortune relented,-I got free; and the blind goddess smiled beyond my warmest hopes. Her first favours I remitted to a friend, for your use, many years ago; a sum which would have at least banished poverty, and smoothed your thorny path of life till my return; but, on arriving in London, I found the money had never been called for, and my letter had been lost. When I took shipping for Britain, Fortune smiled on me more auspiciously than ever; and could I have waited, she might have enabled me to make you richer; but I was restless and unhappy-1 wished to see you, to hear from your own lips that I was for

given; besides, it would have been adding insult to injury, to have offered you wealth, when age had disqualified you for its enjoyment. I have posted from London impatient to meet you, not so much on your account as my own; for, believe me, my dear friend, I already feel my heart relieved of a load, which grew heavier every day; and at this moment, my heart enjoys a bliss, to which, for nearly twenty years, it has been a stranger. From what I have already witnessed beneath your roof, I believe it impossible to add to your real happiness, although Providence has enabled me to make the path of life yet before you more pleasantbut of this to-morrow; let this night be devoted to its proper purpose. Can you afford me a bed? or will you accompany me at the fire-side? for I leave not your house to-night." "Mary will manage that," said the delighted George. They now indulged in making merry; but still it was the "feast of reason;" and such as not to disqualify the happy parents, when they retired, for offering fervent thanks for the signal mercies they had that day experienced.

In a subsequent interview, Mr Campbell laid before his friend bills for the whole amount of his fortune, pressing them upon his acceptance; affirming the whole belonged to him. George replied, "No, my friend; just get me a farm-in a word, put me in statu quo." Soon after, Mr Campbell bought an estate, put George in possession of a stocked farm, of about two hundred and fifty acres; and when the lease was delivered, the astonished farmer found that it was a legal conveyance of the same to him and his heirs for ever. For some time, Mr Campbell was almost a constant guest with this happy family, and soon discovered that he had still another duty to perform. He had been informed of Anne's history, and having paid particular attention to her demeanour, he one day addressed her thus: "I find that my folly deprived you of a husband, who was unworthy of you; and has since prevented you from matching more happily; yes, the loss of your little fortune has doomed you to languish in virgin sweetness, and amaranthine bloom; for your face

is still lovely, and your mind worthy of being beloved. I cannot make Time retrace his steps; but I have put into your brother's hands two thousand pounds, solely for your use, and at your own disposal; this small fortune may yet give you a chance in the matrimonial lottery, or will add to your comforts as a spinster. I wish it were in my power to find you a husband to your liking; but I can do nothing better for you than offer myself. I am aware that my youthful and best days are past; still, I am in good health, and, let me add, now heart-free; and could I be deemed worthy of your acceptance, I should prize your hand and heart infinitely beyond all that fortune has hitherto bestowed." Anne was prudent, took counsel with her brother, Mary, and her own heart, and in due time became Mrs Campbell. George and Mary find the reward of their pious resignation; and, in their prosperity, forget not their brothers and sisters in adversity.

SONG OF THE BATTLE OF MORGARTEN.

In the year 1315, Switzerland was invaded by Duke Leopold of Austria with a formidable army. It is well attested, that this Prince repeatedly declared, he "would trample the audacious rustics under his feet," and that he had procured a large stock of cordage, for the purpose of binding their chiefs, and putting them to death. Few princes have been aware of the irresistible, and almost miraculous powers of a freeminded people, when it feels the iron rod of oppression; and Leopold was particularly accustomed to ridicule the awkwardness of the Alpine shepherds in the martial exercises.

Three separate attacks were prepared. Otho, the younger Count of Strasburgh, at this time Imperial Prefect in Oberhasli, advanced with four thousand men through the Oberland, to the frontiers of Underwalden. Upwards of a thousand men assembled at Lucerne, who, under the command of the Austrian Bailiffs of that district, prepared to invade Underwalden on the side of the Lake. The Duke himself conducted the

main army in two columns towards Zug. A numerous body of heavy cavalry, which, although the cumbersome weight of their armour was ill adapted for the services here required of them, was yet considered the flower of the Austrian army, led the van.

Some days before the battle of Morgarten, fifty men, who, having rendered themselves obnoxious to the magistracy, had been banished from the Canton of Schwitz, came to the frontiers, and requested that they might be allowed to join the Swiss confederates posted on Mount Sattel, in the defence of their country. The magistrates, deeming it unwise to deviate from an established rule, refused to admit the exiles within their confines. Thus rejected, they nevertheless resolved to expose their lives for their country, and posted themselves on the eminence above Morgarten, beyond the frontiers of the Canton.

*

The

The 15th October 1315 dawned. The sun darted its first rays on the shields and armour of the advancing host; and this being the first army ever known to have attempted the frontiers of the Cantons, the Swiss viewed its long line with various emotions. Montfort de Tettnang led the cavalry into the narrow pass, and soon filled the whole space between the mountain and the lake. fifty exiles on the eminence raised a sudden shout, and rolled down heaps of rocks and stones among the crowded ranks. The confederates on the mountain, perceiving the impression made by this attack, rushed down in close array, and fell upon the flank of the disordered column. With massy clubs they dashed in pieces the armour of the enemy, and dealt their blows and thrusts with long pikes. The narrowness of the defile admitted of no evolutions, and a slight frost having injured the road, the horses were impeded in all their motions; many leaped into the lake; all were startled; and at last the whole column gave way, and fell suddenly back on the infantry, which had already advanced into the pass; and these last, as the nature of the country did not allow them to open their files, were run over by the fu

gitives, and many of them trampled to death. A general route now ensued; the Swiss continued the slaughter; and Duke Leopold was, with much difficulty, rescued by a peasant, who, knowing the bye-paths of the mountains, led him to Winterthur, where the historian of the times saw him arrive in the evening, pale, sullen, and dismayed. Thus did the confederates, without much loss, and in less than three hours, gain a decisive victory.

See Planta's History of the Helvetic
Confederacy.

With their pikes and, massy clubs, they brake

The cuirass and the shield,

The sun was reddening the clouds of morn
When they enter'd the rock defile,
And shrill as a joyous hunter's horn
Their bugles rung the while.-
But on the misty height,
Where the mountain people stood,
There was stillness as of night,

When storms at distance brood: There was stillness, as of deep dead night,

And a pause-but not of fear, While the Switzers gaz'd on the gathering might

Of the hostile shield and spear.

On wound those columns bright, Between the lake and wood, But they look'd not to the misty height, Where the mountain people stood

The Pass was fill'd with their serried power, All helm'd and mail-array'd,

And their steps had sounds like a thunder shower

In the rustling forest shade.

There were prince and crested knight Hemm'd in by cliff and flood, When a shout arose from the misty height

Where the mountain people stood.

And the mighty rocks came bounding down Their startled foes among,

With a joyous whirl from the summit thrown

Oh! the herdsman's arm is strong!

They came, like Lanwine* hurl'd,
From Alp to Alp in play,

When the echoes shout through the snowy world,

And the pines are borne away. The larch-woods crash'd on the mountain side,

And the Switzers rush'd from high With a sudden charge, on the flower and pride

Of the Austrian chivalry:

Like hunters of the deer,
They storm'd the narrow dell,
And first in the shock, with Uri's spear,

Was the arm of William Tell +!
There was tumult in the crowded strait,

And a cry of wild dismay,

And many a warrior met his fate
From a peasant's hand that day!
And the Empire's banners there,
From its place of waving free,
Went down before the shepherd men,
The men of the Forest Sea +.

Lanwine the Swiss name for the Avalanche.

+ William Tell's name is particularly mentioned amongst the confederates at Morgarten.

Forest Sea-the Lake of the Four Cantons.

TOL. XII.

And the war-horse dash'd to the reddening lake,

From the reapers of the field!

The field but not of sheavesProud crests and pennons lay, Strewn o'er it thick as the beech-wood leaves,

In the Autumn tempest's way.

Oh! the sun in heaven fierce havock view'd

When the Austrian turn'd to fly, And the brave, in the trampling multitude, Had a fearful death to die!

And the leader of the war At eve unhelm'd was seen, With a hurrying step on the wilds afar, And a pale and troubled mien.

But the sons of the land which the freeman tills,

Went back from the battle-toil, To their cabin home, midst the deep green hills,

All burden'd with royal spoil.

There were songs and festal fires On the soaring Alps that night, When children sprung to greet their sires From the wild Morgarten fight.

THE LOST FRIEND.

In my younger days, I visited the capital of Ireland, in company with a friend, whom I shall call Walsingham-a youth of rare talents, superior acquirements, and generous disposition. We had been associates from infancy; our parents had been on terms of friendship prior to our birth; the same preceptors had superintended our education; and, to crown all, a similarity of pursuit, in riper years, served to bind us more closely together. For my own part, I cherished for Walsingham a regard nothing short of fraternal-a regard which I calculated on his one day claiming as his right, in consequence of an alliance eagerly sought for by him, and anticipated with pleasure by all concerned; and, on his side, it seemed the study of his life to prove the sincerity and strength of his affection for me and mine.

Our motives for visiting Ireland, at the period I allude to, were simply those of curiosity. Both had a passion for roaming, in order to gratify which, we had penetrated into

F

the most retired fastnesses of the Scottish Highlands-had visited the barren rocks of Zetland and Orkney -and, latterly, nearly the whole of the Hebrides, from one of which, (Islay,) we ran across in a fishingskiff to the Irish shore, and after a due examination of the wonders of the Giant's Causeway, proceeded on to Dublin, with the intention of concluding our protracted excursion by a survey of that metropolis.

Though we carried introductions to several families in Dublin, and, in consequence, had many pressing invitations to throw ourselves on private hospitality, we uniformly declined civilities that threatened to curtail our liberty. We had entered on the excursion, not for the purpose of hunting out good cheer and frivolous amusement, but to store our minds with information regarding the districts we traversed; therefore, any engagements militating against this pursuit were studiously avoided. True it is, that now and then an evening was devoted to a lively party; but the day was invariably spent in rambling round, or in examining objects worthy of observation within the metropolis. It was the indulgence of these prying, inquisitive habits, which eventually occasioned the misfortune I lament, and for ever interrupted my search after knowledge.

One day, on our way to the outskirts of the city, it chanced that we had to pass near to a church, remarkable, as we had been previously told, for the extensive vaults beneath it most of which were appropriated for the reception of some of the noblest families in the realm. The doors of the edifice stood open, inviting us to enter; and a short consultation with the sexton, whom we encountered in the porch, induced us to accept the invitation. The entrance into the vaults was at that moment unobstructed, the remains of a person of note being to be laid within them on the ensuing day; and, for a trifling gratuity, the porter of these dreary mansions agreed to let us be hold them. Constitutionally gloomy, and looking upon every thing in nature with the eye of a moralist and a poet, Walsingham expressed delight at his acquiescence; but the

triumph of the grave was to me always a painful sight, and I followed unwillingly, and with a faltering step.

As we had been led to expect, we found the vaults capacious, and, from their branching off into various compartments, more like the catacombs of a great city, than places reserved for the interment of a few families. A cold, damp air, sluggish and perceptibly unwholesome, saluted us on our entrance; and, sunk far below the surface of the ground, and remote from noisy streets, no sound disturbed the silence of the vaults, save ever and anon, when the crash of rotten boards and fleshless bones told that the noxious rat had taken up its abode among the coffins of the dead. The rat was a creature I instinctively detested; and the proximity of one of the species was of itself sufficient at any time to unnerve me; it was no ways surprising, therefore, that the pattering of multitudes, on the hollow-sounding shells that doubtless contained the food they subsisted on, created in my mind disgust towards the place. Walsingham, from feeling none of this intuitive horror, betrayed an evident unwillingness to give way to my entreaties, and depart with his curiosity ungratified; but accustomed to acquiesce in whatever I proposed, he at length complied, and we speedily regained the world above, and the pure air of heaven. At parting, my companion put some brief question to the sexton; but exulting in my liberation, I gave no heed to a circumstance so

trivial.

During the excursion which this occurrence had induced us for a short space to procrastinate, Walsingham frequently reverted to the subject of the vaults-sometimes jesting with me on my pusillanimity in regard to vermin, at others moralising over what he had recently beheld, in that sublime and eloquent strain of declamation for which he was remarkable. An accident I met with in the course of the day, however, changed the current of his thoughts. In scrambling over the rocks on the northern shore of the bay-to which we had directed our steps-I chanced to make an unlucky stumble, and so severely