inhabitants so long was matter of surprise, as troops might have been procured from the Castle in half an hour. But such an occurrence was matter scarcely "within the compass of belief," either of the persons charged with the police of the city, or of the inhabitants.

The chief depredators were, however, soon after seized; and, betrayed by their accomplices, (for there is no friendship among the wicked) many others were taken into custody. The watches, seals, &c., had been deposited on that evening by M'Intosh, one of the leaders, in a hole dug in a park at the Meadows, and afterwards removed by him and Sutherland, another of the party, who fled with the booty to Glasgow. The activity of the police and magistrates soon traced the fugitives; and Sutherland and M'Intosh were seized in that city, and the watches traced in their transmission to other hands. Skelton, one of the gang, was tried before the High Court of Justiciary on the 2d of March, and found guilty, but afterwards pardoned; and Macdonald, M'Intosh, and Sutherland, and three others who had made their escape, were brought to trial on the 20th of March, for the murder of Dugald Campbell, police watchman, and ten other charges of robbery and assault. After a long trial, which lasted till four o'clock next morning, the three young men were found guilty; M'Intosh of the murder, (for there was evidence of his striking the unfortunate man with a bludgeon on the head as he lay on the pavement,) and Sutherland and Macdonald for robbery and assault ;—and all the three were sentenced to be executed on the 22d of April, on a gibbet erected for the purpose, in the centre of the High Street, and opposite to the place where the watchman was so cruelly murdered.

An execution, for a long period of time, was a rare occurrence in Edinburgh; and the necessity of the example, fortunately for the country, was but seldom required. The riots which led to the condemnation of the three young men were still fresh in the memory of the inhabitants, and an uncommon interest in their fate was excited. The gibbet and drop, with a decent attention to public feeling, was put up, as it generally is, at midnight;

and the apparatus of death next morning met the eye in dismal blackness, and as if raised by enchantment, in the centre of the principal street. To prevent all interruption from associates in guilt, so numerous as it was proved this association had been, the streets were lined at one o'clock from the Tolbooth (now removed) to the place of execution, by strong detachments of the Renfrew and Perthshire Militia ; the first regiment of Local Militia was stationed in Hunter's Square; a troop of the 6th Dragoon Guards at the Royal Exchange; and a piquet of volunteers was assembled in the Parliament Close. Constables and policemen were also placed at all the avenues to the High Street, to prevent the passage of horses or carriages. A little before two o'clock the magistrates and three of the city ministers proceeded from the Council Chambers in the Royal Exchange to the Tolbooth; and after nearly an hour, spent as usual in devotion, the criminals were brought forth to receive the sentence of the law.

The crowd on the street, the broadest in the city, was at this time immense. Every window of its high houses was crowded, every place that could command a view of the scene was occupied; and even the spires of the Tron Church and St Giles, where accessible, were clothed with spectators. Except the line protected by the military for the procession, and the little space round the platform, the whole street presented a mass of human beings, larger than was ever before witnessed in Edinburgh. The high constables first appeared, all dressed in black, and walking four and four; then followed the magistrates in their robes, preceded by their officers: and the criminals were next seen bare-headed, and each accompanied by a clergyman, walking in solemn and affecting pace, unconscious of the ten thousand gazers around them, to the place from which they were to return no more alive. A large party of extra constables to the amount of one hundred and fifty, also dressed in mourning, closed the procession.

The culprits, whose youth excited much commiseration, all of them being under twenty, and M'Intosh not much above sixteen years of age, mounted the scaffold, attended by the clergymen and magistrates; and a

hymn was sung, which, from its striking application to the circumstances of the unfortunates, gave additional solemnity to the scene. The services of the Scottish Church, though destitute of all parade and imposing forms, have often struck me as peculiarly affecting from their simplicity; and I know not that I ever felt half so much moved by "the pealing anthem" of a cathedral choir, as by the untutored expressions of praise from a multitude of human voices at a tent-preaching in the country. The deep interest of the worshippers on the present occasion, and the greatness of the Being addressed, together with praises from many thousand tongues who joined in the service, had altogether a sublime

effect; and when the clergyman read out the hymn, and lifted up his hands to begin the concluding prayer, the whole multitude took off their hats, and remained uncovered during the continuance of the worship. At last the prayer ended; the clergymen and magistrates descended from the platform; and the executioner proceeded to his office. A tear glistened in the eye of M'Intosh as he looked up for a moment at the fatal gibbet. The poor creatures took leave of one another-the drop fell-and a convulsive shudder, and articulate sighs from ten thousand bosoms, testified the public feelings at the fate of the victims, and the regret that such an example had had become necessary in Edinburgh.

Ir it be allowable to judge of the condition as well as of the character of a nation from its literature, we may boldly decide, that the Germans possess, amongst other things, a wonderful superabundance of leisure. Their authors appear to take up their pens without feeling the slightest impatience to get to the end of their tasks, or anticipating any possibility of such a sensation arising in the breasts of their readers. The consequence of this unbounded confidence in the public patience and perseverance is, that in their works of imagination, they develope the concatenation of events, the state of the hearts and minds (with every the smallest variation) of their personages, imparting even their most abstract opinions, the fluctuations of those opinions, and the discussions that may give rise to such fluctuations, with a minuteness of detail somewhat startling to writers accustomed to cater for the amusement of this busy country.

To the same cause which has given to this whole genus of composition such a character of circumstantiality, may probably be attributed the existence of certain species in the order, which, though frequent in Germany, are, we believe, unknown in all other parts of Europe. Now, although we by no means propose to recommend

the adoption of all or any of these Teutonic-shall we say varieties or mongrels?—we think that some knowledge of them may prove useful, as a contribution to the natural history of either literature or the human mind, and are accordingly about to give an account of one of them. We must, however, in the first place, entreat the English reader not to throw down our paper in alarm at the representation now following of its subject, but to trust to our experience of his habitual hurry, for giving our lengthy original, with all practicable brevity.

The particular non-descript which we desire to introduce to his acquaintance, is a sort of Play in four volumes, named in its own native land "A historical-romantic Picture!" It is in fact a dramatic life of its hero, whom it commonly selects from amongst the most distinguished characters of German history. As a specimen of these, "Historisch-Romantische Gemählde," we have taken the "RUDOLPH OF HABSBURG," of Frederic Christian Schlenkert, the author of some other works of a similar kind, who, in his performance, professes to present to us, in a picturesque manner, a full, true, and particular life of the first Emperor of the reigning family of Austria.

This Biography in scenes, is divided into four parts, the first, painting

Lion Knight, (releasing him from his embrace, and offering his hand.) We

remain friends.

Falcon Knight, (giving his hand warmly.) Friends, and brothers in arms unto death!

The successful Knights are now summoned to receive their prizes from the fair hands of the Empress Isabella. He of the Lion takes off his helmet, and Anna, with a rapid glance and burning blush, recognizes Rudolph of Habsburg. The young Empress appears to be deeply impressed by his beauty, and requires all the time afforded her, by the father's delight, and the Emperor's eulogies, to recover herself. She then, in rather long and solemn orations, distributes the prizes; the first to Rudolph, the second to the Falcon Knight, who proves to be Meinhard, Count of the Tyrol, and the third to Burkhard of Hohenberg. The Emperor expresses his admiration of her eloquence, and leads her off to the banquet, giving directions that the three Hopes, meaning the three wearers of green, shall be placed together.

We have given this first scene as much at length as we could venture to do without fearing to tire our readers, both as we think it in some degree interesting as a German representation of a tournament, and as it affords a fair specimen of the general manner of the work. We will now endeavour to get forward rather faster, confining our extracts to such parts as appear to exhibit the peculiar characteristics of the author. After a couple of scenes between the old Counts of Habsburg and Hohenberg, and between their sons, respecting the loves and future marriage of Rudolph and Anna, we come to the vanquished and angry Ulrick of Regensberg and his uncle the Abbot, who with some trouble persuades his nephew not to attack Rudolph openly, but to trust the care of revenging his defeat to him. Ulrick at last agrees, and leaves the Abbot to arrange the business with the Court Astrologer Hieronymus. These two worthy persons take some pains, apparently not very successfully, to deceive each other. In the end, the Astrologer pockets a purse offered him in pure charity by the Abbot, and promises to give the Emperor fair warning of the dangers which threaten his family from the future prosperity of

Rudolph. We will pass over a scene in which the Empress seems to wish she could exchange Frederic for Rudoph, and then seeks to console herself by playing upon the youthful hero and Anna, and set before our readers the manner in which Hieronymus performs his engagement.

We find the Emperor and the Astrologer tête-a-tête in the private chamber of the former. The latter, after much obscure discourse, in which every answer seems wrung from him, gives the imperial querist, in the name of the stars, a lofty panegyric and favourable prognostication touching Isabella, pronounces Prince Henry to be fallen for ever, and prophesies every virtue and all success and happiness to Prince Conrad, Frederic's second son, now intended for his heir, as also to his illegitimate offspring. The Emperor, highly pleased with these communications, inquires respecting the fortunes of the three heroes of the late tournament. Hieronymus, whilst turning over his papers, privately expresses his satisfaction at being saved the trouble of leading to the subject. He then speaks very favourably of the three en masse, proceeds to the separate character of each, and when he comes to Rudolph, hastily collects his papers, with the exclamation, "Nothing of him!"

Emperor. Why not, good Master? Hieronymus. He surpasses them all. No mortal master of astrology can follow his eagle flight.

Emperor, (earnestly.) What mean you?

Hieronymus. Nothing, my most dread Lord and Emperor. My mouth grows dumb, my eyes dark, all my senses fail me, when the terribly splendid vision of this one man forces itself upon my imagination.

Emperor, (with bitterness.) That I have observed both yesterday and today. Master Hieronymus is all respect and humility, when he addresses this wonderful man.

Hieronymus. I act not thus from myself; the master must bow his neck even lower than ordinary men under the yoke of necessity.

Emperor. Must he? That is in truth incomprehensible!

Hieronymus. Try yourself. See if the Emperor can contend against Necessity. The Emperor will fail.

Emperor. Then even the Emperor

But it is not for your ear, dread Lord. Emperor. But I will, I must know

it.

it!

Hieronymus. You could not endure

Emperor. I not endure it! Who dares speak so false a word?

Hieronymus. The master, to whom alone it is given to read the book of Fate.

Emperor. Honour to the Master, but obedience to the Emperor !

Hieronymus. Honour to whom honour, obedience to whom obedience is due.

Emperor. That I now require from you. Speak, I command you! How run the words of the book of Fate concerning Rudolph of Habsburg?

Hieronymus. You constrain me to speak-Be it so! (Seizes a sheet of paper, and speaks as if inspired.) Thus run the words of the book of Fate, touching Rudolph of Habsburg-Terribly roars the Lion of Habsburg, and shakes his mane! Germany's castles totter! Terribly roars the Lion of Habsburg, and shakes his mane! The rock-fortress of Hohenstauffen totters! Terribly roars the Lion of Habsburg and shakes his mane! The rock-fortress of Hohenstauffen falls in hideous ruin to the earth! The Lion of Habsburg is crowned! (He wipes the sweat drops from his brow.)

The consequence of this fearful vaticination is, that the Emperor, after consulting with the Abbot, resolves to send Rudolph and his brothers in arms, with a few hundred men, to combat the dissatisfied Lombards, trusting that he must fall in the unequal conflict. Rudolph, in spite of many hints from Manfred, accepts the command. In a parting scene with Anna, a mutual declaration of love takes place, and he receives from her a green scarf, which he swears shall float upon his banner's point in the hour of danger, whilst his battle cry shall be Anna! The first period closes with the departure of Rudolph and his small band, accompanied by Manfred, who disobeys his father's repeated or ders to desist from his purpose, in the hope that by sharing, he may diminish his friend's danger.

The second period begins with a long historical detail of Frederic the Second's political views, and particularly of his

Lombards, which we mention only to introduce the remark that RUDOLPH OF HABSBURG' is interspersed with narrative in a manner unusual in these GEMAHLDE,' and which would have prevented our selecting it as a sample of them, had we not thought a hero who has of late years been so agreeably introduced to the British Public by Coxe's HISTORY OF THE HOUSE OF AUSTRIA, likely to be considered a more interesting personage than Frederic with the Bitten Cheek, or any other old German, whose very name is unknown out of his own country.

The dramatic portion of the second period opens in the Palace of the Podestà of Milan, Pietro Tiepolo, and is formidably long; but tedious as it is, we fear we must extract a considerable part of this scene, both because it places Rudolph in a striking point of view, and because we should feel that we had not given our readers a just idea of the nature of the original, if we spared them all its tediousness. Besides, we suspect that much of the interest we confess to have found in it, is to be ascribed to the sort of reality which, like Richardson's Novels, it derives even from its wearisome prolixity. We are introduced into an assembly of noble Lombards, engaged in discussing their condition with regard to the Emperor. Some laugh at all apprehension of further danger from him, whom they consider as inextricably involved in German affairs. The Podestà endeavours to dispel this absolute security, and informs the company of the precautions he has taken against an invasion; every pass he has caused to be occupied and fortified, so as, in case of the worst, to render a surprise impossible. The other party are ridiculing such superfluous prudence, when a page announces Count Milo of Verona. The Podestà starts, orders him to be admitted, bids his friends prepare for bad news, since the appearance at Milan of the man appointed to defend the Tyroles frontier must be ominous, and receives the Count upon his entrance with the words, "Count Milo of Verona is welcome, but not his news-that is most displeasing."