tiful they washed my feet; they looked at the scars of my wounds; they were proud of me, for having been a soldier, and leaned on my arm as we went to church, before all the people, who were lingering in the sunny churchyard; and the good old man went before, looking oft back to see that we were near behind, accommodating his step to show that he too was one of the party, though he did his best to appear self-denied. son to be seen; so what could I do, but take the old bare-headed man on my back, and carry him to the village, which I knew was not far off. And there, God in heaven! who should I find him to be, but my own father! "To you, Stanley, I can say every thing which I dare whisper to my own heart; but this is a matter which even my own private bosom tries to eschew. It let-seems-it seems, that the unhappy old man is narrowhearted-a miser, as they term it here; and that for some low petty thefts he was subjected by some fellows of the village to the above ducking. I know well, Stanley, you will not despise me for all this, nor because I must now wear my own name of Crabbe, which I am determined, in justice to that unhappy old father, henceforth to do. On the contrary, you will only advise me well how to win upon his harder nature, and bring him round to more liberal habits. Listen to the following scheme of my own for the same purpose, which struck me one evening as I sat chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy,' beside the pool whence I rescued the poor old man. For indeed indeed, I must grapple with the realities of the moral evil, however painful or disgusting. That being is my father; and no one can tell how much his nature may have been warped and kept perverse, by the loss of the proper objects of natural affection: Is it not my bounden duty, then, to be found to him, and, by my constant presence, to open his heart, which has been too much constringed by his lonely situation? I shall hedge him round, in the first place, from insults: I shall live with him, in his own house, all at my expense; and our household economy shall be as liberal as my finances will permit: I shall give much money in charity, and make him the dispenser of it; for our best feelings are improved by outward practice: Whenever I may be honoured by an invitation to a good man's table, the slightest hint to bring him with me shall be taken advantage of; and he shall go, that the civilities of honourable men may help his self-respect, and thereby his virtue. Now, may God aid me in this moral experiment, to try it with discretion, to make the poor old man doubly mine own !" "After getting the clew, as mentioned in my last ter to you, I took a seat in the mail, which I was told would pass at a little distance from the village whither I was bound. Would to God I had set out the day before, that so I might have prevented a horrid thing! The coach was stopped for me at a little bridge, that I might get out; the village, about a mile off, was pointed out to me; and I was advised to follow a small footpath, which led along by a rivulet, as being the nearest way to the place in question. Twilight was now beginning to deepen among the elms that skirted the path into which I had struck; and in this softest hour of nature, I had no other thought than that I was drawing near a home of peace. I know not whether the glen which I was traversing could have roused such indescribable emotions within me, had I not guessed that scenes were before me which my childhood must have often seen; but every successive revelation of the pass up which I was going,-pool after pool ringed by night insects, and shot athwart on the surface by those unaccountable diverging lines, so fine, so rapid, which may be the sport too of invisible insects,-stream after stream, with its enamelled manes of cool green velvet, which anon twined themselves out of sight beneath the rooted brakes,-one shy green nook in the bank after another, overwaved by the long pensile boughs of trees, and fringed with many a fairy mass of blent wild flowers; -all these made me start, as at the melancholy recurrence of long-forgotten dreams: And when the blue heron rose from the stream where he had been wading, and with slow flagging wing crossed and re-crossed the water, and then went up the darkened valley to seek his lone haunt by the mountain spring, I was sure I had seen the very same scene, and the very same bird, some time in my life before. My dear Stanley, you cannot guess why I dwell so long on these circumstances! For it enters my very heart with anguish, to tell the moral contrast to my hopes, and to these peaceful accompaniments of outward nature. It must be told. Listen to what follows. "I had not walked more than a quarter of a mile up the valley, when I heard feeble cries for assistance, as of some one in the last extremity, drowning in the stream. I made what haste I could, and, on getting round a sloping headland of the bank, which shot forward to the edge of the rounding water, I found myself close upon a company of fellows, habited like Christmas mummers, apparently amusing themselves with the struggles of a person in the water, who, ever as he secured a footing, and got his head above, was again pushed down by his cruel assailants. I was upon them ere they were aware, and reached one fellow, who seemed particularly active, an excellent thwack with my ratan, from which, however, recovering, he took to his heels, followed by his associates. My next business was to relieve the object of their cruelty: but this was no easy task; for, being probably by this time quite exhausted, he had yielded to the current; and, ere I could reach hiin, was rolled down into a large black pool. He was on the point of sinking for ever, when I caught hold of him -good God! an old man!-by his grey hair, and hauled him out upon the bank, where he lay to all appearance quite dead. Using such means as were in my power to assist in restoring suspended animation, I succeeded so well, that ere long the poor old man showed symptoms of returning life. I looked round me in this emergency, but there was neither house nor living per 66 you "From this extract," said the young Englishman, carefully folding up his deceased friend's letter, will see something of the exalted nature of poor Ramsay-Crabbe, I should say, according to his own de. cided wish. I may here mention, that the death of the old man, which took place not many weeks after the above brutalities were inflicted upon him, and which, in all likelihood, was hastened by the unhappy infliction, never allowed his son to put in practice those noble institutes of moral discipline which he had devised, to repair and beautify the degraded fountain of his life. I doubt not that this miserable end of his old parent, and the sense of his own utter loneliness, in respect of kin dred, preyed upon the generous soldier, and helped to bring on that phrenzy of fever, which so soon turned his large-his noble heart, into dust and oblivion. Peace be with his ashes; and everlasting honour wait upon his name!-To-morrow morning, sir," continued the youth," I set out again for England, and I should like to bear your name along with me, coupled with the memory which shall never leave me, of your disinterested kindness towards my late friend. I talk little of thanks, for I hold you well repaid, by the consciousness of having done the last duties of humanity for a brave and good man." According to the Englishman's request, I gave him my name, and received his in return; and, shaking hands over the grave of poor Crabbe, we parted. "Good God!" said I to myself, as I left the churchyard," it appears, then, that at the very moment when this generous soldier was meditating a wise and moral plan to win his debased parent to honour and salvation, at that very moment I was allowing my heart to en tertain a groundless feeling of dislike to him." My second more pleasing reflection was, that this unmanly prejudice had easily given way. How could it less, under the awful presence of Death, who is the great apostle of human charity? Moreover, from the course of incidents above-mentioned, I have derived this important lesson for myself,-Never to allow a hasty opinion, drawn from a man's little peculiarities of manner or appearance, particularly from the features of his face, or the shape of his head, as explained by the low quackeries of Lavater and Spurzheim, to decide unfavourably against a man, who, for aught I truly know, may be worthy of unqualified esteem. FINE ARTS. A picture of this description, hanging alongside of a more chaste production, must of course materially injure it; and the ignorant public are ready to exclaim, "How the first picture kills the latter!" No doubt it does kill the latter; but the murderer of a true artist has no more merit than a washer woman would have were she to hang a white petticoat, with a red night cap pinned on it, alongside of a good picture, whereby the same process of annihilation would be effected. It is on this account that many a picture, which in a private room is replete with simple beauty and truth, is completely lost in an exhibition, and vice versa. But to proceed to the paintings themselves. The first which demands our notice is Wilkie's beautiful picture of the "Wedding," (we see no good reason for vulgarising it into the "Penny Wedding.") Here Wilkie stands pre-eminent in simple natural beauty, occupying a central station, independent of all around him; injuring none, by contrast, but gaining all by comparison. In gazing on it there is such a universal THE EIGHTH EXHIBITION OF MODERN PICTURES truth, that the mind becomes lost in a participation of AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION. (First Notice.) Ir gives us much pleasure to be able to assure our readers, that the collection of pictures, opened this season for public inspection at the Gallery of the Royal Institution, is at least equal to that exhibited on any former occasion. Both in portraits and in landscapes, the collection is strong, and calculated to reflect the highest credit on the rapidly advancing taste and talent of the artists of this country. Taking, as we do, a decided interest in the subject of painting, and being confident that it must be felt to be particularly worthy of attention at the present moment, we shall make no attempt to huddle all our opinions, upon two hundred and ninety works of art, into one or two hasty articles, but shall revert to this topic every Saturday for some time to come. We thus hope to avoid the fallacious notions which the first view of pictures is very apt to give, by reserving sufficient time to mature our own sentiments, and to collect those of others. We should wish it also to be borne in mind, that by criticism, we do not mean fault-finding, which we consider the least important part of a well-written article on the Fine Arts; for we have always remarked the difference between a real judge and a would-be judge, to be, that the real judge points out beauties, the would-be judge seeks for faults. Besides, there is, after all, no criticism so severe as silence. the very feelings of the beings represented. Not only is every figure, and every action, and every detailed part, given with the most beautiful and interesting accuracy, but over the whole scene there is a tone of reality which pervades the very atmosphere. The principal figures which attract the attention are the bride and bridegroom. The latter is an honest, healthy, unassuming young fellow, and he leads forth his bride, who is a perfect specimen of what a Scotch country girl should be, with all the rustic happiness which his situa tion inspires. The figure of a young female, attached to this group, who is probably bride's-maid, is eminently beautiful. She is in the act of stooping to draw up the heel of her shoe, thus forming the base of the group-and throwing herself into one of the most perfectly graceful attitudes that can be conceived. How well and faithfully her beautiful arm is painted, possessing the strength which we would expect to find in one accustomed to labour, but retaining the grace and form of perfect symmetry! In the centre of the picture is a group of dancers, beautifully drawn and delicately coloured. Eyeing them with great complacency and selfsatisfaction, is a most respectable-looking dame-probably the mother of one of the group; her countenance is quite delightful. A little girl on the left, in a richlycoloured dress, is full of life and nature. Nor must we forget the exquisite country bumpkin, who is pulling on a glove over one of his paws as he prepares to dance, and is, at the same time, gazing, with an expression of countenance no one ever painted but Wilkie-so rich, sly, and peculiar on the maiden destined to be his partner. In the distance, are a great variety of figures dif. ferently occupied-all finely drawn and coloured. The countenances are almost all remarkable for expression; but among them will be found the head of an old piper, which is very striking. To attempt to point out all the beauties of this picture would far exceed our limits; but, before leaving it, we would wish to attract attention to the simple tone of nature which pervades it, hoping that some of the young artists will learn from it, that strength of effect does not require gaudiness of colouring. Before noticing any of the pictures individually, it is proper to observe, that the principal room at the Royal Institution, from its great size and height, and from the manner in which the light comes into it, is very ill adapted for showing good pictures to the best advantage. This is a circumstance calculated eventually to do great injury to the national school, as pictures must be painted up to a glaring effect to stand their ground; and even those artists who would naturally choose to be more simple, chaste, and true in their colouring, will be compelled at last, in self-defence, to make their style more gaudy, lest the whole colour should be taken from their pictures, by the strong con- The next artist, to whom we turn with great pleasure, trasts of white and red that surround them. Young is William Allan, R.A., the early companion and fellowartists and unlearned amateurs are too apt to mistake student of Wilkie. The exquisitely beautiful little picgaudiness of colouring for brilliancy of effect. Rem-ture of the death of the Regent Murray, which he has brandt might read them a lesson on this subject: his effects were magical for strength and richness, but his means were generally a little dirty white and asphaltum. Yet it would appear that the great ambition among our young, and some of our old artists, is to try who can introduce most colours in one canvass. One gentleman this year has as much pure white and red in his pictures, as would paint all the railings in George's street. exhibited, is the original sketch, finished up, of the large picture of the same subject purchased by the Duke of Bedford. The subject chosen by the artist is the moment when the Regent is shot from a window by Hamilton of Boswelhaugh. The splendid cavalcade that surrounded the Regent is suddenly arrested by the terrific death of their chief, as he rode before them in almost royal splendour. The noblemen ncarest him seem pe trified with astonishment; and among them stands, with uplifted hands, a striking figure of the celebrated John Knox. A Highland attendant supports the dying Regent, whilst two more are in the act of approaching to his assistance. On the right, a group of terrified females are rushing up a stair; whilst on the left, in shadow, a group of soldiers are employed in breaking open a door with their halberts, and other weapons; above, is a window hung with a black curtain, which indicates the spot from whence the deed was committed. The story is admirably told; every figure and every countenance strongly indicates its feelings, and the whole scene is full of life and animation. Whether we consider the beauty of this picture as a piece of colouring, or the truth and grace of its drawing and composition, or the admirable representation of a scene so fraught with deep interest,-we may safely pronounce it to be one of the most enviable and beautiful works that ever came from the artist's gifted pencil, and one which is an honour to our national school.-Mr Allan has another very sweetly-painted picture, taken from the Gentle Shepherd. The female is exceedingly beautiful in drawing and colouring; but she is too delicate, too lady-like, and too lovely for a Scotch milk-maid. We can easily forgive the artist, however, for this error, although we cannot help thinking, that one of the principal charms of pastoral painting, like pastoral poetry, is simple truth to nature in its most agreeable form;and we are disposed to consider Mr Allan's conceptions of female loveliness, which are formed on the beau ideal of Circassian beauty, too vivid and too exquisite for the representation of the more marketable materiel of a Lowland lass. We rejoice to see the very striking improvement in the portraits of Mr Watson Gordon, an artist whose talents we have always admired, and whom we shall notice more particularly in our next. We shall speak also very soon of some fine pictures by the Rev. Mr Thompson, J. F. Williams, G. Simson, and many others. ORIGINAL POETRY. SONG, Written for Burns's Anniversary, 1829. THERE'S nae bard to charm us now, Can sing a sang to nature true, The simple harp o' earlier days And modern art, wi' tuneless lays, Frae pauky Coila wins a smile, His hamely style let Fashion spurn— For nae sang sic pathos speaks, And Fashion's foreign rants and squeaks Her far-fetch'd figures aye maun fail, And nae modern minstrel's lay, Sae powerfully the heart can sway For o'er his numbers Coila's Muse And nae wreath that e'er was seen, Will bloom sae lang's the holly green Let Erin's minstrel, Tammy Moore, 'Twad lend his harp a higher power, For nae harp has yet been kent, To match the harp by Coila lent And though our Shepherd, Jamie Hogg, It ne'er will charm auld Scotland's lug For nae pipe will Jamie tune, Nae pipe ava, Like that which breathed by "Bonnie Doon," Even Scotland's pride, Sir Walter Scott, Who boldly strikes the lyre, Maun yield to Robin's sweet love-note, For nae bard hath ever sung, LITERARY CRITICISM. The Life and Times of William Laud, D. D., Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. By John Parker Lawson, M. A. In Two Volumes. London; C. and F. Rivington. 1829. 8vo, Pp. 592 and 546. THIS is a work which will be more popular in England than in Scotland, but which every reader must acknowledge to be remarkable for its research and learning, and justly entitled to claim for its author no small consideration, both from the general scholar and student of history, and more especially from all zealous and faithful members of the Episcopal Church. It is devoted to a very circumstantial account of the life and times of the great champion of Episcopacy, during the troublous period that preceded the establishment of the Commonwealth, when the Church of England was invaded by the machinations of Popery on the one hand, and the still bitterer enmity of Calvinistic bigotry on the other. The storm began to gather shortly after the accession of James VI., but it was not till Charles I. came to the throne that Laud, although his talents had attracted considerable attention during the previous reign, assumed that pre-eminent position in church and state, which drew upon him the regards of the whole nation, and which has indelibly interwoven his name with the history of his country. The character of Charles involves that of all his ministers; and as that monarch's unhappy fate, together with the extraordinary events which preceded and followed it, have been invariably represented in the most opposite lights according to the different political and religious sentiments of those who have undertaken to write concerning them, so have all those who shared his counsels been either subjected to unlimited obloquy, or vindicated from every reproach, appealed to as patriots, and canonized as martyrs. Questions, so vitally connected both with the theory and practice of the British Constitution, arise out of the memorable occurrences which took place between the years 1625 and 1688, that even to this day it appears impossible to regard them merely as historical incidents, which are now past, and concerning which we can at length reason with calm impartiality. They are felt, on the contrary, to be of that nature, which, in the revolution of years, and considering the mutability of all human affairs, may,we perhaps should say must, occur again; and, this being the case, the questions arising out of them continue to be felt as involving personal rights and privileges even now. According, therefore, to the preconceived opinions we may have formed regarding civil and ecclesiastical government, are our decisions upon the agitating events of the seventeenth century. Hence, instead of appealing to any great and common standard of moral right and wrong, every one's sentiments regarding them are regulated by his own private views, his own party prejudices, and his own limited information. This is an evil which is to be regretted; but in all matters which appear more immediately connected with our own interests it is inevitable. In intimating that Mr Lawson's work is decidedly of a controversial nature, and professedly written, like all other controversial works, for the purpose of espousing one side of the question in preference to the other, we would by no means be thought to imply that its plan was injudicious, or its object erroneous. Pure history ought probably to be only a simple narration of facts, but wherever either the facts themselves, or the inferences to be drawn from them, are contested, we are glad to see able writers springing up on both sides; and let time ultimately decide which is in the right. Were we to enter at present into even a superficial examination of the numerous doctrines and arguments advanced in the book before us in support of its author's peculiar set of tenets, we should far exceed the space we can command, and be led into discussions altogether foreign from our purpose. We may mention, however, generally, that Mr Lawson throughout is the avowed and determined champion not only of Episcopacy, but of all those high Church and old Tory principles which were so grievously detested by the Puritans, which the Scotch Covenanters hated as they did Popery itself, and to put an end to which, Charles' head was struck off on the scaffold. The life of Archbishop Laud, if we except its tragical conclusion, was in nowise intrinsically remarkable or materially different from that of any other churchman; but, as that dignitary was the head and organ of a particular party, it may be advantageously used as the peg upon which to hang an account of all the doings of that party. It was with this design that our author entered upon his task, and while he was anxious to rescue the memory of Laud from much of the odium that has been cast upon it, he had also in view the more comprehensive object of defending, in every particular in which they had been attacked, the institutions of the Church of England, as originally established by Cran mer, Latimer, and others. In pursuing this plan, it is not to be concealed that Mr Lawson's zeal occasionally travels faster than his judgment, and that he sometimes attempts to defend error or to palliate injustice, however hopeless that defence may be. We like a sincere partisan, and we can even forgive him for being carried too far; but it would not become us to allow such faults in a work of this description to pass unnoticed. We do not allude to any of the more notable subjects of dispute between the high Church party and the Puritans, or between the cavaliers and the roundheads, for, as w do not at present propose entering the lists ourselves, it would be unfair to pass any sweeping censure either upon one side or the other. But we may, nevertheless, be allowed to remark, that a writer may err in a very obstinate determination to go through thick and thin in support of his own party; and, by an anxiety to carry all points, however doubtful, may throw suspicion even upon his sounder and far more unexceptionable reasonings. We suspect this is Mr Lawson's predicament in a good many instances. The more violent of the Scotch Presbyterians will tell him that it is his predicament in almost every page of his work; for what mercy can he expect from their hands, after the contemptuous and depreciating manner in which he so boldly talks of the venerated Lords of the Covenant, treating them invariably as rebels, fanatics, and knaves? Some of his English and Episcopalian friends, on the other hand, and it was their good opinion, of course, that Mr Lawson (being himself an Episcopalian, and aspirant for some of the rich benefices of that church) was most anxious to gain, will tell him, we doubt not, that they can discover no false colouring any where in his volumes, and that he has only to go on in future works in the same manner as he has commenced in this. Mr Lawson has good sense enough to know that truth commonly lies between two extremes; and as we take to ourselves the credit of being more moderately inclined than either of the parties we have mentioned, he will perhaps allow us simply to name, without engaging in any argument, one or two of those instances in which we think he has gone too far. Mr Lawson is of opinion, 1st, That Charles " can be justified" for determining to impose a tax upon the nation without the consent of Parliament. He admits that the proceeding was altogether "unconstitutional," and "unquestionably against the principles of the monarchy;" yet he enters into a pretty long argument, to prove that it was justifiable. This to us appears somewhat contradictory.-(See vol. I. p. 331, et seq.) Mr Lawson is of opinion, 2dly, That the sermons delivered by Dr Sibthorpe and Dr Manwaring, in which they inculcated passive obedience and non-resistance, are justifiable, although contrary to the spirit of the British constitution, because, as he attempts to prove, they have the united voice of antiquity, and of the primitive church, in their favour.(See vol. I. p. 363, et seq.) Mr Lawson is of opinion, 3dly, That Charles I., so far from having the most distant wish to stretch his prerogatives beyond their due limits, was all "gentleness, clemency, religion, and grateful affection towards his servants" yet, immediately after making this statement, he informs us that the King resolved to punish Archbishop Abbot for his contumacy, in refusing to license Dr Sibthorpe's sermon, in which that preacher had inculcated passive obedience and non-resistance; and this, with all deference to Mr Lawson, we think another contradiction. (See vol. I. p. 366 and 368.) Mr Lawson is of opinion, 4thly, That in the elevation of Archbishop Laud to the situation of prime minister, there was nothing incompatible, either with sound constitutional principles, or with the injunctions of Christianity, arguing farther, that a civil administration of so engrossing a kind, by an ecclesiastic, is not incompatible with his spiritual office,-a very comfortable, but surely a very heterodox doctrine.-(See vol. I. p. 484, et seq.) Mr Lawson is of opinion, 5thly, That it is solely to "the amiable and humane disposition" of Charles, that all the disturbances, which attended the introduction of the Solemn League and Covenant into Scotland, are to be attributed; and that, as soon as any religious scruples were started against the liturgy, and the establishment of Episcopacy, severe punishments, supported by a strong military force, should immediately have been inflicted on all such "refractory zealots,”- -a very priestly, but not a very tolerant doctrine.(See vol. II. p. 251.) Mr Lawson is of opinion, 6thly, That the monarch's " generous purposes" towards Scotland were "frustrated by fanatics," and that "no guilt could be greater than that of the Covenanters," whose harangues and writings he denounces as a mixture of" blasphemy, folly, and obscenity,"—thus betraying no small portion of party feeling, in giving such unbounded praise to one side, and denying so entirely all merit to the other. Many more instances might be adduced, to show the uncompromising spirit in which Mr Lawson has written; but as he doubtless weighed well the consequences before he thus committed himself, and in adopting this very high tone, had his own objects in view, we shall leave him to all the benefits he may derive from promulgating such opinions, and gladly turn to the more agreeable duty of expressing our very favourable conviction of the author's learning, industry, and intellectual vigour. No slight labour was necessary, before all the materials of so voluminous a work could be properly arranged. They who are not altogether ignorant of the careful and extensive research necessary to the production of any historical work, will be at once convinced, by the perusal of that of Mr Lawson, of the time and toil he must have bestowed upon it; whilst the mere general reader will form some more adequate ideas on the subject, when he is informed, in the words of the author, that "besides the MSS. preserved in publie libraries, he consulted upwards of three hundred works, exclusive of numerous biographies, and general histories of recent date ;" and from this number, more than two hundred are cited in the volumes. Whatever opinion, therefore, may be entertained of the soundness of Mr Lawson's political and theological sentiments, they cannot be regarded as either superficial, or hastily formed, and will, no doubt, be acknowledged in many quarters as carrying with them more than ordinary weight and authority. Nor is Mr Lawson a mere compiler or scholastic bookworm; he thinks boldly and independently, and his style is always plain and distinct often vigorous and elegant. He is as yet a young author, this being his first avowed production, though his shorter lives of Wishart and of the Regent Murray have previously attracted some attention. We now feel confident of Mr Lawson's future success, from the high station he has at once taken as a controversialist; and we are quite sure that the Church to which he belongs, and for which he has fought so manfully, will not long overlook so able and zealous a defender. It is time to give our readers an opportunity of forming their own judgment on a few of the more remarkable passages in Mr Lawson's work. Our two first extracts shall be of a theological character; our third political; our fourth somewhat national and local; and our fifth simply descriptive and historical. We suspect not a few of our readers, on this side the Tweed, will peruse the following with considerable surprise: CALVINISM versus EPISCOPACY. "After the English Reformation of religion, notions had been entertained by many persons in the Church, not only subversive of its constitution, but highly detrimental to the safety and well-being of the state. The discipline of Geneva, and the doctrine of expediency, as laid down by John Calvin, who has the merit, if merit it be, of contriving and introducing a new system of ecclesiastical polity, and who, moreover, has the still more questionable merit of discovering, in the sacred Scriptures, certain doctrines which exhibit the Deity not in the most favourable light, as he himself was forced to confess, when, with grief, he admits it to be an horribile decretum:-this discipline had led many astray from the maxims of primitive truth and order; and the notions of expediency as to the Church and its visibi lity, had engendered a lamentable callousness towards that very Church of which they all professed to be sincere members. Forgetting that the Church of Christ is one and undivided, forgetting that the Saviour himself declared, my kingdom is not of this world,' and forgetting, too, that this union is not solely a spiri tual union, composed at the same time of outward heterogeneous masses, but is, in truth, both a spiritual and a |