be no need for the erection of a Maypole in the beautiful village above alluded to. Nature has erected one, the most splendid and gorgeous that was ever danced round by shepherdesses or by fairies; and the chill of the year seems to have had no effect in repressing its almost supernatural glory. It is a sycamore tree, of a very peculiar kind, which, in its first bursting into foliage, seems to be one mass of the most living gold, and throws off the sunbeams in dyes the most accordant to the source of light from which they come, and to the delicate season of young and dancing leaves. Different places are remarkable for their different beauties; but I will venture to say there is no such tree to be seen as this sycamore-not for its size, though that is venerable-nor for its form, though that is symmetrical and complete-but for that tinge of glory which sits upon it, and which seems almost to belong to a brighter world. There is nothing, indeed, so sacred or so marvellous which I could not imagine it to represent. It might be the tree of good and evil in the midst of the primeval Paradise-or it might bear the golden fruit in the garden of the Hesperides-or it might produce the golden boughs which were borne as gifts to Proser. pine by those who were favoured with the permission to descend into the lower regions. There is almost in its aspect an appearance of life and intelligence; and I should be afraid to pluck a branch from it, lest drops of blood and a human voice should follow from the wound. It is around its sacred trunk that I would have the youths and the maidens of the village to assemble, and carol songs expressive of the pure affections of the heart, and join in the dances of gaiety and innocence.

I know I may be thought an enthusiast in my hopes of the improvement of the world; but we shall see. "In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out, and see her riches, and parake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth." So says the greatest, perhaps, of poets, and one of the noblestminded of men. But as these vernal seasons, we see, often do not return to us without much check and disappointment, we must, even if we would enjoy them, walk by faith as well as by sight; and it is only carrythe same faith a little farther, to throw off a still worse "sullenness," and to "partake in the rejoicing with heaven and earth," not only of that material nature which lies around us, but of that high and spiritual nature which is every where concealed under the "human form divine."

Corstorphine, May 9, 1829.

THE TWO PAINTERS OF GENOA.

By Derwent Conway, Author of "Solitary Walks through many Lands," "Personal Narrative of a Tour through Norway, Sweden, and Denmark," &c.

EVERY traveller who has made the round of Genoa, and who has been conducted by his cicerone through the Palazzo di Serra, must have observed, at the top of the great staircase, two pictures,-both, evidently, of the same lady, and both, as obviously, caricatures. The following may be supposed to be the origin of this singular circumstance.

Old Bandalino, the rich goldsmith of Genoa, died some few years after that city had been delivered, by Doria, from the difficulties in which it had been involved through the silly quarrels of Charles V. and Francis I., and when the fine arts had sprung into new, though but transient life, under the invigorating influence of freedom, and the shelter of a Durazzo and a Serra. Bandalino was prouder of being an artist than if he had inherited the highest order of nobility; and when, upon

• Milton.

her nineteenth birth-day, the lovely Giulietta became the sole possessor of her father's wealth, and the richest as well as the handsomest woman in Genoa, she found the possession clogged with the unwelcome condition, that, within one year, she should become the wife of an artist.

Giulietta, although surrounded by every luxury,though her house might have been called a palazzo, from the excellence of its architecture, the richness of its decorations and sculptured vases, and statues and fountains that adorned the inner courts,-though she had her sedan chair, and her running footmen,-yet Giuli etta fretted unceasingly, on account of the hard condition by which the enjoyment of her inheritance was fettered; not because the lovely Genoese found her secret wishes thwarted by the condition, nor because she felt any unconquerable aversion to the holy state of matrimony, but because she disliked any dictation in a matter of this kind. Time passed on, and the condition was as far from fulfilment as ever. Had Giulietta been of a different temperament, she would have spurned the riches which were to be secured only by compliance with so arbitrary a command; and would have permitted her uncle, Valetti, who already began to look scrutinizingly at his niece's possessions, to take them all; but such was not Giulietta's disposition. She was proud of living in a house like a palazzo,-proud of her gallery of sculpture and painting,-and proud of all that distinguished her from the daughter of a plebeian; and, therefore, Giulietta was firmly resolved to fulfil the condition upon which alone these distinctions depended. One con. solation, indeed, the fair Genoese possessed-she had a choice of artists; for it may easily be believed, that no sooner were the terms upon which she inherited Bandalino's riches known, than all the artists of Genoa were at her feet. Many times did the noble Marquis di Serra, the patron and friend of her father, and himself a painter of no mean note, condescend to advise with Signora Giulietta, and to recommend the speedy adoption of the only one of the two alternatives which would put her in the possession of her father's wealth. Save Farenzi or Castello, there was no artist in Genoa upon whom the choice of Giulietta could possibly have fallen : she loved neither; and, as the claims of both to excellence in the arts were reputed to be equal, she declared her intention of bestowing her hand upon him who should paint the best portrait of her; and it was commanded that the portrait should be presented at the Palazzo di Serra on the morning of her twentieth birth-day-precisely one year from the death of Bandalino-and that judgment should be pronounced by the Marquis, who was the first amateur artist in Genoa.-Pass we now to the studio of Farenzi.

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it was announced to him that Signor Valetti was in the "How intolerable an interruption," said Farenzi, as ante-chamber. Farenzi was sitting in his studio, contemplating a picture which he had just placed in the most advantageous light; it was the face and bust of a young female, and the finishing touch of the painter was yet wet upon the thick tresses that veiled her bosom. Farenzi hastily turned the picture, and desired that Va letti should be admitted. How now ?" said Valetti, as he entered; to-morrow the birth-day of the Signora Giulietta, and where is thy painting ?”—“ The picture is ready," replied Farenzi. "And so is thy rival's," re turned Valetti. "I have but now left him; he had just thrown down his brush; it is a choice picture, Farenzi;-but show me thine An excellent picture,” said Valetti," a most excellent picture; but"not equal to Castello's, you would say."-"Equalnay, superior to his," continued Valetti; "but not so likely to please her for whom it is designed :-Castello's is the portrait of a more beautiful countenance." A pause ensued, both continuing to look at the picture. "I was almost so much your friend," resumed Valetti,

"But

"as to wish, a few moments ago, that I had your rival's picture under my brush for one second, and I would spoil that angelic smile which hovers round her lips-I'd make a caricature of my niece."-" Would that you had !" said Farenzi. 66 Nay," returned Valetti,that is your business, not mine; but Castello sups with me to-night, I have got some Greek wine that will hardly let him leave me till after midnight,all will be still at eleven,and you know the way to his apartments." Valetti took his leave, and a squeeze of the hand showed him that his hint should not pass disregarded. When he was gone, Farenzi continued to ruminate upon what had passed. Valetti he knew to be one of the greatest rogues in Genoa; but he was unable to discover how roguery could in this matter advantage him:-true, he was Giulietta's uncle, and, consequently, her heir, in case of her not fulfilling the condition upon which she inherited her father's possessions; but it was impossible to imagine how he could be influenced by sinister motives in his professions of friendship for one of the rivals for the hand of his niece, since the success of the other would be equally fatal to his own wishes.

Not many minutes after Valetti left Farenzi, he presented himself at the studio of Castello, whom he found employed nearly in the manner he had represented to his rival."Ah! Castello," said he, " you may burn your brushes when you please, Farenzi will carry off my niece."-"Have you seen his picture?" demanded Castello. "It is Giulietta herself," returned Valetti; "it is Giulietta herselt; your picture," continued he, turning to look at Castello's work, "is the portrait of a pretty woman, but it is not my niece; her eyes, Castello, it is there that Farenzi has shown his skill. So truly am I your friend," added he, taking Castello by the hand, and throwing into his countenance an expression of sorrow," that since I know I cannot myself inherit my niece's estates, there is no man in Genoa whom I would more willingly see in my place :_even now, when Farenzi left me for a few moments, I was almost tempted to take up his brush, and make a caricature of my niece."-" There is then no remedy," said Castello. "There is nothing without a remedy," replied Valetti, "so as we have but courage to attempt it."-" Show me how," returned Castello, “and I will prove to you I know how to estimate a kindness.""Farenzi sups with me to-night; it is only vaulting over his garden wall, when the clocks strike eleven, for he will scarcely leave me till midnight; it is full moon, and the picture cannot be mistaken. Nine, tomorrow morning, is the hour appointed by the Marquis; and the discovery and the hour will arrive together.""At eleven, then, Farenzi will be absent ?"-" Even so," said Valetti, as he left the room.

As eleven tolled from the church Dell Annunciada, Farenzi and Castello stole softly, each towards his rival's dwelling. Valetti had posted himself in a convenient place, to enjoy the success of his stratagem, and, soon after, he saw the two artists, muffled up, pass each other, and in a little while return. It was now almost midnight, and Farenzi and Castello, each satisfied in his own mind that he had made a caricature of his rival's performance, and secured his own success, threw himself upon his bed, having first neatly folded up his own picture by the light of the moon, to be ready against morning. It so happened, that both the artists slept until it was almost time to present themselves before the Marquis, and hurrying on their doublets, and taking the pictures under their arms, they hastened to the Palazzo di Serra. The rivals were admitted, the Marquis was seated with Giulietta at his right hand, and the priest, who was to unite her to the successful candidate, on his left. The artists unfolded the pictures, and presented them to the judge. "What! villains," said he, the moment he cast his eyes upon them,

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you in league to insult my protegé, the Lady Giulietta, by caricaturing her ?" at the same time turning the pictures to the astonished painters. The artists looked at the pictures, then at the Marquis,-then at Giulietta, -and then at each other, and almost at the same instant, the truth flashed upon them both-that each had in his turn been made the dupe of Valetti. The Marquis listened to the detail, and then spoke as follows:— You," said he, addressing the two painters, "have proved yourselves unworthy of this prize, by having endeavoured to gain it by dishonest means. As for Valetti, his claim I defeat thus :" and, taking Giulietta by the hand, he led the way to the chapel, where all was already prepared for the nuptial ceremony. And so, the two painters were punished for their meanness,-Valetti got nothing by his cunning,-Giulietta respected her father's will, and, if the Marquis married only a goldsmith's daughter, he got the goldsmith's fortune along with her, and the prettiest woman in Genoa to boot.

JANET AND THE CATHOLICS;

OR, THE " ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM." A NITHSDALE ANECDOTE.

By Dr Gillespie.

IT has frequently been observed, that our Scottish peasantry are possessed of a natural sagacity, which often places them, in matters of common-sense, more than upon a level with the upper ranks of society. Of this observation, the following anecdote may serve as an illustration.

All Scotland is aware of the existence of the once noble, and, we earnestly hope, soon again to be ennobled, family of Nithsdale. The Maxwells of Munshics are the representatives of this family, and, with a consistency which does them credit, continue still to adhere to the long persecuted, but now happily emancipated, religion of their fathers,-to that religion in the faith of which Lady Winnifred Nithsdale lived and died, who, with a presence of mind, and a talent almost unequalled in the annals of affection, rescued her husband, after the rebellion of fifteen, from the Tower of London.

Almost 40 or 50 years ago, a poor widow woman tenanted a small cottage, which she held of the laird, through the agency of his factor. This poor woman had seen better days, but her daughter had been decoyed into matrimony, misery, and death, by an Irish drover; and her eldest son, who succeeded to his father's lease of a good farm, had lost himself in that sloughof despond, cautionry. The second son had gone to bed in a sloop, which rode at Arbigland quay; but never rose again, as a Solway spring-tide laid the vessel during the night on her beam-ends, and she immediately filled, so that all hands perished. The poor woman, at an advanced age, and from the circumstance of her husband's having rented for some years a farm of Munshies, was permitted to remove to a remote cottage, where she had a kail-yard and a cow's grass allotted to her. The once young, sprightly, and playful Janet, had gradually ripened into the careful, charitable, and even gash gude. wife, and was now destined to settle down in her twilight of being into the hooded, staff-supported, yet still sagacious Janet. Old Janet was known to every body, and kind to every body, and, as she often expressed it herself, every body was kind to old Janet of the Divet Knowe.

There are, and were, a great many loose characters in that neighbourhood, owing principally to the travelling Irish, dealers in cattle; but whether it was, that the story of her daughter's unfortunate marriage was generally known amongst them, and consequently had its influence, or that they were naturally unwilling to commit depredations upon a being at once so esteemed and so helpless, these ragamuffins lighted their pipe at Janet's turf, dried their habiliments, rested their travel

wearied limbs, and departed with blessings on their lips 66 to the kind auld body" that harmed no one. Matters went on in this smooth and comfortable way with Janet, from year to year, without any further crooks in her lot, except what arose from disappointment, when a rainy Sabbath prevented her attending the preachings during the occasion. For it must be told, not less to the credit of Janet, than to that of her liberal and generous landlord, that though both were steady and even zealous in their several creeds, yet that neither molested nor traduced the other. The laird would pass Janet on Sabbath, as she travelled, under her tartan plaid and platted toy, with a bent back and a tottering step, churchwards, and receive her acknowledgment with a smile as benignant as if Janet had been on her way, with others of his household, to her mass, or worship of the Virgin.

The factor, however, as is not unfrequently the case, was a man of a kidney somewhat different from his lord. Janet's devotedness to her own faith appeared to him as a daily impeachment of his, and of his master's, during a season when Catholic chapels were burnt in Edinburgh, and Popish riots got up in London. Instead, therefore, of consulting his superior on so trifling an affair, this man of zeal and parchment took upon himself to warn Janet's cow from her free pasturage in the moss, against the ensuing term. To Janet, her cow was her all. What did all her weekly earnings at the big and the wee wheel amount to, in comparison with the subsistence which she drew from her sweet and kirned milk, her orra cheese and pound of butter, which always brought about a halfpenny a-pound above the market price? To take Janet's cow from her, and leave her her house, was a kind of cruel mockery; it was only giving her the means of protracted starvation. Accordingly, Janet's staff was not idle for many days, weeks, and months, in her visits to the cottage, or factor's house, which was hard by. The factor, however, was inexorable, though polite to excess. He was sorry-extremely sorry; but really, during these times, one could not be too cautious, and Janet's house was one of frequent meetings, Protestant prayer-meetings, and the grand cause was evil spoken of; and burnings, and headings, and hangings, for conscience sake, were fast returning in high places; and, in short, Janet's cow, like the gudeman's mother, was somehow always in the road, a great encumbrance, and a drawback on the letting of the farm; and-and-in short, the factor was engaged-sorry he could not remain any longer, and must wish her a very good morning.

Janet's sagacity, and trust in her God, and, with all reverence be it said, in her earthly lord, did not even here desert her. She dressed herself in her Sabbath, nay, even her sacramental attire, in that very beautifully striped and spotted gown in which she had been married, and away she set, making a slow haste towards "the Place," which stood at a distance of some miles. She arrived, unfortunately, on the day of a Roman Catholic festival-a day on which the Virgin in particular was supplicated. Not one of the servants, as is usual on such occasions, would admit "a heretic" within the walls of the building; and Janet had the mortification to find, that the very dogs had taken up their master's cause, and, unlike some dogs of the present time, were decidedly anti-Protestant. As good fortune, however, would have it,-and good fortune is at all times a welcome and a valuable friend,-Janet chanced to catch a glance of his honour, as he passed from one door to another. Her cough of arrestnient was effective. His honour halted, looked round, and observing Janet, waved her out of his presence; but Janet understood her Bible and her interest better than to yield to one repulse. She took her seat, therefore, on the stairway, laid her fellowtraveller and support alongside of her, and, looking up

puppy factor, whose name was Crichton, and whom his master had unwittingly spoiled on account of his real or pretended religious zeal, assailed Janet with abuse, and, laying violent hands upon her person, had actually threatened to thrust her down stairs by brute force, when Janet, who abhorred Crichton, seizing her staff, and facing boldly her antagonist, cautioned him to stand off, for if he presumed to lay an unhallowed hand upon her, or so much as touch her with his wee finger, not all the saints he impiously worshipped should be able to save him from her vengeance. The dogs, who generally take an interest in jarring and discordant noises, were immediately aroused, and the whole inner court rung to their challenge. His honour, luckily for Janet, re-appeared, and, after having fathomed the nature of the disturbance, and dismissed the factor with token of disapprobation, heard and granted Janet's petition, inviting her, at the same time, through the intermediate hall into the kitchen, to receive some refreshment.

As Janet passed along, her eye was arrested by an image of the Virgin Mary, which overspread a table or altar at 'the upper extremity of the room. Janet's spirits were up, and consequently her courage was proportionally elevated; she ventured to arrest his honour's attention, by an enquiry into the character and purpose of the image before her. "That," said the Maxwell, "is the Virgin Mary, to whom we Catholics pray that she may be pleased to intercede for us with her son.""An what for dinna ye gang to the fountain head at ance ?" responded Janet instantly, and in a tone of decided reproach, mixed with pity.I'll tell your honour how it fared wi' mysell, in a case ye ken o'. I gade lang and dreich to that vile creature Crichton, but I might as well hae bidden at hame; he neither had the power nor the wish to serve me; but, whenever I applied to your honour, the thing was dune at ance. Na, na, ye maun see himsell if ye wish to be served."

HUMBUG.

By John Malcolm, Author of " The Buccaneer," "Tales of Field and Flood," &c.

DR JOHNSON defines humbug to signify imposition -an explanation which does not convey the proper meaning of the word. Humbug bears the same relation to imposition that compliment does to falsehood; it is a kind of delicate deception, affording pleasure both to its author and its object. To the latter, because happiness consists in being well deceived; and to the former, because it excites the flattering consciousness of superior sagacity, thereby producing a self-complacent internal chuckle, usually expressed by the phrase, “laughing in the sleeve." It moreover affords a delightful seasoning to many of our most refined pleasures, to which it stands in the relation of curry to rice-giving a high relish to what would otherwise be rather insipid. But perhaps my meaning will be better understood by stating a case or two in point.

I believe most people will allow, that there are few pleasanter things than a bottle of prime Champagne, shared with a friend on a sultry summer evening; but how much is the enjoyment heightened if you have been enabled to enjoy the ethereal draught at a trifling expense, in consequence of having gulled the gentlemen of the excise.

Without humbug, society could not exist in its present polished state. What, for instance, would become of those arts and sciences which have for their object the repair and improvement of the human body-the subject of humbug from top to toe ?-for what are Macassor oil and corn-plaster? Can the latter pluck from our toes" a rooted sorrow," or the former retain the hair upon our heads when disposed to take its leave ?-alas, no! the corns will remain, and the hair will drop away; and the only certain cure for baldness, after all, will be found in that old hackneyed thing-a wig. And what is phrenology-founded upon bumps and bones-itself a bone of contention?-what, but a tiresome, fantastic, impudent, and superannuated humbug.

And now a word or two upon medicine. When last in London, I observed in several of the principal streets, and especially the Strand, numbers of slow-marching pedestrians, bearing aloft large and signpost-looking boards, whereon was placarded in large letters, "Dr Eady;" then followed the name of the street, and the No. of the house where that great man resided; and last, to make assurance doubly sure, but printed in very small type, (as if the information was meant to be conveyed in a whisper,) were the words, "first door round the corner."

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Struck with the unpretending character of this announcement,-Admirable man !—thought I—but born in too late an age of the world, and fallen on evil days;" thy excessive modesty will never do-thou dost not tell us in what thy great excellence consists, and what diseases are the peculiar object of thy care. Dr Solomon proclaimed the name and nature of his genial restorative to the very ends of the earth; but, unlike him of the Balm, thou boastest of no universal panacea, efficacious alike in consumption and inflammation! Thou blazonest forth no list of cures, vouched by the names of thy grateful and renovated patients, such as cluster like a cloud of witnesses around the panegyrics on the Balm. In this age of obtrusive quackery and pretension, thy retiring modesty will be allowed to blush in the shade, unnoticed and unknown. Seldom wilt thou feel pulses or pocket fees-save when, perchance, some luckless wight, pining with secret ails which, like maiden's love, have been rankling unrevealedwooed by the nature of thy announcement, and the silence and secrecy connected with the idea of first door round the corner," makes a pilgrimage to thy temple of health, and seeks, at thy hands, a relief to his sor

rows.

Having thus soliloquized myself into feelings of veneration for the doctor, I had almost made up my mind to obtain the honour of his acquaintance, although I saw no other way of accomplishing that object than by calling at the "first door round the corner," and, by feigned indisposition, worming myself into some of the secrets of that wisdom which seemed so obstinately to court the shade, when I recollected that such a mode of introduction would cost me a guinea-a circumstance which made me pause and reflect.

What thought I, upon mature consideration-if, after all, I have made a wrong interpretation of the doctor's placard, and if its seeming modesty, in reality, implies such celebrity as to render the mere mention of his name and residence sufficient announcements to the public?

This view of the matter certainly gave a very different turn to his character; and yet, so much do the extremes of impudence and modesty resemble each other, that the one explanation seemed just as likely to be correct as the other; and the reader, I dare say, has, by this time, anticipated what, upon enquiry, I found to be the case-viz. that the whole placard affair was a picce of exquisite humbug!

After all, sighed I, upon making the melancholy discovery, the doctor is not worse than the other great

wonders of the world-than Napoleon or Oliver Cromwell those conquering, canting, and splendid humbugs. And men and things the mightiest and the meanest the north-west passage and the Thames Tunnel-antiquarian relics and Belfast almanacks-popes, statesmen, smoke-doctors, and curers, or rather killers, of bugs are they not all humbugs?

TRADITIONS OF THE PLAGUE IN SCOTLAND.

By Robert Chambers, Author of the "Histories of the Scottish Rebellion," &c. &c.

IN numerous places throughout Scotland, spots are shown, where, according to the belief of the common people," the plague was buried." It is now happily so long since this dreadful epidemic afflicted the counTy, that few know what is implied by this tradition, or even what the plague was. All that is generally to be learned from the populace upon the subject, simply is, that within this mound, or beneath this stone, LIES THE PLAGUE, and no one would break the one or remove the other for any consideration short of life and death.

Owing to the depressed, or rather non-existent, state of the medical science in Scotland previous to the beginning of the last century, and the meagreness of almost all the public records, still less is to be learned respecting the plague from written than from oral sources. When it last appeared in Edinburgh in 1645, such was either the paucity or the inefficiency of the native physicians, that the magistrates were fain to employ a foreign empiric named Joannes Paulitius, at the salary of eighty pounds Scots per month, to attend the innumerable sick. The Council Register of the period presents only the edicts which the magistrates issued on the disastrous occasion-most of which, though apparently very judicious and effective, give us no idea of the symp. toms or treatment of the disease. The records of Parliament show little more than that it was occasionally found necessary to remove the legislative body from an infected to an uninfected place. And even in the minute chroniclers of the time, such as Birrel, Balfour, &c., we only find such notices as that "ye peste was knawin on Tuesday to be in Simon Mercerbanks hous," or that perhaps it "had arrivit fra Perthe sum tyme last week, and ye Parliament had yr for lifted."

In the utter absence of all authentic intelligence upon this curious subject, tradition, feeble as it is, may surely be allowed to lift up its voice. The few memoranda which I have been fortunate enough to collect, are not of course so confidently to be relied upon as may, in future times, the Medical Journal's papers on that grand child of "ye peste"-the Typhus Fever. Yet, as it is proverbially allowable, in case of "not getting preached in the kirk, to sing mass in the quier;" and as a Scottish school-boy of the last age, who could not obtain the grand prize of a copy of the New Testament, would have never thought of rejecting, on that account, his own proper premium of the tale of King Pepin, so ought the public by no means to despise the uncertain succedaneum of history, which, as a distinguished modern poet once observed, has many more attractions than its principal,

"And can we say which cheats the most?"

In a wild and secluded spot in Teviotdale, a consi. derable mound of earth is shown, under which, it is said, the plague was buried. There is a singular and awful distinctness in the tradition connected with this spot. It was originally, say the people, a cottage, which contained the large family of a poor shepherd. At the present time, no trace of a place of habitation is discernible; it is a plain ordinary-looking hillock, upon the surface of which the sward grows as green, and the fielddaisy blooms as sweetly, as if it were not, what it is, the tomb of human misery and mortal disease. The

plague was introduced into this house by a piece of finery which the shepherd's wife purchased from a wandering pedlar, and wore for some time upon her head. She was speedily seized with the dreadful distemper, and took to her bed. Some of the children also beginning to feel afficed, the shepherd himself went to the nearest farm-house to seek assistance. The inhabitants of this place, alarmed in the highest degree for their own safety, rose in a body, and, instead of attempting to relieve the infected family, spread the intelligence to the neighbours, who, being equally apprehensive with themselves, readily joined them in the dreadful decision, that mercy to individuals should be postponed to a regard for the general health. With this resolution, and disregarding the intreaties of the poor shepherd, they went en masse, and, closing the door upon the unfortunate family, proceeded to throw up earth around and over the cottage, till it was buried at least five feet beneath the surface. All the time of this operation, about half a day, the inmates, aware of their fate, cried dreadfully; and it was not till a large turf had been laid upon the top of the chimney, and a deep stratum of earth deposited over all, that their wailings were heard finally to subside. The shepherd is described as having for some time gone round and round the place like one demented, uttering fearful cries, and invoking Heaven to save his family, till at last, being driven away by the people, he departed from the awful scene in a state of distraction, and was never more heard of or seen in that district.

Whether it was customary, in the country, to resort to such cruel, though perhaps justifiable, measures as the above, I am unable to say. But spots almost precisely similar to that in Teviotdale are pointed out as the burial-places of the plague at Nether Minzion, in Tweedsmuir, where the shepherds are scrupulous to prevent their sheep from feeding within the little circle which enclosed the tomb of the plague; and near Prestwick, in Ayrshire, where are also shown the ruins of a house, built by Robert Bruce, for the reception of lepers, still called King Case. In order, moreover, to show that individual suffering was little considered in cases where the public welfare was endangered, it may be mentioned as one of the rules of a leper-house at Greenside, near Edinburgh, that the penalty imposed upon any inmate who should venture out of doors, was no less than death; and that, with a view at once to the prevention of such a misdemeanour, and its prompt punishment, a gallows stood constantly in terrorem at the end of the house.

At Peebles, a place is shown in the neighbourhood of the town where the plague was buried." It is a low mound, like a grave, but much larger, situated in a marshy valley, called the Gytes. Children designate this place Sampson's Grave, probably on account of its appearing to be such a grave as would hold that scriptural hero, whose bulk is popularly supposed in Scotland to have been of a piece with his strength. Besides, however, this place where the plague was buried," a corner of the churchyard (the north-east) is also shown as the place where the people who died of the plague" were interred; and that this was always regarded with the same sort of superstitious horror as that which usually invests unconsecrated places like Sampson's Grave, is proved by the circumstance of this department of the burying-ground not having been opened till within the last twenty years, when, it is said, there were not wanting people who had their apprehensions for the conse quences of such a bold measure. There seems to be a sort of contradiction in the traditions of Peebles upon this equivocal point, which may, perhaps, be settled if we can suppose that the churchyard was used on the last occasion of the infection, when people had become enlightened enough to know that the pest, contagious as it was above all other diseases, ran no chance of spreading among, or injuring, the dead; and that Sampson's

Grave was the burial-place at a former period, the tra dition connected with which survived the latter occasion, unaffected in its more superstitious details. To explain further, it must be understood, that where solitary spots are pointed out as the grave of the plague, an idea seems to obtain that the last infected person or family was buried there, and, like the 'scape-goat sent abroad into the wilderness, took away all danger from the surviving community.

Connected with the popular remembrance of the plague at Peebles, a curious circumstance is preserved, which, if others will believe in it as firmly as myself, may go far to settle the long-disputed question among modern physicians,-" Is the plague infectious and communicable by the atmosphere, or contagious, and only to be imparted by the touch?" When the distemper last visited the town, it is said to have extend. ed no farther eastward than the Dean's Gutter, a water-channel which then intersected the High Street, like the celebrated boundary of the Sanctuary at Holy. rood. All to the westward of this line was devastated by the awful distemper, while the very first house to the eastward, and all beyond, were perfectly uninfected. This will remind the reader of the infected and uninfected quarters of the Turkish capital, as described in the books of travellers; but whether such measures as those regularly taken in the foreign cities still subject to the plague for the prevention of contagion, were resorted to at Peebles, is not recorded.

In the south-east corner of the old churchyard of Burnbank, in Perthshire, lie interred Margaret Drummond, wife of Sir George Muschet of burabank, and her three daughters, all of whom, according to a decay. ed inscription on the tombstone, fell victims to the plague, which, in the puritanical language of the period, is there styled, "the Visitation."

A tradition of Kincardineshire favours the theory that the plague is popularly believed to have had a bodily form. On the farm of Mondynes, in the parish of For doun, and at no great distance from the banks of the river Bervie, stands, in the middle of a ploughed field, a large stone, underneath which the plague is said to have been buried. At the last occurrence of the pest in Scotland, say the country people, there dwelt in this district a benevolent warlock, who determined to free his country for ever from the terrible destroyer. By dint of spells, he succeeded in drawing towards him the whole material of the plague, and winding it up round his fingers, as people wind thread. The clew reached the size of a man's head before every particle was collected. When completed, he took it in his hands to the spot mentioned, put it into the earth, and covered it with this large stone. All this was done by spells, the power of which ceased when the stone was laid down; so that, according to the popular belief, if that were to be removed, the ball would burst forth, explode, and the plague would again overspread the country.

When the plague occurred in Dundee, early in the sixteenth century, all the infected were compelled to retire from the town, and either reside in the suburbs or bivouack in the fields without the walls. A massive fragment of the ancient wall of the town, containing the gateway of what is called the East Port, still remains in one of the streets of Dundee. Upon the top of this, Wish art, the celebrated Reformer, is said to have preached to those infected with the pestilence, who lay upon the ground below. It has survived all the rest of the wall, and was lately repaired at considerable expense, out of reverence for the memory of Wishart.

Amidst the ruins of the ancient Collegiate Church of Methvin, in Perthshire, it is popularly believed that a vast treasure lics concealed. This, it is said, would not have been permitted to lie so long, had it not been understood that the plague was also buried in the same place, and would burst out if any excavations were at