curse; and above another, a verse containing a blessing. It is double-galleried nearly round and round, and was crowded to suffocation. Through the whole service there was a crushing out an' a crushing in, like a country Sacrament, and none o' the best o' order about the stairs. There is naething remarkable about Fletcher's appearance; he is a stout, good-looking, dark-complexioned man. His preaching is often eloquent, and contains sound, excellent sense, but sae confoundedly mixed up wi' wishy-washy clap-traps, that it is lost in nonsense. This moment he is proving the truth o' revelation wi' a' the force o' argument, an' the next he breaks away into pitiful whine, about " some poor little boy that he visited yesterday, and who is to be executed next Wednesday morning at the Old Bailey, for the crime of Sabbath-breaking and horse-stealing;" or, " the last words and dying confession" of some dear Christian sister, that he had been to visit that morning." In fact, Fletcher has found the key to unlock the curiosity o' the multitude. He is a kind o' story-telling Rowland Hill the second. face o' the sun-the fields-the streets-the countenances o' men-my ain thoughts, are a' different. It is ane o' the best blessings o' Christianity. There is something that exalts human nature in it, something, that in one day in seven raises the servant to an equality wi' his master; when tranquillity disperses the cares an' anxieties o' the world, an' holiness becomes visible. But it is only in Scotland,-on the green hills, an' in the lonely glens, o' our native land, that the Sunday is a Sabbath indeed. Here, an' throughout England, it is different. The Scottish peasant rises early, offers up his prayer in the midst of his children, and accompanies them to the distant kirk,-returns to his homely meal,-opens his Bible,-gathers his family around him, and concludes the evening wi' prayer. To this there are exceptions, but the example is characteristic. In England there are exceptions, but the exception is the characteristic, and consists in a good dinner at the expense of the week, loitering away the evening at home, or in an ale-house, an' complaining o' the day as a weariness. In London, with the majority, it is a day o' pleasure, spent in excursions to Greenwich, Gravesend, the Nore, Richmond, &c.—ane goes a-fish-whose life hitherto has been a very strange and chequerNext follows a poem of great merit, written by one ing, a second a-shooting, an' a third follows his occued scene, though we doubt not that, with steady persepation as usual. But still there are thousands, an' tens o' thousands o' Christians in London; an', generally verance, better prospects are in store for him : speaking, the churches are respectably filled. I went to hear our countryman Irving. He is not so much run after in his new chapel in Sidmouth Street, as he was at Hatton Garden; consequently, there is now no difficulty in obtaining seats; though at a' times, even in the middle o' his orations, he manifested anxiety for the accommodation o' strangers. The new church is a tolerably handsome structure, but too long for its width. It is not very large, but neatly fitted up, and the windows alternately ornamented wi' Scotch thistles in stained glass. Soon after I was seated, in came Edward,-ane o' the most ungainly-looking figures I ever saw, with his thick, lang, black hair, which he used to wear à la Nazarene, now hanging about his ears in shaggy profusion. His action is uncouth, but, since he took to reading his sermons, it is less extravagant. It is a kind o' hap weel, rap weel, pell-mell action, swing. ing round his arm without mercy; then crouching together, like a tiger ready to spring, he raises his clenched nieves to the side o' his head, an', springing up wi' a loud, lang burst, discharges a tremendous thud upon the cushion, that echoes to the very ceiling. It is often impressive, always earnest; unstudied, but frequently ill-timed. His accent is harsh, grating, and national, -unpleasant even to a Scotsman, but adapted to the rude grandeur o' his eloquence. Irving is an orator, in so far as a wild imagination, enthusiastic earnestness, declamation, an' strang lungs, can make ane, but farther I will not venture. Upon the whole, he is a good logician; there is a mathematical closeness in his reasoning, but it is like a superstructure weel-fitted together in its parts, but falling en masse before the least whiff o' wind, from the want o' a good foundation. His composition is a kind o' Ossianic transposition o' verbs, adjectives, an' playing wi' participles,--often lofty, seldom elegant, an' frequently inflated. He bore his ostentatious flattery nobly, but the turn o' the tide appears to have turned his temper; and Editors and all connected wi' the Press he raves against without mercy, abusing them for every thing but men an' Christians. In a word, Irving is a man o' genius,-a visionary certainly, but sincere,-an enthusiast, but now and then a sublime one. In the afternoon I took a step down to Finsbury, to hear Fletcher, o' breach-o'-promise celebrity, (another countryman.) His new chapel is a huge, but not inelegant, mass of bricks, faced with cement. The doors are marked " Gallery," like a playhouse; and over one is inscribed a passage from Scripture, expressive o' a AND ART THOU FALSE? And art thou false? my tried one! Traced the memory of our youth, Mindest thou at our last meeting, And its sweetly blending tone And art thou false? I have not yet forgotten It will live, and it will prove And art thou false? A thousand thoughts come o'er me- 'Tis true that fate had revell'd My faults were spread before thee,- A good geologist, Who raises potatoes fro He knoweth full well The forest and dell, The chalets and dwel The mountains and The ices and prices Every town, every vi Take him for your gue He has often been trie And will always be You'll be merry t In fair and foul . And shake hands a uthey evidently wrote the d happy moments-mom. all of us. It was after ich looks out upon the ountains of Schwitz and ernoon; a bottle of coo n,-probably Johannist chess of St Albans ag vel-worn feet were lapp e felt pleased with hims therefore gladdened ?' inditing the encomiur Shift we the scene from r John Ramsay, weaver glance of the mind!" nt out genius, there is ay be carried. 6 Whe -ble dust of Alexand. 1 le ?" asks Shakspear ny may not imagine P, working at the ! t for the outward c ing within which autiful because it' ade of grass, rather own rose? Geni y, and dreams no tificial society. the sight of man n; and he has h: t mean to say: urns; all we me ities of genius a ad to it in ing to see him, the heart of the old gen within him, and he instantly sent down his its respected visitor, begging hum to ex-100-appearance, which was only owing to artiness, but entreating that he would enter, zey respect use the house as his own. Pitcal *edit an assent to the last part of the message, sown into a roon.. began to call lustily about de irst place, he ordered a specimen of Sir ELGE⚫port, next of his sherry, then of his clart, this champagne. When he had drunk as de could, and given a most unconscionable deouble to the whole household, he staggered off, at to Sir Lawrence tr come, next day, to the best aation he could with the deacon." this amusing mefme we shall add another from ifferent pen, no les neresting, and a good deal ore important an indirect connexion with ar present gracious Sovereign. The title will some nat surprise our readers ACCOUNT OF THE LADY VEO NURSED GEORGE IV. red our information is the gr snsd an old soldier, a Lalm about twelve years ago. and infirm, but still retaine In her elevation she did haring returned disabled ugh her interest, a small per We have been much pleased SONNET-TO LA then wart not form'd fo Sr for this tame and unchi at all misplaced upon t hast me to the world shouldst have lived, five lone castle by the prou Tech concourse of lovers was at length should r Lyhend come there to br and thou shouldst hold a m ery week, until the ri Sad peopled be with thei aldst lay waste all E kal give thyself to none but Fago is a city which, f nes it has already sent many a poet, passing the unconscious throng the bustle of active bus knowledge of arithme Previous ur the year 1745, the Earl of Glencair vas Governor of Dumbarton Castle. His Countess was ster or cousin of Mamma e Broughton, superior of the arish of Annworà in Gaway. At this time, the choolmaster of Antworth was Mr Andrew Waddel .i.M. (afterwards well known as the translator of Bucha man's Psalms), who, being a very learned man, was recommended by Broughton to Lord Glenca rn, as tutor to us sons. In this way, Mr Waddel was translated from Annworth to Dumbarton Castle. During Mr Waddell's residence with this noble family, a soldier in the garri son, called Sutherland, died. His death was very soon ollowed by that of his wife; and they left a son and Laughter totally destitute. The boy, William, entered he army; and Mr Waddel, who was no less remarka ble for his humanity than his learning, though encum bered with a large family of his own, and having very siender means, adopted the soldier's daughter. The little Margaret Sutherland, as she grew up, be came a paragon of beauty, and was no less admired for the gracefulness of her appearance than she was belo■ -g, ved for her amiable dispositions. Such attractions were too well calculated to excite stronger feelings than those of mere admiration. Though no less virtuous than Je beautiful, this innocent creature became the victim of | --- - 20, inlawful passions. A Captain Scott of the Artillery betrayed her unsuspecting confidence, and clandestinely carried her off from under the care of her venerable pro Wisector. It may easily be conceived that the good old rus ofatus; but ne in the secret conscious m him which gives him da kindred claim u more afar off, and su We are always gla 66 Fat we have room for of quarter, but they are st THE DEAD Ithacht the grave was Ithacht that upon the I used to think, when man was plunged into the deepest distress by this un , principled act. For three long years, notwithstanding the nost diligent and unceasing enquiries, he heard nothing of his much-loved protegée. At last a letter came, addressed to lum in characters which he himself had taught - Ter to trace. The contents were most consolatory. The sweet girl, whose heart revolted at the idea of living with Captain Scott on the terms he proposed, had, with s degree of spirit for which he was not prepared, Camis, statesi on resurning to the bosom of the family of her excelent trend in Scotland, from whom she never once doubted, even under such circumstances, of meeting via the most cordial reception. The Captain found Bas to part with her was worse than death; and at last wopted the winuous resolution of affording her the my uiequate reparation in his power, by making her us lawful wife, which he had now done. But I see nae mair t And nae mair I fe I for ever look on th Where creeps eac There's nae saft w How it is in the Hark! how aboor Weightily splas I wish I were up And see the wee And hear the derived our information is the grandson of Mr Waddel. He is himself an old soldier, and saw Mrs Scott in 1 London about twelve years ago. At this time she was old and infirm, but still retained traces of her former beauty. In her elevation she did not forget her brother, who, having returned disabled from the wars, enjoyed, | through her interest, a small pension." We have been much pleased with the spirit of the following SONNET TO LADY D——. Lady! thou wert not form'd for this cold clime, Should peopled be with their unhallowed sprites. Thou shouldst lay waste all Europe with thy charms, And give thyself to none but Death's victorious arms! Glasgow is a city which, from the numerous literary effusions it has already sent us, we are convinced contains many a poet, passing quietly and unobtrusively amid the unconscious throng, perhaps himself engaged in all the bustle of active business,--and more esteemed for his knowledge of arithmetic than for his portion of the divinus afflatus; but nevertheless, proud, honestly proud, in the secret consciousness that a light is burning within him which gives him a participation in the feelings, and a kindred claim upon the friendship, of those who move afar off, and " summer high upon the hills of God." We are always glad to hear from Glasgow; at present we have room for only one copy of verses from that quarter, but they are striking and original: THE DEAD MAN'S MOAN. I thocht the grave was a sweeter part, I used to think, when I wont to lie But I see nae mair the heaven's gladsome licht, The calm dead airs of my dungeon lie; I for ever look on the grave's lonely wa', Where creeps each earthy and loathsome beast, And frae which the big draps o' the dead dew fa', And heavily sink through my wasting breast; There's nae warm friendly voice to cheer The darkness and silence sae dismal and dree; There's nae saft word that comes to speer, How it is in the lanely house wi' me. Hark! how aboon my dreary grave, And drive frae my face the cauld dead air; The fresh breath o' heaven frae the healthy plain, And see the wee stars as they blithesomely blink, And hear the sweet voice o' a friend again! We were about to conclude, when our eye fell on the following verses by a poet who hides his light too much under a bushel, but whose name, we confidently anticipate, will one day be far better known than his modesty will at present permit.-It may be as a poet, or it may be in another capacity, but at all events as a man of genius: AD LYRAM. By E. B. The morn hath long been over the billows, A weaker than mine hath return'd with gain; And many a comrade hath cross'd my way; Awaken thy chords into nobler life: For a week or two we again drop the curtain. Our Slippers, during that period, will neither be heard of nor seen; while in a more abstract and sublime, though less concentrated character, we shall travel over the land, intellectually embodied in that glorious emanation of mind the EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL. SKETCHES OF THE LEADING MEMBERS OF THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY. VII. DR CHALMERS. THE style of Dr Chalmers' eloquence is so marked and peculiar, and its defects and its beauties are so prominent, that the only difference of opinion which can exist with regard to it, must refer rather to its merit than to its character. If vigour of thought, and power of imagination, and warmth of colouring, and singularly forcible expression, are the principal elements of oratory, Dr Chalmers is well entitled to all his fame. Few men can match him in communicating an air of freshness to common-places;-his power of illustration is inexhaustible his humour admirable-and no man can command more powerfully the attention, or engage the sympathies, of a popular audience. He is by no means a correct, much less a classical speaker; there is nothing elegant about him, either in his person, his manners, or his language; neither is there any thing that is in the slightest degree offensive; there is no affectation, no preten. sion; you are struck with the earnestness of his manner, and the enthusiasm with which he urges his argument; and his vehement tones and uncouth gesticulations, are so much in unison with the character of his eloquence, or rather, they are so much part and parcel of it, that although in another they would very justly incur ridicule, in him they serve only to strengthen the hold which the speaker has upon our attention. Dr Chalmers, though a considerable proficient in the exact sciences, is not a close reasoner; he seldom treats his argument as a logician and his great force lies in illustration. He presents the would treat it; he is fond of reasoning from analogy, same idea under twenty different forms, he loads it with comparisons, he adorns it with all the brilliancy of ornament which an exuberant fancy can command, and Yet with the love I bore thee, They mingled not,-were lost. Can the ocean clothe the mountains? Of its being, and its birth? And art thou, my fond, my proved one, 'Tis true this hath been told me, This might weaker minds believe; I have search'd thee, and thy spirit 'Twas an enemy did this; Thou art not false ! to the door, wishing to see him, the heart of the old gentleman leapt within him, and he instantly sent down his compliments to his respected visitor, begging him to excuse his own non-appearance, which was only owing to extremity of illness, but entreating that he would enter, and in every respect use the house as his own. Pitcal. nie grunted out an assent to the last part of the message, and, being shown into a room, began to call lustily about him. In the first place, he ordered a specimen of Sir Lawrence's port, next of his sherry, then of his claret, and lastly of his champagne. When he had drunk as much as he could, and given a most unconscionable degree of trouble to the whole household, he staggered off, leaving it to Sir Lawrence to come, next day, to the best explanation he could with the deacon." To this amusing anecdote we shall add another from a different pen, no less interesting, and a good deal more important, as it has an indirect connexion with our present gracious Sovereign. The title will somewhat surprise our readers : ACCOUNT OF THE LADY WHO NURSED GEORGE IV. "Previous to the year 1745, the Earl of Glencairn was Governor of Dumbarton Castle. His Countess was sister or cousin of Murray of Broughton, superior of the parish of Annworth in Galloway. At this time, the schoolmaster of Annworth was Mr Andrew Waddel, A.M. (afterwards well known as the translator of Buchanan's Psalms), who, being a very learned man, was recomamended by Broughton to Lord Glenca rn, as tutor to his sons. In this way, Mr Waddel was translated from Annworth to Dumbarton Castle. During Mr Waddell's residence with this noble family, a soldier in the garrison, called Sutherland, died. His death was very soon followed by that of his wife; and they left a son and daughter totally destitute. The boy, William, entered the army; and Mr Waddel, who was no less remarkable for his humanity than his learning, though encumbered with a large family of his own, and having very slender means, adopted the soldier's daughter. Of the author of the following anecdote, it has been most truly said, that "his stock of traditionary lore is not exceeded by that of any other individual in the world." We consider ourselves very fortunate, now that his attention is devoted principally to works of larger and more important nature, to be able to obtain so many of his shorter and miscellaneous pieces, full of interest and information as they usually are, for the LITERARY JOURNAL. Mr Robert Chambers is as yet a young man; but there is every reason to believe, that, in the course of twenty or thirty years, his collected works will form a body of national and traditionary literature of the most curious and valuable kind. A LAST CENTURY ANECDOTE. "Mr Ross of Pitcalnie, an ingenious humorist, who "The little Margaret Sutherland, as she grew up, be spent his latter years chiefly in Edinburgh, was one night came a paragon of beauty, and was no less admired for (about the year 1780) reeling home in a state of intoxi- the gracefulness of her appearance than she was belocation through St Andrew square, when his fancy sug- ved for her amiable dispositions. Such attractions were gested to him the following amusing hoax upon Sir Law- too well calculated to excite stronger feelings than those rence Dundas. It occurred to his remembrance, on seeof mere admiration. Though no less virtuous than ing Sir Lawrence's fine house, (now the office of the beautiful, this innocent creature became the victim of Royal Bank of Scotland,) that that gentleman was then unlawful passions. A Captain Scott of the Artillery known to be engaged in the laudable business of pre- betrayed her unsuspecting confidence, and clandestinely vailing upon the members of the Town Council of carried her off from under the care of her venerable pro Edinburgh to elect him their representative in Parlia- tector. It may easily be conceived that the good old ment, and that he had already secured the approbation man was plunged into the deepest distress by this unof so many of these worthy trustees of the public inte- principled act. For three long years, not withstanding the rest, that, but for one recusant deacon, he was certain of most diligent and unceasing enquiries, he heard nothing his election. It was known that Sir Lawrence had tried of his much-loved protegée. At last a letter came, adevery possible means to bring over this dissentient voice, dressed to him in characters which he himself had taught but hitherto without success; and there was some rea- her to trace. The contents were most consolatory. The son to apprehend, that after all the pains he had expend- sweet girl, whose heart revolted at the idea of living ed upon the rest, the grand object would not eventually with Captain Scott on the terms he proposed, had, with be accomplished. Pitcalnie bethought him to assume a degree of spirit for which he was not prepared, inthe name of the deacon, to enter the house of the candi-sisted on returning to the bosom of the family of her date, call for what entertainment he pleased, and final- excellent friend in Scotland, from whom she never once ly, as Sir Lawrence was confined to bed with gout, to doubted, even under such circumstances, of meeting go away without being discovered. No sooner had he with the most cordial reception. The Captain found settled the plan in his own mind, than he proceeded to put it in execution. Reeling up to the door, he rung adopted the virtuous resolution of affording her the that to part with her was worse than death; and at last the bell with all the insolent violence which might have only adequate reparation in his power, by making her been expected from so consequential a person as the in- his lawful wife, which he had now done. dividual he wished to personate, and presently down came a half-dressed lacquey, breathing curses not loud but deep, against the cause of this unseasonable annoyance. Tell your master," said Pitcalnie," that Dea(mentioning the name of the important elector) wishes to see him." When the man went up, and told Sir Lawrence that Deacon — had come drunk con 66 "We here come to the most interesting part of our sto fant Prince of Wales, the now happy and respectable ry. When it became necessary to find a nurse for the inMrs Captain Scott (who had by this time increased her family) was suggested, and accepted; and she had the distinguished honour of suckling our present most gracious Sovereign. The person from whom we have derived our information is the grandson of Mr Waddel. He is himself an old soldier, and saw Mrs Scott in London about twelve years ago. At this time she was old and infirm, but still retained traces of her former beauty. In her elevation she did not forget her brother, who, having returned disabled from the wars, enjoyed, through her interest, a small pension." We have been much pleased with the spirit of the following SONNET-TO LADY D→→ Lady! thou wert not form'd for this cold clime, Nor for this tame and unchivalric age; Thou'rt all misplaced upon this humble stage,➡ Thou hast come to the world behind thy time. Thou shouldst have lived, five hundred years agone, In some lone castle by the proud Garonne ; With such concourse of lovers from all Spain, That towns at length should rise on thy domain: Kings shou'd come there to break their hearts in scores; And thou shouldst hold a massacre of knights Once every week, until the river's shores Should peopled be with their unhallowed sprites. Thou shouldst lay waste all Europe with thy charms, And give thyself to none but Death's victorious arms! Glasgow is a city which, from the numerous literary effusions it has already sent us, we are convinced contains many a poet, passing quietly and unobtrusively amid the unconscious throng, perhaps himself engaged in all the bustle of active business,-and more esteemed for his knowledge of arithmetic than for his portion of the divinus afflatus; but nevertheless, proud, honestly proud, in the secret consciousness that a light is burning within him which gives him a participation in the feelings, and a kindred claim upon the friendship, of those who move afar off, and "summer high upon the hills of God." We are always glad to hear from Glasgow; at present we have room for only one copy of verses from that quarter, but they are striking and original : THE DEAD MAN'S MOAN. I thocht the grave was a sweeter part, I used to think, when I wont to lie But I see nae mair the heaven's gladsome licht, The calm dead airs of my dungeon lie; I for ever look on the grave's lonely wa', Where creeps each earthy and loathsome beast, And frae which the big draps o' the dead dew fa', And heavily sink through my wasting breast; There's nae warm friendly voice to cheer The darkness and silence sae dismal and dree; There's nae saft word that comes to speer, How it is in the lanely house wi' me. Hark! how aboon my dreary grave, And drive frae my face the cauld dead air; I wish I were up, ance mair to drink The fresh breath o' heaven frae the healthy plain, And see the wee stars as they blithesomely blink, And hear the sweet voice o' a friend again! We were about to conclude, when our eye fell on the following verses by a poet who hides his light too much under a bushel, but whose name, we confidently anticipate, will one day be far better known than his modesty will at present permit.-It may be as a poet, or it may be in another capacity, but at all events as a man of genius: AD LYRAM. By E. B. The morn hath long been over the billows, A weaker than mine hath return'd with gain; That madden the hearts they fail to drown! And many a comrade hath cross'd my way; Awaken thy chords into nobler life: Slippers, during that period, will neither be heard of For a week or two we again drop the curtain. Our nor seen; while in a more abstract and sublime, though less concentrated character, we shall travel over the land, intellectually embodied in that glorious emanation of mind-the EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL. SKETCHES OF THE LEADING MEMBERS OF THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY. VII. DR CHALMERS. THE style of Dr Chalmers' eloquence is so marked and peculiar, and its defects and its beauties are so prominent, that the only difference of opinion which can exist with regard to it, must refer rather to its merit than to its character. If vigour of thought, and power of imagination, and warmth of colouring, and singularly forcible expression, are the principal elements of oratory, Dr Chalmers is well entitled to all his fame. Few men can match him in communicating an air of freshness to common-places;-his power of illustration is inexhaustible his humour admirable-and no man can command more powerfully the attention, or engage the sympathies, of a popular audience. He is by no means a correct, much less a classical speaker; there is nothing elegant about him, either in his person, his manners, or his language; neither is there any thing that is in the slightest degree offensive; there is no affectation, no pretension; you are struck with the earnestness of his manner, and the enthusiasm with which he urges his argument; and his vehement tones and uncouth gesticulations, are so much in unison with the character of his eloquence, or rather, they are so much part and parcel of it, that although in another they would very justly incur ridicule, in him they serve only to strengthen the hold which the speaker has upon our attention. Dr Chalmers, though a considerable proficient in the exact sciences, is not a close reasoner; he seldom treats his argument as a logician and his great force lies in illustration. He presents the would treat it; he is fond of reasoning from analogy, same idea under twenty different forms, he loads it with comparisons, he adorns it with all the brilliancy of ornament which an exuberant fancy can command, and |