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establishments, she is silent regarding the savage barbarity which drove these sainted recluses from their lonely and peaceful domicile.

Even Catholic practices of heavenly charity, and the most benevolent institutions, cannot escape the virulent remarks and bitter animosity of our fair presbyterian. She is pleased to assert that “the effect of superstition is more obvious on the purses of its votaries (viz. the Catholics), than those of a purer and holier faith. The presumptuous hope of purchasing heaven by their own merits, has caused the Catholic Church and their charitable institutions to be richly endowed; and individuals of that persuasion, whatever be their motives, devote themselves more avowedly and exclusively (to charitable purposes), than the generality of Protestants.” This last sentence is certainly most true, and a very pretty compliment; but it does not counteract the venom of the uncharitable and impious insinuation contained in the first part of the paragraph.

In attributing superstition to the Catholics, she seems to forget, as has been well observed, that superstition is a word of great latitude. Every person is apt to call that superstition in another, which he himself disapproves of or is not disposed to follow. Festus deemed the Jewish law superstition, though given by God himself; and put the doctrine of our Lord Jesus upon the same footing, because he was ignorant of it. For the same reason, many term superstition not only the practices of piety used in the Catholic Church—but also the austerities approved of and recommended in the Gospel, when found in monasteries. Is it charitable of her to attribute to the Catholics that they believe or entertain such monstrous doctrines, as “that they can purchase heaven by their own merits”? Does she not recollect that " charity covereth a multitude of sins"? Is it not the paramount duty of every Christian to serve and honour our blessed Redeemer, by complying with the declaration,—" What you do to the poor is done to me—that a cup of cold water given in my name shall not without its reward.” Hence she need be at no loss to discover the motives which induce Catholics to establish so many institutions consecrated to the succour of the poor and the service of the sick. Are the sisters of charity, so much esteemed over all Europe and America, established in vain, or for superstitious purposes? She would find, that those now settled in the capital of Caledonia, will be found ready and willing to attend the sick-bed of the poor in a garret, or

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those of the sick in a palace, if called upon, without distinction of sect or creed. While on this topic, may we be permitted to ask our fair presbyterian whether she can point out any more pure, exalted, and unquestionable evidence of active faith in the followers of the Kirk, than the sacrifice made by a delicate sex, of youth, beauty, high birth, to solace in the hospital that collection of human miseries, the sight of which is so humiliating to our pride, and so disgusting to even the strong nerves of man? Would she not also do well to recollect, that if the tide of zeal in earlier times ran upon building religious houses, it now runs upon supporting bible societiesincreasing “Church accommodation"--and sending out missionaries and their families to reclaim the heathen and the papist?

A few examples will be sufficient to illustrate our fair authoress's great inaccuracy in the description of Scottish localities, and in her genealogical lore and information. Let us take one district, the Aird.

In proceeding up this vale from Inverness towards Strathglass, she mentions the “Falls of the Beauley”!! Now we much doubt if it would not puzzle a tourist in search of the picturesque, to find out any Falls specified by that name, Proceeding further, she describes Erchless Castle as being in Strathglass, and then carries us on to the entrance of a wild glen, which she declares ends in nothing! The Falls of Kilmorack she denominates the Falls of Beauley, and removes the former to a locality where they are not to be found.

She notices the island of Eïlan Aegas, not for the charms of its scenery, but apparently to have a hit at Lord Lovat, the proprietor, who, being a Catholic, comes under her censorship; hence she must needs give vent to a sneer at liis expense. In alluding to two gentlemen who reside upon the romantic islemand who, she informs her readers, are said to be descendants of the royal house of Stewart-she seems to take upon herself to make a most gratuitous assertion : "that the family of Lovat, unable to bestow upon them the whole island of Great Britain, according to their inclinations, had succeeded in presenting them with a little one.” If this is her wit, we wish her joy of such a smart piece of impertinence. If not, is it not a libel on their loyalty? It appears to us the most unwarrantable piece of presumption for any individual to assume, and still worse to publish as facts what they may choose to imagine to be another person's inclinations, and to father opinions upon them, without having any shadow of foundation for such conclusion.

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In retracing the steps of our authoress towards Inverness, we find that she cannot pass Lord Lovat's gate without having another sneer at his Catholic lordship. “We were at a loss to guess,” says she, "why his (Lord Lovat's) cottagelooking

house was ever dignified with the name of Beaufort Castle, not being more like our notion of a castle than a pistol is to a cannon.” What a bright idea !-what ignorance of the local history of her country is here displayed ! Had she referred to the interesting historical memoirs of the famed 1745, she would have found that Beaufort Castle was erected on the site of a former fortress, after the powerful family of the Frasers came to the North, about the year 1296; and that it was plundered, burned, and blown-up by the royal forces, under the orders of the Duke of Cumberland, after the battle of Culloden, in 1746. So totally destroyed was it, that when the government took possession of the estates, and appointed a manager, or factor, they were obliged to erect a house for his accommodation, which afterwards being found too small, other additions continued from time to time to be made. After this, we need be at no loss to guess, or rather to account, for its cottage-like appearance, as she terms it; and we may inform her, if it would afford her any satisfaca tion, that on inquiry we find that the evil she complains of is about to be remedied; that designs of a splendid baronial residence, worthy of an ancient noble family, and the superb site and domain, are already in preparation. Her genealogical incorrectness with regard to his lordship's lineage, is less excusable. Had she consulted any work on the peerage,

she would not have stated that the present Lord Lovat is descended from Simon, who was beheaded; she would have found that he is a main collateral branch (the house of Strichen), lineally descended from Alexander, sixth Lord Lovat, and which branch was never affected by any attainder. But we are at a loss to guess what motive could have induced her to drag any individual, inuch less so unobtrusive a nobleman as Lord Lovat, before the public, and, with uncalled-for liberty, publish to the world her own suppositions as to his motives and opinions, whether in regard to building a chapel, choice of friends, or any other object. Could it be her anti-Catholic prejudices, or that his lordship's political principles do not accord with her own? Be that as it may, we must assert, that the inaccuracies, errors, and omissions, such as we have detected in one particular district, must shake our faith with regard to the correctness of her accounts of other parts of Scotland in general.

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After a careful perusal of her book, and having given mature deliberation to the style, the various subjects, and opinions on the matters it contains, we cannot but express disappointment which the vivid anticipations in which we had allowed ourselves to indulge have experienced. We had been led to hope that the daughter of a statesman of such literary fame as the late Sir John Sinclair-whose admirable works on agriculture and the statistics of Scotland are so universally esteemed at home and abroad-would have at least produced a work regarding her own country not unworthy the daughter of such a sire. The public have long since condemned the work for its offences, both of omission and commission, and we regret that we see no ground for doubting the correctness of their judgment. We cannot conclude without assuring the authoress, that should she ever afford us further opportunities for commenting on other literary productions, we trust they may be of such a nature as to merit our approbation, and prompt us to praise rather than to

blame,” which latter is at all times a most ungracious task, and most truly painful when a lady is in question.

Art. VIII.1. Miscellaneous Verses. By Sir Francis Hastings

Doyle, Bart., Fellow of All Souls' College, Oxford. 12mo,

London : 1840. 2. Poetry for the People, and other Poems. 8vo. London;

1840. 3. Melaia, and other Poems. By Eliza Cook. 8vo. London:

1840. DOES

OES the reign of poetry amongst the sons of men par

take in any fashion of the character of those cycles, in which, as some sages believe, the harsh and the genial years, the abundant and the scanty autumns, follow each other through the various climates of our globe? Is there a time for sowing and a time for reaping, a time when the land must be fallow, and a time when it is sure to be exuberant, in the region of the Muses? We have seen Pindus night-capped in clouds when the Ægean was a perfect field of azure, and the islands lay upon her bosom as lightly as the lotus upon its leaves; their vineyards, and those hills dedicated to Ceres, basking meanwhile in all the rays of the noontide sun.. The

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native races of the Indus and the Ganges, believe that their favourite tutelar god abandons earth for a while, and returns to it periodically ; departing when the evil one is allowed to domineer, coming again when the virtues resume their sway. Is it thus with poetic inspiration? Does she sleep, when we become too busy with the plough or the loom? Has she any particular horror of us, when crime stalks with giant strides ihrough the land ? Does she not relish the smoke of our steamers? Does the rattle of the railroad frighten her away? and does she, on some distant mountain side, or by some solitary fountain, weep over our once flowery meadows, cut up and quartered by those inexorable tyrants, Brunell, Stephenson, and Co. ?

“ Ye gods annihilate both time and space, and make two lovers happy !” was the fervent aspiration of the trúe victims of passion in the days of yore. The double prayer may. now be easily gratified, provided the lover has a sovereign or two in his purse, and feels no fear of being blown up on the way. Whether his mistress be in the north, the east, the south, or the west, he has only to choose the proper train, and off he goes. He has scarcely leisure to count the minutes, when he is already at her feet. But the mode in which this is done the fire borrowed from Newcastle, not from Olympus, by which he is whirled along—is so very vulgar, the face of the fireman is so very unlike that of Venus, and his poker has so very little in it of the arrow of Cupid, that it seems to us as if the days of poetry were to be no more. The steamengine accomplishes our every wish with such a downright mechanical certainty, that romance is altogether left behind in the race. Whether the new atmospheric railway is to produce any alteration for the better in this respect, we are quite at a loss to conjecture.

Perhaps we are grown too fastidious. Our palates having been so long accustomed to the highly-seasoned viands prepared by Childe Harold, and to the “ sweets” with which they were intermixed under the auspices of the Irish melodist, can perchance experience no delight in the simple fare of Wordsworth and his followers. There are, we know, manytoo many by a great deal—who have taken the vow of poetical teetotalism; who abhor Lord Byron's gin, and the bard's legacy--the “balmy drops of the red grape;" who have forsworn even the mountain dew of the “ Northern Wizard." Hence, most probably, the insipidity of the day in all things that relate to poetry. We have never yet known a water