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lo. 348.-Vol. VII.

Scientific Notices.

PHYSIOLOGY.

We feel assured that no apology will be required our having excluded some other articles, in order secure a place for the following interesting specuions of the celebrated Abernethy upon a subject intricate and important as any in the whole range physiology.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 1827.

is as it were by the exposition of the blood to air,
through the medium of the serum. It seems to be a
chymical change that takes place-an action or a re-
action of a chymical nature which takes place upon

PRICE 340

same depth of reflection, and with so unprejudiced a mind as he did. Never did I hear Mr. Hunter say a thing but as an inference from facts; he had no opinion that was not an inference from facts: he has

the blood, in consequence of an exposure to the air, given no opinion about the uses of the bile. What and a certain degree of medium does not prevent this. does he say of respiration? He says this-that it Then, it is said, that the carbon goes off from the seems to impart life to the blood, which life becomes blood, and makes the carbonic acid gas. Now, that distributed to all parts of the body. What is the may be ;-those who are believed to be the most ac- fact on which he grounds this opinion? Why, that curate experimentalists affirm, that there is no more if an animal did not respire, he would die, that's all. carbonic acid gas thrown out in expiration than can | Well, life is some subtle principle, which he believed Our readers will not fail to perceive that the style be made by the diminished quantity of the oxygen pervaded every part, and without which the body the lecture is very careless and defective. The which has been drawn in by aspiration; that there cannot be supported. Haller came to the conclusion, is no more oxygen consumed than what is adequate that this principle of life originates in, and is supraseology is, indeed, so very slovenly, that we to produce the exact quantity of carbonic acid gas ported by, our food. Now, if Haller had gone a little ould not have given the article a place in the that has been given out. This is the opinion of the further, he would have completely come up to my aleidoscope, were we not of opinion that the reason-best experimentalists, and, therefore, it is the general ideas; for I do believe that a principle of vitality is 4g and theories of so eminent a practical surgeon and imparted to digested aliment, and that it is, as it Physiologist as Mr. Abernethy must be valuable, how were, resuscitated and kept up during life by respira arelessly soever they may be conveyed. tion; that's the notion I have of it. No animals will live without the exposure, without the ventillation, as I may call it, of the circulating fluids. You may drown a fish, by depriving water of all the pure air, by boiling it; cork it up in a bottle, and cool it to the temperature that a fish would delight to live in; then immerse the fish, take up the gills, and you will see that the blood in brouchia will become purple, and the fish will be drowned, but not quickly. Then it is as you please; you may account for respiration—for the use of respiration-by saying, that it decarbonates the blood, that it takes from it a principle which is noxious; or you may be inclined to believe, that some principle useful to the body is superadded at that time, but a principle that we cannot define. You may think as you please on this subject; you are welcome to do so; I have told you all I have to say respecting it."

Mr. Abernethy, we understand, lectures in a colquial way, without a view to publication; and it not fair, therefore, to ascribe any faults of compoion to that eminent man; but we do think that *reporters who favour the world with the outlines his lectures or dissertations ought to bestow the ne literary labour upon their task as is exhibited their reports of the speeches of members of Parment, which often come amended from their

opinion of the profession with regard to that subject.
Formerly it was supposed, that oxygen was taken
into the blood, and that thus it obtained its carmine
colour; but all now say it is not so. Those who
suppose oxygen to be taken into the blood, thought
that the lungs were a source of animal heat, and that
the oxygen meeting with the carbon in its round, the
carbon united with it, and thus they did account for
the oxygen in the body; but if you deny the ingress
of oxygen, all this falls to the ground. Again, there
seems to be another circumstance which gives a
death-blow to the theory of oxygen being imbibed in
the blood; and these are the theories of Mr. Brodie.
You know that circulation will be continued, if res-
piration be continued, even though the brain has no
influence upon the body.

In speaking of the physiology of the lungs, there “Le Gallois took away the brains of an animal, pertain facts we have to advert to, and one is, the and continuing respiration, circulation was continued; age wrought upon the air inspired. Now what that is, he did not take away the base of the brain, draw in by inspiration, we know very well con- but removing the upper part of the brain to the base, 27 parts of pure air, oxygen gas; 72 of azote, circulation was continued. But Mr. Brodie divided one or so of carbon. Then, we know that what the medulla spinalis-he pithed an animal, and, by xpire abounds with carbonic acid gas, and that that means, as I may say, killed it. Afterwards, he tain portion of oxygen is taken away from it; kept up artificial respiration for three hours, and the is the change wrought in the air we inspire: blood circulated all that time, and it underwent the what is the change wrought in the blood by change from scarlet to purple successively; yet that ation? That which went forth by the pulmo- animal cooled quicker than another animal which artery purple-dark purple blood-returns by was killed in the same manner, where no inflation of eins scarlet-coloured blood. Then, it is believed the lungs had taken place, so that inflation of the that the change is wrought principally by part-lungs cannot be the cause of animal heat. But still with the carbon. I cannot, however, believe people cannot get the idea out of their heads, that there to be the sole cause of the change, because it is may be some source of animal heat here, but requira striking difference. It is said that the blood ing the action of the nervous system to render it rbonized by the action of the air on the lungs. efficient: that there may be some change wrought in be good enough to be aware that what takes the blood, which, under the influence of the nervous in the lungs takes place also in a basin. You system, may be productive of augmented temperature. your patient, and let the blood cool; you find But we will say that is opinion. Crassamentum with a bright scarlet coat on the Ace; turn the clot upside down; and you see the on of a black purple; but wait a little, and that 孟 purple will change to scarlet. Well, all this

"Now, you know I profess myself to be a great admirer of John Hunter, and of all John Hunter's opinions; for I know not any man who ever considered the different subjects of physiology with the

VALUABLE DISCOVERY.

Some very extraordinary and extensive works have been lately constructed in Scotland, for the purpose of increasing the water-power on streams where mills are situated, by economising and storing up, in immense reservoirs, the water which falls in rainy seamitted to run idly past the mills, never producing any sons, and which, under ordinary circumstances, is perbenefit, and frequently doing considerable injury. At Greenock, Mr. Thom, in 1824, discovered not only abundance of fine springs, for the use of the town, but also water-power for turning machinery to an immense extent. A company was soon afterwards formed, now nearly consummated. A great reservoir is conan act of Parliament obtained, and the enterprise is structed by means of an embankment across the valley of the Shaws Water; the ground to be submerged is about 315 acres; the deepest water fifty-six feet; lions of cubical feet. This ample store is to be de and the quantity of water contained will be 250 milrived from the floods of the Buru, and is calculated to serve the works for four months. Water for other four months can be obtained from the ordinary run

of the stream, and for the remaining part of the year, praise to this work as a whole, we shall perhaps com-
the streams running from the high grounds between pensate to the author by the generosity with which we
the reservoir and Greenock will suffice. Already the are disposed to bestow our praise on parts. We shall cer-
sheet of collected water appears to have assumed tainly make no attempt on the story, for were we to tell
more of the character of a natural lake than of an it we should do more than the author himself has done.
ordinary artificial reservoir, and is much visited by The incidents do not much differ from such as usually
strangers. The discharge of water from the reser-
voir being estimated at 300 millions of cubic feet in form the conventional manners of the chivalry of poetry
four months, or 105 days; and the fall from the aque- —a golden period, which never existed except in the brains
duct on the Whin Hill to high-water mark on the of romance writers, and which is least of all like the age
Clyde being 5124 feet, it follows that, if we deduct of chivalry that really did exist. Burke said "the age of
12 feet as declivity between the contiguous mill chivalry is no more;" we say it never was. The chivalry
seats, 500 feet will remain as the aggregate of the of the Scotch Baronet, who is said to be the author of
effective head of water, and thus afford a power equal the Wolfe of Badenoch, is a very agreeable life of tilting,
to that of 8234 horses, working eight hours a day, ac- fighting, and eating, drinking, and loving; but these are
cording to Professor Leslie's formula, or 8093, accord-only the elegant extracts of the incidents of a real knight
ing to Smeaton's. This amount of mechanical power or warrior of the fourteenth century. The Wolfe him-
far exceeds what is afforded by all the steam-engines
in Glasgow and its vicinity. Now, as the saving ob- self is, to be sure, no carpet-night. He and his five hope-
tained by using water instead of steam has been esti. ful sons are drawn, we should think, with a pen dipped
mated at £30 on each horse's power, the value of in the dark reality of the times. There is truth, too, in
these water-works, estimated in this way, to the town the portraits of King Robert, the Wolfe's father, and in
of Greenock, would be £117,930 a year. The whole that of his brethren and some of the coarser characters;
expense of the works which affords this great amount but, generally speaking, the stock knights-those who are
of power will, we believe, fall short of £20,000. If invented to sing, love, fight, and ride-are mere creatures
the engineer has secured, as appears by the above of the imagination. Our extracts will chiefly relate to
statement, a reserve of water equal to sixteen horse the Wolfe himself; although it should be observed, that
power for every foot of fall, during four months of the
year, there is little doubt that he will have an ample he is by no means the hero of the piece, neither do we
supply for the remainder; and, if these very success-
ful results have been experienced from this plan in
Scotland, we do not see any very good reason why
they may not also be attained in England, and espe-
cially in our own neighbourhood.

CENTURY.

By the Author of Lochandhu.

[FROM THE ATLAS]

meet with him till the beginning of the second volume.

This is a description of his personal appearance.'
At the head of a numerous party that advanced came a
knight, on a large and powerful black horse. And well was
it indeed for the steed that he was large and powerful, for
his rider was as near seven as six feet in height, while his
body and limbs displayed so great a weight of bone and
muscle, that any less potent palfrey must have bent be-
neath it. But the noble animal came proudly on with
him, capering as if he felt not the weight of his rider.
The knight wore a broad bonnet, graced with the royal
hern's plume, and a hunting dress of gold-embroidered
green cloth, over which hung a richly ornamented bugle,
while his baldrick, girdle-stead, hunting-pouch, anclace,
and dirk, were all of the most gorgeous and glittering
materials. His boots were of tawny buck-skin, and his
heels armed with large spars of the most massive gold.
The furniture of his horse was equally superb, the bits in
particular being heavily embossed, and the whole thickly
covered over with studs and bosses of the same precious
metal. His saddle and housings were of rich purple vel.
vet, wrought with golden threads, and the stirrups of
solid silver.

when he is least expected, and never fails to effect hi purpose by frightening every body he fails in with. The interview between the Wolfe and the Friar is characterist of both, and is a good specimen of the novel.

A tall monk of the order of St. Francis suddenly en tered, and, gliding like a spirit into the middle of th hall, darted a pair of keen searching eyes towards the upper end of the festive board.

"What! ha! brother of St. Francis," cried the Wee of Badenoch, what would'st thou ? If thou be's w faring, and need cheer, sit thee down there at the ade our festive board, and call for what thou lackest." over his head, and his arms folded across his breast. Th The Franciscan stood mute and unmoved, with his silver lamps threw a pale light upon his face, and fi shadow rose gigantically upon the wall.

"Whence comest thou?-Speak!" cried the Waf, thou dost choose to effunde the cause of thy strangeva impatiently. "Are we to be kept waiting all tation ?"

"Alexander Stewart, Earl of Buchan, and Lord of Badenoch," said the Franciscan, slowly, and in a de solemn tone; Alexander Stewart, I come here asta messenger of the Bishop of Moray, to tell the the seizure of the lands belonging to the Holy Church, have the tidings of thy daring, outrageous, and she reached him: the cries also of the helpless peasants, worm thou hast outed from their dwellings, have sorreds his ears. Thy cruelties are bruited abroad from qend

of the kingdoin to the other, and it is now time this savage career should be arrested. The godly Bishop deh. through me, his organ of speech, call on thee to giv the lands thou hast sacrilegiously seized in Badenoch; a restore the plundered herds and flocks, and the rents (s hast theftuously taken by masterful strength; to repla those honest and innocent peasants, who, resisting th aggression, like true vassals, were, with their wives little ones, driven from their homes and possessions, by thee in thy brutish fury; and, finally, to make such reparation to Holy Motlier Church, by fine to her treasures and personal abasement before her altars, as may stay br just wrath against thee. In default of all which, the by Bishop hath commanded me to announce to thee, that the lesser and greater excommunications shall go forth against thee; and that thou shalt be accursed as vagabond en the face of this earth, and damned to all eternity in the next world."

The fiery and ferocious Wolfe of Badenoch was so utter
cenfounded by, what he considered, the unexan pad
dacity of this denunciation, that amazement
silent from absolute want of words, otherwise his!
stock of patience could not have endured the Franc
till he had uttered the tenth part of his long spect
gnashed his teeth, curled up his nose, and foamet a
mouth; and striking the table furiously, as was
tom when violently moved, he shouted cut-
this I hear? The Earl of Buchan-the son of a k
"Ha! Devils! Furies! Fiends of Erebus! Wat

Out, thou carrion-hooded crow! Thinkest thou to br
me down with thine accursed crawing? By the ba
my grandfather, but thou shalt swing twenty ell hi
thou voidest not the castle of thy leathsome car
less time than thou didst ware in effunding one-bas
part of thy venomous and impudent harangue."
The monk stood motionless, in the same fixed and
posed attitude he had at first assumed, altogether i
by these tremendous threats.

The great error of novelists is, that they undervalue the importance of their task-they deem the composition of a'romance the amusement of a few winter months; they consider that little preparation, slight labour, and no very great talents, are necessary; or, should they opine that talent is an essential qualification, every thing is trusted to But, accustomed as Sir Patrick Hepborne had been to it. It is the power which should drive them to the end of all the proud pomp and splendid glitter of chivalry, he their labours, like the patent exhaustive tunnel which minded not these trifling matters beyond the mere obsershould carry passengers from London to Brighton in five vance of them. It was the head and face of the person the Wolfe of Badenoch, to be thus insulted by a ch minutes. The novelist hastily passes in review a few who approached that most particularly rivetted his attention. Both were on a great scale, and of an oval form. epochs or subjects-selects the one which hits his fancy- The forehead was high and retreating, and wore on it an conceives a character or two, or consults his memorandum-air of princely haughtiness; the nose was long and book for a few treasured hints, and then sets to work on hooked; the lips were large, but finely formed; and the the labour of composition, until the accumulation of loose mouth, though more than usually extended, was well leaves of MS. or the pile of copy-books, reminds the in- shaped, and contained a set of well-arranged teeth, of uncommon size and unsullied lustre. The complexion spired author that he has filled two volumes and a half was florid, and the hair, beard, whiskers, and moustaches, of his allotted three, and that he must forth with proceed all ample and curling freely, were of a jet black, that was to marry, bury, and reform-ceremonies which are gene- but slightly broken in upon by the white hairs indicating rally performed with a most unseemly haste. Had the the approaching winter of life. But the most character author of this novel conceived that he ought to have spent by the enormous eyebrows that threw their arches over istic features were the eyes, which would have been shaded the most considerate moments of six or seven years upon them, had it not been for their extreme prominence. They his work had he duly digested his story-had he had a were fiery and restless, and although their expression was proper regard for the character of his personages, and a sometimes hilarious, yet they generally wore the lofty look of pride'; but it was easy to discern that they were and impatient temper, that was no sooner excited than their orbs immediately assumed a fearful inclination in wards, that almost amounted to a squint.

Alexander Stewart, Earl of Buchan, and Lond) Badenoch," he again repeated in the same slow andɑ healthful discipline of our holy Mother Church? er lemn manner, "I call upon thee again to declare we thou be'st disposed to submit thyself patiently t ther thou best resolved that she shall cut thec eff, where eternal fire shall consume thee? Already, rotton and diseased branch, to fall headlong into the

sufficient portion of respect for his readers, he would have in the habit of being perpetually moved by an irritable hadst thou incurred her just vengeance, by living

a

given birth to a novel which would have lived and run career of fame. There are few qualities of mind, necessary for the novelist, which the author of the Wolfe does not possess in considerable perfection. He has a bold invention in incident and character; his dialogues are spirited and natural, and his interest in his subject is warm. He is, in short, a vigorous and original wri er-and yet, what a piece of confusion has he written! Three volumes more worthy of being called an ind gesta moles never appeared-a fault which we decidedly attribute to haste and unripened judgment, rather than to any mental, ciscan performs a part something like the mysterious priest This ripping-up of the old feud, not only redouble defect. However, although, we are obliged to refuse in the Italian of Mrs. Radcliffe; he is always appearing rage of the Welle of Badenoch, but roused that of

abominable adultery with Mariota Athyn, thy leman, who now sitteth an abomination beside thee; by the abandonment of thy leal, true, and virtueus whom thou hast left to mourn in worse than widow Sir Patrick Hepborne, the real hero of the story, acIn addition to the solemn appeal I have already companies the Wolfe to his castle of Lochyndorle, where am commanded to call on thee now to fulfil the se we are entertained with an account of his way of life, and of the Bishops of Moray and Ross, to pay down twe with his feuds with the Bishop of Meray. One day at dred broad pieces of gold as the mulct of thine dinner, he is unscasonably disturbed by the vision of a recal to thy bosom her who hath the true and lawle and forthwith to discharge thy foul and sinful monte, Franciscan in his hall, who comes like a destroying angel to lay her head there. Wilt thou do these things, **| to denounce him on the part of the Bishop. This Fran- ! nay

Lady Mariota and her sons. She burst into a flood of
tears, a violent fit of sobbing followed, and she finally
rushed from the banquet-hall. The hot and fierce Sir
Alexander was broiling with fury; but the Wolfe took the
speech of him-
"Ha! so thou hast come to the kernel of this matter
at last, thou ape of Satan, hast thou? Now I do clearly
ken how far I was right in guessing at the tale-pyet that
chattered in the ear of the King my father. But, by the
blood of the Bruce, I have revenged his impertinent med-
diing, by ousting him from the roost he had in my lands;
and, by all the hot fiends of perdition, if he rouseth the
Wolfe of Badenoch more, his neck shall be twisted about.
Art contended with my answer now, thou hooded carrion-

Crow?"

"Alexander Stewart, Earl of Buchan, and Lord of Badenoch," said the Franciscan, with the same imperturbable gravity, firmness, and composure, hast thou no better response than this to make to the holy Bishop of Moray? Bethink thee well"

all."

that came against the respective wings they commanded,
supported by Montgomery, Keith, Fraser, and many
others. Assucton, though but half recovered from the
bruise he had received at Newcastle, and Haliburton,
Lindsay, and some others, were doing their best to resist
the tide of the English in those parts of the battle where
fortune had thrown them. Sir William de Dalzel had
been carried to his tent grievously wounded to the loss of
an eye: and already had the brave Sir Malcolm Drum-
mond, and the gallant Sir John de Gordon Lord of Strath-
bolgy fallen, covered by glorious wounds. Yet was not
the standard of Scotland, nor the Piersie's captive pennon,
left altogether undefended; for before them stood the
dauntless Sir Patrick Hepborne, of Hailes, the elder, with
his son by his side, backed by a small but resolute band
of their own immediate dependants.

66

and energy of volition, now refused to obey his will, and he sank to the ground, borne down by those who had wounded him, and who knew not how noble and how precious that life's blood was, to which they had opened so many yawning passages of escape.

His brother-in-law, Sir David Lindsay, and John and Walter Saintclaire, ever the tried friends of the Douglas, and a few others who had been fighting along with him before he thus plunged from their sight into the midst of his foes, took advantage of the terror which his onset had occasioned, and followed bravely in his course, until accident led them to fall in with the stream of victorious Scots who were pouring onward under the triumphant Hepbornes. Recognising each other, and joining to gether with loud cheers, they swept away all that ventured to oppose them. They had cleared the plain ground of the enemy for several bow shots before them; and the English battalions had been thinned and dispersed over the ground, and the Scottish troops were urging after them without order, when Sir Patrick Hepborne, the younger, with Lindsay and the Saintclaires, who were pushing for

His

My brave boy!" cried the elder knight, "trust me there is no where in the field a more honourable spot of earth to die on than that where we now stand." "Then we quit it not with life, my father, save to drive "Scoundrel chough, begone!" cried the Wolfe, inter- the Piersie before us," cried his son. rupting him. "Thou hast already more than outstaid "Piersie! Piersie! Piersie's pennon !-Hotspur's pen-ward together, saw before them the brave and good my patience, which hath in itself been miraculous. If non!" cried those who came furiously on to attack them. Richard Lundie, sorely wounded, yet boldly bestriding thou wouldest escape hence in safety, avoid thee instantly; The father and the son, with their little phalanx, rethe body of a warrior, and dealing death with a battle-axe fernal demons seize me if thou shalt have leave to go at their lances, an obstinate and bloody contest took place at their approach, and then to their great grief, they disfor if thou goest not in the twinkling of an eye, may in-mained immovable, and receiving them on the point of to even Englishmen who ventured to approach within his circle. Those who still contended with him, quickly fled Harry Piersie and his brother fought for the fame of their By way of variety, and to show the author's powers in proud house, and their eager shouts were heard over all covered that it was the noble Douglas who lay weltering another light, we shall give a part of the description of the other battle cries, as well as above the clashing of the in his blood. He had not fallen alone, for his faithful weapons, and the shrieking of the agonized wounded, as esquires, Simon Glendinning and Robert Hart, lay near the battle of Otterbourne. The Scotch were set upon in they were trodden under foot and crushed to death by the him, both covered with mortal wounds, and already lifethe night by the English, and not only made a gallant press; but the bulwark of lion hearts that defended the less, surrounded by heaps of the slaughtered foe. resistance, but effectually routed and dispersed the army standard was too impregnable to be broken through. gallant natural son, too, the handsome Archibald Douglas, of the assailants. The part we extract describes the head- Piersie's men already began to slacken in their attack, faithful to the trust reposed in him, though severely ing of the Scotch by the Douglas, and his death. and to present a looser and wider circle to the Scottish wounded, and bleeding helplessly on the grass, still held The Douglas conducted his little army with great silence his time, and eager to catch his advantage, brandished a band; and now the elder Sir Patrick Hepborne, seeing his banner with the grasp of death. and circumspection through the skirting brushwood; and battle-axe, and his son following his example, they joined it so happened, that just as he approached the place of in the cry of A Hepborne! a Hepborne!" and charged action, the full-orbed moon arose to run her peaceful and the enemy so furiously at the head of their men, that majestic course through a clear and cloudless sky, throwing Piersie and his followers were driven down the slope with a mimic day over the scene. Loud shouts arose from the immense slaughter. The axes of the bold knight and his powerful army of the English, for now they began to comson never fell without the sacrifice of an English life. prehend the actual situation of their affairs, and making A Hepborne! a Hepborne !" they cried from time to one bold and determined charge, they burst at once through time, and "A Hepborne! a. Hepborne !" was returned the whole breadth of the entrenchments, overwhelming all to them from those who ran together to their banner; who attempted to stand before them. Now it was that the and yet more and more of the English line gave way Scottish Earl gave the word to his men, and just as the before the accumulating aid that crowded after Sir Patrick English were pushing rapidly on towards the slope of the and his son, who went on gradually recovering the lost high ground, where the Scottish camp hung glittering in ground, by working prodigies of valour. the moon-beam, driving a handful of brave men before them, who were still fighting as they retired, the shout of "Douglas Douglas!-Scotland-Scotland-Douglas! -Jamais Arriere!" ascended to heaven, and the determined Scots poured from their covert out upon the open plain, and rushed against the troops of Piersie.

Confounded by this unexpected charge from an enemy, shom they expected to find asleep in their tents, the English army was driven back in considerable dismay. Then might Harry Piersie and his brother Sir Rafe have een seen flying from standard to standard vainly endea ouring to rally their men; but it was not until they had en driven into the open ground that they could succeed a stopping wh at almost amounted to a flight.

66

Whilst the Hepbornes were so manfully exerting their prowess in one part of the field, the Douglas was toiling to support the battle where it was most hopeless. The great force of the enemy had been accidentally directed to the point where he fought, although they knew not against whom they were moving. The dense body opposed to him, so encumbered him, that his men were unable to stand before it, and defeat seemed to be inevitable. Find ing himself hampered on horseback, he retired a little back, and leaping from his horse, and summoning up his gigantic strength, he seized an iron mace, so ponderous, that even to have lifted it would have been a toil for almost any other individual in the field, and swinging it round his head, he threw himself amidst the thickest of the foe, What, Englishmen! is this your metal?" cried Hot-bearing ruin and death along with him. At every stroke wat, with vehemence. "Fly, then, cowards! and leave of the tremendous engine he whirled, whole ranks of the Tarry Piersie to die. He may not outlive this disgrace English were levelled before him, like grass by the scythe the standards of St. George.' of the mower; and he strode over the dead and dying, These upbraiding words had the effect of checking their down a broad lane cleared through the densest battalions anic, and gave them time to observe the comparatively that were opposed to him. Terror seized upon the Eng. nall body to whom they were so basely yielding. The lish, and they began to give back before him. On he so brothers quickly restored the battle by their daring rushed after their receding steps, reaping a wide and ter ample. Deafening cheers arose, shouts of "Piersie,' rible harvest of death, and strewing the plain with the ad St. George," being loudly mingled with them; and victims of his matchless courage and herculean strength. fresh and very impetuous onset was made, that drove the From time to time he was hardily opposed for a few cottish troops entirely through their entrenchments. The minutes by small bodies of the enemy, that closed together ruggle was now tremendous, and the clash of the Scot- to meet the coming storm, unconscious of its tremendous haxes was terrific; but although the success of the nature, but his resistless arm bore away all before it, unnglish wavered a little now and then, yet the weight of til, encountering a column of great depth and impeneer mass was so very superior that the Scottish army trability, the hero was transfixed by no less than three t ground inch by inch, till, after a long contest, the spears at once. rie found himself almost at the Scottish tents.

"Piersie! Piersie! The pennon of the Piersie!" cried e, shrieking with the wildest joy, and sanguine with the pe of success; while, backed by a band of the choicest warriors, he made a bold dash towards the standard of cotland, that stood before the pavilion of Douglas with De pennon beside it. The Douglas was at that time ghting in another part of the field, where the press gainst his men was greatest. The Earls of Moray and unbar were bravely striving to withstand the numbers

One entered his shoulder between the plates of his epauliére; another, striking on his breast-plate, glanced downwards, and pierced his belly; and the third easily penetrated his thigh, which in his haste had been left without the cuisse. For a moment did the wounded Douglas writhe desparately on the lance-shafts, to rid himself of their iron heads, which had so suddenly arrested his destructive progress. But fate had decreed that his glorious career should be terminated. He received a severe blow on the head; his muscles, so lately full of strength

"How fares it with thee, Lord Douglas ?", cried Sir John Saintclaire, overwhelmed with grief at the sad spectacle before him, and hastening to assist the others in raising him up.

66

Well, right well, I trow, my good friends," replied Douglas, feebly,seeing that I die thus like my ancestors, in the field of fame. But let not the death of Douglas be known, for a dead man shal! yet gain a glorious field.' Hide me, then, I pray thee, in yonder brake; let some one rear my standard, the Jamais Arriere of the Douglas, and let my war-cry be set up, and I promise that ye shall well revenge my death."

[Douglas is carried off the ground, and addresses his attendants.]

"Go," said he faintly to them, "ye have done all for the Douglas that humanity or friendship might require of ye; go, for Scotland lacketh the aid of your arms. Leave me with Lundie; 'tis meeter for his hand to close the eyes of his dying lerd."

The brave knights looked their last upon him, covered their eyes, and stole silently away from a scene that entirely unmanned them. Lundie took out a silver crucifix, and bending over the Douglas, held it up under a stream of moonlight, that broke downwards through an opening in the thick foliage above them.

"I see it, Lundie," said Douglas; "I see the image of my blessed Redeemer. My sins have been many, but thou art already possessed of them all. My soul doth fix herself on him, in sincere repentance, and in the strong hope of mercy through his merits."

whilst his own wounds bled copiously, his tears were dropThe affectionate Lundie knelt by the Earl's side, and ping fast on his dying master.

I know thine inmost heart, Lord Douglas," said he, in a voice oppressed by his grief; "thy hopes of heaven may indeed be strong., Hast thou aught of worldly im port to command me?"

"Margaret," said Douglas, in a voice scarcely audible, 'my dearest Margaret! Tell Moray to forget not our last private converse: and do thou-do thou tell my wife, that my last thought, my last word, was-Margaret!"

His countenance began to change as Lundie gazed intently on it under the moonbeam. The weeping chaplain hastily pronounced the absolution, administered the consecrated wafer from a casket in his pocket, and performed the last religious duties bestowed upon the dying, and the spirit of the heroic Douglas took its flight to heaven.

It seems from the author's preface that he has been accused of imitating the Great Unknown, There is little foundation for the charge, unless the Great Unknown be spoken of as the author of Marmion and the Lady of the Lake. The Wolfe of Badenoch and these poems are in fact of the same genus, and contain many points of close resemblance.

Benefit of Stammering-A nobleman who stammered a great deal, being in a cockpit, and proposing several bets, which he would have lost if he could have replied in time, at length offered five thousand pounds to a hundred. A gambler who stood by said done, but his Lordship's fit of stammering happening to seize him, he could not repeat the word done, until his favourite cock was beat. On this, Colonel Thornton, giving him a knowing jog, ob. served, "If your Lordship had been a plain speaking man, you would have been ruined by this time."

Dr. Donne, Dean of St. Paul's, having married a lady of a rich and noble family without the consent of her parents, was treated by them with great asperity. Having been told by the father that he was to expect no money from him, the doctor went home and wrote the following note: John Donne-Ann Donne-Undone." This quidble had the desired effect, and the distressed pair were restored to favour.