"He was a well-made man, rather above than under the middle size, and apparently betwixt five-and-twenty and thirty years of age-for, although he might, at first glance, have passed for one who had attained the latter period, yet, on a nearer examination, it seemed as if the burning sun of a warmer climate than Scotland, and perhaps some fatigue, both of body and mind, had imprinted the marks of care and manhood upon his counte. nance, without abiding the course of years. His eyes and teeth were excellent, and his other features, though they could be scarce termed handsome, expressed sense and acuteness; he bore, in his aspect, that ease and composure of manner, equally void of awkwardkness and affectation,which is said emphatically to mark the gentleman; and, although neither the plainness of his dress, nor the total want of the usual attendants, allowed Meg to suppose him a wealthy man, she had little doubt that he was above the rank of her lodgers in general."

The medicinal properties of a spring a short distance from the village of St. Ronan, which had led to the erection of additional habitations, had of late years attracted, at certain periods of the year, several visitors of more or less importance, who, in imitation of the plan regularly adopted at all watering places, formed themselves into a body corporate, and usually ate their meals together at the ordinary of the Fox, the rival house against which so much of Meg Dods' wrath had been directed, This coterie included the following, persons, who are depicted by our author with his accustomed spirit: Lady Penelope Penfeather, a withered maiden, whose pretensions to rank, fortune, beauty, and talent, were pretty much upon a par, but who, with a very small modicum of any of these desiderata, wished to be thought a belle and a savante, an admirer of genius, to whatever caste it might belong; the Laird of St. Ronan, a young man rather disfigured by his sporting propensities, who actually kept greyhounds, and at least talked of hunters and racers, and whose sister, Clara Mowbray, is moreover the heroine of the story; Sir Bingo Binks, a four-in-hand Knight of the Turf, who had recently married one of the ladies of this Belle Assemblée, vulgar, brutal, and illiterate; the wife of a merchant skipper; a lawyer; a quack doctor; a sentimental clergyman; Cap

tain Mungo Mac Turf, a fighting Highland lieutenant; and an amateur and connoisseur of the name of Winterblossom. Of the latter gentleman's portrait we must quote a few lines:

"Mr. Winterblossom now lived upon a moderate annuity, and had discovered a way of reconciling his economy with much company and made dishes, by acting as perpetual president of the table-d'hôte, at the Well. Here he used to amuse the society by telling stories about Garrick, Foot, Bonnel Thornton, and Lord Kellie, and delivering his opinions in matters of taste and virtù. An excellent carver, he knew how to help each guest to what was precisely his due; and never failed to reserve a proper slice as the reward of his own labours. To conclude, he was possessed of some taste in the fine arts, at least in painting and music, although it was rather of the technical kind, than that which warms the heart and elevates the feelings. There was, indeed, about Mr. Winterblossom, nothing that was either warm or elevated. He was shrewd, selfish, and sensual; the last of which qualities he screened from observation under a specious varnish of exterior plaisance. Therefore, in his professed and apparent anxiety to do the honours of the table, to the most punctilious point of good breeding, he never permitted the attendants upon the public taste to supply the wants of others until all his own private comforts had been fully arranged and provided for."

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The curiosity of this august assembly having been excited by the singularly retired habits of Mr. Francis Tyrrel, the stranger guest at the original hostelrie of Mrs. Meg Dods, an invitation was sent to him, in the names of the whole party, to favour them with his company on an early day. During his visit he had an opportnity of meeting with Clara Mowbray, and of renewing for a moment an acquaintance with her of long standing. It is, however, only in the last volume that the circumstances of their former connection are fully and clearly explained. The father of Francis Tyrrel, the fifth Earl of Etherington, had, during his travels on the continent, in early youth, married a certain beautiful orphan, Marie de Martigny, the mother of our hero. This nobleman, taking advantage of the irregularity, and, as he then deemed, illegality of this union of the heart, found it suit his convenience to

marry again, from interested motives, and accordingly married a Miss Bulmer, by whom he had another son, who, on his father's death, took possession of his title and estates, on the plea of his elder brother's illegetimacy. The young men had, nevertheless, been educated together, and had, up to a certain period, been constant associates. They had met, several years before, in the neighbourhood of St. Ronan's Well, the beautiful sister of Mowbray; and Francis Tyrrel and she had then formed the tender connection already alluded to. As at this time the father of the young men shewed an evident desire to do justice to his elder son, and admit the legitimacy of his birth, the efforts of the younger brother were devoted unremittingly to vilify and misrepresent him. In an unlucky hour Francis Tyrrel made his brother his confidant, and the latter conjecturing that the connection would on no account be approved of by the father, used every possible exertion to promote it, and was unwearied in his endeavours to facilitate the intercourse of the lovers. Their interviews having been terminated by the harsh command of Clara's father, Valentine still volunteered his services as the medium of communication, and finally advised Francis to propose a secret marriage. In a hapless hour the offer was accepted, and all the preliminaries arranged. The pastor of the parish agreed to perform the ceremony, on a supposition hinted by the treacherous Valentine that the object of the lover was to do justice to the betrayed maiden. It was finally settled that the lovers should meet at the Old Kirk when the twilight became deep, and set off in a chaise for England immediately after the ceremony. About this juncture, however, the younger brother became acquainted with a circumstance which completely altered his views on the subject of the marriage. It appeared that his granduncle by his mother's side was related to the Mowbray family, and had left a singular will bequeathing an immense estate to the eldest son of the Earl of Etherington, provided he formed a matrimonial connection with a lady of the house of St. Ronan. After some consideration, he meditated a deep scheme to crown his ambitious views, and under circumstances which remove, in some measure, the improbability that may appear from the naked

statement of the facts to attach to them, personated his brother, (to whom he bore a strong resemblance), on the evening appointed for the rendezvous. We give part of this man's confession in a letter addressed by him to a friend :

"We got into a carriage, and were a mile from the church, when my unlucky or lucky brother stopped the chaise by force-through what means he had obtained knowledge of my little trick I never have been able to learn. Solmes has been faithful to me in too many instances, that I should suspect him in this important crisis. I jumped out of the carriage, pitched fraternity to the devil, and betwixt desperation and something very like shame, began to cut away with a couteau de chasse, which I had provided in case of necessity.-All was in vain-I was hustled down under the wheel of the carriage, and, the horses taking fright, it went over my body."

Clara Mowbray was reduced to a state of mind bordering on distraction, and her lover only consented to a suspension of his revenge on an arrangement that Valentine should give up all idea of seeing his betrothed again, or even of returning to the neighbourhood in which she resided. Meanwhile, during his eldest son's absence in foreign climes, the father died, and Valentine Bulmer (as he was named after his mother), took possession of the title and estates of the Earl of Etherington. It was only on hearing that his perfidious brother was, in defiance of his stipulation, about to return to St. Ronan's Well, that Francis repaired thither to watch his motions. At this time, however, he became possessed of documents which required only a legal process in order to vindicate to himself his birth-right.-The last volume, which is full of interest, is occupied chiefly with the intrigues of the titular earl and his associates to secure the title and estates.-After cultivating assiduously the acquaintance of Mowbray,who is ignorant of the transaction in which his sister is concerned, by losing a few hundreds with him at cards, the titular earl makes formal proposals for the hand of Clara, which are warmly seconded by her brother; but they are received with disgust, and even horror, by the lady. The titular earl fleeces St. Ronan of the entire remnant of his and his sister's property at the gaming

His two nephews, Cynthio and Pietro Aldobrandini, were created cardinals; the first, afterwards called the Cardinal of St. George; the eldest was a great patron of science and learned men; he had known Tasso when at Rome, and had a great esteem for him, and now so earnestly pressed him to come thither, that Tasso, unable to refuse, once more left his retreat at Naples. The confines of the ecclesiastical states were then so infested by banditti, that travellers went in bodies for each other's protection. Tasso joined himself to one of these companies, and when they came within sight of Mola, a little town near Gaieta, they received intelligence that Sciarra, a famous captain of robbers, was near at hand with a great body of men. Tasso was of opinion that they should continue their journey and endeavour to defend themselves, but his opinion was overruled, and they threw themselves into Mola for safety; here they remained some time, in a manner blocked up by Sciarra. At last, the outlaw hearing that Tasso was one of the party, sent a message, assuring him he might pass in safety, and offered to conduct him wherever he pleased. Tasso returned his thanks, but declined the offer; not perhaps daring to rely on the word of such a man as Sciarra. The robber then sent another message, informing Tasso, that on his account he would withdraw his men, and leave the ways open; a proof of the great reputation his works had gained him even amongst the vilest of mankind, Sciarra did as he said, and Tasso, continuing his journey, arrived at Rome without accident. He was graciously welcomed by his friends, the two car dinals and the pope. One day the two cardinals held an assembly of several prelates, to consult, among other things, on a method to put a stop to the license of the Pasquinades. One proposed that Pasquin's statue should be broken to pieces and cast into the river. But Tasso's opinion being asked, he said, "It would be much more prudent to let it remain where it was; for otherwise, from the fragments of the statue would be bred an infinite number of frogs on the banks of the Tiber, that would never cease to croak day and night," The Pope, to whom Cardinal Aldobrandini related what had passed, interrogated Tasso on the subject. "It is true, holy father," said Tasso, "such was my opinion; and I shall add, more

over, that if your holiness would silence Pasquin, the only way is to put people into employments as may give no occasion to any libels or disaffected discourse." Disgusted with the life of a courtier, Tasso obtained permission to retire to Naples to prosecute his law-suit, and lodged at the convent of St. Severin, with the fathers of St. Benedict. Thus Tasso found himself again in his desired tranquillity, so much desired by him, when Cardinal Cynthio found means to recall him to Rome, by persuading the Pope to give him the honour of being solemnly crowned with laurel in the capital. Tasso was not desirous of this honour, but he at last yielded to the persuasion of Manso, and departed for Rome; but he had a secret presage it would never be. Tasso was greatly affected at parting with Manso, and took his leave of him as with one he should never see again. Tasso arrived at Rome 1595, where he was met by many prelates and other persons of distinction, and was afterwards introduced by the two Cardinals, Cynthio and Pietro, to the presence of the Pope, who was pleased to tell him, "that his merit would add as much honour to the laurel he was going to receive, as that crown had added to the honour of those on whom it had formerly been conferred." Nothing was now thought of but the approaching solemnity; orders were given not only to decorate the Pope's palace, but the capital and all principal streets through which the procession had to pass. Tasso appeared unmoved by all these preparations, and being shown a sonnet, composed for the occasion by a relation, he made the following answer from Seneca, descriptive of his forebodings:

Magnifica verba mors propè admota

excutit,

(approaching death cuts short all praises). And it proved too true; for whilst they waited for fair weather to celebrate the ceremony, Cardinal Cynthio fell ill, and as soon as he recovered Tasso was seized with his last sickness; and although he had not completed his 51st year, his studies and misfortunes had brought on him a premature old age. Being persuaded that his end was approaching, he desired to spend a few days in the monastery of St. Onuphrius, to which place he was carried in Cynthio's coach, and was received and treated with the ut