was blazing, and the animated and interested faces of the honest folks who crowded into it, ou a slight acquaintance, unceremoniously and curiously, but without rudeness, gave a cheerful welcome to the new dwelling. In a quarter of an hour the beds were laid down-the room decently arranged-one and all of the neighbours said "Gude-night,' and the door was closed upon the Lyndsays in their new dwelling.

They blessed and ate their bread in peace. The Bible was then opened, and Margaret read a chapter. There was frequent and loud noise in the lane of passing merriment or anger, but this little congregation worshipped God in a hymn, Esther's sweet voice leading the sacred melody, and they knelt together in prayer. It has been beautifully said by one whose works are not unknown in the dwellings of the poor: Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!

He, like the world, his ready visit pays

Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes;
Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe,

And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.

Not so did sleep this night forsake the wretched. He came like moonlight into the house of the widow and the fatherless, and, under the shadow of his wings, their souls lay in oblivion of all trouble, or perhaps solaced even with delightful dreams.

A Snow-Storm.-From 'Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.'

It was on a fierce and howling winter day that I was crossing the dreary moor of Achindown, on my way to the manse of that parish, a solitary pedestrian. The snow, which had been incessantly falling for a week past, was drifted into beautiful but dangerous wreaths, far and wide, over the melancholy expanse-and the scene kept visibly shifting before me, as the strong wind that blew from every point of the compass struck the dazzling masses, and heaved them up and down in endless transforination. There was something inspiriting in the labour with which, in the buoyant strength of youth, I forced my way through the storm, and I could not but enjoy those gleamings of sunlight that ever and anon burst through some unexpected opening in the sky, and gave a character of cheerfulness, and even warmth, to the sides or summits of the stricken hills. As the momentary cessation of the sharp drift allowed my eyes to look onwards and around, I saw here and there up the little opening valleys, cottages just visible beneath the black stems of their snow-covered clumps of trees, or beside some small spot of green pasture kept open for the sheep These intimations of life and happiness came delightfully to me in the mid t of the desolation; and the barking of a dog attending some shepherd in his quest on the hill, put fresh vigour into my limbs, telling me that, lonely as I seemed to be. I was surrounded by cheerful though unseen company, and that I was not the only wanderer over the snows.

As I walked along, my mind was insensibly filled with a crowd of pleasant images of rural winter life, tat helped me gladly onwards over many miles of moor. I thought of the severe but cheerful labours of the barn-the merding of farm-gear by the fireside the wheel turned by the foot of old 1g, less for gain than as a thrifty pastime -the skiiful mother, making auld claes look amaist as weel 's the new-the ballad unconsciously listened to by the family, all busy at their own tasks around the sin ing maiden-the old traditionary tale told by some wayfarer hospitably housed till the storm should blow by-the unexpected visit of neighbours, on need or friendship --or the footstep of lover undeterred by the snow-drifts that have bried up his flocks. But above all, I thought of those hours of religious worship that have not yet escaped from the domestic life of the peasantry of Scotland-of the sound of Psalms that the depth of snow cannot deaden to the ear of Him to whom they are chanted-and of that sublime Sabbath-keeping, which, on days 100 tempestuous for the kirk, changes the cottage of the shepherd into the temple of God.

With such glad and peaceful images in my heart, I travelled along that dreary moor, with the cutting wind in my face, and my feet sinking in the snow or sliding on the hard blue ice beneath it, as cheerfully as ever I walked in the dewy warmth of a summer morning through fields of fragrance and of flowers. And row I could discern, within half-an-hour's walk before me, the spire of the church, close to which stood the manse of my aged friend and benefactor. My heart burned within me as a sudden gleam of stormy sunlight tipt it with fire-and I felt, at that moment,

ible sense of the sublimity of the character of that gray-headed shepvilderness, keeping together his own happy little flock.

Mr. Wilson published another but inferior story. 'The It certainly is a singular and interesting feature in the in author known as an active man of the world, who spent s time in the higher social circles of his native conntry and 1, and whose scholastic and political tastes would seem to different result, that, instead of portraying the manners h he was familiar-instead of indulging in witty dialogue us illustration--he should have selected homely Scottish ›r his works of fiction, and appeared never so happy or so ic as when expatiating on the joys and sorrows of his humymen in the sequestered and unambitious walks of life. of Mr. Wilson (Christopher North') by his daughter, on, was published in 1862.

6

other novels issued about this time from the Edinburgh RS. JOHNSTONE (1781-1857) published anonymously Clan 15), a tale written before the appearance of Waverley,' and ng that work in the romantic glow which it casts over character and scenery. A second novel, Elizabeth de is published by Mrs. Johnstone in 1827. This lady was also of some interesting tales for children- The Diversions of "The Nights of the Round Table,' &c.-and was also an contributor to the periodical literature of the day. She years editor of Tait's Magazine,' with a salary of £250 a s. Johnstone died in 1857. Her style is easy and elegant, ritings are marked by good sense and a cultivated mind. OMAS DICK LAUDER, Bart. (1784-1848), wrote two novels with Scottish life and history, 'Lochandhu,' 1825, and f of Badenoch,' 1827. In 1830, Sir Thomas wrote an inAccount of the Great Floods in Morayshire,' which hapthe autumn of 1829. He was then a resident among the cenes of this unexampled inundation, and has described its h great picturesqueness and beauty, and with many homely tic episodes relative to the suffering people. Sir Thomas shed a series of 'Highland Rambles,' much inferior to his els, though abounding like them, in striking descriptions of enery. He edited Gilpin's Forest Scenery,' and `Sir Uve's Essays on the Picturesque,' adding much new matter to he was commissioned to write a memorial of her Majesty ctoria's visit to Scotland in 1842. His latest work was a e account of Scottish Rivers,' the Tweed and other streams, left incomplete. An edition of this work, with a preface hn Brown, was published in 1874. A complete knowledge ive country, its scenery, people, history, and antiquities-a picturesque delineation-and a taste for architecture, landdening, and its attendant rural and elegant pursuits, distin

guished this author. Sir Thomas was of an old Scottish family, representing lineally the houses of Lauder and Bass, and, through a female, Dick of Braid and Grange.

"The Youth and Manhood of Cyril Thornton,' 1827, was hailed as one of the most vigorous and interesting fictions of the day. It contained sketches of college-life, military campaigns, and other bustling scenes and adventures. Some of the foreign scenes are very vividly drawn. It was the production of the late THOMAS HAMILTON (brother of the distinguished philosopher, Sir William Hamilton), captain in the 29th Regiment, who died in 1842, aged fiftythree. He visited America, and wrote a lively ingenious work on the New World, entitled Men and Manners in America,' 1833. Captain Hamilton was one of the many travellers who disliked the peculiar customs, the democratic government, and social habits of the Americans; and he spoke his mind freely, but apparently in a spirit of truth and candour. Captain Hamilton was also author of 'Annals of the Peninsular War.'

Among the other writers of fiction who at this time published anonymously in Edinburgh was an English divine, DR. JAMES HOOK, (17711828), the only brother of Theodore Hook, and who was dean of Worcester and archdeacon of IIuntingdon. To indulge his native wit and humour, and perhaps to spread those loyal Tory principles which, like his brother, he carried to their utmost extent, Dr. Hook wrote two novels, 'Pen Owen,' 1822, and Percy Mallory,' 1823. They are clever, irregular works, touching on modern events and living characters, and discussing various political questions. Pen Owen' is the superior novel, and contains some good-humour and satire on Welsh genealogy and antiquities. Dr. Hook wrote several political pamphlets, sermons, and charges.

ANDREW PICKEN (1788-1833) was a native of Paisley, son of a manufacturer, and brought up to a mercantile life. He was engaged in business for some time in the West Indies, afterwards in a bank in Ireland, in Glasgow, and in Liverpool. At the latter place he established himself as a bookseller, but was unsuccessful, and went to London to pursue literature as a profession. His first work, Tales and Sketches of the West of Scotland,' gave offence by some satirical portraits, but was generally esteemed for its local fidelity and natural painting. His novel of The Sectarian; or, the Church and the Meeting-house,' three volumes, 1829, displayed more vigorous and concentrated powers; but the subject was unhappy, and the pictures which the author drew of the Dissenters, representing them as selfish, hypocritical, and sordid, irritated a great body of readers. Next year Mr. Picken made a more successful appearance. The Dominie's Legacy,' three volumes, was warmly welcomed by novelreaders, and a second edition was called for by the end of the year, This work consists of a number of Scottish stories-like Mr. Carle ton's Irish tales-some humorous and some pathetic. Minister Tam

y Ogilvy approach near to the happiest efforts of Galt

The

r our author conciliated the evangelical Dissenters by an ng religious compilation-Travels and Researches of Emiglish Missionaries; including a Historical Sketch of the Pro1 Present State of the Principal Protestant Missions of Late In 1831 Mr. Picken issued 'The Club-Book,' a collection of cales by different authors. Mr. James Tyrone Power, Galt, , James Hogg, Mr. Jerdan, and Allan Cunningham contribh a story, and the editor himself added two-The Deerand the Three Kearneys. His next work was 'Traditionary f Old Families,' the first part of a series which was to eme legendary history of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Such aight be rendered highly interesting and popular, for almost family has some traditionary lore-some tale of love, or uperstition—that is handed down from generation to generar. Picken now applied himself to another Scottish novel, ack Watch' (the original name of the gallant 42d Regiment); had just completed this work when he was struck with an f apoplexy, which in a fortnight proved fatal. He died on of November, 1833. Mr. Picken, according to one of his I was the dominie of his own tales-simple, affectionate, rewelling apart from the world, and blending in all his views gentle and tender feelings reflected from his own mind.'

SUSAN EDMONSTOUNE FERRIER.

ady was authoress of 'Marriage,' published in 1818, the 'In,' 1824, and 'Destiny, or the Chief's Daughter,' 1831-all three volumes each. She was daughter of James Ferrier, ne of Sir Walter's brethren of the clerk's table;' and the velist, at the conclusion of the Tales of My Landlord, alluded ister shadow,' the author of 'the very lively work entitled ge," as one of the labourers capable of gathering in the large of Scottish character and fiction.* In his private diary he

cribing the melancholy situation of Sir Walter the year before his death, art introduces Miss Ferrier in a very amiable light, and paints a charming e. To assist them (the family of Scott) in amusing him in the hours pent out of his study, and especially that he might be tempted to make 's more frequent, his daughters had invited his friend the authoress of o come out to Abbotsford; and her coming was serviceable; for she knew him well, and she had seen enough of affliction akin to his to be well ealing with it. She could not be an hour in his company without observlled his children with more sorrow than all the rest of the case. He would ry as gaily as ever, and go on, in spite of the hesitation in his speech, to highly picturesque effect, but before he reached the point, it would seem internal spring had given way; he paused, and gazed round him with the ety of look that a blind man has when he has dropped his staff. Unthinksometimes pained him sadly by giving him the catch-word abruptly. I e delicacy of Miss Ferrier on such occasions. Her sight was bad, and she

has also mentioned Miss Ferrier as a gifted personage, having, be sides her great talents, conversation the least exigeante of any author, female at least, whom he had ever seen among the long list he had encountered with; simple, full of humour, and exceedingly ready at repartee; and all this without the least affectation of the blue-stocking.' This is high praise; but the readers of Miss Ferrier's novels will at once recognise it as characteristic, and exactly what they would have anticipated. This lady was a Scottish Miss Edgeworth-of a lively, practical, penetrating cast of mind; skilful in depicting character and seizing upon national peculiarities; caustic in her wit and humour, with a quick sense of the ludicrous; and desirous of inculcating sound morality and attention to the courtesies and charities of life. In some passages, indeed, she evinces a deep religious feeling, approaching to the evangelical views of Hannah More; but the general strain of her writing relates to the foibles and oddities of mankind, and no one has drawn them with greater breadth of comic humour or effect. Her scenes often resemble the style of our best old comedies, and she may boast, like Foote, of adding many new and original characters to the stock of our comic literature. Her first work is a complete gallery of this kind. There is a shade of caricature in some of the female portraits, notwithstanding the explanation of the authoress that they lived at a time when Scotland was very different from what it is now-when female education was little attended to even in families of the highest rank; and consequently the ladies of those days possessed a raciness in their manners and ideas that we should vainly seek for in this age of cultivation and refinement. This fact is further illustrated by Lord Cockburn's 'Memorials of his Own Times.'

It is not only, however, in satirising the foibles of her own sex that Miss Ferrier displays such original talent and humour. Dr. Redgill, a medical hanger-on and diner-out, is a gourmand of the first class, who looks upon bad dinners to be the source of much of the misery we hear of in the married life, and who compares a woman's reputation to a beef-steak-'if once breathed upon, 'tis good for nothing. Many sly satirical touches occur throughout the work. In one of Miss Grizzy's letters we hear of a Major MacTavish of the militia, who, independent of his "ank, which Grizzy thought was very high, distinguished himself, and shewed the greatest bravery once when there was a very serious riot about the raising the potatoes a penny a peck, when there was no occasion for it, in the town of Dunoon. We are told also that country visits

took care not to use her glasses when he was speaking; and she affected to be also troubled with deafness. and would say: "Well, I am getting as dull as a post: I have not heard a word since you said so and so," being sure to mention a circumstance behind that at which he had really halted. He then took up the thread with his habitual smile of courtesy, as if forgetting his case entirely in the consideration of the lady's infirmity.'