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(9.)—CHAP. XXX.

Our counsels waver like the unsteady bark, That reels amid the strife of meeting currents. Old Play.

(10.)-CHAP. XXXI.

Hold fast thy truth, young soldier. - Gentle maiden,

Keep you your promise plight-leave age its subtleties,

And gray-hair'd policy its maze of falsehood;
But be you candid as the morning sky,
Ere the high sun sucks vapors up to stain it.

The Trial.

From St. Ronan's Well.

1823.

MOTTOES.

(1.)-CHAP. II.-THE GUEST.

Quis novus hic hospes!

Dido apud Virgilium.

Ch'm-maid!-The German in the front parlor ! BOOTS's free Translation of the Eneid.

(2.)-CHAP. III.

There must be government in all society-
Bees have their Queen, and stag herds have their
leader;

Rome had her Consuls, Athens had her Archons,
And we, sir, have our Managing Committee.
The Album of St. Ronans.
(3.)-CHAP. X.

Come, let me have thy counsel, for I need it;
Thou art of those, who better help their friends
With sage advice, than usurers with gold,
Or brawlers with their swords-I'll trust to thee,
For I ask only from thee words, not deeds.
The Devil hath met his Match.

(4.)-CHAP. XI.

Nearest of blood should still be next in love;
And when I see these happy children playing,
While William gathers flowers for Ellen's ringlets,
And Ellen dresses flies for William's angle,
I scarce can think, that in advancing life,
Coldness, unkindness, interest, or suspicion,
Will e'er divide that unity so sacred,
Which Nature bound at birth.

Anonymous.

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Who left such a treasure of old Scottish lore
As enables each age to print one volume more.
One volume more, my friends, one volume

more,

VI.

As bitter as gall, and as sharp as a zazor, And feeding on herbs as a Nebuchadnezzar,1 His diet too acid, his temper too sour,

We'll ransack old Banny for one volume Little Ritson came out with his two volumes more."

more.

II.

And first, Allan Ramsay, was eager to glean
From Bannatyne's Hortus his bright Evergreen;
Two little light volumes (intended for four)
Still leave us the task to print one volume more.
One volume more, &c.

III.

His ways were not ours, for he cared not a pin How much he left out, or how much he put in; The truth of the reading he thought was a bore,

So this accurate age calls for one volume more. One volume more, &c.

IV.

Correct and sagacious, then came my Lord Hailes,
And weigh'd every letter in critical scales,
But left out some brief words, which the prudish
abhor,

And castrated Banny in one volume more.

One volume more, my friends, one volume

But one volume, my friends, one volume more, We'll dine on roast-beef and print one volume

more.

VII.

The stout Gothic yeditur, next on the roll,"
With his beard like a brush and as black as a coal;
And honest Greysteel' that was true to the core,
Lent their hearts and their hands each to one vol-
ume more.

One volume more, &c.

VIII.

Since by these single champions what wonders were done,

What may not be achieved by our Thirty and One? Law, Gospel, and Commerce, we count in our corps, And the Trade and the Press join for one volume

more.

One volume more, &c.

IX.

Ancient libels and contraband books, I assure ye, We'll print as secure from Exchequer or Jury; Then hear your Committee and let them count o'er We'll restore Banny's manhood in one volume The Chiels they intend in their three volumes more.

more,

more.

V.

John Pinkerton next, and I'm truly concern'd
I can't call that worthy so candid as learn'd;
He rail'd at the plaid and blasphemed the clay-

more,

And set Scots by the ears in his one volume

more.

One volume more, my friends, one volume

more,

Celt and Goth shall be pleased with one vol

ume more.

1 In accordance with his own regimen, Mr. Ritson published a volume entitled, "An Essay on Abstinence from Animal Food as a Moral Duty. 1802,"

* See an account of the Metrical Antiquarian Researches of Pinkerton, Ritson, and Herd, &c. in the Introductory Remarks on Popular Poetry, ante, p. 544, et seq.

James Sibbald, editor of Scottish Poetry, &c. "The Yeditur," was the name given him by the late Lord Eldin, then Mr. John Clerk, advocate. The description of him here is very accurate.

David Herd, editor of Songs and Historical Ballads. 2 vols. He was called Greysteel by his intimates, from having been long in unsuccessful quest of the romance of that

name.

• This club was instituted in the year 1822, for the publication or reprint of rare and curious works connected with the history

Three volumes more, &c.

X.

They'll produce you King Jamie, the sapient and Sext,

And the Rob of Dumblane and her Bishops come next;

One tome miscellaneous they'll add to your store, Resolving next year to print four volumes more. Four volumes more, my friends, four volumes

more;

Pay down your subscriptions for four volumes more.$

and antiquities of Scotland. It consisted, at first, of a very few members, gradually extended to one hundred, at which num ber it has now made a final pause. They assume the name of the Bannatyne Club from George Bannatyne, of whom little is known beyond that prodigious effort which produced his present honors, and is, perhaps, one of the most singular instances of its kind which the literature of any country exhibits. His labors as an amanuensis were undertaken during the time of pestilence, in 1568. The dread of infection had induced him to retire into solitude, and under such circumstances he had the energy to form and execute the plan of saving the literature of the whole nation; and, undisturbed by the general mourn ing for the dead, and general fears of the living, to devote himself to the task of collecting and recording the triumphs of human genius in the poetry of his age and country; thus, amid the wreck of all that was mortal, employing himself in

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preserving the lays by which mortality is at once given to others, and obtained for the writer himself. He informs us of some of the numerous difficulties he had to contend with in this self-imposed task. The volume containing his labors, deposited in the Library of the Faculty of Advocates at Edinburgh, is no less than eight hundred pages in length, and very neatly and closely written, containing nearly all the ancient poetry of Scotland now known to exist.

This Caledonian association, which boasts several names of distinction, both from rank and talent, has assumed rather a broader foundation than the parent society, the Roxburghe Club in London, which, in its plan, being restricted to the reprinting of single tracts, each executed at the expense of an individual member, it follows as almost a necessary conse quence, that no volume of considerable size has emanated from it, and its range has been thus far limited in point of utility. The Bannatyne, holding the same system with respect to the ordinary species of club reprints, levies, moreover, a fund among its members of about £500 a year, expressly to be applied for the editing and printing of works of acknowledged importance, and likely to be attended with expense beyond the reasonable bounds of an individual's contribution. In this way either a member of the Club, or a competent person under

By not having writ what I clearly engraved!
On the contrary, I, on the whole, think it better
To be whipp'd as the thief, than his lousy re-
setter.

Thirdly—don't you perceive that I don't care a boddle

Although fifty false metres were flung at my noddle,

For my back is as broad and as hard as Benlomon's,

And I treat as I please both the Greeks and the Romans;

Whereas the said heathens might rather look serious

At a kick on their drum from the scribe of Valerius.

And, fourthly and lastly—it is my good pleasure To remain the sole source of that murderous

measure.

So stet pro ratione voluntas-be tractile,
Invade not, I say, my own dear little dactyl;
If you do, you'll occasion a breach in our inter-

course:

To-morrow will see me in town for the wintercourse,

But not at your door, at the usual hour, sir, My own pye-house daughter's good prog to devour, sir.

Ergo-peace-on your duty, your squeamishness throttle,

And we'll soothe Priscian's spleen with a canny

third bottle.

A fig for all dactyls, a fig for all spondees,
A fig for all dunces and dominie Grundys;
A fig for dry thrapples, south, north, east, and
west, sir,

Speates and raxes' ere five for a famishing guest, sir;

its patronage, superintends a particular volume, or set of valames. Upon these occasions, a very moderate number of copies are thrown off for general sale; and those belonging to the Club are only distinguished from the others by being printed on the paper, and ornamented with the decorations, peculiar to the Society. In this way several useful and eminently vainable works have recently been given to the public for the first time, or at least with a degree of accuracy and authenticity which they had never before attained.—Abridged from the Quarterly Review—ART. Pitcairn's Ancient Criminal Trials. February, 1831.

1 There is an excellent story (but too long for quotation) in the Memoire of the Somervilles (vol. i. p. 240) about an old Lond of that family, who, when he wished preparations to be made for high feasting at his Castle of Cowthally, used to send on a billet inscribed with this laconic phrase," Speates and raxes,” i. e. spits and ranges. Upon one occasion, Lady Somervile (being newly married, and not yet skilled in her husband's hieroglyphics) read the mandates as spears and jacks, and sent forth 200 armed horsemen, whose appearance on the moors greatly alarmed Lord Somerville and his guest, who happened to be no less a person than King James III.-See SCOTT's Miscellaneous Prose, vol. xxii. p. 312.

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OF yore, in old England, it was not thought good
To carry two visages under one hood;
What should folk say to you? who have faces such
plenty,

That from under one hood, you last night show'd us twenty!

Stand forth, arch deceiver, and tell us in truth,
Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth?
Man, woman, or child-a dog or a mouse?
Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house?
Each live thing, did I ask?—each dead implement,
too,

A work-shop in your person,-saw, chisel, and screw!

Above all, are you one individual? I know
You must be at least Alexandre and Co.

But I think you're a troop-an assemblage-a mob,

And that I, as the Sheriff, should take up the job;

And instead of rehearsing your wonders in verse, Must read you the Riot-Act, and bid you disperse.

ABBOTSFORD, 23d April.3

1 Fatsman was one of Mr. James Ballantyne's many aliases. Another (to which Constable mostly adhered) was Mr. "Basketfill"-an allusion to the celebrated printer Baskerville.

2" When Monsieur Alexandre, the celebrated ventrilequist, was in Scotland, in 1824, he paid a visit to Abbotsford, where he entertained his distinguished host, and the other visitors, with his unrivalled imitations. Next morning, when he was about to depart, Sir Walter felt a good deal embarrassed as to the sort of acknowledgment he should offer; but at length, resolving that it would probably be most agreeable to the young foreigner to be paid in professional coin, if in any, he stepped aside for a few minutes, and on returning, presented him with this epigram. The reader need hardly be reminded that Sir Walter Scott held the of fice of Sheriff of the county of Selkirk."—Scotch newspaper, 1830.

The lines, with this date, appeared in the Edinburgh Annual Register of 1824.

Epilogue

TO THE DRAMA FOUNDED ON "ST. RONAN'S WELI "

1824.

“After the play, the following humorous address (ascribed to an eminent literary character) was spoken with infinite effect by Mr. Mackay in the character of Meg Dodds."-Edinburgh Weekly Journal, 9th June, 1824.

Enter MEG DODDS, encircled by a crowd of unruly
boys, whom a town's-officer is driving off.
THAT'S right, friend-drive the gaitlings back,
And lend yon muckle ane a whack;
Your Embro' bairns are grown a pack,
Sae proud and saucy,
They scarce will let an auld wife walk
Upon your causey.

I've seen the day they would been scaur'd,
Wi' the Tolbooth, or wi' the Guard,
Or maybe wud hae some regard
For Jamie Laing—
The Water-hole' was right weel wared
On sic a gang.

But whar's the gude Tolbooth® gane now! Whar's the auld Claught,' wi' red and blue? Whar's Jamie Laing? and whar's John Doo? And whar's the Weigh-house?"

Deil hae't I see but what is new,

Except the Playhouse !

Yoursells are changed frae head to heel, There's some that gar the causeway reel With clashing hufe and rattling wheel, And horses canterin', Wha's fathers daunder'd hame as weel Wi' lass and lantern.

4 James Laing was one of the Depute-Clerks of the city of Edinburgh, and in his official connection with the Police and the Council-Chamber, his name was a constant terror to evildoers. He died in February, 1806.

The Watch-hole.

The Tolbooth of Edinburgh, The Heart of Mid-Lothian, was pulled down in 1817.

The ancient Town Guard. The reduced remnant of this body of police was finally disbanded in 1817.

John Doo, or Dhu-a terrific-looking and high-spirited member of the Town Guard, and of whom there is a print by Kay, etched in 1784.

The Weigh-House, situated at the head of the West Bow, Lawnmarket, and which had long been looked upon as an encumbrance to the street, was demolished in order to make way for the royal procession to the Castle, which took place on the 22d of August, 1822.

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