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once the residence of Dr. Pennycuick, a poet and an antiquary, and subsequently of the Forbes family highly distinguished for their talents and virtues. Disposing of our carriage, let us ramble, at our own sweet will," amid those beautiful grounds. The mansion of Newhall, once a battlemented castle of the Crichton family, stands on the left bank of the North Esk, within a curvature of the stream, under the shadow of the Pentland Hills. On either side is a deep ravine, terminating in the glen of the Esk, one of the most romantic spots in Scotland. Passing round on the eastern side, we gaze down into the ravine, overhung by the remains of a small round tower, and densely shaded with tangled trees. A dark rill gurgles at the bottom, here and there leaping into beautiful cascades, and flinging its glittering spray among the dark woods. Passing to the other side, we come to what was formerly the site of an old prison and chapel, encircled by a pleasant walk. The ravine beneath is filled with trees and shrubbery, but has no stream. From this point the eye glances up through the wooded glen, echoing with the songs of the mavis and the linnet, and over to a mineral well, sheltered by copsewood and pines.

But Newhall, and the grounds around it, derive their chief interest from their connection with the well-known pastoral poem of "Allan Ramsay." The very air, seems redolent with the poetry of "The Gentle Shepherd." Leaving the house, we reach a little "haugh," or low sheltered spot, where the Esk and the rivulets from the Harbour Craig

mingle their waters. At the side of the stream are some romantic gray crags, directly fronting the south, and looking up a turn in the glen. These, adorned with green birches, shrubs, and copsewood, and shading the limpid stream which makes a curve, and then glides underneath their overhanging cliffs, form "a shady bield," completely protected from observation. In this spot is laid the first act of "The Gentle Shepherd."

"Beneath the south side of a craggy field,

Where crystal springs the halesome water yield,
Twa youthful shepherds on the gowans lay,
Tenting their flocks ae bonny morn of May."

Ascending the vale, and just behind the house, we come to a considerable holm or green, with the babbling burn, now gentler in its movement, winding sweetly among the white pebbles. At the head of this quiet retreat, on the edge of the burn, are the ruins of an ancient washing-house, protected by an aged thorn. It was here that the "twa lasses" proposed to wash their "claes," unseen by their lovers.

"A flowery howm between twa verdant braes,

Where lasses use to wash and spread their claes,
A trotting burnie wimpling through the ground;
Its channel pebbles shining smooth and round."

A little further up the burn we come to a hollow, a little beyond what is called "Mary's Bower," where the Esk divides it in the middle, and forms a linn or cascade, called the "How Burn;" a small enclosure above is called the "Braehead Park ;" and

this hollow beneath the cascade with its bathing pool and little green, its rocks and birches, its wild shrubs and natural flowers, and general air of sequestered and romantic beauty, in every respect corresponds with the poet's exquisite description of the spot called "Habbie's Howe."

"Gae farer up the burn to Habbie's Howe,

Where a' the sweets o' spring and summer grow,
There, 'tween twa birks out ower a little linn,
The water fa's and mak's a singand din ;*
A pule breast deep, beneath as clear as glass,
Kisses wi' easy whirls the bordering grass."

Ascending yet further, at a place called the "Carlops," (a contraction of "Carline's Loups," so called, in consequence of a witch or carline having been seen leaping, at night, from one rock to another,) two tall rocks shoot up on either side. Near this, by the side of that old ash tree, stood Mause's Cottage.

"The open field, a cottage in a glen,

An auld wife spinning at the sunny end,
At a sma' distance, by a blasted tree,

Wi faulded arms and half-raised look, ye see

"A green

Bauldy his lane !"†

kail-yard; a little fount,

Where water poplin springs;

There sits a wifet wi' wrinkled front,

An' yet she spins and sings."

With these localities in our mind, let us sit down on this "gowan'd brae," and run over the story of "The Gentle Shepherd," one of the most graphic

* Singing noise. † Alone.

† Old woman.

pictures of Scottish manners, and one of the sweet est pastorals in any language.

Patie or Patrick, a humble shepherd-lad, born and bred in the region we have entered, about the middle of the seventeenth century, was a handsome fellow, and remarkably distinguished for his good temper and rustic accomplishments. He was of a gay-hearted cheerful disposition, and made the woods and hills ring again with his mirthful songs. Moreover, he was sensible and well-informed. His mind, indeed, was superior to his station; still he was contented and happy.

Symon Scott, a worthy man and a wealthy farmer, with whom Patie had lived from his childhood, was a tenant of Sir William Preston's, owner of the neighboring lands, who, to save his head, he having taken part with the royalists, had fled his native country, and was living abroad, no one knew where.

Patie loved Peggy Forsyth, a "neebor lassie," of excellent character and great beauty, who fully requited his attachment. This girl was the reputed niece of Glaude Anderson, a comfortable farmer, and a tenant of Sir William's. He had found her one summer morning, at his door, carefully wrapped in swaddling clothes. Being a warm-hearted man, he had adopted the little stranger as his own relative.

The interviews and conversations of the lovers, and their friends, Roger and Jenny, who after some embarrassments from Jenny's independence, are found to be warmly attached to each other are re

lated by the dramatist with great beauty and simplicity. The reader sees them at early morn, or amid the shadows of the gloaming, wandering by the "bonnie burnie's side," and with hearts of innocence, giving themselves up to the full enjoyment of nature's beauties and their own sweet affections. Glaude and Symon are fine specimens of the honest and hospitable farmers of Scotland. The house of the former is such as one often sees in the rural districts:

"A snug thack* house, before the door a green,
Hens on the midden, ducks in dubs† are seen.
On this side stands a barn, on that a byre:‡
A peat stack joins, an' forms a rural square.
The house is Glaud's;-there you may see him lean,
And to his divot§ seat invites his frien."

The character and fate of Bauldy are graphically described. He is a wealthy but vulgar minded farmer, attached to Peggy, and resolved, if possible, to withdraw her affections from Patie and secure them for himself. For this purpose he has recourse to Mause, a sensible and worthy old woman, but reputed a witch, from her superiority to the common people. Mause agrees to assist him, but secretly resolves to expose his ignorance and punish his effrontery. The following is Bauldy's account of the matter:

"Ah! Sir, the witch ca'd Mause,
That wins aboon the mill amang the haws,
First promised that she'd help me wi' her art,
To gain a bonnie thrawart|| lassie's heart.

*Thatch. † Pools. Barn for the cows. § Turf. || Wayward.