fess that it was one of as rare beauty and wild magnificence as ever greeted the vision of man. And were our minds steeped in ancient and poetic lore, we should be prepared to appreciate the faithfulness and splendor of Burns's allegorical description of the " Genius of Scotland."

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly boughs,
Were twisted gracefu' round her brows;
I took her for some Scottish Muse,
By that same token,

And come to stop those reckless vows
Would soon be broken.

A hair-brained sentimental trace,
Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildly witty-rustic grace,
Shone full upon her,

Her eye e'en turned on empty space,
Beamed keen with honor.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue,
My gazing wonder chiefly drew,
Deep lights and shadows mingling threw
A lustre grand;

And seemed, to my astonished view
A well known land!

Here rivers in the sea were lost;

There mountains in the skies were tost;

Here tumbling billows marked the coast,
With surging foam;

There, distant shone, Art's lofty boast,
The lordly dome.

Here Doon poured down his far-fetched floods;
There well fed Irwine stately thuds:

Auld hermit Ayr staw through his woods,
On to the shore;

And many a lesser torrent scuds

With seeming roar.

By stately tower or palace fair

Or ruins pendent in the air

Bold stems of heroes here and there,
I could discern;

Some seemed to muse, some seemed to dare
With feature stern."

Now, imagine the whole of this country, studded at no remote intervals, with churches and schools well supported, and well attended by young and old.

Think of her ancient and able Universities, Edinburgh, Glasgow, St. Andrews, and Aberdeen, including in the last, Marischal College and Kings College, with an average attendance of from 2500 to 3000 students, with their learned and amiable professors, extensive libraries, and fine collections in Natural History. Think of her innumerable high schools, private schools, public and private libraries, literary institutes and ancient hospitals, some for the body and some for the mind, and connect the whole with her heroic history, her poetical enthusiasm, her religious faith, her fealty to God and man, and you will have some faint conception of the beauty and glory of Scotland.

But the impression would be deepened, could you behold the land, beautified and ennobled by her sabbath calm, as once in seven days, she rests and worships before the Lord. Could you but hear

the voice of her church-going bells, and go to the house of God, in company with her thoughtful but cheerful population; could you sit in some "auld warld" kirk, and hear some grey-haired holy man dispense, with deep and tender tones, the word of everlasting life; could you hear a whole congregation of devout worshippers make the hills ring again, with their simple melody; above all, could you place yourself in some deep shady glen, by the "sweet burnie," as it "wimples" among the waving willows, or the yellow broom, or sit down on the green "brae side," enamelled with "gowans," on some sacramental occasion, when thousands are gathered to hear the preaching of the gospel, and with simple ritual, to commemorate the dying love of the Redeemer! Could you see the devout and happy looks of the aged, and the sweet but reverent aspect of children and youth, as the tones of some earnest preacher thrilled them with emotions of holy gratitude, in view of the "loving kindness of the Lord," you would instinctively feel that Scotland,—free, Protestant Scotland, was a happy land, and would be prepared to exclaim with the sweet singer of Israel: "Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound, they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance."

"How with religious awe impressed
They open lay the guileless breast;
And youth and age with fears distressed
All due prepare,

The symbols of eternal rest

Devout to share.

How down ilk lang withdrawing hill,
Successive crowds the valleys fill;
While pure religious converse still
Beguiles the way,

And gives a cast to youthful will,
To suit the day.

How placed along the sacred board,
Their hoary pastor's looks adored,—
His voice with peace and blessing stored,
Sent from above,

And faith and hope, and joy afford
And boundless love.

O'er this with warm seraphic glow,
Celestial beings pleased bow;
And whispered hear the holy vow,
'Mid grateful tears;

And mark amid such scenes below

Their future peers."*

Or you might leave this scene, and study the Scottish character with some shepherd boy on the hills, as he reads God's word upon the green-sward, and meditates on things divine, while tending his flocks far from the house of God, on the sabbath day, a circumstance to which Grahame in his poem of the Sabbath, has touchingly referred, and which Telford has thus described:

"Say how, by early lessons taught,

Truth's pleasing air is willing caught!
Congenial to the untainted thought,

The shepherd boy,.

Who tends his flocks on lonely height,

Feels holy joy.

* Letter to Robert Burns, by Mr. Telford, of Shrewsbury, a native of Scotland.

mates.

Is aught on earth so lovely known,
On sabbath morn, and far alone.
His guileless sou lall naked shown
Before his God-

Such prayers must welcome reach the throne
And bless'd abode.

O tell! with what a heartfelt joy
The parent eyes the virtuous boy;
And all his constant kind employ,
Is how to give

The best of lear he can enjoy,

As means to live."

The scenes of "the Cotter's Saturday Night," one of the sweetest poems in any language, are exact transcripts from real life, as Burns himself intiHis father was 66 a godly man," and was wont, morning and evening, to" turn o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, the big ha' Bible," and worship God, with his family. Where in Italy or in Austria will you meet aught so beautiful or thrilling as the following?

"The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They round the ingle form a circle wide,
The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace
The big ha' Bible ance his father's pride:

His bonnet reverently is laid aside,

His lyart haffets* wearing thin and bare:
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide
He wales a portion with judicious care;

And 'Let us worship God!' he says with solemn air.

They chant their artless notes in simple guise,

They tune their hearts, by far their noblest aim;
Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise,
Or plaintive Martyrs worthy of the name,

*Withered cheeks.