SCOTLAND is once more upon her trial. The poor old country bears a certain conjugal relationship to her richer neighbour, which is fruitful of criticism. The amiable comments with which a man's family and relatives are apt to receive his wife, and accompany at intervals her course through life, convey a lively idea of the manner in which the smaller and poorer country, received into reluctant equality with the larger, is assailed at the various periods of their joint career. Not that the husband regrets his marriage, or that any reference to Sir Cresswell Cresswell looms darkly on their future fate, but only that there is a certain relish in reporting the follies of all the poor lady's sisters and brethren, and that her own foibles show salient upon the calm background of domestic life. Such has been the luck of our ancient kingdom. Wedded, not Wedded, not without boastfulness like many a bride, she has had her struggles in the new family relationship, which has bound the hands but not the tongues of the two spouses. The best of married people are not without a certain satisfaction in the possession of a ready taunt, which may either aggravate or sub

VOL. XC.-NO. DLI.

due on occasion the other side of the house; and perhaps, while the present world lasts, this condition of matrimony will last along with the institution. In the happy espousals of the United Kingdom this amiable human element never was wanting; but there are occasions when it takes special force. One of these crises has just occurred, and the culprit stands once more at the bar. Her assailants are threefold at least ; and what with the sneers of a skirmishing band of general literature, the grave direct assault of the Historic Muse in its most serious development, and the insane defence which aids their efforts, our respected and venerable parent, suddenly brought to a standstill in her respectable and busy career, and amazed at the face of battle which she has done nothing to provoke, is in a position to call forth the sympathies of all her friends and lovers. At the present moment, when her mind is much more occupied with Highland expeditions and country rambles than with subjects less agreeable-when, before the trees have browned, with no direful bondage of the season upon her freeborn limbs, her thoughts are bent upon the gleaming lochs

T

tablishment at Dunkeld, where that same Tay makes nature beautiful. The drive down the valley (accomplished, not in a dog-cart, but with dignity in a carriage, where we were all inside, and I-my modesty will scarcely permit me to write the words-was able to divide my attentions equally) was calm, but agreeable. Neither the society nor the scenery were exciting; and the exceptional character of yesterday's proceedings in the rain having subsided into common comfort, no incident occurred worth mentioning. The feature of Dunkeld, as every body knows, is the river; and nobody can possibly expect me to describe that well-known scene. Arabella might, but I doubt whether it would be to edification. The day was calm, and, as I have said, not exciting in its enjoyment, and the evening was amicably spent in lamentations over our approaching separation, and settling of the route by which the fair travellers were to proceed when I left them the next morning a matter not concluded without trouble. The tendency women have to go back upon their decisions, and reconsider the whole matter, is remarkable. I wonder if they carry it equally into all the arrangements of life.

Next morning I took my fair friends into Perth, and placed them in the railway carriage which was to convey them back into the bosoms of their families. I will not attempt to describe the trembling lip, the suppressed sigh, the falter

ing and too - feeling acknowledgments with which this parting was accomplished. When the inexorable train plunged out of sight, one of the kind creatures was bending forward, her eager lips moving with some last words; but my melancholy fate prevented me hearing that affecting message. With their heads full of lochs and mountains, mists and torrents, and with, I am bound to say, an amount of gratitude highly gratifying to receive, but which I do not feel myself to have deserved in its full extent, my fair companions disappeared out of these latitudes; and I went on my way rejoicing.

At this moment I sit in a very different scene, at a sunny window, overlooking, through half-cut openings in the trees, a distant scene of sea and city, too charming to be indicated more plainly-but at a nearer point of vision, overlooking the lawn from which the battered but bland face of that new denizen of polite society known as "Aunt Sally" beams upward benignant upon my thoughtful gaze. Last night a little group of figures gathered round that venerable vision. Ah me! can you imagine any region in the world to which one would not wander joyfully in such company? The hand that poises that skilful missile, dispenses fate and fortune. Miss Arabella was a judge more lenient. I was somebody while I was the champion and guard of the dear old ladies. A creature of eighteen is competent to put her yoke upon me now.*

No. DLI.

SCOTLAND is once more upon her trial. The poor old country bears a certain conjugal relationship to her richer neighbour, which is fruitful of criticism. The amiable comments with which a man's family and relatives are apt to receive his wife, and accompany at intervals her course through life, convey a lively idea of the manner in which the smaller and poorer country, received into reluctant equality with the larger, is assailed at the various periods of their joint career. Not that the husband regrets his marriage, or that any reference to Sir Cresswell Cresswell looms darkly on their future fate, but only that there is a certain relish in reporting the follies of all the poor lady's sisters and brethren, and that her own foibles show salient upon the calm background of domestic life. Such has been the luck of our ancient kingdom. Wedded, not without boastfulness like many a bride, she has had her struggles in the new family relationship, which has bound the hands but not the tongues of the two spouses. The best of married people are not without a certain satisfaction in the possession of a ready taunt, which may either aggravate or sub

VOL. XC.-NO. DLI.

VOL. XC.

due on occasion the other side of the house; and perhaps, while the present world lasts, this condition of matrimony will last along with the institution. In the happy espousals of the United Kingdom this amiable human element never was wanting; but there are occasions when it takes special force. One of these crises has just occurred, and the culprit stands once more at the bar. Her assailants are threefold at least ; and what with the sneers of a skirmishing band of general literature, the grave direct assault of the Historic Muse in its most serious development, and the insane defence which aids their efforts, our respected and venerable parent, suddenly brought to a standstill in her respectable and busy career, and amazed at the face of battle which she has done nothing to provoke, is in a position to call forth the sympathies of all her friends and lovers. At the present moment, when her mind is much more occupied with Highland expeditions and country rambles than with subjects less agreeable-when, before the trees have browned, with no direful bondage of the season upon her freeborn limbs, her thoughts are bent upon the gleaming lochs

T

indented in her coasts, and the shadowy hills which overlook them it is hard to be called upon to stand and clear her reputation before she takes her year's holiday. However, matters have come to a crisis. Not for the first nor the last time, nor by reason of any special misdeed of the moment, is this sudden assault brought about. Nor does it produce any tragical results in the mind of the startled heroine of the occasion. She is amazed, but not overcome, by the unexpected tempest. Thanking heaven that there are few countries in the world which require to form their estimate of the Scottish character at second hand either from a Buckle or a Blackie, Scotland is able to bear the storm with very philosophical composure. It is old ground, often gone over-often, doubtless, to be gone over again; for the estimate formed by one nation of another is something utterly beyond reason, and impervious to argument; with which comfortable conviction let us see what her critics have to say against Scotland, and whether that poor old lady can find anything to say for herself.

Three pictures side by side present themselves before us, each claiming to be an authentic portrait of the face which we know so well. The first is drawn in light and sketchy outlines, with features caricatured, indeed, but recognisable. Here it is an eager, alert, and energetic figure, which looms red and strong through the traditionary mists; a figure rich in traditionary features, high cheek-boned, red-haired covetous but enterprising, prompt, shrewd, selfish, clear-sighted, fortunate-always on the outlook for opportunities of personal advantage, generally most successful in seizing them unscrupulous, but not unkind, ready to lend a hand to another Scot, or even, no Scot being in the way, to any fit follower always steady, cool, pertinacious; a figure so distinct and well defined that it does credit to the popular imagination. Emotions

are few in this development of character, and graces do not exist. It has no enthusiasm, no humour, in its composition. In face of a joke it stares blankly, but in sight of an investment or a promising occupation becomes immediately acute. It goes out upon the world rawboned (whatever that may be) and hungry, and returns, weighted with money, or covered with decorations, amid sneers and plaudits. Such is the Scotch character, as renowned in contemporary journals and periodical literature. Of this native stuff, all unadorned and unsusceptible of adornment, Generals and Chancellors are made. And when they die, it is recorded of them how, being Scotch, they had but to set out to conquer Fortune, when fortune flew into their arms.

The next portrait is very different. The air trembles with sighs more vulgar but scarce less dreadful than those of the Inferno. The heavens are dark above, and the earth is desolate below. Through the murky atmosphere appears a frantic figure in a pulpit, uttering wild denunciations; underneath, a cowed and wretched assemblage sits groaning. A melancholy ascetic sits in grim self-inquisition in the front of the picture, frowning at earth and heaven; for him no sun lights the world, no music breathes, no beauty exists. Neither love nor human kindness can find entrance into his sullen soul; enterprise, activity, and thought are as foreign to him as love and charity. Too timorous to move a step out of that horrific gloom, he sits amusing himself with hideous speculations upon the future damnation of his neighbours; and if a gleam of ghastly comfort ever enters his heart, it is contained in a reflection of that thanksgiving of the Pharisee, that he is not as other men. Black against the pale unwholesome sky he rises grimly, an apparition wonderful to behold. This is the Scotland which, with much elaboration, Mr Buckle, who professes to be at once the most unimpassioned and