nation which produced the literary fiction of the Vestiarium 'MacGaradh! MacGaradh! red race of the Tay! 6 QUICK MARCH. The Hay! the Hay! the Hay! the Hay! The author of the other poems comprised in the volume-Mr. John Hay Allan, now Mr. John Sobieski Stuart-tells us in his notes that he copied this piece from an old leaf pasted into an old MS. history of the Hays,' and that he had seen a version of the first stanza in Gaelic.' The first and second stanzas he considers decidedly ancient; the remaining verses as having been * See The Bridal of Caolchairn, and other Poems,' by John Hay Allan, Esq. London, Hookham; and Edinburgh, Tait. 8vo. 1822. composed composed by a certain Captain James Hay in 1715. It is further explained to us, apparently from the same MS. history, that 'MacGaradh' was the ancient name of the Hays, 'Garadh' signifying in Gaelic a dike or barrier,' and being therefore nearly synonymous with the French haie,' a hedge.' The patronymic of the chief, we are told, was Mac Mhic Garadh Mor an Sgithan Dearg'- the son of the son of Garadh the Great of the red shields.' Of this 'old MS. History' we know no more than is contained in the above references to it in the Editorial Notes of 1822-but the Gathering' is so manifestly an imitation of Scott's Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,' composed in 1816, enriched with an occasional touch from the popular song of The Campbells are coming,' that the youngest Miss Hay who fingers a pianoforte cannot suppose it really ancient; and we have no doubt from this, and from the unnatural association of Gaelic names and phrases with the purely Lowland family of the Hays, that, were the old MS. History of the Hays' itself before us, it would prove a genuine elder brother of the Vestiarium 'from the Douay papers.' It is tolerably obvious, in short, that our ingenious manipulator, whoever he may be, has arrived by cautious degrees at the crowning of his imposture. In the poetical compilation of 1822, there occurred indeed an intimation that the gentleman named on its titlepage claimed a descent in some way from the Stuarts (p. 97), but we were left without any explanation on that subject-while the MS. History of the Hays and the Gathering of the MacGaradh were brought prominently forward. Encouraged by the success of those smaller experiments, the artist appears to have advanced from his mystifications about a single noble family, whose real history is quite well known, to the more perplexed pedigrees of the Highland clans, with the phantasmagoria of their variegated tartans-which decorations he then liberally imparted to the harnessed spearmen of the southern border, and even to the purest of the Anglo-Norman houses conspicuous in the authentic annals of Scotland-yea, even to Bruce, Hamilton, and Lyndsay!—until he was at last encouraged to produce in a tangible shape this more ambitious invention of the Iolair Dhearg-announcing openly to the dandies of the Celtic Club and the dowagers of the Inverness Meeting that 'they have yet a KING!' ART. ART. III. Journal of a few Months' Residence in Portugal, and Glimpses of the South of Spain. By a Lady. 2 vols. 1847, HE little visited and less known strip of country to the West of the Peninsula, which rejoices in the title of an independent kingdom, produces other matters besides Portugal onions, Port wine, and periodical revolutions: of which the two former are better to be discussed elsewhere, and the latter may be dismissed as tempests in a teacup. In a recent Number (CLVII.) we paid our homage to the drama of Lusitania; and we now invite the attention of our readers to its scenery and social life, as sketched for us in the Journal of an accomplished artist: her pen light and ready, her pencil true and facile, and both equally obedient to the mistress mind. What eye, indeed, like bright woman's, can see the nice shades of differences, the infinite details which constitute character in the aggregate, whether in the works of the creation or in its so-called lords? What appliance of art can fix chameleon impressions as they arise, better than crowquil guided by taper fingers, which skim over gilt-edged paper like butterflies busied with flowers, now lured by colour, now by perfume, pausing but to extract the essential sweet, and then away to beauties new? Even so in these slim tomes there is no tedious twice-told tale. Here is pleasant reading,' as Scott says of some earlier rara avis, 'with no botheration about statistics and geology'—the dry daily bread of our critical treadmill. : For the poetical and picturesque features of Portugal, our fair tourist came well prepared: a keen perception of the beautiful could not but be hereditary in the blood which rumour assigns her cradled in the bosom of beauty at Grasmere, reared at the knees of the genius loci, her memory ever recurs to the scenes of her youth; and whether she climbs the wild sierra, or fords the arrowy torrents of a foreign land, the scaurs and streams of Cumberland re-appear, clad in a southern garb thus the enjoyment of the present is heightened by the poetry of the past, and Cintra itself becomes doubly delicious, because associated with the sweetest of English homes. We hope we may be pardoned these allusions to a popular report, which certainly seems to derive confirmation from the internal evidence of thought and taste. But at any rate we must give our readers at starting such a general notion of the new Portuguese pilgrims as can be gathered from the scattered hints. of the book itself-for it does not open with a distinct catalogue raisonné like Father Chaucer's, and the more is the pity. The predisposition to be pleased resulting from a previous acquaintancy, spreads birdlime over the pages of a journal; we travel hand-in hand hand with one known to us, sharing alike joys and sorrows: an interest is given to the log-book, be it ever so long, and a life infused into the jokes, be they ever so drowsy. On the other hand, sad and serious is the change which comes over the spirit when dealing with the unknown: only compare the private delight with which the 'memoranda of my last tour' are submitted to by dutiful wife and daughter, with the weariness of the flesh public, which has no predilections, when the tourist, yielding to family pressure, rushes into type, the dispeller of domestic illusions. Be it noted, then, that the party in the present instance consisted of four persons-a wedded pair who chaperon an unmarried couple; they wish, however, to travel incognito-for the names of these loving, galloping, eating, drinking, and thinking beings are only shadowed by initials, or mystified by vacuums, which nature abhors. Unknown values may indeed be expressed as it pleases the wise in algebra, but Hymen, Cupid, and critics protest against such hieroglyphics as W plus H for wives and husbands, or I minus U for bachelors and spinsters. Unsightly dashes, by breaking continuity of text, worry a reader's eye no less than the meaningless gaps weary his mind; and the adventures of Alphabet in search of the picturesque are tiresome as allegory, better than the best of which, said Dr. Johnson, is the portrait of even a dog that we know. Individuality swampt by consonants becomes an X Y Z at the coffee-house; the best women in the world, when designated by vowels, have no character at all. We object altogether to such sentences as follow, which spot many a page in these volumes : -'s At half-past 4 P.M., we set off, accompanied by Colonel P - his brother the prebendary, Major B—, the Adjutant of Colonel Pregiment, and Major R- of the cavalry.'-vol. i. p. 3. J. and I., Mr. and Mr. H—————, all pulled up at once.'—vol. i. p. 143. This private and confidential' reserve is extended to mute mountains and streams which, however babbling, are seldom sensitively alive to the fear of being named and compromised. Thus a striking point of view is alluded to frequently as D's station.' With all respect to D's inobtrusive judgment, surely the reality of the Devil's Peak, or any undiplomatic part of his person or property, is preferable. Again, when the avowed topic is the resemblance between some Portuguese and English height, the Cumbrian mount mocks us under the cloud of (i. 141); while Helvellyn, by the magic of a name, would have fixed and identified the comparison. Let us hope that these alpine mists will be blown away in the second edition, and every blank converted into a prize. Meanwhile Meanwhile No. I is the arithmetical equivalent of the letter I, which represents the authoress, and le style fait la dame. Kind, considerate, and gentle, she unites to a serious mind a cheerful temper and a lively imagination; a healthy tone runs, like a vein of silver, through her narrative, which is free from any alloy of affectation or false sentimentality. Nor is she a smellfungus searching for weeds where roses grow, or setting down everything a wilderness from Braga to Barcelona. With our happily constituted student in Nature's school, every sense becomes an inlet to pure enjoyment; and we shall see that 'The meanest floweret of the dale, The simplest note that swells the gale, Ever on the look-out for the excellent, her eye is blind only to errors, her heart open to every virtue. An unclouded ray of her own sunshine within gilds every discomfort, which, trying on such a tour to the iron frame of man, is borne with unrepining patience by a woman-and this too, as she gracefully says, an invalid who had only left her native hills for a warmer climate, as a rain-vexed bird comes out from the wood to dry its feathers, and take a strong flight home again.' The balmy south has, we rejoice to infer, strengthened the plumage of this stricken dove; she has happily winged her way back to her Cumbrian nest, and cut down her feathers into excellent pens, as her lord, tired of war's alarms, seems to have previously moulded his sword into ploughshares. He too must accept our congratulations on his partner's convalescence. A sick wife curtails marriage of many comforts, and perplexes even a model-husband-which the husband of this tour evidently is, in the opinion of the most competent judge. Bold, brave, and deserving of the fair, he sustains throughout the onerous character of man-of-all-work, fighting and paying for all, as John Bull (we need not tell him) generally does when roaming in the Peninsula. The lady duti fully and duly designates him as our commanding officer;' and we admire in limine his marching orders:-' Leave your bandboxes behind at home, and take nothing that you can do without: economy is the life of the army' (i. 43). Short and sweet this, and no mistake, as F.M. would say; but to a married and locomotive gentleman, a lady plus bag and minus maid is a pearl of price. Our old soldier, next to studying the diminution of baggage, meditates on the increase of the commissariat-' subsistence having always been the difficulty' in Spain and Portugal, as F.M. discovered when ridding them from Gaul's locust host. Whatever |