try. Still, this revenge seemed to him too poor an expiation for the blood of his chief: the warm life of the best of his foemen was the only sacrifice which he thought he could offer as an acceptable oblation to appease the manes of the murdered; and he, therefore, projected a third expedition, resolving in this to fill the measure of vengeance to the brim. In the prosecution of his design he awaited a favourable opportunity, and, gathering a small band of men, penetrated into the country of the Mac Kenzies early on a Sunday morning, and surrounded the Cillechrist, while a numerous congregation were assembled within its walls. Inexorable in his purpose, Angus commanded his men to set fire to the building, and slaughter all who endeavoured to break forth. Struck with despair when the flames rushed in upon the aisle of the church, and they beheld the circle of bare claymors glancing beyond the door, the congregation, scarce knowing what they did, endeavoured to force their way through the weapons and the flames; but, pent within the narrow pass of a single arch, they were not capable to make way over each other, far less to break the ring of broadswords which bristled round the porch: men, women, and children, were driven back into the blazing pile, or hewn down, and transfixed at the gorge of the entrance; the flames increased on every side, a heavy column of livid smoke rolled upward on the air, and the roar of infuriated men, the wailing of suffering infants, and the shrieks of despairing women, rung from within the dissolving pile. While the church was burning, the piper of the Mac Donells marched round the building, playing, as was customary on extraordinary occasions, an extempore piece of music: the pibroch which he now played was called, from the place where it was composed, Cillechrirt, and afterwards became the pibroch of the Glengarrie family. At length the flames poured forth from every quarter of the building, the roof fell in, there was one mingled yell, one crash of ruin; the flame sunk in smouldering vapour, and all was silent. Angus had looked on with stern unrelenting determination, but the deed was done, and recollection now warned him of the danger of delay; he immediately gave orders to retreat, and leading off his men, set off with the utmost expedition for his own country. The flames of the church had, however, lighted a beacon of alarm which blazed far and wide: the Mac Kenzies had gathered in numerous bodies, and took the chase with such vigour, that they came in sight of the Mac Donells long before they got to the border of their country. Angus Mac Raonuill, seeing the determination of the pursuit, and the superiority of its numbers, ordered his men to separate, and shift each for himself: they dispersed accordingly, and made every one his way to his own home as well as he could. The commander of the Mac Kenzies did not scatter his people, but, intent on securing the leader of his foemen, held them together on the track of Angus Mac Raonuill, who with a few men in his company fled towards Loch Ness. Angus always wore a scarlet plush jacket, and it now served to mark him out to the knowledge of the pursuers. Perceiving that the whole chase was drawn after himself, he separated his followers one by one, till at length he was left alone; but yet the pursuers turned not aside upon the track of any other. When they came near the burn of Alt Sbian, the leader of the Mac Kenzies had gained so much on the object of his pursuit, that he had nearly overtaken him. The river which was before them runs in this place through a rocky chasm, or trough, of immense depth, and considerable breadth: Angus knew that death was behind him, and gathering all his strength, he dashed at the desperate leap, and being a man of singular vigour and activity, succeeded in clearing it. The leader of the Mac Kenzies, reckless of danger in the ardour of the pursuit, followed also at the leap, but, less athletic than his adversary, he failed of its length, and slipping on the side of the crag, held by the slender branch of a birchtree which grew above him on the brink. The Mac Donell, looking back in his flight to see the success of his pursuer, beheld him hanging to the tree, and struggling to gain the edge of the bank: he turned, and drawing his dirk, at one stroke severed the branch which supported the Mac Kenzie:-"I have left much behind me. with you to-day," said he, "take that also." The wretched man, rolling from rock to rock, fell headlong into the stream below, where, shattered and mangled by the fall, he expired in the water. Angus Mac Raonuill continued his flight, and the Mac Kenzies, though bereft of their leader, held on the pursuit. Checked, however, by the stream which none of them dared to leap, Angus was gaining fast upon them, when a musquet discharged at him by one of the pursuers, wounded him severely, and greatly retarded his speed. After passing the river, the Mac Kenzies again drew hard after him, and as they came in sight of Loch Ness, Angus perceiv ing his strength to fail with his wound, and his enemies pressing upon him, determined to attempt swimming the loch: he rushed into the water, and for some time, refreshed by its coolness, swam with much vigour and confidence. His limbs would, however, in all probability have failed him before he had crossed the half of the distance to the opposite bank; but Fraser of Fyars, a particular friend of the Glengarrie family, seeing a single man pursued by a party out of the Mac Kenzies' country, and knowing that the Mac Donells had gone upon an expedition in that direction, got out a boat, and hastening to the aid of Angus, took him on board, and conveyed him in safety to the east side of the loch. The Mac Kenzies, seeing their foeman had escaped, discontinued the pursuit, and Angus returned at his leisure to Glengarrie. JAN. THE TRITON OF THE MINNOWS. "Why don't you strike out something new?" Of eye, as well as stocking; "If shilly-shaly long you stand, "Ah, Madam! cease your bard to blame; On every step terrific stand I first essay'd to write in prose, And ransack heaths and hovels: O'erlook'd the Scottish Novels." A bolder flight I'd fain essay, That field is rich and spacious; *Note by the Editor.-For the gap that ensues, I make the writer of the stanzas himself accountable. He is a writer well and pleasantly known to the public. Obliged as I am at this instant to send a certain quantum of prose and verse to press, I cannot discharge my duty without accepting any contribution that comes in the shape of lively verse; and the scarcity of that material is not to be appreciated by any but the editors of journals. I could not publish the omitted lines, because their author's taste has erred from the partiality of friendship; and in the hurry of the moment; I cannot change the stanzas, so as to make this omission imperceptible. T. C. DIRGE FOR MUNGO PARK. Air, "Rousseau's Dream." Hope no more-in peace he sleepeth--- Rests beneath the dashing wave. We, like him, our barks are guiding Thou canst still the wild wave's motion; ON THE NOVELS OF LA FAYETTE. MADAME LA FAYETTE is the reputed, and certainly the princi pal author of the "Princesse de Cleves" and "Zayde," fictitious compositions, which are justly considered to form an era in literature, and to have been the first of our modern novels. It was owing to the modesty of the fair author, that they did not appear under her name. (( Zayde" was published under that of her friend Segrais, who has yielded the merit to its right owner. "The Princess of Cleves,'" says he, in his Mémoires Anecdotes, "is by Madame La Fayette, who disdained answering the Père Bouhours** critique upon it. 'Zayde,' which appeared with my name, is also her's. It is true I had some part in it; but this was solely the arrangement of the romance, in which the rules of art are observed with great exactness." Mademoiselle de la Vergne was born in 1633, of a parent noble both by birth and military achievements. Every care was bestowed on her education: Menage and Rapin were her instructors in the study of the classics, for which she retained a predilection even to her latest days; and a story is related of her early acuteness in correcting both her instructors as to the construction of a passage in some Latin author. She nevertheless seems to have been a favourite with them; and Menage has chosen his pupil for the goddess of his verse, perhaps, like many of his literary brethren, for want of a less ideal love. She married the Conte de la Fayette, at the age of twenty-two, and was soon courted and admired in the fashionable and literary circles, which epithets were at that time synonimous. She soon became intimate with Madame de Rambouillet, and her coterie then on the decline. "Madame La F.," says a writer of that day, "a beaucoup appris de Madame R., mais elle avoit l'esprit bien plus solide." It was in this society that she formed her intimacies and friendships, particularly that with the Duc de la Rochefoucault, which connexion seems to have had great influence upon both. Throughout her writings the bold and original sentiments of her friend appear, strengthening her feminine tenderness and sensibility; and there are some sayings of her's recorded, of a spirit altogether different from her natural character, as well as that of her sex, and which are completely of the school of Rochefoucault. "C'est assez que d'etre," mentioned by Segrais as an oft-repeated sentiment of her's, was evidently derived from the author of the "Maxims." Their friendship lasted till the death of the latter. "Monsieur de la Rochefoucault is dead," writes Madame de Sevigne: "Monsieur de Marsillac is afflicted beyond all description; nevertheless, my child, he will find solace in the presence of the king and the amusements of the court; but where shall Madame La Fayette find such a friend, such a companion? Where shall she seek such sweetness and agreeability-one who will so esteem herself and her son? She is infirm, and confined to her chamber. M. de Rochefoucault was also fond of a sedentary life. This rendered them necessary to one another. Nothing can be compared to the confidence and the delights of their friendship." The plot of the "Princess of Cleves" is simple, but the tale be • It was not Bouhours who wrote the criticism; but his pupil, M. de VaFincourt. |