Isle for stones, which was very like "carrying coals to Newcastle." At the period when this coronation ceremony was in vogue-perhaps till a much later period-I imagine it would have been difficult for an aspirant to the crown of Scotland, to find any thing else than a stone to be crowned upon-at least in the Western Highlands. Even now the vicinity of Dunstaffnage presents abundant materials for the manufacture of Jacob's pillows. Indeed some mineralogical wits (if wit and mineralogy be ever found in conjunction) have hinted that the sacred stone in Westminster Abbey is nothing more than a piece of the identical rock on which the old castle of Dunstaffnage is built! Be this as it may, I think Fergus the First would have proved a benefactor to both countries, if he had brought over a cargo of the mercurial imagination of the Irish, to mix with and enliven the grave judgment and calculating wisdom of the Scotch, since the tertium quid thence resulting would have formed an amalgam, capable of being moulded into models of man, that might bear comparison with that headstrong animal, John Bull, whose body and soul are an olla podrida of all races, European, Asiatic, Australian, and Carribbean.

The sulky urchin who guarded this dreary, ruin positively refused us admittance, because it was the Sabbath. There was no great difficulty in forcing the door, but the angry janitor followed us with savage frowns through the mouldering apartments that still exist.

When we began to scale the wall that separates the ruins of Dunstaffnage from the roofless mausoleum of its quondam royal tenants, the young dragon growled, in an unknown tongue, with most menacing gestures, as if we were going to disturb the ashes of the mighty dead. We disturbed nothing but a covey of partridges. There is little to detain the stranger in this lonely and melancholy scene:—no "storied urn or animated bust"-no "long-drawn aisle or fretted vault"-nothing, in fact, but tottering walls of a chapel and cemetery inclosing

Jet-black clouds were

We hastened from the spot, but not too soon. rising portentous in the north-west, zig-zagged, occasionally, with brilliant scintillations of electric fire, and ominously advancing in direct opposition to the wind. We had not, indeed, got half a mile from Dunstaffnage, when a storm "of thunder, lightning, and of rain," that would have gladdened the hearts of the Weird Sisters, came pouring down from the mountains of Morven, as if invoked by the goblin guardian of the castle, to hurl vengeance on the heads of the Sassenachs who had trodden, with profane step, on the sanctuary of departed kings! We quickly took shelter in a wretched-looking hut, built of rude

I

stones, and thatched with heather. We found the interior much more comfortable than we expected. A good peat fire was blazing on the hearth, over which was suspended a pot of broth; while around the chimney hung more than a dozen of well-smoked salmon and other fish. A female, and six staring, rather than smiling children, made instant accommodations for the Sassenachs, including two ladies. Pewter and wooden platters were soon rattling on the clean deal table, and the ladle was baling out the broth, in the twinkling of an eye, for the drenched strangers. Delight was pictured in every countenance of the Highland group, as well as of the guests; and never did I spend so happy a half hour beneath the sculptured domes of the great, as under the hospitable roof of this Highland hut! There was no interchange of ideas through the medium of that language which was conferred on man to conceal his thoughts; but through that language of nature, which is expressed in the eye, and needs not the chattering, false, and obsequious tongue, to give utterance to the feelings of the heart. The poor family could not speak a word of English, nor we of Erse, to manifest the pleasure of the hostess and the gratitude of her guests-yet every thing went on in harmony and good nature!

The storm subsided-the clouds cleared away-and the sun shone forth in splendour. Half a crown put into the hand of a young barefooted girl turned pleasure into pain. The poor mother was evidently in extreme distress for language and means to show her sense of the gift to her child. After several ochs! ohs! and exclamations unintelligible to us, a long knife was brandished at the throat of an enormous salmon in the chimney, which, in half a minute more, would have been broiling on the fire for us, had I not seized the hand of our kind hostess, and made her understand that we were amply supplied with provender from the broth-pot for the remainder of our journey.

I mention the above little incident, of which I could recount many parallel instances, where I found that the "march of intellect" and the selfishness of refinement had not yet affected the springs of ancient Highland hospitality.

I shall probably be believed when I say that I could have had ample introductions to the better classes of society in Scotland; but many will doubt my wisdom, in not taking a single letter of recommendation to the land of cakes. These certificates are great taxes on the gentry of all countries, and I have made a point of never availing myself of them, except in cases of necessity, and where money could not command accommodation at that hospitable mansion—AN INN. He who wishes to see as much as possible in the shortest space of time, will not intrude on the domestic circle, or take up his abode for a week or two with each of his

friends. Pennant, MacCulloch, and fifty other Scottish tourists would have given us better delineations of man and the earth which he inhabits, had they worked harder and eaten less. Had they paid for every thing they put into their mouths, the public would have had better and cheaper articles coming out of that reservoir.

KING-SELLING.

The Scotch have been satirized, beyond measure, for the mean or the mercenary act of selling one of their kings-and that for the sum of FOURPENCE. Yet, on an impartial review of their crowned heads, from Kenneth downwards,—leaving aside the interminable list of UNUTTERABLES, presented to the Pope by Robert Bruce, and tracing a long line of regal ancestors up to Pharaoh, king of Egypt-we must confess that, even of those who were crowned at Scone, or on the Irish Stone, not a few could be singled out, who would not have fetched a groat had they been put up to auction in any of the most legitimate monarchies of Europe. But those who cast reproaches on Scotland, should recollect that, if she sold one king, she bought three,-two of them the dearest bargains that ever crossed the Tweed. For one, (David the Second), the Scotch nation paid one hundred thousand marks in gold, and that for the "dishonorable tool of England," whose "life was a uniform contrast to the patriotic devotion of his father"-THE Bruce. For the other, (William the First,) Scotland paid the heaviest penalty and the dearest ransom that a nation ever paid for a prince,-forfeiture of independence! As for James the First, that vigorous monarch levied such a capitation tax on the Scotch aristocracy, in Stirling Castle and elsewhere, as Caledonia had never before experienced! Still, as the king's motto appears to have been—

"Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos,"

his ransom of forty thousand marks was not extravagant, considering the expense of his education. However this may be, the English and French should be the last people in the world to taunt the Scotch with selling their king. It was infinitely better to make a penny by a sale than by a scaffold,-and far more consonant with those ideas of prudential economy that are early instilled into a Scotchman's mind. It is true that in Scotland, as in other countries, kings have come to untimely ends. They, like too many of their subjects, have fallen by the assassin's blow. But, of all murders, the legal murder is the most terrible, on account of the long and torturous note of preparation that precedes it, and the revolting mockery of justice which sanctions it.

Yet Scotland had, on one occasion at least, some excuse for regicide, had she been inclined that way. Few palaces have presented the frightful scene of a noble guest stabbed to the heart, after dinner, by the royal host who invited him to his table, and shared with him in the banquet. Even here, the murder of Douglas was not without provocation, though certainly without excuse,-and the tenor of James the Second's life showed, that probably a gust of passion, when flushed with wine, led to the horrible breach of pledged faith, of kingly honour, of common hospitality, and of God's commands, rather than premeditation on the part of the royal perpetrator.

It must be conceded to Scotland, that she never concurred in the murder of that Charles whom she delivered up; and that she took more energetic steps to prevent an English parliament from beheading its own king, than to prevent an English queen from beheading a queen of Scots!

GLEN ETIVE; OR THE ENCHANTED VALLEY.

It has been very well observed by a modern and highly-gifted traveller in the Highlands, that the exaggerated descriptions which we find in some books of tours, deprive the spectator not only of his anticipated pleasures, but of those which the scene itself would have afforded, had the colouring been natural. No one has experienced these disappointments more frequently than myself; so that I have long learnt to distrust the glowing descriptions of many travellers. Such writers appear to be seized with a fit of the STUPENDOUS, the moment they see a cliff or a cataract, a high mountain or a rugged rock; and labour to excite vivid sensations in the minds of their readers, although they probably felt none at the time themselves. With them, bogs are always bottomless-rivers impassable-seas running mountains high-rocks tottering -cascades thundering-bridges trembling under the feet of passengers, while the mountains are impending over their heads. The road always lies on the brink of a fathomless precipice, where one false step must precipitate the traveller a thousand feet into the yawning gulf below. Caverns are gloomy and dangerous-the clouds involve them in darkness visible—and night falls on them with all its horrors.

Such, or nearly similar, are the reflections of Dr. MacCulloch, and with which he ushers in the description of a place, such as human eye never before saw. It is quite clear that the worthy doctor would take good care not to exaggerate, after the philippic in which he has indulged against the exaggerations of others. The statements then are, no doubt,

the naked truth. But to put the reader out of suspense. A few hours' row or sail from Bunawe, up Loch Etive, will bring the tourist to the Enchanted Valley, commonly called GLEN ETIVE. In this valley, we are informed by the doctor, "there is that sense of eternal silence and repose, as if in this spot creation had for ever slept. The billows that are seen whitening the shores, are inaudible,—the cascade foams down the declivity unheard,—the clouds are hurried along the tops of mountains, before the blast, but no sound of the storm reaches the car. I wandered from my companions, and thought that I had proceeded but a few yards; yet the boat was a cockle-shell, and the men were invisible. The sun shone bright, yet even the sun seemed not to shine. It was as if it never penetrated to the spot since the beginning of time.”. Vol. ii. p. 152.

Burning with impatience to see a place where the laws of Nature appeared to be reversed or annulled, and where man, at the distance of a few yards, was not merely without shadow, but without substance, I sailed up Loch Etive; but the first experiment convinced me that the sly doctor had hoaxed me completely. I landed on the bank opposite Ben-Cruachan, and paced two hundred and fifty yards in a direct line from my fellow traveller. I then turned round, with a palpitating heart:-I saw him as large as life-and the very dog at his feet was as plainly visible as if he had been by my side! I looked up to the sky, and the sun was shining splendidly in the south-west :-I looked down on the ground, and my shadow was distinctly painted there, in a northeasterly direction. A smart breeze swept over the surface of the lake, and the waves were heard plashing on the shore. I cast my eye towards Ben Cruachan, and I heard the rivulets murmuring down their rocky beds! Oh, Dr. MacCulloch, how you will laugh at the success of your waggery when you read this!

If, indeed, I had previously reflected for a moment on the doctor's representation, I might have been a little puzzled how the "eternal silence and repose" of Glen Etive should have prevented the billows from being heard while dashing against the shores, or the cascades from being audible while tumbling over the precipices. When the judge, in other parts of the world, wishes to hear distinctly the words of a witness, he commands silence in the court! But things are different in the enchanted valley of Glen Etive!

I am free to confess, however, that there is a gigantic simplicity about the whole scene, which is very impressive. No ornament intrudes on that solitary vastness that surrounds us. The rocks and bays on the shore are swallowed up in the enormous dimensions of the circumjacent mountains. Cliffs of grey granite, mixed pastures of a subdued brown,