to the belief that there are certain high-favoured beings, to whom is imputed the power of drawing aside the curtain which conceals futurity. Well is it for mankind that no such power exists: the wretched are now solaced by the hope that their miseries will terminate, and many a one, in the present enjoyment of health, fortune, and felicity, would instantly have his happiness destroyed could he foresee the sickness, poverty, and ART. IX. Tales of Former Times. FROM metrical and prose romances Mr. St. John has selected a number of interesting stories, and adapted the language to the capacity of youthful readers. The Arabian Nights Entertainments and the Tales of the Genii have often induced a love of reading at an early age, and the habit has continued through after life. Of late yearsa vast number of books have been written professedly for the use of children. Juvenile Dramas and stories in which little masters and misses are represented as philosophers in miniature have superseded Goody two Shoes and Jack the Giant-killer. Against this revolution much may be urged, Imagination like memory is a faculty which if not early cultivated never attains much vigor. There can be little variety in the domestic incidents which are calculated to interest children; nor will a boy of a lively fancy be half so much gratified in perusing the narrative of an exemplary hero of his own age, as by reading the exploits of some valorous knight. In the one case there are no new ideas duced, no new images presented to the mind; in the other all is novelty, and a new world is discovered. The language of the old métrical romances being obsolete would be perfectly unintelligible to youthful readers, and they would be also objectionable from their prolixity sway That hush'd in grim repose expects his ev'ning prey. By A. St. JOHN. 2 vols. 8vo. and their violation of decency. Mr. St. John has succeeded in preserving the interest of the tale, while he has omitted all that is gross. The present volumes may be considered as a valuable addition to the Juvenile library. Children of the dullest capacities cannot but be amused by some of the marvellous adventures here related, while those of a more volatile disposition will forget their sports while following the fortunes of some favourite hero. Much as we are disposed to commend the present collection, we must enter a protest against some liberties which have been taken with stories which may be considered as almost classical. King Arthur, sir Lancelot and sir Tristrem are characters as well known to lovers of romance as Achilles and Hector to the scholar. Mr. St. John has quoted the very words in which the character of sir Lancelot is described in the old romance, and applied them to Arthur, "Arthur, guided, directed and assisted in all his enterprises by the wisdom and skill of Merlin, gained the highest pinnacle of renown, pro His cha racter may be summed up in the words sternest foe to mortal enemy that ever put a spear in the rest.” This is as bad as if he had given Nestor the appellation of swiftfooted, and Achilles that of honeytongued. ART. X. The Cottagers of Glenbournie. A Tule for the Farmer's Ingle-nook. By ELIZABETH HAMILTON. Svo. pp. 402. WHY are we to be constantly pestered about the depraved taste of the age displayed in the general fondness for novel reading? True it is, that among the countless tribe of caterers for the public feast, there are but few who are themselves possessed of that delicacy of taste which qualifies them for the task; and that among the still more numerous tribe of those who partake of this feast there must be many who will gorge themselves with whatever dishes are placed before them. Among the loungers of both sexes we have already observed in another article that a sort of omnivorous appetite for novels is indulged which preys with insatiable and indiscriminate avidity on the choicest viands and the vilest garbage. It is only, however, among the lowest of these loungers that all delicacy and discrimination of taste is lost. A bad novel was never known to retain its popularity long it is readand otherwise its demerits could not be estimated. But it is read and thrown upon the shelf, neglected, forgotten, or despised. We think highly of the public feeling and the public taste: many of our old novels which illustrate the manners of the times, which awake the sensibilities of the reader, which excite to hercic deeds, or lead to the cultivation of gentler and more peaceful virtues, are still read by the rising generation with interest and delight. The public has already given its opinion of this tale, the Cottagers of Glenbournie; it has staniped upon it the seal of its approbation. The matron recommends it to her daughter, and the daughter feels a higher confidence in the matron's judgment. Nay, those loungers, even, whom we have alluded to, are delighted with it, and confess that simplicity possesses charms which it is not in the power of affectation, with all its harlotry of embellishment, to bestow, They who, like ourselves, were born on this side of the Tweed, are probably not alive to all the merits of this tale: the excellencies of a portrait can undoubtedly best be estimated by those who are acquainted with the original. We are here presented with a portrait of the Scotch peasantry: the outlines are drawn with so much spirit, the colouring is so vivid, the light and shadow are so judiciously opposed and balanced, and the whole expression of countenance is so singular and so striking, that it is altogether one of those which you would swear is a likeness even if you never saw the original. Miss Hamilton has undertaken the most delicate and unthankful of all tasks; that of telling her friends of their faults. The inhabitant of a poor and mountainous country is proverbially acknowledged to be more attached to the soil which gave him birth than he is whose destiny is cast on smiling plains and among richer regions. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him from the storms; And as a babe, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to its mother breast, To the loud torrent of the whirlwind's some hills on the north side of the roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.. This attachment is sometimes so strong, like the fondness of a lover for his mistress, which not only blinds him to the defects of ber person and mind, but actually in his estimation transforms those defects into positive beauties, that he is led to believe every attempt to improve its natural or moral character is like "heightening the beauties of paradise or mending the air of Elysium." Where such is the feeling, where exists this imaginary perfection, it is no easy matter to destroy the illusion, and but a thankless task to attempt it. Dr. Johnson was but a stern moralist; he touched upon the infirmities of Scotland too roughly. Miss Hamilton, as she is more conciliating in her manner, will be more patiently attended to: her lessons indeed contain reproof, but it is reproof not only unmixed with asperity and scorn, but accompanied with kindness. Nothing can be simpler than the story is of the Cottagers of Glenbournie Mrs. Mason, a most respectable person whose long and faithful, and zealous services in a noble family had been but inadequately rewarded, retires upon a scanty income to her native mountains in Scotland. She learns that, one only relative in the world is yet left to her, who was married to a small farmer in Glenbournie in her way thither, she pays a visit to a very worthy gentleman, a Mr. Stewart, and tells, we are obliged to confess, a very dull and long history of her former life. Mr. Stewart accompanies his guest from Gowen-brae to the place of her destination, with his daughter Mary, and her two brothers who had just come from school. The road, which winded along the foot of ANN. REV. VOL. VII. glen, was very narrow and much encumbered by loose stones, brought down from the hills by winter torrents. These might have been removed by the idle boys of the glen, but the farmers would rather rack their carts to pieces than give themselves any trouble about the matter. Our travellers had well nigh been stopped in their progress by a misfortune which happened to a poor boy whose cart of hay had overturned by the breaking down of a bridge along which he was passing. "At first, indeed, neither boy nor horse were [was] seen; but as Mr. Stewart advanced to examine whether by removing the hay, which partly covered the bridge, and partly hung suspended on the bushes, the road might still be passable, he heard a child's voice in the hollow exclaiming, Come on, ye muckle brute! ye had as weel come on! I'll gar ye! I'll gar ye! That's a gude beast now; come awa! That's it! Ay, ye're a gude beast now." "As the last words were uttered, a little fellow, of about ten years of age, was seen issuing from the hollow, and pulling after him, with all his might, a great long-backed clumsy animal of the horse species, though apparently of a very mulish temper. said Mr. Stewart; 'how did all this hap "You have met with a sad accident,' pen?' eneugh,' returned the boy; the brig "You may see how it happened, plain brak, and the cart couppet.' "And did you and the horse coup likewise ?' said Mr. Stewart. I "O aye, we a' couppet thegether, for was riding on his back.' 66 And where is your father, and all the rest of the folk ?' field? Dinna ye ken than we're taking "Whar sud they be but in the hayin our hay? John Tampson's and Jamie Forster's was in a wook syne, but we're ay ahint the lave.' "All the party were greatly amused by the composure which the young peasant evinced under his misfortune, as Rr well as by the shrewdness of his answers; and having learned from him, that the hay-field was at no great distance, gave him some halfpence to hasten his speed, and promised to take care of his horse till he should return with assis tance. "It is aw true,' said the farmer, moving his bonnet ; but I thought it would do weel enough. I spoke to Jamie Forster and John Tampson about it; but they said they wad na fash themselves to mend a brig that was to serve a' the folk in the Glen.' But you must now mend it for your own sake,' said Mr. Stewart, even though a' the folk in the Glen should be the better for it.' "Aye, sir,' said one of the men, that's spoken like yoursel!' would every body follow your example, there would be nothing in the world, but peace and good neighbourhood. Only tell us what we are to do, and I'll work at your bidding, till it be pit mirk.' "Well,' said Mr. Stewart, bring down the planks that I saw lying in the barn-yard, and which, though you have been obliged to step over them every day since the stack they propped was taken in, have never been lifted. You know what I mean.' "O yes, sir,' said the farmer, grin ning, we ken what ye mean weel eneugh and indeed I may ken, for I have fallen thrice ow're them since they lay there; and often said they sud be set by, but we cou'dna be fashed." In about half an hour every thing was got right again; the planks were laid and covered with sod cut from the bank, and the bridge only wanted a little gravel to make it as good as ever. At length the village appeared in view, consisting of twenty or thirty thatched cottages, only to be distinguished from so many stables or hog sties by the smoke that issued from their chimnies every door had a dunghill in its front, and a small cart tilted up directly before it. The cottage of John Mac Clarty was not more inviting than that of his neighbours; it had the usual ornament of a great dunghill in front, and under the window was a puddle from the house, and in it were formed by the dirty water thrown about twenty ducklings. "At the threshold of the door, room had been left for a paving-stone, but it had never been laid; and consequently the place became hollow, to the great advantage of the younger ducklings, who always found in it a plentiful supply of water, in which they could swim without danger. Happily Mr. Stewart could take a firm step in it, while he was provided with boots, so that he lifted Mrs. Mason, and set her down in safety within the threshold. But there there the great whey pot had stood an unforeseen danger awaited her, for since morning, that the cheese had been made; and was at the present moment filled with chickens, who were busily picking at the bits of curd, which had hardened on the sides, and vainly mocked their wishes. Over this Mr. Stewart and Mrs. Mason unfortunately stumbled. The pot was overturned, and the chickens cackling with hideous din, flew about in all directions, some over their heads, and others making their way by the pallin (or inner door) into the house." "While Mrs. Mac Clarty was preparing tea for her guests, Mrs. Mason cast her exploring eye on the house and furniture. She soon saw, that the place they were in served in the triple capacity of kitchen, parlour, and bed-room. consisted, on one side, of a dresser, over Its furniture was suitably abundant. It which were shelves filled with plates and dishes, which she supposed to be of pewter; but they had been so bedimmed by the quantities of flies that sat upon them, that she could not pronounce with certainty as to the metal they were made of. On the shelf that projected immediately next the dresser, was a number of delf and wooden bowls, of different dimensions, with horn spoons, &c. These, though arranged with apparent care, did not entirely conceal from view, the dirty night caps, and other articles, that were stuffed in behind. "Opposite the fire-place were two beds, each inclosed in a sort of wooden closet, so firmly built as to exclude the entrance of a breath of air, except in front, where were small folding doors, which were now open, and exhibited a quantity of yarn hung up in bunches, affording proof of the good wife's industry. The portable furniture, as chairs, tables, &c. were all, though clumsy, of good materials; so that Mrs. Mason thought the place wanted nothing but a little attention to neatness, and some more light, to render it tolerably comfortable. "Miss Mary Stewart took upon her self the trouble of making tea, and began the operation by rincing all the cups and saucers through warm water; at which Mrs. Mac Clarty was so far from being offended, that the moment she perceived her intention, she stepped to a huge Dutch press, and having, with some difficulty, opened the leaves, took from a store of nice linen, which it presented to their view, a fine damask napkin, of which she begged her to make use. "You have a noble stock of linen, cousin,' said Mrs. Mason. 'Few far mers houses in England could produce the like; but I think this is rather too fine for common use.' "For common use!' cried Mrs. Mac Clarty; na, na, we're no sic fools as put our napery to use! I have a dizen table-claiths in that press thirty years old, that were never laid upon a table. They are a' o' my mother's spinning. I have nine o' my ain makin' forby, that never saw the sun but at the bookin washing. Ye needna be telling us of England!' "It is no doubt a good thing,' said Mrs. Mason, to have a stock of goods any kind, provided one has a prospect of turning them to account; but of I confess I think the labour unprofitably employed, which during thirty years is to produce no advantage; and that linen of an inferior quality would be preferable, as it would certainly be more useful. A towel of nice clean huck-aback would wipe a cup as well, and better, than a damask napkin.' "Towels!' cried Mrs. Mac Clarty, na, na, we manna pretend to towels; we just wipe up the things wi what comes in the gait.' "On saying this, the good woman, to shew how exactly she practised what she spoke, pulled out from between the seed tub, and her husband's dirty shoes, (which stood beneath the bench by the fire side), a long blackened rag, and with it rubbed one of the pewter plates, with which she stepped into the closet for a roll of butter. There,' says she, I am sure ye'll say that ye never ate better butter in your life. There's no in a' Glenburnie better kye than our's. I hope ye'll eat heartily, and I'm sure ye're heartily welcome.' "Look, sister,' cried little William, see there the marks of a thumb and two fingers! do scrape it off, it is so nasty!' "Dear me !' said Mrs. Mac Clarty, 'I did na mind that I had been stirring the fire, and my hands were a wee sooty; but it will soon scrape off, there's a dirty knife will take it off in a minute." The hints which Mrs. Mason had thrown out relatively to the various uncleanliness of the cottage were not received either by Mac Clarty or her gawky daughters with much complacency. "Ay," said Mrs. M. "I ay feared she would be owre nice for us. She has been sae long among the Englishes that she maun hae a hantel o' outlandish notions. But we are owre auld to learn, we just do well eneugh." In short, "she cou'd na be fash'd" to do any thing for her own comfort at the suggestion of other persons, so neither could her children be fashed" to pay any obedience to their mother in matters which did not precisely suit their own inclinations. The husband, an honest as |