A man of kindlier nature. The rough sports "Plain was his garb : Such as might suit a rustic sire, prepared For Sabbath duties; yet he was a man Whom no one could have passed without remark. Active and nervous was his gait; his limbs And his whole figure breathed intelligence. Time had compressed the freshness of his cheeks Into a narrower circle of deep red, But had not tamed his eye, that under brows, Shaggy and grey, had meanings, which it brought From years of youth; whilst, like a being made Of many beings, he had wondrous skill To blend with knowledge of the years to come, Human, or such as lie beyond the grave." In our intellectual characters, we indulge the pleasing hope, that there are some striking points of resemblance, on which, however, our modesty will not permit us to dwell-and in our acquirements, more particularly in Plane and Spherical Trigonometry. "While yet he lingered in the rudiments Of science, and among her simplest laws, His triangles- they were the stars of Heaven. The silent stars! oft did he take delight To measure the altitude of some tall crag, That is the eagle's birthplace," &c. So it was with us. Give us but a base and a quadrant-and when a student in Jemmy Millar's class, we could have given you the altitude of any steeple in Glasgow or the Gorbals. Like the Pedlar, in a small party of friends, though not proud of the accomplishment, we have been prevailed on to give a song-" The Flowers of the Forest," "Roy's Wife," or " Auld Langsyne" "At request would sing Old songs, the product of his native hills; A skilful distribution of sweet sounds, As cool refreshing water Of the industrious hu Through a parch'd of drought Our natural amiable a chant." "Ap And teasing ways of children vexed not him : Indulgent listener was he to the tongue Of garrulous age; nor did the sick man's tale, To his fraternal sympathy addressed, Who can read the following lines, and not think of Christopher North? "Birds and beasts, And the mute fish, that glances in the stream, And harmless reptile coiling in the sun, And gorgeous insect hovering in the air, The fowl domestic, and the household dog In his capacious mind he loved them all." True that our love of The mute fish, that glances in the stream," is not incompatible with the practice of the "angler's silent trade," or with the pleasure of" filling our panniers." The Pedlar, too, we have reason to know, was, like his poet and ourselves a craftsman, and for love beat the molecatcher at busking a batch of May-flies. The question whether Lascelles himself were his master at a green dragon, "The harmless reptile coiling in the sun," we are not so sure about, having once been bit by an adder, whom, in our simplicity, we mistook for a slow-worm the very day, by the by, on which we were poisoned by a dish of toadstools, by our own hand gathered for mushrooms. But we have long given over chasing butterflies, and feel, as the Pedlar did, that they are beautiful creatures, and that 'tis a sin, between finger and thumb, to compress their mealy wings. The household dog we do, indeed, dearly love, though, when old Surly looks suspicious, we prudently keep out of the reach of his chain. An And the influence of such education and occupation among such natural objects, Wordsworth expounds in some as fine poetry as ever issued from the cells of philosophic thought, "So the foundations of his mind were laid." "For many a tale Traditionary, round the mountains hung, And many a legend, peopling the dark woods, Nourished Imagination in her growth, power it being natural to us-and having be- The boy had small need of books- He is described as endowed by nature with a great intellect, a noble imagination, a profound soul, and a tender heart. It will not be said that nature keeps these her noblest gifts for human beings born in this or that condition of life: she gives them to her favourites-for so, in the highest sense, they are to whom such gifts befall; and not unfrequently, in an obscure place, of one of the FORTU By which she is made quick to recognise "Whate'er the minister's old shelf sup- The life and death of martyrs, who sus- With will inflexible, those fearful pangs, Can you not believe that by the time he was as old as you were when you used to ride to the races on a Poney, by the side of your sire the squire, this boy was your equal in tutor all to yourself, and were then a knowledge, though you had a private promising lad, as indeed you are now after the lapse of a quarter of a century? True, as yet he "had small Latin, and no Greek;" but the elements of these languages are best learned-trust us-by slow degreesby the mind rejoicing in the consciousness of its growing faculties during leisure hours from other studies-as they were by the Athol adolescent. A Scholar-in your sense "Among the hills of Athol ho was born; of the word he might not be called, ing even when he had reached his seventeenth year, though probably he would have puzzled you in Livy and Virgil-nor of English poetry had ing he read much-the less the better for such a mind-at that age, and in that condition-for home and aca winter "tended By nature, by the turbulence subdued Of his own mind, by mystery and hope, untain's dreary And the first virgin passion of a soul Communing with the glorious Universe." And the influence of such education "So the foundations of his mind were The boy had small need of books- Nourished Imagination in her growth, By which she is made quick to recognise "Whate'er the minister's old shelf sup- The life and death of martyrs, who sus tained, With will inflexible, those fearful pangs, Can you not believe that by the time he was as old as you were when you used to ride to the races on a poney, by the side of your sire the squire, this boy was your equal in knowledge, though you had a private tutor all to yourself, and were then a promising lad, as indeed you are now after the lapse of a quarter of a century? True, as yet he "had small Latin, and no Greek;" but the ele. ments of these languages are best learned-trust us-by slow degreesby the mind rejoicing in the consciousness of its growing faculties during leisure hours from other studies-as they were by the Athol adolescent. A Scholar-in your sense Among the hills of Athol he was born; of the word he might not be called, even when he had reached his seventeenth year, though probably he ring would have puzzled you in Livy and Virgil-nor of English poetry had ng he read much-the less the better for such a mind-at that age, and in that home condition-for and aca winter "Accumulated feelings pressed his heart "tended With still increasing weight; he was o'er powered By nature, by the turbulence subdued |