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False the advice to us was brought “ O Lord!” he cried, in fervent way, 'Tis be the misery hath wrought

Then turn'd in manifest dismayUnto the lovely dame aggrieved,

“I'll go," said he, "straight to the gate Whom late he from your hand received. I must not let the lady wait." Poor lady! rest of hope and fame, “ No," cried Argyle, "you 'scape not And all that was her rightful cluim My lord, believe it if you can,

Guards, keep the door, till once we knop This bold Sir Hugh was married man- How he himself of this can clear. Married for seven years before

Duncan, go bring the lady here." He came a wooer to your door."

Duncan bow'd low, and off he ran, I'll not believe," Argyle replied, A pliant and right joyful man“ That man alive durst have defied Deeming the lady sure of grace, Me to my face in such a way.

When brought before his master's face; Sir, this calumny gainsay,

For tartan'd dame from glen or isle, If thou the least respect wouldst claim Ne'er sued in vain to great Argyle. To noble warrior's honour'd name."- In came young Mora, blushing deep,

“ All false! All false, my lord, in faith," Fresh from Glen-Lyon's lordly steep; Sir Hugh replied, with stifled breath. The healthful odours of the wild; “ A hoax, a flam your Grace to gall; Breathing around her and her child. To prove it I defy them all.”

Their fragrance came like freshening gale, “ The proof, Sir Knight, shall soon be For grateful travellers to inbalebrought

Like kindred roses sweet and bland, Home to your heart, with vengeance Or wandering wind from fairy land. fraught.

The boy was robed like royal fay, Your former spouse, from Highland wood, In bold Clan-Gillan's bright arrayIs here in blooming lustihood;

Belted and plumed, the elfin smiled, And as appropriate garniture,

The phenix of his native wild; And a kind welcome to secure,

Herself in the same robes bedight A sweet young family hath brought, She wore on her first bridal night, Wild as young cubs in forest caught When he she long had nursed in pain Whose thews and features are no shams, Led her unto the darksome fane, Whose carrot locks and kilted hams And gave her hand without a stain, The darkest secrets might betray,

And heart, never to change again, Were there no other 'mergent way. While torches glimmer'd dimly on She has call'd here in deep distress- Boleskine's sacred altar-stone. Our fair friend's anguish you may guess; The astonish'd group stood moveless From this, what marvel can there be,

still, That she denies your face to see?" And neither utter'd good nor ill.

Hast thou not seen the morning ray Such beauty, grace, and comely mould, Ascend the east with springing day, Said more than language ever told Now red, now purple, and now pale, For her and hers, Ere she'd begun The herald of the stormy gale ?

To speak some favour she had wonThou bast. Yet thou can'st never view But some resemblance that she bore, The dead blank look of brave Sir Hugh. Some unacknowledged likeness moreTwo wives at once to deprehend him Even great Argyle, of tranquil mien, And Highland wives—The Lord defend And noted for perception keen, him !

Held no suspicion that the dame, Argyle was wroth, it might be seen, That comely mother, was the same Yet still preserved his look serene. Who queen of beauty rank'd the while He saw the guilty deed confess'd, In the emporium of our isle. By signs which could not be repressid ; He was the first that silence broke. And studied in his lordly mind,

Taking her hand, these words he spoke : The sharpest punishment assign'd, “ Fair lady, I have heard a part When Duncan, with broad Highland face, of how much wrong'd and grieved thou Came with bow and “ Please her Grace,

art. Tere pe fine lhady at her gate,

What share I had by suit or sway,
Whose gehief of mbind pe very grheat ; I'll rue until my dying day ;
And pretty poy upon her hand,

But this I promise, that thy right
As was not porn in any land

Shall be as sacred in my sight Prave Highlander so prave and young, As thou of kindred had'st a claim, And spaiks in her own moter tongue ; And she an alien to our name: What shall her nainsel say or dhoo ? Declare thy grievous wrongs erewhile, She cries to speak with prave Sir Hugh." And trust the issue to Argyle."

Sir Hugh then thought without a doubt “ My honoured liege, thy handmaid 1, That evils compass'd him about.

And of M-Calan's lineage high,

me

Glen-Lyon's verdant hills I claim, I've braved the Frenchmen's serried And Mora Campbell is my name;

might His sister, who commission bore

At morn, at eve, at middle night; Under young Campbell of Mamore, But all these battles, fierce and famed, Who led your Grace's clansmen bold, Compared with this, can ne'er be named ; On dark Culloden's bloody wold.

Mere pigmies to a giant's form, “ That summer when the English host A zephyr to a raging storm, Lay on Lochaber's ruined coast,

A lady's pinpoint to a block, Some dames and maidens of your line A chariot's to an earthquake's shock. Went to the camp to intertwine

Most loved, most lovely, dreaded two! With laurel every hero's plume

I never was o'ercome till now, Who fought rebellion to consume. Nor felt so feverishly. In brief, Too much elated there and then,

A hanging would be great relief, This gallant knight, Sir Hugh de Vane, My lord 'tis truth-(I'll not evade)-Made love to me by suit and boon, Each word that lovely dame hath said." And won my youthful heart too soon. “ Good lord !” exclaimed the ancient We married were by chaplain vile

chief, In old Boleskine's holy isle,

“ This deed unhinges all belief! My brother present; here's the ring ; What fiend could move thee thus to The registerg, the entering

treat As safe and solemn to my mind,

Our kinswoman, so fair, so sweet ; As man alive could couple bind.

And then to come with front of brass Sir Hugh dares not the truth deny, To our own house-and, by the mass, Nor in one point give me the lie. Straight wed-another to destroy,

“ But when the order questionless As if a Campbell were a toy ? Came for the host to march express, What spirit from the dark abyss His tongue, to truth and honour dead, Could move thee to such deed as this?!!. Denied me at the army's head;

« God knows, my lord! The thing to White the base chaplain stood as glum As rigid statue, deaf and dumb

Is an unfathom'd mystery ; A mere automaton, subjected

But I suppose it was alone To do as General's eye directed.

The devil himself that urged me on ; “ My brother charged Sir Hugh in For I declare, as I've to die, wrath,

No man e'er loved so well as I Fought him, and met untimely death; This lovely dame. But I was bit While I, in sorrow and in pain,

And bullied till I lost my wit; Fled to my native hills again,

Yet never since that hour of teen Where, of young mother all forlorn, One happy moment have I seen. This sweet unfather'd babe was born, I love this last one too, 'tis true; .Who now is rightful heir to all

But, Mora, by my soul I vow, Glen-Lyon's braes and Fortingall. 'Tis for her likeness unto you." “ But yet, my lord—who would be- The tears ran down young Mora's lieve't ?

cheek; For all the injuries I received,

She turn'd away, but could not speak, I found my heart, in woful plight, Till Lady Ella of Argyle, Still clung unto this cruel knight, With face uplighted by a smile, With such a fondness, mix'd with pain, Arose, and took a hand of each I found I ne'er could love again.

And said, “ Sir Hugh, this shameful Therefore, in thine and heaven's sight, breach I claim him as my primal right."- Of truth and honour quite o'erpowers

"Certes, you may, and him obtain ; This dame, whose virgin love was yours, Your claim's substantial, fair, and plain ; And never will from you depart, Your suit you will not-cannot miss. While the warm tide pervades her heart. But then the worst of all is this, But though that heart you sore have That he'll be hung for felony;

wrung, Then wbat hast thou, or what has she ?” She cannot bear to see you hung.

“ I think, my lord,” Sir Hugh replied, And she is right; for, to my mind, With haggard air and look aside, Hanging's no joke, and that you'll find. “ Since banging must me overtake, And what may this dear boy betide, Let it be now for pity's sake.

Without a father him to guide?
I've fought in battle-field and glen And what disgrace the cant will be,
The fiercest of the sons of men ;

• Your father hung on Tyburn tree!' The Mackintoshes, stern and gray,

Take both the dames then, as you can And the blue Camerons of the brae ; Speed to Cathay or Hindoostan,

Where you may take a score or two, “ Cheer up, Sir Hugh; for, on my And none to say, 'tis wrong you do."

life, “ Yes, there is one,” Dame Mora said, Your first, your last, your only wife, While tears came streaming to her aid. Your virgin love, whose heart you won, But ere another word she spoke, And mother of your comely son, Old Duncan Glas the silence broke, Now takes your hand. The scheme With face as grim and as demure,

was mine, As winter cloud before the shower- And happy be you and your line; “ Ob plaise her Crace, fwat shall she The lovely dames are both the same, too?

In hers how knew you not your name? Mattam Te-fane waits bere pelow, Twice married now-Unequall'd lot! Wit salt tears stotting o'er her chin, But law redoubled breaks it not. And very mat for to pe in.”

I join your hands, too long apart, Wild as a maniac looked De Vape; And wish you joy with all my beart!” Then to the window ran amain,

The crystal tears from his blue eyes And threw it open, quite intent

Pour'd bright as dew-drops from the To brain bimself, and supervent

skies; This dreadful war of Highland wives, His manly frame with joy was shivering, And both their shameful narratives, And his round ruby lip was quivering, Before the just but proud Argyle, As down he kneelid in guise unmeet, The greatest subject of our isle ;

Embraced and kiss'd the ladies' feet; But both the ladies held him fast, Then seized his child in boybood's bloom, To take one farewell for the last.

And danced and caper'd round the room, Argyle looked stern in troubled way, But such a night of social glee, And wist not what to do or say,

Of wassail, song, and revelry, Till Lady Ella once again

Was not that night in Britain's isle, Address'd the knight in cheerful strain :- As in the house of great Argyle.

THE CHURCH AND ITS ENEMIES.

LETTER FROM A LIBERAL WHIG.

Sir,- I have already, on more than England, are confounded together one occasion, addressed to you such in the vulgar language under one suggestions as have occurred to my common head of assumed warfare mind at periods of great popular between Church and Dissenters, excitement, with a view of correct- while the violent and unthinking. ing erroneous impressions, and uni. partisans of either side strengthen ting (as far as possible) the mode- the delusion by exaggerated reprerate and candid of both parties in sentations as to the actual numerical the same view of the common dan- force, or the relative wealth or inger. The last occasion on which I telligence, of the two rival bodies; attempted this (as many are too apt whereas, in point of fact, even if it to term it) Quixotic enterprise, was were possible to ascertain the exact that of the first announcement by proportions, they would not furnish Government of its great measure of us with any thing like a just estimate “ Reform" in the Commons' House of the only real point at issue. of Parliament. Of the many conse- It is a fallacy to suppose that the quences then predicted as sure to question lies between the Church as follow from the adoption of that a body, and the Dissenters as a body. measure, the first rank in importance The Church, which has obviously must be assigned to its effects on the most pretension to be considered in interests of religion as involved in a corporate capacity, notoriously the maintenance of a Church Esta nourishes in her own bosom two blishment; and with our ordinary great and general, besides a number national proneness to rush blindfold of lesser, contending, and (perhaps) to the adoption of party names and irreconcilable parties; while to distinctions, all the momentous ques- speak or think of the Dissenters as tions now at issue, as more or less a body, either as united in point of affecting the present condition, and general sentiment, or even as baving future existence, of the Church of one common object in the overthrow of the Establishment, is quite pre- added all who, whether nominally posterous. A very large number, within or without the pale of the forming altogether one of the most Establishment, are really of no relirespectable and influential of the gion whatever; who hate the Church, several denominations of Dissenters, as hating religion; or who, in other are, by their own profession, the respects indifferent, would neverthesincerity of which has been mani- less get rid of a Church Establishfested by recent conduct, not only ment, from mere sordid and selfish not adverse, but friendly, to the views, either of political economy or continuance of the Establishment, personal exemption—then, indeed, from which they are themselves se- the question assumes a far more parated only on the ground of sin- formidable appearance, and our cere, however much to be regretted, means of calculating the comparascruples in matters of small practical tive strength of attack and resistance importance, and the distinction be- altogether fail. Yet even here also tween whom and those members of we should be in an error if we imathe Establishment itself whom they gined that all who openly profess most nearly approach and resem- unbelief, or who even scoff at reli. ble, is so minute and subtle as, to gion, are necessarily opposed to the any but the nicest religious eye, to Establishment, since there are numbe utterly undiscernible. Many, bers who would support it from again, of those who are hostile, are political motives only, whose names actuated in their hostility by no op- are yet to be found in the list of position to the Church, either in avowed champions of infidelity. As, respect of doctrine or practice, but therefore, the number of professed by an honest persuasion that the Dissenters affords us no test whatfree exercise of religion ought not ever, so neither does the number of to be shackled by any restrictions of professed unbelievers, or even revicreed or discipline ; and in this opi. Iers,' of religion, furnish us with any, nion many pious and sincere men as to the true amount of the forces also, who are included within the actually in array against us. The pale of the Establishment, concur only estimate of practical utility with them. The number of those which appears to be at all attainable, Dissenters who, from irreconcilable is as to the number of those, Dissendifference as to matters of funda- ters or otherwise, who are actual mental belief, or from obstinate believers in the great fundamental attachment, or adhesion, to some truths of the Gospel, together with one exclusive form of Church Go- the true proportion of those who, vernment, seek the overthrow of the being such believers, are, over and present Church Establishment, with above, impressed with a conviction a view to substitute their own, as that religion is properly an affair of the dominant, sect, in the room of State, and that the interests of reliit-is so comparatively small (if, gion are inseparably connected with, indeed, any such exist), that it and dependent upon, the Established may be altogether disregarded in Government; and if it shall be made a practical view of the subject; and appear that this number, and that yet, in forming any estimate on the proportion, are not only at present basis of setting the Church and Dis- very considerable, but are from day senters in array against each other, to day considerably increasing, the these are the only classes which ascertainment of this fact may well deserve to be ranked as opponents inspire a high degree of just conof the Church because Dissenters. fidence in the firmness of the Church If, therefore, the Church had no herself, and the impotence of her other enemies to fear but the Dis- motley and disunited assailants. Let senters, (meaning by the term those us dissect any one of the various who separate themselves from the numerical arguments which have Church on the ground of some ex- been arrayed against the Establish. press difference of religious opinion,) ment, and it will be found to be it is probable that her friends would wholly without force or consistency. have no great cause to be solicitous Let us take, for example, the stateabout her security : but if to the ment made a few nights ago by Mr number of professed Dissenters, be Hume, without epen questioning its accuracy--namely, that in twenty to the number of those, not only nine large manufacturing towns, the who profess, but who profess upon members of the Established Church certain grounds of belief or convicform only one-fifth of the popula- tion, a particular form of religion, tion-What then?-unless he is able and if it were possible, by any proat the same time to inform us of cess of enquiry whatever, to ascer. what the remaining four-fifths are tain the proportions. The utter imcomposed-how many are strictly practicability of making any such orthodox believers, who, although estimate is the best answer to the on some minor poiậts of practice suggestion; and in the meanwhile it or discipline dissenters from the is best and safest to go on with the Church, would rather shed their old understanding upon which all blood in its defence than become State religions have hitherto been the instruments of letting in the supported-namely, that (to use the flood of irreligion and impiety which words of another speaker in a late would too surely follow its demoli. debate on the subject) "the Govern. tion-how many more of no religion ment of the country, believing a but that of Mammon-how many religion to be true, is bound to en more who, grovelling in the lowest deavour to promote and protect it." depths of vice and infamy, must be Another fallacy, no less detrimen, counted as nothing in the computa- tal to the Church, and no less industion-how many more, whose ab- triously propagated by its enemies, sence from

the church is occasioned or weakly and incautiously admitted by no disaffection, but by the want by some among its professed friends of means and opportunity to fre- and adherents, but which is equally quent it, arising either from want of incapable of standing the test of en, room within the churches themselves quiry, is that which represents it as for their reception and accommoda, an antiquated and now useless, al. tion, or from the multiplicity and though venerable, institution, calcu, urgency of their own domestic ne- lated to answer the purposes of its cessities ? It matters not that neither founders, adapted to the actual exi. of the last-mentioned causes ought gencies of the age which gave it to exist—the question being whether birth, and advantageous, or even in. they do not exist, in fact—and dispensable, to the cause of true re. whether the fact of their existence ligion in its origin, but at varianee be not of importance in respect of with the spirit of the present time, the validity of Mr Hume's mode of and doomed by the irreversible de reasoning; whether, in short, it be cree of Fate, to fall amidst other not quite enough to account, to- monuments of obsolete and explogether with the other grounds of ded reverence. But the fallacy here deduction already enumerated, for pointed at consists in confounding the phenomenon itself, even if the matters of divine, with matters of statement had been that one-tenth merely human ordinance, the great only, instead of one-fifth, of the po. truths and interests of religion with pulation of these busy places were questions of government and state members of the Church, in the sense expediency, the preservation of the (in which alone such a fact is capa. vital principles of Christianity with ble of ascertainment) of Church- the retention of rotten boroughs or frequenters.

sinecures. The truth is, that no Nothing, it seems to me, can be greater disservice can be rendered more efficacious than the application to the cause of religion, than by reof this same mode of discussion to presenting it as essentially at variwards the exposure of the fallaey ance with that of political improve which lurks in that grand discovery ment and regeneration, or by class. of modern liberalism-namely, that ing its advocates as necessarily hosif any form of religion is to have the tile to all measures of reform, or to support of the Government in pre- the removal and abolition of needless ference to others, it ought to be that restrictions and distinctions. No two which is professed by a majority of principles either are in effect, or the nation a position which would ought to be kept, more rigidly sepahave something at least plausible to rate from and independent of each recommend it, if it were restricted other, than those of the free admis.

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