fall? Let go your hold, or I will dart down upon you, and rescue the fair child from jeopardy."

The yell is in our ears yet that replied to our extorted ejaculation. You may have seen the effect produced upon half-a-dozen wild-ducks sportively dallying on their own small moorland tarn, by a sudden discharge of slugs or swan-shot. One of them plumps out of sight in a moment, and makes no sign. Another gives an awkward dive, preceded by a flourish of her tail, but cannot keep her poor wounded self from coming up to the surface. Here one lies floating quite dead among the water-lilies-and there another goes whizzing and whirring and whirling in the strangest antics, while the feathers are floating about in all directions. The other couple fly off quacking with outstretched necks and drooping sterns, and effect their escape to a distant fen.

Even so was it now in the Silver Pool. The image occurred to us at the time; but it has since brightened into a more perfect similitude. Unluckily for us, the two who made their instantaneous escape from the Pool, not knowing in their alarm whence had come the voice, came in their scrambling flight up the rocks, due North. We involuntarily cried out-"Ye ho! Ye ho!" wishing, half in love, half in fear, to arrest the fair pilgrims' progress, when, flinging somersets backwards, they went with a plump and a plunge into the water, and on rerising to the surface, lay by a beautiful instinct, with just the tips of their noses out, from which we could not but observe the little air-bells bubbling all over the subsiding pool. The whole basin was still as death. We began seriously to apprehend that six young women were about to lose their lives; yet there was great difficulty, delicacy, and danger in any scheme for their deliverence. By-and-by a sweet Doric tongue was heard breathing from the waters-"What for are ye sittin glowerin there, ye auld chiel? Siccan behaviour's a great shame for ane o' your years; and I wadna hae expeckit it o' you, when you was playing thae bonny tunes last nicht wi' tears in your een. For gudesake, sir, tak aff your specks -gang awa wi' you-and let a set o' puir naked lassies get to their claes!" The appeal to our humanity was irresistible, as indeed at all times it is from a female in distress. "Pardon us, our dearest Girzie," we tenderly exclaimed; and then, for the first time, looking modestly to the ground, we saw ourselves en

circled with all the possible varieties of female apparel, which to name profanely would incense against us the Eumenides. Truth and simplicity spoke in every tone of our voice; and Girzie, raising her weel-faured face from the foam, with a neck shown just down to the snow that covered her beating heart, conscious, as we thought, of her charms, nor even, in her bashful disquietude, unproud of their manifest effect on a man well stricken in years, said, in still sweeter accents, and with imploring eyes

"That's a bonny man-gang your wa's-and dinna tell ony stories, na, about our ploutering, to the lads."--" Will you promise to give me a few kisses, then, Girzie, ony time we chance to forgather, and I'll gang my wa's?”—“ Ou ay, Mr North-Ou ay, sir-but oh! gang your wa's, for Tibbie's just chockin ower-by yonner aneath the water-pyet's nestand Kirsty's drank a gallon at the least, and maun be sair swalled. Oh! gang your wa's, my bonny Mr North-gang your wa's." We felt it was indeed time to "gang our wa's; for Girzie, as she was growing more and more impassioned in her beseeching, rose higher and higher from the water, and stood nearly to the waist unveiled, the long-sought Naiad of the Silver Pool of Talla.

Gentle reader! be not displeased with this picture; for, remember, that to the pure, all things are pure; and thou, we know well, art the very soul of purity. Often, mayhap, hast thou, leaning on friend's, or lover's, or husband's arm, moved slowly along the picture-gallery of some Peer's palace, and for a moment hast let thine eyes dwell on some nymph scene, in some place of waters, trees, and precipices, with its gleam of azure sky. No painful emotion blushed around those eyes, when the huntress Queen, wearied with the chase, stood disrobed among her train; and from some glade in the forest, the peeping Sylvans stole partial glances of the virgin goddess. Then why, since "ut pictura poesis," be offended by the description of North more than of Poussin? Homelier, indeed, are the names and the natures of his bathing beauties; yet chastity is the virtue by which Scotia's shepherdesses are guarded. and adorned; and the waters of the Talla, are they not as pure as those of the Ilissus ?

Let us then re-angle our way down the pastoral rivulet, and leave the laughing lassies in the linn. Soon will they collect their scattered garments, and with playful titterings reapparel

their innocence. Already is the pearly moisture wrung from their hair, and adjusted every silken snood. Fresh-breathing balm from every warmed bosom again blends with the fragrance of the hill-flowers-a brighter crimson is on every cheek -a brighter radiance dances in all their eyes-and down the braes like birds they fly, and not without a choral song. With many a gleesome smile over their strange adventure, they part in a little broomy hollow, and each wings her way towards her own nest. Each carries her blooming beauty into a home gladdened by her presence-all household affairs are cheerily attended to by them whose limbs health has braced; and what difficulty is there in imagining any one of them to be the wooed maiden of the "Cottar's Saturday Night?" for this is indeed the last day of the week, and Robert Burns -hallowed be his memory!-sung then a strain true to the manners and morals of Scotland over all her hills and plains.

Accompany us, in imagination, next day to Tweedsmuir Kirk, and the same voices will be sweetly singing the psalm of worship-one maiden sitting between her parents-one near her lover-one with her little brother on her knee: all thoughts of labour or of amusement will then be hushed, and the small house of God overflowing with thankfulness and praise. The low galleries, the pews beneath them, the seats in the main body of the kirk, forms set in the middle lobby, and even the very stairs up to the pulpit, all covered with well-dressed people, sedate in rational piety. At the close of the service, family parties form in the kirkyard, and move away through opposite gates, each towards its own hill-home. And what if old Christopher North go with the Minister to the Manse-partake of a dinner yesterday prepared-all but one dish which is warm, a few Tweed trouts of his own catching—and having laid aside his Saturday's merriment, with his green velvet jacket and jean trousers, and with his black suit put on a spirit befitting the day-enjoy a few such serious hours as no man having heart and soul can ever forget, who has passed a Sabbath evening in the Manse of a Scottish Minister.

MEG DODS'S COOKERY

[JUNE 1826.]

Most reviews of Cookery books that have fallen under our observation, have been so extremely witty, that it was not possible for us, who love facetiæ, to attend to the instruction conveyed along with the amusement; and consequently we are at this hour ignorant of the leading principles of several Systems, which it is the duty of every head of a house to understand. Now, in our opinion, cookery is by much too serious a subject for joking; and therefore, in this our short critique, we shall cautiously refrain from all sallies of imagination, and solemnly dedicate ourselves to the cause of science and truth.

Be it known, then, to all men by these presents, that this is a work worthy to be placed on the same shelf with Hunter, Glasse, Rundell, and Kitchener. We are confident that the Doctor will be delighted with it; and if any purchaser is known to give a bad dinner, after it has been a fortnight in his possession, the case may be given up as hopeless. The individual who has ingeniously personated Meg Dods, is evidently no ordinary writer, and the book is really most excellent miscellaneous reading. There has been a good deal of affectation of humour in some culinary authors-too much seasoning and spicery unnecessarily ornate garnishing of dishes that in their own native loveliness are, "when unadorned, adorned the most." But here we have twenty or thirty grave, sober,

1 The Cook and Housewife's Manual; containing the most approved Modern Receipts for making Soups, Gravies, Sauces, Ragouts, and Made-Dishes; and for Pies, Puddings, Pastry, Pickles, and Preserves; also for Baking, Brewing, making Home-made Wines, Cordials, &c.; the whole illustrated by numerous Notes, and Practical Observations on all the various branches of Domestic Economy. By MRS MARGARET DODS, of the Cleikum Inn, St Ronan's.

instructive, business-like pages, right on end, without one particle of wit whatever; then come as many more, sprinkled with facetia-and then half-a-dozen of broad mirth and merriment. This alternation of grave and gay is exceedingly agreeable-something in the style of Blackwood's Magazine. But at the same time we are bound to say, in justice to Mrs Dods, that the Housewife's Manual is entirely free from that personality which too frequently disgraces that celebrated work.1

Mrs Dods prefaces her work by directions for carving, most of which are, we think, judicious, although, perhaps, they smack somewhat too much of the old school. A hint is thrown out, that the rudiments of the art should be taught practically in childhood, on plain joints and cold things," that in afterlife "provisions may not be haggled." Mrs Dods believes that although there are awkward grown-up persons, having, as the French say, two left hands, whom no labour will ever make dexterous carvers, yet that there is no difficulty in the art, which most young learners, if early initiated under the eyes of their friends, might not easily surmount. We believe this view of human nature to be just. Young persons of both sexes, of the most humble talents, provided they have ten fingers (five on each hand), may certainly be made fair carvers, —and we have ourselves known not a few instances of boys, who were absolute dolts at the art, becoming men distinguished at the foot of the table.

The "carver's maxim" (which our readers may drink this afternoon in a bumper) is, according to Mrs Dods," to deal small and serve all." No doubt at large parties it is so; and that is the fatal objection to large parties. Ten hungry men eye a small jigot" o' the black faced" with mixed pleasure and pain, when they all know that they must be helped according to the "carver's maxim." The best friends, so relatively placed, begin to dislike each other, and the angry wonder with them all is, why so many people of different characters and professions, perhaps countries, should agree in eating mutton? Therefore we love a partie quarré. No dish—unless absurdly small indeed-of which each of Us Four may not have a satisfactory portion. The "carver's maxim" is forgotten, or remembered only with a smile, and at such a board 1 Indeed?-C. N.