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eyes to the heaven, whose light was now streaming down on the boat, and the ocean, and the town; and her lips moved in giving utterance to a prayer, not unheard by Him to whom it was addressed.

She resumed her seat in the stern of the boat, and the mother and son began their return to the shore in silence, and with the utmost care on the part of the latter to deaden as much as possible the sound of his oars.

Pauline rejoiced amid her sorrow, that she had not confided to her son the secret of their night expedition, and that he had not witnessed her father's recognition of her in the boat. Indeed, she would probably have abstained from attempting that last chance of obtaining a father's blessing, had not an opportunity of doing so unwitnessed presented itself. She had changed her purpose in this respect twenty times during their passage to the vessel; and at last the making herself known to her father had been the result of a momentary courage inspired by the opportunity. She had undertaken the dangerous service which, by her son's aid, she had thus performed, not with any view of thus bribing her father to bestow his blessing and forgiveness, but truly for the sake of his safety. Several fugitive Protestants had been betrayed by those who had undertaken to assist their escape; and as it happened that her son, who was maintaining her and himself in tolerable comfort by exercising at La Rochelle the trade of a watchmaker-learned from Pauline's old host at Niort-had the means of obtaining the use of a boat, she had determined to offer his services to Duperrier, when he was looking out for some one to whom he could entrust his two guests. It was of course necessary to satisfy the worthy Duperrier of her own and her son's trustworthiness for such an enterprise; and this she had no means of doing, except by confiding to him the entire truth. She had done this, and had found means of proving to him the truth of her story. And it was the impression produced on the good citizen by this confidence that had caused the strangeness of his manner to Bartenau at parting with him on the beach.

As for the young watchmaker, he knew only that they were to assist in the escape of some fugitive Huguenot, in whose safety his mother was especially interested. It was Pauline's intention to tell him afterwards who it was that he had conveyed on board; but at present it was essential that their return to the shore should be achieved in silence, and as quickly as might be. So the young man pulled vigorously, and with as little noise from his muffled oars as possible, towards the unfrequented part of the beach from which they had started.

The morning showed that the Amsterdam vessel in the roadstead had quitted her moorings and departed; and a few inquiries soon enabled the officials of the government to discover that the wealthy Huguenot merchant of Niort, and the noted preacher, had escaped in her. A slight further investigation was sufficient to dissipate all the little mystery with which poor Pauline had sought to conceal her name and history; and her share in enabling so important a prize to escape the fangs of the government jackals was, of course, as soon discovered.

The condemnation of her son to the galleys, and herself to incarceration in the gaol at Niort, was the immediate result. The young man obtained his liberty eventually, after some years of hardship and confinement. He then made his way across France, and escaped over the frontier to Geneva.

And but few more words, reader, are required to tell what remains of the history of the Huguenot's daughter. From this same prison at Niort, she went forth into the so bright-looking world without; and she has now returned to it, as to a home, which even her reflections on these circumstances of her destiny seemed to indicate, as fated to be her last resting-place. The mental anguish occasioned by the fate of her son, and by the consideration that it had fallen upon him in consequence of her doing, and of his devotion to her wishes, joined to the physical privations and hardships she was subjected to by the prison authorities, as a wholesome discipline corrective of heresy and promotive of sincere conversionall this together prevented her second imprisonment from being a long one.

Her weary, toilsome life-journey, was drawing to its from the date of her return to the gaol of Niort, it was close. The goal was nearly won. In less than a month evident, even to the dull-eyed and careless gaolers, that she was about to escape from their clutches. The agents of the monarch's proxy-practised piety, who were employed to procure converts-as rats are killed, at so much a head-permitted neither repose nor peace to visit her death-bed, But they could not retard her harassed spirit in its progress towards its rest. The days that remained to them for the operation of the conversion were clearly numbered; so they made the best use of the time. Menaces of vividly-painted eternal torments, and promises of as minutely-detailed conditions of bliss, were lavished alternately with equally ineffectual zeal. Rigorous treatment was adopted as affording a slight foretaste of what was in store for those who obstinately rejected the mercies of mother church. But these only hastened the victim's release.

At last the weary spirit fled! She had long since ceased to make any reply to the urgent importunities of the priest, who was so anxious to put her down, in his bill against the king, as a proselyte. But it fortunately happened that he was alone with the perverse heretic when she expired. It was not fair that so much zeal and labour should be lost, so the worthy priest hastily crammed a crucifix into the now passive hands, placed them as if she had died in the act of pressing it to her lips, and reported her as a good and warranted case of conversion, though a very hard one.

The king paid the cash, and booked it in the credit side of his conscience-ledger against heaven. But when the universal accounts are made up, it will be found that there was an error somewhere!

But, alas that sudden breaking away of the clouds, which had suffered the moonlight to show the Huguenot and his daughter to each other during their last earthly interview, was fatal to the safe return of the latter and her son from their perilous enterprise. Their boat was seen traversing the now moonlit sea by some of the coast-guard, who patrolled the quays and the neighbour-place for those who died in the gaol. ing shore, and a party, watching its movements, stationed themselves so as to be able to make prisoners of those in her, whoever they might be, when they landed. So that when Pauline and the young man, supposing they had reached the land without having been observed, stepped from their boat upon the beach, they were immediately surrounded, arrested, "au nom de roi, and conducted to the guard-house till the morning.

So the Huguenot's daughter died thus in the prison where she had been born; and, in consequence of the priest's fraud, was buried in the gloomy little nook of consecrated ground, which was then used as a burying

The atrocious persecutions which followed the revocation of the edict of Nantes, have nowhere left a deeper and more ineffaceable mark on the popular mind in France than in Poitou, and especially in the districts of Niort and La Rochelle. Many a domestic tradition of oppression and suffering may yet be picked up there; and that which we have here recorded is attached to a small square stone in the wall of the gloomy spot above mentioned, which bears the name and date, "PAULINE BARTENAU, A.D. 1686.'

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SCOTTISH RIVER S.-No. II.

THE TWEED-Continued.

BY SIR THOMAS DICK LAUDER.

This catastrophe took place at the conclusion of the battle of Melrose, in 1526, fought between the Earls of Angus and Home, and the two chiefs of the race of Kerr, on the one side, and Buccleuch and his clan on the other, in sight of young King James V., the possession of whose person was the object of the contest. The names of various localities between Melrose and Abbotsford have reference to this battle, as Skirmish-field, Chargelaw, &c. The spot where Buccleuch's retainer terminated the pursuit of the victors, by turning upon them and giving Kerr of Cessford, ancestor of the Dukes of Roxburghe, his death wound, was ever afterwards called Turn-again. All these were powerful and attractive associations to such a mind as that of Sir Walter, and after Abbotsford became his residence, it was, as we have occasion to know from experience, always one of his first objects to walk his guests up over the hill to Turn-again. His own description of his purchase is to be found in his letter to his brother-in-law, Mr. Carpenter, as given by Mr. Lockhart.

We now come to that part of the course of the Tweed, extending from its junction with the united rivers Ettrick and Yarrow, to the mouth of Gala water. Although this small portion of the stream does not possess many very fine natural features, it yet teems with associations which are now, and ever will be, to the end of time, interesting to all mankind, and therefore it cannot be passed over with indifference. Whilst we, for our part, participate largely in these more general feelings and attractions, we, as an individual, have our own reasons for looking with an especially affectionate remembrance on this part of the river, not as entirely isolated by itself, but as forming a part of that large stretch, extending all the way down to Dryburgh, which, nearly fifty years ago, was the grand scene of the piscatorial exploits of our boyhood, when we were wont to establish our headquarters at Melrose. But confining ourselves, in the meanwhile, to this particular portion which we have now especially defined, we cannot look back to what we remember it, at the time when we first became acquainted with it, without wondering at the extraordinary change which the whole face of nature has undergone. Were we to say that it was then altogether a pastoral country, we might not perhaps be strictly accurate as to fact, as it certainly might have exhibited some cultivated fields here and there. But we can with truth declare that the impression left on our mind is that of a simple pastoral district, where, we sauntered listlessly along the primrose-pleasant spot; and it is at present very great scented margin of the pellucid stream, wading in, now and then, to make our casts here and there, with the nicest selection of spot, and the most scrupulous care of hand, our progress up the stream was altogether unobstructed by fences of any kind, nor were we ever tormented by the entanglement of our flies on the boughs of trees, seeing that no such thing as a tree presented itself within the circle of our horizon. Now, on the contrary, the whole country is under the richest rotation of crops, the fields being all enclosed, and every where intersected with hedgerows and belts of vigorously thriving plantations. The estate of Abbotsford itself makes up a large part of the whole, and the active improvements and embellishments which Sir Walter Scott effected on it, probably operated as an example and excitement to his neighbours.

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We believe we have already stated that it was in 1811 that Scott made his first purchase of land here. At one time he thought of acquiring two adjoining farms, but prudence prevailing with him, he made up his mind that one of them would be sufficient for him to begin with. This had long had a peculiar interest in his eyes, because it contained a long rude stone, marking the spot,

"Where gallant Cessford's life-blood dear, Recked on dark Elliot's border spear."

"I have bought for about £4000 a property in the neighbourhood, extending along the banks of the river Tweed for about half a mile. It is very bleak at present, having little to recommend it but the vicinity of the river; but as the ground is well adapted by nature to grow wood, and is considerably various in form and appearance, I have no doubt that by judicious plantations it may be rendered a very

amusement to plan the various lines which may be necessary for that purpose. The farm comprehends about a hundred acres, of which I shall keep fifty in pasture and tillage, and plant all the rest, which will be a very valuable little possession in a few years, as wood bears a high price among us. I intend building a small cottage here for my summer abode.”

Such was the germ from which grew the accumulated property, and the strange fantastic structure, which now form the estate and mansionhouse of Abbotsford. There cannot be a doubt that, from early associations, the whole of this neighbourhood possessed secret charms for him, which were altogether uninfluential and powerless as regarded those who merely looked at the country, and estimated it according to the real value of its landscape features, not to mention the vicinity of Melrose abbey, which of itself must have had great charms for him. One important circumstance which Scott, as an antiquary, highly valued, was that of the great line of ancient British defence called the Catrail, which was to be seen from his windows, belting, as it were, the natural headland, that projected itself on the opposite side of the river, between the Tweed and the Gala. "This vast warfence," says Chalmers in his 'Caledonia,' "can only be referred, for its con

struction, to the Romanized Britons who, after the abdication of the Roman government, had this country to defend against the intrusion of the Saxons, on the east, during the fifth century, the darkest period of our history. Its British name, its connection with the British hill-forts, the peculiarity of its course, and the nature of its formation, all evince that its structure can refer to no other people, and its epoch to no other period of our annals." It consists simply of a large fosse, with a rampart on either side.

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Magazine for November 1832.

We must now request our gentle reader to cross the stream of the Tweed with us, to its left bank, in order that we may cursorily examine, together, the course of Gala Water.

"Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,

Ye wander through the blooming heather,
But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws
Can match the lads o' Gala Water."
This is the first verse of the more modern words

been of three times the magnitude, Abbotsford might have proved an imposing structure; but its present proportions are such as to produce anything but associations of sublimity in the mind of the beholder. Yet still it is certainly picturesque, and saturated as it is with associations connected with Scott, it is doubtless doomed to be visited in pilgrimage by countless myriads, from all parts of the world, so long as one stone of it shall remain upon another. Whilst he, the genius of the place, was there to preside over its hospitalities, the "Such," says Mr. Lockhart, was the terri- mere form of the structure where he administered tory on which Scott's prophetic eye already beheld them, was little thought of. One's whole soul rich pastures embosomed among flourishing was fixed on the kind and courteous host, with an groves, where his children's children should thank eager desire to catch up and hoard the treasures the founder." We have already said enough on of literary conversation, which he was continually this subject, when at Ashiestiel, to preclude all scattering around him with the utmost simplicity necessity for further remarks here, but let us con- of manner. How do we look back with delight sider the nature of the place on which he proposed on all this-and, alas! with what sadness do we to produce so magical a change. The part of it recall that day when his funeral obsequies took that borders the Tweed consists of a large and place-when we followed his remains in humble very beautiful flat haugh, around the margin of sorrow! But into any description of these we which the river flows gently and clearly over its need not enter, seeing that it was our lot to give beds of sparkling pebbles. It must be remarked, a full account of this melancholy scene immehowever, that although we have called it beauti-diately after it took place, in the Number of this ful simply as a haugh, it is devoid of any feature of interest enough to make it valuable as a portion of the pleasure-grounds of a place. From the haugh arises a steepish, though not very high bank, which is covered by the thriving young trees which the poet planted. Above this bank runs the public road to Selkirk, and the house stands half-way down between it and the haugh, on a flat shelf of ground, which is entirely occupied by it, the courtyard, and the garden. The approach to it turns off from the public road at an angle so acute, as to be absolutely dangerous, and before the trees got sufficiently up so as thoroughly to mask the house, any blackguard going along the road might have broken its windows with a stone. Above the Selkirk road, the broad face of the hill rises at an easy angle, and before Sir Walter enclosed, and cultivated, and planted it en ferme ornée, it presented as tame and uninteresting a stretch of ground as could well be met with in any part of the world. We do not say that the taste of the landscape gardening here is to be considered as perfect. And when we look at the building and grounds with a critical eye, it does appear to be most wonderful that a genius which could from its own fancy conjure up ideal pictures, so full of grandeur and of beauty as are exhibited by many of those which are to be found in his works, should have produced nothing better than these when he came to have to deal with realities. But so far as the decoration of the estate is concerned, we must not forget that Sir Walter considered that in his circumstances he had to attend to the utile as well as the dulce. In regard to the house itself, we cannot help considering it as an extremely anomalous building. How often do we see that the structure which produces the grandest effect, when erected of sufficiently large proportions, becomes quite ludicrous when built en petit. Had the towers and turrets, and other members of the building, individually

of Burns, adapted to the old native melody. The
very old words run thus,

"Braw, braw lads of Gala Water,
Oh braw lads of Gala Water,
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water;"
and we quote this for the sole reason of remarking
that, in the olden time, no lady, shepherdess or
nymph, could have followed her lover at all with-
out using the precaution here mentioned, seeing
that whether he went up or down the glen she re-
quired to wade the river at every two or three
hundred yards of her way. "The Vale," says
Mr. Chambers, "is singularly tortuous, so that
the road from Edinburgh to Melrose and Jed-
burgh, which proceeds along the face of the hills
on the east side, is at least a third longer than
the crowflight"-which crowflight, be it observed,
must have necessarily represented the line of
that of the lover and the lady. But this reference
is to the present road, which, being engineered by
modern skill, runs round all the salient faces of the
hills, and sweeps into all their retiring hollows,
in order to preserve its level. Our old recollec-
tions enable us to recall the more ancient road,
which ran along the western side of the glen,
and which went very resolutely on to its object,
in straight lines, most unscrupulously regardless
of the steep acclivities and descents to which it
subjected the traveller, but of course we take it
for granted that even the creation of this old
road was long after the period when the more

ancient Gala Water song was composed. To go still farther back into the history of this district, it is remarkable that in very ancient times it was called Wedale, or the Vale of Woe. It belonged to the Bishops of St. Andrew's, and the Bishop had a palace here, which gave to the Kirkton the appropriate name of Stow. The Bishops of St. Andrew's often resided at the Stow of Wedale, whence they dated many of their Charters, and we have ourselves a Charter dated in the year 1316, which gives over to Robert Lauder, of Bass, a certain portion of that rock, on which they had the site of a chapel, and | which is signed "Apud Wedale," by John de Lambyrton, then Bishop of St. Andrew's.

Oh how refreshing it is for us, old fellow as we now are, to throw ourselves back in our armchair, to shut our eyes, and to dream over again those happy happy days of our youth-hood which were spent by us as young anglers on the banks of Gala Water! We were blessed with a father who, during our holidays from school or College, was at all times ready to be our companion in all rational and healthful amusements. Rising at so very early an hour, in what may be called the How of East Lothian, that we found ourselves, after a walk of some ten or twelve miles, perhaps by six or seven o'clock in the morning, on the margin, and near to the source of a little moorland burn called Ermit, which rises out of Soltrahill, and becomes a tributary to the Gala; how eagerly, and with what a beating heart did we sit down to put the pieces of our rod together, and to adjust the other parts of our tackle! The stream was altogether so tiny, that to those who knew it not, it would have appeared either that we were mad, or that we were Cockneys, that we should suppose that we could extract trouts from it, for at one time it would appear running thin and glittering in the sun over a narrow bed of pebbles, where its depth was so little that even a very small trout would have been stranded if it had ventured to make a passage over it, and then, by and bye, contracting itself, and inclining to one side, it, as it were, thrust its black stream under the overhanging shadow of a mossy bank of perhaps some three feet from its surface, where it curled and eddied along in a dark, narrow, but animated pool, of some few yards in length. Here it was that the "monarch of the brook" was generally to be found, and flattered, as he necessarily was, by our thus early presenting ourselves at his levee, it frequently happened that he readily rose, and ultimately agreed to accompany us in our morning's walk, our creel being opened wide for his accommodation. Our practice was to follow the run of this little burn, for some four or six miles or so, down through the bare moorland, to its junction with the Gala a little way below Crookstone house, by the time we reached which point we were generally in possession of a very handsome faite à peindre dish of trouts—indeed it was somewhat remarkable that although before reaching our inn at Bankhouse, the place of our rest and refreshment for the evening, we had fully as

great a length of water to fish, and that, too, of a much larger and more likely stream, the after half of our basket was generally less, and especially so in weight, than that which we had acquired from the contributions of Ermit. What Mr. Stoddart says of the Gala Water trouts now may be said to be quite applicable to the days we are talking of-I mean that they might have "weighed from a pound downwards,” but we did, now and then, catch one of about two pounds, or two pounds and a half. But by way of enabling Mr. Stoddart to compare the piscatorial provision now afforded by the Gala, with that which it so liberally afforded about fifty years ago, we may perhaps be allowed to recall a day when we started with our revered companion by about a quarter to seven o'clock in the morning, from our inn at Bankhouse. We were attended by a servant who carried two creels on crossbelts, whilst we bore another on our back. Our plan of operations for the day was so arranged, that the elder gentleman of the two, who was a most beautiful and skillful fly fisher, should precede us about a hundred or a couple of hundred yards, angling as he pleased with the fly, and that we should follow to pick up, by means of the worm, whatever we might be able to glean after him. Strictly pursuing this arrangement, we fished from Bankhouse down to Galashiels, and there turning, we thence retraced our steps and fished the whole of the Gala up to its point of junction with Ermit, where, bidding the larger stream farewell, we followed the smaller up through the wild moors, nearly to its source, where its thread of water had become so small that it could hardly yield a sufficient quantity to afford room for exercise to an active stickleback. Here we stopped to devour our sandwiches, to drink our glass of sherry, to put up our rods and tackle, and to pour out the contents of our creels on a nice bit of green sward, and to admire and to count our trouts. To our surprise we found that we had a few more than thirty-six dozen. Most of the large ones had been killed by the bait rod but whilst the spoil due to it may have weighed a little more than that produced by the fly, yet the fly rod had taken the greater number. the sun was getting low, and that we had still some ten or twelve miles to walk home, we returned our trouts to the three creels, which they filled very decently, and starting off for the low country at a good pace, we reached our residence at about ten o'clock at night.

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We confess that we are pretty well acquainted with most of the districts of Scotland, but we have no difficulty in stating, that we know of no district which has been so completely metamorphosed since the days of our youth as that of Gala Water. According to our early recollections, the whole wore a pastoral character. Crops were rare, and fences hardly to be met with. Not a tree was to be seen, except in the neighbourhood of one or two old places, and especially at and around Torwoodlee and Gala House, near the mouth of the river. Everything within sight was green, simple, and bare; the farm-houses were small and unobtrusive,

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and one or two small places of residence only, be- | the line of the glen most unexpectedly displayed longing to proprietors were to be seen. The Break- to us, at some little distance a-head, a large buildneck road ran, as we have already hinted, along ing of three stories, with a great number of small the west side of the valley, being conducted in windows in it, with several lower subsidiary buildstraight lines right up and down hill. The innings attached to it, and with a long green by the of Bankhouse was then the only place of shelter river's side, where posts and ropes were set up, on in the whole district, a snug and very quiet place which hung a great number of webs of coarse of retreat for a tired and hungry angler, and kept grey cloth. On inquiry we found that this was a very clean, but having nothing about it of the manufactory of that particular article, and that character of the inns we require now-a-days. We it was all that formed the village of Galashiels. have already had occasion to notice the change It stood on the flat ground nearly opposite to the and improvement of the public road. The whole venerable old place of Gala House which, with country is fenced, cultivated, and hedged round. its park, and noble extent of timber, covered, as Thriving and extensive plantations appear every- they still do, the slopes to the westward. But even where. Neat and convenient farm-houses and the beauty of these did not allay the irritation of steadings are common; and several very handsome our young Isaac Walton feelings, which had residences of proprietors are happily dispersed been torn by the idea of a manufactory breaking through different parts of the valley. Small inns so suddenly in on the quiet, silent, and pastoral are very frequent by the wayside; and that of valley which we had been, all the morning, so Torsonce, which may be called the principal one, is dreamily descending. We turned hastily on our as comfortable a house of the kind as the king- heels, and never again attempted to throw a line, dom can boast of. But even this improved state until we had fairly shut ourselves out from all of things is not enough for the rapid march of view of the obnoxious olject. We had neither human improvement; for now, at this moment, a opportunity nor occasion to visit it again for some railway is constructing; and we must heartily con- twenty-five years or so, and then we found the gratulate the able gentleman who has engineered whole gorge of the valley filled with a large and it, not only for the ingenuity and science which he thriving manufacturing village. has displayed, but likewise for his great antiquarian research, and for the sagacious humility which he has exhibited in at once adopting the line sug- | gested by the nymph who, as the ballad tells us, "kilted her coats aboon her knee" to enable her "to follow her love through the water," and to carry it right up the centre of the valley by a wonderful series of bridges, so that even the modern road, with its whole complement of inns and public houses, will very soon be left useless and unoccupied.

We should have mentioned, that the Gala rises out of a part of the property of Fala, and soon afterwards receives from the west the large tributary of Heriot water, which drains a very fine hill estate of that name belonging to the Earl of Stair. It is augmented by no other very important contribution, although it is joined by a number of burns of lesser note.

Having doubtless surprised our readers by the change which we have informed him has taken place on the surface of this highly improved district, we must now proceed to describe that which has taken place on the village of Galashiels; and this we do rather at variance with our general rule of passing by such places, without much notice, entirely from the really wonderful history which it presents during its various epochs. We shall begin by informing the reader as to what its state was nearly fifty years ago, when our juvenile piscatorial wanderings first brought us acquainted with it. We had extended our usual angling ramble from our inn at Bankhouse, being led ou from one inviting stream or pool to another, until, after passing the fine old place, and park, and woods of Torwoodlee, which at that time burst suddenly, and with the most richly luxuriant effect upon one who had hitherto seen nothing but the simple, unwooded, and pastoral valley above, a bend in

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But to give the reader a just and perfect knowledge of the changes which this village has undergone, which are, in themselves, so very curious and interesting, we shall quote from our good friend Mr. Robert Chambers, who has taken a good deal of trouble, as he generally does in regard to all things, to make himself well informed on the subject. "The old village of Galashiels," says he, "which is first mentioned in authentic records of the reign of David II., lay upon an eminence, a little to the south of the present town. It was merely an appendage of the baronial tower which, with many modifications and additions, is now known by the name of Gala House, and forms the seat of Scott of Gala. The old town contained about four or five hundred inhabitants, the greater part of whom supported themselves by weaving. was erected into a barony in 1599. All the houses belonged to the superior, Scott of Gala, whose family came in the place of the Pringles of Gala, in the year 1632." From what we have stated as to our own personal observation regarding the miserable appearance which the village of Galashiels made on its new site at the time we visited it about fifty years ago, it would appear that the manufacture of cloth having afterwards in some degree succeeded, feus, or perpetual building leases, were granted by the proprietor, all along the river side, and the village quickly began to grow immensely in size, and rapidly to increase in its manufactures. It now consists of several streets running parallel with the river. By the last account taken, it contained two thousand two hundred and nine inhabitants. The annual consumption of wool amounts to 21,500 stones imperial, of which 21,000 are home-grown, and 500 foreign, chiefly from Van Dieman's Land. Nearly half of the raw material is manufactured into yarns, flannels, blankets, shawls, and plaids, the

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