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year 1832, where we have given a very particular | Out went his line, however, and at the second account of this most impressive scene, written cast it was twisted in ten thousand gordian knots when all the circumstances were fresh apon our amidst the boughs above him. He was a furiously mind.

passionate little man, and he stamped in the The whole environs of the Abbey are so beauti- water and raved like a demon, A servant ful, so retired, and so sequestered, that the mere climbed up to unravel this misfortune, for Anderlover of woodland nature, who might wander here son, in his then blind state, could not have done for a time, might find himself, ere he wist, walk- it in a whole week. Right glad to be thus ing hand in hand with the muse, albeit hitherto assisted, he came ashore and sat down, and an entire stranger to him ; and if sho did suggest poured out a string of execrations on the Earl of to him a theme, it could not fail to be one of the Buchan and his trees. “ What's the use o'them, very purest nature, tinged with heavenly colour- I should like to ken, but just to hank our lines ing, and rendered sublime by its approach to the and spoil our fishing ; od an this place were mine, throne of the Creator. And if such were the in. I would rugg out every buss and fell every tree fluences that always appeared to us to hang over upon the lands." He was no sooner free than ho Dryburgh Abbey, how much must they now be waded in to a depth that was very perilous in his increased since it and its surrounding shades have then whiskified condition-almost immediately had the spirit of Scott associated with them. hooked a salmon and really when he and the

But, alas ! are we now to be condemned to fish were safely landed together, we felt most hold that the muse of Scottish Romance has thankful, for he had slipped and plunged about buried herself in the same grave that holds him so, that we more than once believed that rod, who so long and so successfully worshipped her! line, fish, and man, would have gone to BerTrue it is that we know of no one whose turn of wick. genius runs precisely in the same chivalric chan- Below Dryburgh Lord Polwarth's property of nel with that of Scott. But there was a voice, Merton begins, and runs for about two miles down which was full of the simplest and truest rural the Tweed. The angling is good, and we believe nature, which was wont to be listened to with in- it is parcelled out and let to various gentlemen tense delight; and why is it that he who gave it tenants. It is also excellent for trout fishing, esutterance should have so long ceased to do so ?pecially on what is called the Rutherford water, Let Professor Wilson answer this question, and where Mr. Stoddart tells us that his friend, John let us suggest that the best way of replying would Wilson, Esq., had taken, with the minnow, a large be by yielding to the wishes of his fellow-coun- creel full of fish out of one or two pools, many of trymen, and again resuming his literary pursuits. them above a pound and a half in weight, and

Dryburgh was a favourite haunt of ours in our that he had himself, more than once, taken trout juvenile days, when we used to angle here, and there, with the parr-tail,' that weighed nearly as our fondness for lovely scenery has been very three pounds. paramount ever since our very boyhood, we always As you approach the place of Mackerston, the felt less disappointed whilst angling here without immediate bed of the stream becomes much diversuccess, than we should have done on some tamersified by rocks, both on its side and in its channel. and less luxuriantly rich portion of the river. This, perhaps, is the only stretch of the river that But we must not omit to mention that there are would, in any way, recall those wild and iron-bound, some four or five miles of very superior rod fishing streams, with which those who have lived in the for salmon here, belonging to different proprietors. north may have become familiar. The river hurWe used to be attended in former days by a curi- ries very rapidly along, confined between walls of ous parchment-faced little man from the village of rock; and in some places its current may be said Newstead, called Anderson. He was a first-rate to be furious. In other parts, however, there are angler, and although he used to be soaked in the excellent casts for the rod, althongh some of their river every day up to his neck, he invariably very names, as given by Mr. Stoddart, would seem appeared on the ensuing morning, like a wet shoe to imply anything but peaceful or unincumbered that had been too hastily dried, and as if he had waters, as, the Clippers, Red Stane, Side Straik, been shrivelled up into a smaller compass than Doors, Willie's Ower Fa'. The proprietor of before. This was probably to be ascribed to the Mackerston, Sir Thomas Macdougall Brisbane, oceans of whisky which he poured down his throat Bart., has the north side of the water, and his after returning from the river to his own fireside Grace the Duke of Roxburgh the south side. at night. We well remember the risk we ran in Mackerston is a fine old aristocratic-looking fording the Tweed at some distance below the place, and its proprietor is an honour to his counFly Bridge, when the river was too large for try, whether he be considered as a brave soldier prudent people to have made the attempt. Our or as a scientific philosopher. wetting rendered some whisky necessary on our Mr. Stoddart gives us a sketch of a rather inreaching a small inn on the north shore, and teresting piscatorial character, of this neighbourthere Anderson took so mueh that, by the time hood, who rents the fishings of both the proprietors we got down to Drybargh, where we meant to here. His name is Robert Kerss-though he is fish, we were really afraid for his life, when he usually called Rob of Trows-a man alike incaproceeded to crash through the thicket of trees, pable of domineering or of humbling himself. and shrubs that closely bordered the river's edge, “ One that never had an enemy of his own makin order to dash into the water like a poodle. ing, nor cringed to form his friendships, The

same in his courtesy to anglers of all ranks and any good effect or propriety, compare a wild, degrees—to a beggar as to a duke. As a rod-mountainous, and rocky, Highland scene with & fisher for salmon, Rob Kerss has few equals, and rich, lowland district. But this we will say, that, in all matters regarding fishing, he is enthusiastic of all such lowland scenes, we know of none that beyond measure. To be in the boat with him, can surpass the environs of Kelso ; for whilst the when the fish are in a taking humour, is a treat mind is there filled with all those pleasing assowell worth the paying for. He never grudges the ciations with peace and plenty, which such scenes escape of a fish, and has always an encouraging or are generally more or less calculated to inspire, original remark at hand to keep up the spirit of there are many parts of it which would furnish the amusement.” His cottage is prettily situated glowing subjects for the artist. Here the Tweed on a bank, among trees, where his noble and liberal is joined by the Teviot, and we must, therefore, landlord, the Duke of Roxburgh, has supplied mount to the source of this latter stream, and the old man with every comfort and convenience. trace its whole course, before we follow the former

Immediately below Rob Kerss's house, the any farther. But, ere we begin this, will our Duke of Roxburgh's fishings begin, and stretch, kind reader permit us to explain, that, during all for nearly four miles, to a point about half a-mile the time in which we have been engaged in inbelow Kelso. There are few anglers who know flicting this deluge of fluvial matter upon him, we how to make the most of a good piece of water have been so much of an invalid as to be unable so well as his Grace, as may be conceived from to sit up sufficiently long to use pen and ink, and the fact, that it is by no means uncommon for that all our private, as well as our official, letters him to kill betwixt twenty and thirty fish in the have been written for us by an amanuensis. To course of the day. This part of the Tweed is ex- such of our friends as may have received these, tremely rich and beautiful, for it has within it all therefore, it may be matter of wonder how we the extensive and magnificently-grown timber of could have managed to have produced so much the park of Fleurs Palace, now one of the grandest writing for the press, and to these we are anxious places of residence in Scotland. Nothing can to explain, that this has been entirely owing surpass the beauty of the scene when looked at to the great kindness and courtesy of our pubfrom Kelso bridge. And then, when it is taken lishers, who have, in the most obliging manner, from other points, tho bridge itself, the ruined condescended toprint from our manuscript, written abbey, the buildings of the town, with the wooded with a black-lead pencil, an instrument which, banks and the broad river, form a combination of being altogether unlike a pen that is dependant objects, harmonizing together, which are rarely on supplies of ink, we can use it with greatease and to be met with. Each particular description of convenience, even whenlying on our back on a sofa, scenery requires to be judged of and estimated and looking upwards to the paper we are writing according to its own merits. You cannot, with | on, as if it were the milky-way over our heads.



Joy ran high in halls of Ilion

E'er the lofty fortress fell;
Song from all the exulting million

Shook the tuneful golden shell.
Weary, every hand abideth,

Pausing from the tearful strife,
While the hero-souled Pelides

Priam's daughter woos to wife.
Bearing laurel boughs they follow

To the temples, throng on throng,
To the shrine of bright Apollo,

To the Thymbrian god of Song.
Through cach alley, echoes waking,

Sounds of joy Bacchantic roll,
Whilst her inoan, unheeded making,

Sorrows on one mournful soul.

Me alone of all the million,

Me no fond illusion waits,
For I see, on swooping pinion,

Ruin hover o'er these gates.
“ I behold a torch-light glowing,

But not borne in Hymen's hand,
Flashes o'er the welkin throwing,

All unlike from offering brand.
Plenteous banquets they are spreading,

But in my prophetic mind
I can hear the Godhead treading,

Who shall hurl them to the wind.
“ Sank in speechless grief I languish,

Or to desert wastes repair,
For they chide my mortal anguish,

And they mock at my despair.
By the thoughtful wise admonished,

By the joyous held to scorn,
Thou too grievously hast punished,

Pythean! I too much bave borne,
“Oh! thou God relentless-minded !

Why unseal my spirit's sight,
In this city of the blinded,

In a land debarred of light.
Why impart the gift of seeing,

What no power can turn aside,
The foxeshadowed must have being,

The predestined must betide.

Joyless, midst the joy prevailing,

The despised Cassandra roves,
Stung with sorrow unavailing,

To Apollo's laurel groves.
In the forest's deep recesses

Bursts into prophetic sound,
And the fillet from her tresses

Casts indignant on the ground.
“ Mirth each lingering terror chases,

Every heart beats high in cheer,
Ilope revives their care-worn faces,

Sumptuons swells the bridal year.



“ Tis profane the cereeloth riving,

Where a spectre lurks beneath; Error is the law of living,

Knowledge but the name for death. Take, oh! take thy mournful splendour,

From mine eyes the lurid gleam; Cursed the mortal thou would'st render

Mirror to thy flaming beam! “ Give me back my vision bounded,

And my senses' duskened sheen; Word of joy nor song I've sounded

Since thy mouthpiece I have been. Thou the Future bast imparted,

But the Present turned to pain, Reft me of my youth light-hearted

Take thy treacherous gifts again! « With the bride's adornment never

I my dewy locks might twine:
Since thy vestal vowed for ever,

I observe thy mournful shrino.
Grief my budding spring-time blighted,

Youth exhaled in sighs unblessed,
Every pang that near me lighted

Thrilled from my responsive breast. “Sportive joy of souls revealing,

All around me live and love
In the youthful tide of feeling ;

Me but pain and sorrow move.
Nor for me the spring reviving,

Spreads o'er earth its festive green ;
Who that owns to joy in living

Down its dark abyss has scen? “ Happy in her blind delirium,

In her hopes ecstatic blessed,
To enclasp the Dread of Ilion

As a bridegroom to her breast.

See the sister's heart proud swelling,

Vainly struggling calm to seem;
Scarce ye gods there o'er us dwelling,

Ilails she happier in her dream.
“ I too 've gazed on him entreating,

Whom my yearning heart desired,
And partook the blissful greeting,

By the warmth of love inspired.
But to nuptial dwelling never

With the loved one inight depart,
For a Stygian sbadow ever

Cast its baleful gloom athwart.
“Spectres gaunt and shapes ungainly

Flock from Tartarus' shores to me,
Secking rest or roaming vainly

From the grisly bands to flee.
Midst the youthful sports and babble

Still the phantom troop would steal,
Shuddering grim and hideous rabble !

Howe'er could I joyous feel.
“ I behold the glaive descending,

And the murderer's visage glare;
To the sacrifice impending,

With a conscious step repair.
On my gaze these visions fasten,

Felt, foreboded, fearless scanned ;
To my destined doom I hasten,

Death-upon a foreign strand.”
While her plaintive tones thus wander,

Hark! what deafening shouts arise !
At Minerva's portal yonder,

Stretched, a corpse Achilles lies.
Discord's gory crest proud towers,

The protecting gods are gone,
Thunder breaks and darkness lowers
O'er devoted Ilion.

J. J. S.
Lincoln's Inn Fields, July, 1817.




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Has the modern world no hoax of its own, cites him to the bar, saying, “What's that you answering to the Eleusinian mysteries of Grecian have in your pocket ?” To which the novice redays ? Oh, yes, it has. I have a very bad opin- plies,

" A guinea.”

Anything more?" ion of the ancient world; and it would grieve me other guinea.” "Then,” replies the official perif such a world could be shown to have beaten us son in a voice of thunder, “Fork out.” Of even in the quality of our hoaxes. I have, also, course to a man coming sword in hand few people not a very favourable opinion of the modern world. refuse to do that. This forms the first half of the But I dare say that in fifty thousand years it will mysteries ; the second half, which is by much be considerably improved ; and, in the meantime, the more interesting, consists entirely of brandy. if we are not quite so good or so clever as we ought In fact, this latter mystery forms the reason, or to be, yet still we are a trifle better than our ances- final cause, for the elder mystery of the Forking tors; I hope we are up to a hoax any day. A man out. But how did I learn all this so accurately? must be a poor creature that can't invent a hoax. Isn't a man liable to be assassinated, if he betrays For two centuries we have had a first-rate one ; that ineffable mystery or atoponeo of masonry, and its name is Freemasonry. Do you know the which no wretch but one since King Solomon's secret, my reader ? Or shall I tell you ? Send days is reputed ever to have blabbed ? me a consideration, and I will. But stay, the haps, reader, the wretch didn't blab the whole ; weather being so fine, and philosophers, there he only got as far as the Forking out ; and being fore, so good-tempered, I'll tell it you for nothing; a churl who grudged his money, he ran away whereas, if you become a mason, you must pay before reaching the brandy. So that this fellow, for it. Here is the secret. When the novice is if he seems to you but half as guilty as myself, introduced into the conclave of the Freemasons, on the other hand is but half as learned. It's the grand-master looks very fierce at him, and better for you to stick by the guiltier man. And draws his sword, which makes the novice look yet, on consideration, I am not so guilty as we have very melancholy, as he is not aware of having both been thinking. Perhaps it was a mistake. had time as yet for any profaneness, and fancies, Dreaming on days far back, when I was scheming therefore, that somebody must have been slander- for an introduction to the honourable society of ing him. Then the grand-master, or his deputy, I thè masons, and of course to their honourauto

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secret, with the single-minded intention of in- of the dove. The success was, the victory of the stantly betraying that secret to a dear female Christian church over the armies that waylaid friend (and, you see, in honour it was not possible its infancy. Without falsehood, without shadow. for me to do otherwise

, because she had made me of falsehood, all the benefits of falsehood—the propromise that I would)—all this time I was sooth- foundest-were secured. Without need to abjure ing my remorse with a belief that woman was anything, all that would have raised a demoniac answerable for my treachery, she having positively yell for instant abjuration was suddenly hidden compelled me to undertake it. When suddenly out of sight. In noonday the Christian church I woke into a bright conviction that all was a was suddenly withdrawn behind impenetrable dream; that I had never been near the Free- veils, even as the infant Christ himself was masons; that I had treacherously evaded the caught up to the secrecies of Egypt and the wiltreachery which I ought to have committed, by derness from the bloody wrath of Herod. And perfidiously forging a secret quite as good, very whilst the enemies of this infant society were likely better, than that which I was pledged in roaming around them on every side, seeking for honour to betray; and that, if anybody had them, walking upon their very traces, absolutely ground of complaint against myself, it was not touching them, or divided from their victims only the grand-master, sword-in-hand, but my poor as children in bed have escaped from murderers ill-used female friend, so confiding, so amiably in thick darkness, sheltered by no screen but a credulous in my treachery, so cruelly deceived, muslin curtain ; all the while the inner principle who had swallowed a mendacious account of of the church lurked as in the cell at the centre Freemasonry forged by myself, the same which, of a labyrinth. Was the hon. reader ever in a I greatly fear that, on looking back, I shall find real labyrinth, like that described by Herodotus ? myself to have been palming, in this very page, We have all been in labyrinths of debt, labyrinths upon the much-respected reader. Seriously, how- of error, labyrinths of metaphysical nonsense. ever, the whole bubble of Freemasonry was shat- But I speak of literal labyrinths. Now, at Bath, tered in a paper which I myself once threw into in my labyrinthine childhood, there was such a a London journal about the year 1823 or 4. It mystery. This mystery I used to visit ; and I was a paper in this sense mine, that from me it can assert that no type ever flashed upon my had received form and arrangement; but the mind so pathetically shadowing out the fatal materials belonged to a learned German, viz., irretrievability of early errors in life. Turn but Buhle, the same (Ebelison) that edited the “Bi. wrong at first entering the thicket, and all pont Aristotle," and wrote a History of philoso- was over ; you were ruined ; no wandering phy. No German has any conception of style. could recover the right path. Or suppose you I therefore did him the favour to wash his dirty even took the right turn at first, what of that? face, and make him presentable amongst Chris- You couldn't expect to draw a second prize ; five tians; but the substance was drawn entirely turnings offered very soon after ; your chance of from this German book.

It was there establish- escaping error was now reduced to one-fifth of ed, that the whole hoax of masonry had been in- unity; and supposing that again you draw no vented in the year 1629 by one Andrea ; and the blank, not very far had you gone before fourteen reason that this exposure could have dropped out roads offered. What remained for you to do of remembrance, is probably, that it never reach- now? Why, if you were a wise man, to lie down ed the public ear; partly because the journal had and cry. None but a presumptuous fool would a limited circulation ; but much more because count upon drawing for a third time a prize, and the title of the paper was not so constructed as to such a prize as one amongst fourteen. I mention indicate its object. A title, which seemed to pro- all this, I recall this image of the poor Sidney mise only a discussion of masonic doctrines, must Labyrinth, whose roses, I fear, must long ago have repelled everybody; whereas, it ought to have perished, betraying all the secrets of the have announced (what in fact it accomplished) mysterious house, simply to teach the stranger the utter demolition of the whole masonic edifice. how secure is the heart of a labyrinth. Gibraltar At this moment I have not space for an abstract is nothing to it. You may sit in that deep graveof that paper ; but it was conclusive ; and here- like recess, you may hear distant steps approachafter, when I have strengthened it by facts since ing, but laugh at them. If you are coining, and noticed in my own reading, it may be right to have all the implements of coining round about place it more effectually before the public eye. you, never trouble yourself to hide them. No

Finally, I will call the reader's attention to body will in this life ever reach you. Why, it is the most remarkable by far of all secret societies demonstrable by the arithmetic of combinations, ever heard of, and for this reason, that it sud- that if a man spent the flower of his life as a denly developed the most critical wisdom in a police officer in trying to reach your coiningdreadful emergency; secondly, the grandest pur- shop, he could not do it; you might rest as in a pose ; and, lastly, with entire success. The pur- sanctuary, that is, hidden and inaccessible to pose was, to protect a jewel by hiding it from all those who do not know the secret of the coneyes, whilst it navigated a sea swarming with cealment. In that recess you might keep a enemies. The critical wisdom was the most re- private still for a century without fear of the markable evidence ever given by the primitive exciseman. Light, common daylight, will not Christians of that serpent's subtlety which they show you the stars ; on the contrary, it hides had been warned to combine with the innocence them ; and the brighter this light becomes

the more it hides them. Even so, from the calls the thesis of that paper “paradoxical.exquisite machinery of the earliest Christian Now paradox is a very charming thing, and, society, whatever suspicions might walk about in since leaving off opium, I take a great deal too the darkness, all efforts of fanatical enemies at much of it for my health. But, in this case, the forcing an entrance within the air-woven gates of paradox lies precisely and outrageously in the opthese entrenchments were (as the reader will see) | posite direction ; that is, when used (as the word utterly thrown away. Round and round the paradox commonly is) to mean something that furious Jews must have circumambulated the startles by its extravagance. Else I have twice camp, like the poor gold fish eternally wheeling or three times explained in print, for the benefit round his crystal wall, but, after endless cruisings, of my female or non-Grecian readers, that paranever nearer to any opening. That concealment dox, being a purely Greek word, ought strictly to for the Christian nursery was absolutely required, be read by a Grecian light, and then it implies because else martyrdom would have come too nothing, of necessity, that may not be right. Here soon. Martyrdom was good for watering the follows a rigorous definition of paradox in a church, and quickening its harvests; but, at this Greek sense. Not that only is paradoxical which, early stage of advance, it would utterly have ex- being really false, puts on the semblance of truth; tirpated the church. If a voice had been heard but, secondly, that, also, which, being really true, from heaven, saying, “Let there be martyrs, puts on the semblance falsehood. For, litesoon the great answering return would be heard rally speaking, everything is paradoxical which rolling back from earth, “ And there were mar- contradicts the public doxa (dož«), that is, contratyrs.” But for this there must be time; the dicts the popular opinion, or the public expectafire, to be sure, will never be extinguished, if | tion, which may be done by a truth as easily as once thoroughly kindled; but, in this earliest a falsehood. The very weightiest truths now twilight of the primitive faith, the fire is but a received amongst men have nearly all of them, in little gathering of scanty fuel fanned by human turn, in some one stage of their development, breath, and barely sufficient to show one golden been found strong paradoxes to the popular Tallying star in all the mighty wilderness. mind. Hence it is, viz., in the Grecian sense of

There was the motive to the secret society which the word paradox, as something extraordinary, I am going to describe ! there was its necessity! | but not on that account the less likely to be true, “ Masque, or you will be destroyed :" was the that several great philosophers have published, private signal among the Christians. “Fall flat under the idea and title of paradoxes, some firston your faces,” says the Arab to the pilgrims, rate truths on which they desired to fix public atwhen he sees the purple haze of the simoom run- tention ; meaning, in a short-hand form, to sayning before the wind, “ Lie down, men,” says “Here, reader, are some extraordinary truths, the captain to his fusiliers, “ till these hurricanes looking so very like falsehoods, that you would of the artillery be spent." To hide from the never take them for anything else if you were not storm, during its first murderous explosion, invited to give them a special examination.”

so absolutely requisite, that, simply Boyle published some elementary principles in from its sine qua non necessity, and supposing hydrostaties as paradoxes, Natural philosophy there were no other argument whatever, I should is overrun with paradoxes. Mathematics, mechainfer that it had been a fact. Because it must have nics, dynamics, are all partially infested with been, therefore (I should say), it was. However, them. And in morals the Stoics threw their do as you like; pray use your own pleasure; con- weightiest doctrines under the rubric of parasider yourself quite at home amongst my argu- doxes--a fact which survives to this day in a ments, and kick them about with as little apology little essay of Cicero's. To be paradoxical, thereas if they were my children and servants. What fore, is not necessarily to be unphilosophic; and makes me so easy in the matter is, that I use the that being so, it might seem as though Mr. Gilabove argument—though, in my opinion, a strong sllan had laid me under no obligation to dissent one-ex abundanti; it is one string more than I from him ; but used popularly, as naturally Mr. want to my bow ; so I can afford to lose it, even Gilfillan meant to use it in that situation, the if I lose it unjustly. But, by quite another line word certainly throws a reproach of extravaganco of argument, and dispensing with this altogether, upon any thought, argument, or speculation, to I mean to make you believe, reader, whether you which it is imputed. like it or not.

Now it is important for the reader to understand I once threw together a few thoughts upon this that the very first thing which ever fixed my obscure question of the Essenes, which thoughts sceptical eye upon the whole fable of the Essenes, were published at the time in a celebrated jour- as commonly received amongst Christian churches, nal, and my reason for referring to them here was the intolerable extravagance of the received is in connexion with a single inappropriate ex- story. The outrageousness—the mere Cyclopian pression since applied to that paper. In a short enormity of its paradox-this, and nothing else, it article on myself in his “ Gallery of Literary was that first extorted from me, on a July day, Portraits” Mr. Gilfillan spoke of that little dis- one long shiver of horror at the credulity, the quisition in terms beyond its merit, and I thank bottomless credulity, that could have swallowed him for his kind opinion. But as to one word, such a legend of delirium. Why, Pliny, my exnot affecting myself but the subject, I find it à cellent sir, you were a gentleman mixing with duty of sincerity to dissent from him. He men of the highest circles—you were yourself


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