FAITH AND HOPE; OR, THE HIGHLAND CABIN. LOUD howl'd the wind; keen swept the blast Half buried 'neath their drifting load; Within that hut 'twas gloomier far; The drooping forms by anguish bent; Like to some virgin saint of old; With anxious eye tow'rds one more lone; The dame she rocked her to and fro Her mutt' ring voice breathed sounds of woe, Her very life seemed turned to gall, Such tones are meet for scenes like this, And death can scarcely come amiss! Four score twelve years have come and gone (A little space now that 'tis sped) Since first earth's dawn upon me shone, But now 'tis night-aye, joy hath fled! Three score and ten short years ago, Re-echoing up yon Highland glen; And rustic hearts were blithesome then! Yes, yes, these very clay-built walls Seemed all a paradise to me; More prized than e'en our chieftain's halls, For, Donald, they were shared with thee! Years rolled apace, and with them came Fresh blessings, for a smiling crew Since bitter dregs my cup hath filled! Yes, Janet, all that I have known For years of good is due to thee; Thy well-tried love, dear child, I own, Hath soothed me 'midst my penury; Thy father was my first-born pride, The first to lisp a mother's name; He sank beneath the stormy tide To fill his vacant place you came. Yes-bless thee, sweet one-half the tears I shed but now were for thy sake! For death a darker aspect wears Since mine must thee more lonely make. In gentlest tones she turned to speak: For have we not the promise sure- Why should his children shrink with dread? The faithful, too, his bounty share ; 'Lord, give us still our daily bread!'"' That pallid cheek and sunken eye? "Hush! mother, hush! I cannot bear "And hath it come to this, that I Might gladly look to him for food; Whilst his did last, ours ne'er could fail. But oh! those olden ties are rent Those faithful hordes are scattered wide; A princely fortune, reckless spent, Hath ruined all this country side. A Southron claims our chieftain's hall. (The badger slumbers in his dens) We know of justice but the name--- Where once the peasant's hearth was found. Our Gaelic tongue salutes his ears Like to some foreign harsh discordHow can he understand our fears? Far, far from us he may be kind, Gen'rous, and true; but still our cry Can scarce his southern mansion find Lost on that wailing blast 'twill die." "Oh! why dwell on a theme so sad? The darkest storm at length must cease, Dear mother mine. So Nature glad Looks forth to smile on earth in peace. Have we not seen this mountain wild In heather decked of brightest hue, As Summer kissed her northern child, And fragrance breathed through mist and dew? Those blossoms scarce were dried and gone Glowed like to some enormous pyre t Our very sufferings must urge Our cause. Yes! hands that grasped before "Trust on, sweet child, for surely ne'er 'Tis well, for he to whom thou'st sworn I like it not, for well I ken, Vows slightly bind the wills of men. Allan may seek for other ties, Some English home, 'neath softer skies, Blooms sweetest through misfortune's show'r." As when the traveller, awed, doth gaze, Where Mont Blanc tow'rs, midst endless snows, *In travelling through the Highlands, last autumn, we remarked, in several places, patches of verdure much brighter in hue than the fields of which they formed a part. On inquiring the cause, we were told that each of those vivid spots marked the locality where a cabin had been razed to the ground. Numbers of the inmates thus ejected proceeded to Canada, and, we rejoice to find, have prospered in their new homes. (See "Hochelago," &c.) If, indeed, some method cannot be devised of providing remunerating employment for this class at home, it seems greatly to be desired that many more families should be similarly disposed of. Canada, and the fertile and rising colonies of New Zealand and Australia, can yield bread to more than the thousands now languishing or dragging on a miserable existence at home. + When watching (during clear frosty nights) the burning of wide tracts of heather, we felt that nothing could exceed the grandeur and beauty of the forms taken by the sheets of flame. Once, in particular, when the hill-side above Gare-Loch-Head suddenly seemed to ignite and take the appearance of an enormous palace, illumining the mountains behind, and then reflected in the calm loch beneath; yes! like to a fairy dream, the whole scene assumed the aspect of enchantment, such, indeed, as to baffle all description. 'Tis glowing flushed; then mark the change- "Our vows were softly spoken; Fades not in hue— Once plighted, ne'er 'tis broken. "His eye sought mine so fondly; To woman's ear- "Hope lulls me when I'm sleeping; She glads my sight, With flowers my pathway strewing. "If there's a joy enduring- “Like pure white heather blooming, My love for thee- She ceased her soft, wild, rustic air; "Mother, this blessed hour repays fishing in perfection; and, from the information we have had, we understand that the gentlemen, who pay a large rent for the angling, are most liberal in the manner in which they grant permission when they are properly applied to. FROM the confidential habits that have grown | these will have every chance of enjoying salmonup between our courteous reader and ourselves, during the progress of this long undertaking, we scrupled not to tell him that it was written with the pencil. A like consideration induces us now to inform him, that since our last fasciculus went to press, we have been compelled, in consequence of what we hope will prove a merely temporary malady in our eyes, to discontinue writing altogether, and to avail ourselves of an intelligent amanuensis, to whom we may dictate the matter that we have to produce. The reader will perceive an obvious inconvenience in this, which, however, chiefly affects ourselves, and which we are not aware has in any degree injured the stream either of narrative or description. Like a gentleman of large fortune, who has just received a great accession to it, the Tweed, having been joined by the Teviot, leaves Kelso with a magnitude and an air of dignity and importance that it has nowhere hitherto assumed during its course, and which it will be found to maintain, until it is ultimately swallowed up by that grave of all rivers-the sea. A few miles bring it to the confines of Berwickshire, and in its way thither it passes through a rich country. The most important place upon its banks is that of Henderside Park, the seat of our friend Mr. Waldie, who has a large estate here. But before coming to his residence, we cannot help noticing a small place, merely for its name. It is called Sharpitlaw, and it furnishes a strange proof how Sir Walter Scott must have treasured up such names for his particular occasions, since we find this most appropriately applied to the procuratorfiscal in his "Heart of Mid-Lothian." In regard to the angling here, we find, on reference to Mr. Stoddart, that "immediately below Kelso commence the Sprouston fishings, rented, along with the ferry, a couple of miles down the river, by Thomas Kerss, a relative of Old Rob's at Trows, for about seventy pounds per annum. These, in connexion with the salmon casts belonging to John Waldie, Esq., of Henderside Park, embrace the following streams and pools:-Hempside Ford, the Bank, the Grain, Winter Cast, Mill-stream, Mill-pot, Butter-wash, Bushes, Scurry, containing the well-known Prison Rock, Dub, Mile-end-falls, Eden-waterfoot. Mr. Waldie's fishings begin at the Millstream and terminate along with the Sprouston casts." We believe that any gentleman getting permission to have a day's angling on any of Just before quitting the confines of Roxburghshire, the Tweed receives the classic stream of the Eden, which enters it from the left bank. This river rises from a part of Berwickshire; and, passing through Mellerstain, the fine old residence of George Baillie, Esq., of Jerviswood, and through a richly-cultivated country, it enters the parish of Stichell, belonging to our friend Sir John Pringle, Bart., where it produces a pretty little romantic scene, by throwing itself over a precipitous rock of considerable height. The spot is called Stichell Lynn. The right bank is here occupied and ornamented by the beautiful pleasure grounds of Newton Don, one of the most charming residences in this part of the country; and the mill, miller's house, and other buildings which stand close to the fall on the left bank, combine to produce an interesting picture. Alas! there is a tale of woe attached to this scene, the occurrence of which we are just old enough to remember. The late Sir Alexander Don, of Newton Don, had two sisters, whom we recollect as beautiful blooming girls, full of the highest life and spirit. They were just of an age to be brought into fashionable life, of which they would unquestionably have been ornaments. We remember them in Edinburgh under the charge of their mother, Lady Harriet Don. Having gone to spend the summer and autumn at Newton Don, they took with them a young lady, Miss Ramsay, a friend of theirs, as a companion. The three ladies, on their return from a walk on the left bank of the stream, and having suddenly heard the dinner-bell ringing at the house, bethought themselves of a set of stepping-stones, which enabled a person on foot to cross the river dry-shod, a little way below where they then were, and they accordingly made their way down the bank, in order to avail themselves of them. Now, it so happens that an instantaneous flood is produced in the river, by the operation either of turning on or off the mill sluice-we at this moment forget which. The three ladies had reached the middle of the stepping-stones, when the miller, altogether ignorant of their being there, had occasion to perform the fatal operation on his mill sluice, Down came the river like a wall in full career upon the ladies, swept them | brought together, as in the following verses from from the stones, and whelmed them in the flood. Thomson's "Spring":Their shrieks were piercing; but, alas! there was no one there to help. Miss Ramsay happened, fortunately, to be clad in a sort of stuff petticoat, which being of a stiff material, resisted the water, and buoyed her up until she caught hold of some branch or bough, which was the means of saving her. But, alas! the two sisters were utterly lost. After passing through the beautiful grounds of Newton Don, the river enters the lovely vale of Eden, rich in cultivation, and resembling some of our happiest English scenes. In the centre of it is the peaceful village of Ednam, the birth-place of our favourite poet Thomson, who was the son of the clergyman of this parish. His mother's name was Hume, and she inherited a portion of a small estate as coheiress. His father, having no less than nine children, had little difficulty in agreeing to the proposal of a kind neighbour clergyman, Mr. Riccarton, who being without a family himself, being moreover much struck with the genius which early displayed itself in James Thomson, undertook the charge of his education, and to furnish him with books. Mr. Riccarton was somewhat of a poet himself, and it has been asserted that it was to him that Thomson was indebted for the plan of his " Seasons." It was in this way that his earlier years were passed, until he went to the school at Jedburgh. We have already said a good deal on the subject of Thomson and his writings, but we must be allowed a little indulgence here in extension of what has already fallen from us. It is not long ago since we were in a company of very intelligent people of both sexes, where the subject of Thomson happened to be introduced, and where, to our very great astonishment, it was agreed, nemine contradicente, not only that nobody read Thomson now-a-days, but that nobody could read Thomson now-a-days, and one gentleman went so far as to state that he believed that nothing but the circumstance of an individual being, by some accident, confined in a determinedly rainy day to the dull parlour of some country inn, with no other book but the "Seasons," could induce him or her to open it; and he even doubted whether, if the book was opened, it would not be immediately afterwards closed. This excited a merry laugh all round; but, if there be any truth in this observation, may we not ask, whether this disregard of this faithful poet of Nature does not prove a certain perversion in general taste, rather than any fault in Thomson's poetry itself? What made the above remarks more curious to us was, that the gentleman who hazarded them was a keen and expert angler, and that all the other gentlemen present were devoted to that sport. We strongly suspect, therefore, that this undervaluing of Thomson had been entirely gratuitous, and that the gentleman had made no very recent attempt to peruse his works; for, if he had, we fearlessly ask where he could have had all the little circumstances necessary to produce success, so fully, so beautifully, or so poetically "Now, when the first foul torrent of the brooks, Which, by rapacious hunger swallow'd deep, "When, with his lively ray, the potent sun We know nothing in Izaack Walton that so per fectly teaches the pupil the whole of his art as these lines do. It shows a most wonderful knowledge of the subject in the poet, that he points out to us, that it is not the first day after the rains that we ought to try the river. That day should be devoted to the mountain brooks and burns, which mest speedily purify themselves, and after this we may proceed to the river with some hope of success. But the whole passage is replete with the very niceties of the art. Although this quotation and these remarks have found their place here, we are still of opinion that the scenery that gave rise to them in the poet's mind must have been that of the Jed, which river was full of trouts, until some such accident as the bursting of a lime kiln destroyed the whole of them, and they are only now beginning to recover their numbers. Before we conclude the subject of Thomson, let us be permitted to say, that we cannot estimate how deeply we should pity the man who, whether cooped up in a wretched inn, or walking free amidst the wilds of the mountain forest, could not estimate the value of these sublime and magnificent lines, which we now offer to our readers, with very great regret that our space will not allow us to quote the whole of the hymn to which they belong : "These, as they change, Almighty Father these We must acknowledge it is a very great satisfaction to us, to recollect that we had the honour of meeting two ladies of the name of Bell, some twenty years ago, when on a visit to the late Sir John Marjoribanks, at Lees, who were the lineal descendants of a sister of Thomson's, and whose conversation showed that they were not devoid of a portion of that talent for which the poet was so celebrated. The Eden is remarkable for the excellence of the trout, which are natives of the stream, but they require very considerable skill and great nicety of art to extract them by means of the angle from their native element. Mr. Stoddart tells us that the true Eden trout is a deeply-shaped fish, small headed, and of dark complexion on the exterior. The stars or beads are by no means numerous, but they are large and distinctly formed; those on either flank being of a deep crimson or purple hue, and encircled with a whitish ring or halo. Its flesh, when in season, on being cooked, is of a fine pink colour, the flakes interlayered with rich curd. At the table it is highly esteemed for its firmness and general excellence. We hold that the superior excellence of these fish is to be attributed to the superior feeding which is supplied to them by the deep alluvial soil of the vale through which the stream flows. Mr. Stoddart mentions a curious circumstance connected with the trout of the upper part of this river, above Stichell Lynn ; where, owing to the accidental escape of considerable quantities of another variety of trout from enclosed water at Mellerstain, the stream itself became the haunt, and continued so for three or four successive years, of a cross breed, which vied in numbers with the proper stock, and appeared, during the greater part of this period, as if it would ultimately supplant them altogether. This breed, however, and its after-crosses, have nearly disappeared, and the original trout are resuming, in point of numbers, their old position. Mr. Stoddart tells us further, that below Stichell Lynn the true breed of Eden is intermixed with other varieties. May and June are the months when the trout are in highest perfection, and the worm at this period is a deadly bait. The largest trout Mr. Stoddart ever killed in Eden weighed about two pounds, and he says that he has frequently taken, among others, a dozen weighing a pound a-piece. Of late years, the fish have greatly decreased in size; but their quality, when in season, is still good. And now we must congratulate our kind and courteous reader, as well as ourselves, that the romantic days of border warfare have been long at an end; for, if it had been otherwise, our noble companion, the Tweed, which has now brought us to a point where he washes England with his right hand waves, whilst he laves Scotland with his left, might have brought us into some trouble. As he forms the boundary between England and Scotland from hence to the sea, we must, in order to preserve him as a strictly Scottish river, say little about his right bank, except what may be necessary for mere illustration. But as we see before us the truly dilapidated ruins of what was once the strong and important fortress of Wark Castle, we must bestow a few words upon it; and perhaps the best way of so doing is to borrow those of Sir Walter Scott :-" During the reign of Stephen, Wark Castle sustained three sieges against the Scotch, under their king, David, with most admirable fortitude; in the two first they entirely baffled the assailants, and compelled them to raise both sieges; in the last the garrison were reduced to great extremities—they had killed their horses, and salted their flesh for food, and when that was nearly consumed, resolved, as soon as all provision was exhausted, to make a general sally, and cut their passage through the lines of their assailants, or die, sword in hand. During this interval, Walter D'Espec, their lord, willing to preserve so brave a corps, sent the Abbot of Beville with his command, that the garrison should surrender the place; on whose arrival a treaty was entered into, in consequence of which the garrison capitulated, and were permitted to march out of the castle under arms, with twenty horses provided them by the Scotch king. On this evacuation the castle was demolished, and the fortifications were razed. King Henry the Second, to strengthen his frontiers against the Scots, ordered the castle to be rebuilt, and the fortifications restored. "King David Bruce, returning with his victorious army from an incursion he had made into England, |