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who had merely retired from the dust, knowing it must be now laid, resought the road-and hark! the sound of a trumpet!

A couple of Cantabs trotting along in a Tandem! That soph handles the reins like a man destined to be senior wrangler-and in him who blows the bugle we hear a gold medallist. Fine fellows are they both as ever worked team or problem. From the wood we take our station close before the leader, and lo! now a Random! Colonsay has quite a classical character-and unencumbered with traces, he looks like one of those noble prancers on antique gem or basso relievo. The wheeler has nothing to do in the shafts but to keep moving-the ci-devant leader is now proud to be a follower-and the whip enjoys his sinecure. Much gentle manly nonsense are the scholars talking to Hannah, and we fear, from the titter that slightly thrills her frame, that they may be slyly quizzing the elderly gentleman; but youth will be youth-and we know that, in the midst of all that winking of eyes and screwing of mouths, they have a respect amounting to veneration for Christopher North.

Ivy Cottage seems on its way to Ambleside, as we give it the go-byRydal Water glimmers away towards Windermere- and we are at the Nab. Lo! below the shadow of the sycamores the marriage party-who had just then discovered that we were missing, and loud congratulations hail our advent. The Random is reduced to a Tandem-for Colonsay gives the side-spang, and the Newtonians keep the noisy tenor of their way towards Grassmere -while Nab-scaur proves he can blow the bugle too, and plays the Honey-Moon on the same key-but what breath from human lips so wildly sweet as the echoes!

Hannah slips off like a sun-loosened snow-wreath, and is in the arms of a girl, lovelier even than herself, who had been keeping house during the wedding, and arranging the parlour for a déjeûne at once rich and simple, while she had tastefully garlanded the lintel and porch with flowers. Through the jessamine-lattice window we looked in on the preparations, but had strength of mind not to dismount; and as soon

as the bridegroom learnt that we were engaged in a match, he released us from our remaining duties as his man, considering that we had sufficiently shown our zeal in his service by the part we performed in church. We then drank "Joy" in a glass of delicious elder-flower wine, fairer and more fragrant than Frontinacand pausing for a moment to take in the whole beautiful happiness of the scene into our heart-lake, trees, hills, houses, humanities, heavens, and all-" swift as an arrow from a Tartar's bow," we shot away towards White Moss.

Where, thought we, may be Sam? Symptoms saw we none of the Shuffler

for feet of all kinds had for hours been disturbing the dust-nor among all that trampling could a Red-man's eye have noted the print of her hoof. But as we had not met him, we could not doubt that he was only ahead-and the chief difficulties to be encountered, it was cheering to learn, awaited us both equally on our return. We scorn to ask questions-nor could they indeed have been of any avail; for though we had overtaken many persons, we had met none-the stream of life all flowing in one direction-towards Grassmere fair. It was known there that we were coming, for Rumour trots faster even than Colonsaynay, used to out-gallop Childers and Eclipse.

And now we were on WhiteMoss, and keeping a firm seat, in case of a blast in the slate-quarries, when a sight met our eyes at that rate altogether unintelligible, incomprehensible, and unaccountable, but alarming in the most mysterious degree to man and horse-even beyond a ghost. It seemed something hairy, and of a size so enormous, that its stature, like Satan's, reached the sky. Could it be Satan? No-the Prince of the Air flies by night-this monster was moving on the earth in the face of day. Colonsay saw it the instant we did, and was rooted. Desperation fixed our eyes on the shape-"if shape it might be called, which shape had none"-and, thank heaven! it gradually dwindled into a huge bear-standing upright on legs thicker than our body-handling a pole across his breast like a pine -and, oh! spirit of Vestris-dan

cing! Yes! dancing to a tambourine and a hurdy-gurdy-waltzing a solo-pirouetting-and soon as he saw us-describing the figure of a foursome and fearsome Scotch-reel, jig-time-and then, as if setting to his partner, perpetrating the Highland fling! Never did Napoleon utter a more original truth than when he said, that there is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous Colonsay must have felt that as keenly as we did-laughter convulsed our diaphragms-and so strange were the peals, that we thought the old mountains would have fallen into hysterics.

Fancy "holds each strange tale devoutly true," told of fascinations. "A serpent's eye shines dull and shy," saith Coleridge, in" that singularly beautiful and original poem Christabelle-and like a true poet he describes its effect on that hapless ladye. Aristotle saw into the life of things when he declared poetry to be more philosophical than historybut he has nowhere said that fiction is more true than fact. Here, however, we have to record a fact more extraordinary than any fiction-and leave you to draw the moral. All imitation is from sympathy-and in illustration of that apophthegm we could write a book. But here was a fact more illustrative of its truth than many volumes of the profoundest metaphysical disquisition. Colonsay, who had been not only riveted, but, as we said, rooted to the spot by sight of the bear, began to regard him with a horrid sympathy -his inner being began to bruin his neigh became a growl- and rising on his hind-legs, with his fore-legs mimicking paws, true to time and measure, as his grotesque prototype before him, he began walking the minuet de la cour, and soon as tambourine and hurdy-gurdy changed to a livelier tune, slid away into a saraband!

You cannot be so unreasonable as to expect that we should be able to describe our feelings in such a predicament-composed as the mixture was of so many ingredients hitherto supposed to be unamalgamatable-of which a few were the internal senses of fear, fun, folly, horror, awe, melancholy, mirth, selfpity, shame, pride, wonder, novelty,

absurdity, and sublimity - but so meagre a list of simple emotions can give you no idea of the one composite. The spectators seemed numerousand you may faintly conceive what a dash of bitterness was thrown into our cup already full to the brim with sufferings, by the appearance, on the edge of the crowd, of the immortal author of the Lyrical Ballads, and him since so celebrated as the English Opium-Eater. Their looks shewed that they were under the delusion that this was a voluntary as well as gratuitous exhibition-whereas they were bound as poets, philosophers, and Christians, to have known that we were under the power of the Bear-Ursa Major being now manifestly the constellation that had ruled at our birth-and who can control his fate?

And

But was ever sight more beautiful than what now rose before us high up in the firmament! A graceful girl in a foreign garb, trowsered, and turban'd, and stilted, walked dancingly in the air, showering smiles, and warbling melody, the loveliest Savoyard that ever crossed seas far-away from her own hut on the vine-clad hill. as she smiled and sang, she came circling towards us, with that aërial motion of which every new gliding figure was like finer and wilder poetry, till, like a creature angelical, she hung in the sunshine above our head, and dropped round the neck of her thrall a chaplet of flowers, wreathed by fingers familiar with all the magic of the southern clime! The Bear ceased his gambols-and Colonsay again grew horse. We gave the bright witch gold, and were just about to bow to our illustrious friends-when a mannikin, in a red jacket, jumped up behind us, and away went Colonsay like a whirlwind. It was a monkey-and Jacko, not anticipating the effect of his trick, clung to our back with his arms round our neck-and his bleareyed face adhesive to our cheek -oh! how unlike that face which half-an hour ago we bent back ours to meet-and from its balmy mouth received a kiss in the dim wood!

What is this? what is this? We are swimming in a lake Grassmere Lake - we know it by its Island. Curse the incubus-we shall be throttled. Could we but get our

knife unclasped, we would cut off the little miscreant's paws. Courage, Colonsay-courage-swim steady, we beseech you-have pity on your poor master.

Such-like continued

to be our ejaculations along the edge of the line of water-lilies, which, even in his affright, Colonsay instinctively kept clear of-and we rejoiced to perceive that he was making for the Island. Boats put out from all the bays-and the first that neared us was Robert Newton's, who had been fishing perch, and slipped anchor the moment he heard the plunge. But we warned him to keep off, lest Colonsay should sink him-and now began a race of a novel kind-Colonsay against a pair of oars-for a gallon of ale and a leash of mutton pies-who should first touch the beach. The craft was rather heading us, when crash went the wooden pin on which the Grassmereans then used to fix their oars, and Bobby fell back off the shaft with his heels in the air, while a light breeze having sprung up, he drifted considerably to leeward. We could now count the corner-stones of the Barn; Colonsay snorted as he smelt the pasture; and getting footing now on a shoal of fine gravel, more like a hippopotamus than a mere land-horse, he galloped through a brood of ducklings, and established himself on terra-firma beyond the water-line, and in among the daffodillies, that crowded round to kiss the victor's feet. Just then he gave himself such a shake-like a Newfoundlander-that Jacko, who had heedlessly relaxed his hold, was dislodged to a great distanceand by and by sitting down disconsolately on a stone, looked

"Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast."

But we had no compassion for the pest, and let him sit shivering unheeded there in his wet regimentals, while we intensely enjoyed that vital refreshment consequent on the plunge-bath. Colonsay had leaped into the Lake, as we were afterwards credibly informed, from a pretty high rock; and we were assured by the same authority, that he had never witnessed any sight more imposing than our Dive. Grassmere Lake is

VOL. XXXVI. NO. CCXXIV.

full of springs, so in spots not only cool, but cold even in the dog-days; and we, who had entered its sweet waters, a child of dust, left them an etherealized creature of the element. 'Twas now post meridian quarter less one, and since six of the morning what had we not gone through? Seven hours in the saddle-with nothing to eat but breakfast and lunch, a few horns of ale, a suck of Glenlivet, and a tumbler of elder-flower wine. The strongest constitution cannot be wholly proof against such privations—and we had felt-we confess-a certain sinking of the heart-near the region of the stomach-which had somewhat affected our spirits. But not more sovereigu remedy is " Spermaceti for an inward bruise,” than that spring-fed lake for lassitude and weariness even to the verge of death. We could have imagined ourselves a Minor on the eve of his majority, glorying in the thought of the Gaudeamus nature was preparing for the morrow, when the sun was to see him of age. Scores of crazy years, with all their infirmities, had been drowned, or shaken off; Crutch himself felt efflorescence, and as we held him up, we fancied he began to bud. Yes! we believe it now-so exults the Eagle-when, moulting centuries that fall away from him like feathers, he renews his youth.

We stood on the green navel of the lake. So clear the air, and so keen our eyes, that without losing any thing of their grandeur, the encircling mountains shewed all their beautiful individualities-distinctly was visible the tall lady-fern, as if within hand-reach we saw, or thought we saw, the very glossiness on the silver stems of the scattered birch-trees-there was no mistaking one of all the many varieties of foliage-apparent along the brighter verdure were the innumerous sheep-paths-it might be imagination, but we believed our eye rested in its wanderings on the Fairy rings. The Beautiful closed in upon us, and our heart leapt up to meet it, our arms opened to fold it in our embrace. We were in love with Nature, and she with us, and in our intercommunion we became one living soul.

B

You may call this extravagant and it may be so; but extravagant you can never call the sweet delight that breathed on us from all the still island itself-with its serene scenery -but a barn and outhouse, and a few firs-no more-and as for living creatures-on the low lying pasture, undulating into uplands, some score of silly sheep. Of how few and simple materials may consist a pastoral picture, that shall deeply stir the heart.

Never, in all our born days, heard we such a neighing and whinnying of horses, mares, and foals! In Tail End-an estate on the shores of the Mainland -- resides a speculative breeder-and yonder field sloping down to the lake is full of all manner of manes and tails, not unobserved of Colonsay, who has been startled by the outbreak of the music of his mother-tongue, and lends his lungs to the concert. But that cannot content him, and we must make up our minds for another swim. However, this time he takes matters more quietly, and walks slowly into the water, belly deep, sipping some of it, and cooling his nose with now and then a dip, till the bottom slides away from his hoofs, and he assumes the

otter.

The flotilla, in the form of a crescent "sharpening its mooned horns," at tends us to the landing-place—and having thus at two innings fairly crossed the lake, we are once more on the continent. But here new dangers surround us in the shape of all sorts of quadrupeds-and a vicious horse, well-known by the name of the Baldfaced Stag, runs at us with his teeth. Rising in the stirrups, like King Robert Bruce on the approach of Sir Henry de Bohun, we deliver on his skull such a whack of the Crutch, that he staggers and sinks on his knees-while Colonsay, turning tail, flings out savagely, and puts him hors de combat. Seeing their leader fall, the whole squadron of cavalry take to ignominious flight, and we soon find ourselves on the plateau in front of the house. And who should we find there but two who had "been absent long, and distant far"-SAMMY AND THE SHUF FLER!!

What a change had time, toil, and trouble wrought on the once gal

lant pair! Sam, had it been nighttime, might have passed for his own ghost. So reduced, he was a mere feather-weight. "Poor putty-face!" we involuntarily ejaculated-" sallower than thine own doeskins!" Seeing us, he smiled as if he were weeping-but not a word did he speak, and we began to suspect that he had received a coup de soleil. The hospitable and humane resident-our much esteemed friend Mr Younghusband-whom we had not at first observed-we now saw standing at a small distance, surveying Sam and the Shuffler with a countenance in which there was no hope. After mutual congratulations had been exchanged between us, he informed us that he had presented Sitwell with various refreshments, but that the infatuated man would neither eat nor drink, and persisted in being speechlessthat he had offered to send for medical and clerical assistance, (we thought he whispered the word undertaker,) but that the offer had been met by that mournful but decided negative, a mute shake of the head. Deaf, therefore, Sam was not

but he was dumb-regularly doneup-completely finished - nor in less piteous plight was the Shuffler. She still, indeed, had a leg to stand on, but of all the four not one that could have obeyed her will, had she attempted to walk. She had hobbled to that extreme point, beyond which exhausted nature could not go an inch. She was alive, and that was all that could be safely asserted either of her or Sam. That shoeing had finally done its business

the iron cramps had proved too much for her corns and bunionsthough fired on all fours, no sinews could stand for so many hours the unrelieved pressure-moreover, she had foundered-and except in the tail, which shook violently, the patient now appeared in general paralysis. Sitwell was not cruel-but he had committed a sad error in going round by the Close, and taking the left bank of the Lake. Besides, he had been carried away, as he afterwards told us, by a trail-hunt.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and we prudently and generously offered to let him off for fifty. No human foresight could predict what might happen to our

selves on the way home. Sam revived at the proposal, and in presence of a good witness nodded assent. But nods are often deceptive and illusory altogether, so we insisted on the blunt.

Slowly his fobs the fumbling hand obey,

And give the struggling shiners to the day."

But shall we miss the festivities of Grassmere Fair? Forbid it, heaven. Mr Younghusband, with Herculean arms, lifts Mr Sitwell off the saddle, and places him behind Mr North, promising himself to follow. The sun is shedding intolerable day, and we unfurl our umbrella. Sam, whose strength is fast returning,

carries the parasol-we flourish the Crutch. Colonsay, after a few funks, gets under weigh, and in three minutes is in the heart of the Fair. What a crowd round the Victor! Nobody looks at the Bear. But there is the Witch of Savoy in the air, waving her turban, heedless of her leman angrily lamenting for Jacko. On all sides we see "the old familiar faces." Conspicuous above all, that honoured statesman, John Green -who assists us to dismount-and, leaning on his arm, we walk into the mouth of the Red Lion. Then, facing about, we bow to the Fair, who ratifies our victory" with nine times nine;" and at that moment we wished to die, "lest aught less great should stamp us mortal."

MEMOIRS OF M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND.

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In a former Number we presented to our readers some very interesting fragments and extracts of these Memoirs. We now intend to impart such other passages as have since transpired. These have been sent direct from Monsieur Chateaubriand himself to two Parisian periodical works, and there can be therefore no doubt of their entire authenticity. M. de Chateaubriand, it appears, was so well satisfied with the notice of the Revue de Paris, from which we borrowed our former communication, that he has, in token of his satisfaction, sent to it, and to another work of the same description, the passages which we have now to lay before our readers. We are happy to have this testimony of the faith fulness, if not in word in spirit, of our former article to the sense of the illustrious author. What we have now to furnish comes directly from himself. We have already said that these Memoirs are not written consecutively, according to a chronological order of events. Sometimes late events will be found in the early pages, and again scenes of boyhood and of youth will be inserted at the period of grey-haired experience. Every part seems to have been written according as the actual impression of the moment dictated. By

The

this means every incident and reflection comes bright and burning from the brain, with the stamp of the instant's impulse upon it; and the whole is connected together, not by a plodding series of order, but by those vivid links of recollection and anticipation which blend and harmonize distant facts together much more happily, and give to a work of biography more real unity of effect, than the artificial help of chronology (which often abruptly interrupts, instead of aiding the natural association of parts) can ever do. passage we subjoin may probably be an illustration of this remark. Though written whilst the author is engaged in the scenes of the first Revolution, his mind is hurried from their contemplation to thoughts with which they are intimately allied-thoughts which perceive the events of the actual moment in their seeds which were then sown and scattered so profusely in blood, and which project the mind into speculations on the future, when the consequences of that dire revolution will be finally and fully developed and consummated. The passage is a pregnant one-a fine weaved up skein of conjectures and poetic reasonings, bearing such a weight of truth, that a little time, we fear, only is necessary

• See vol. xxxv., p. 608,

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