against sorning, masterful beggary, and every other species of mendicity, being suspended in favour of this privileged class. With his cloak, each receives a leathern purse, containing as many shillings Scots (videlicet, pennies sterling) as the sovereign is years old; the zeal of their intercession for the king's long life receiving, it is to be supposed, a great stimulus from their own present and increasing interest in the object of their prayers. On the same occasion one of the royal chaplains preaches a sermon to the Bedesmen, who (as one of the reverend gentlemen expressed himself) are the most impatient and inattentive audience in the world. Something of this may arise from a feeling on the part of the Bedesmen, that they are paid for their own devotions, not for listening to those of others. Or, more probably, it arises from impatience, natural, though indecorous, in men bearing so venerable a character, to arrive at the conclusion of the ceremonial of the royal birth-day, which, so far as they are concerned, ends in a lusty breakfast of bread and ale: the whole moral and religious exhibition terminating in the advice of Johnson's "hermit hoar" to his proselyte, "Come, my lad, and drink some beer." Of the charity bestowed on these aged Bedesmen in and clothmoney ing, there are many records in the treasurer's accompts. The following extract, kindly supplied by Mr. Mac Donald of the Register Housemay interest those whose taste is akin to that of Jonathan Oldbuck of Monkbarns. I have only to add, that although the institution of King's Bedesmen still subsists, they are now seldom to be seen on the streets of Edinburgh, of which their peculiar dress made them rather a characteristic feature. Having thus given an account of the genus and species to which Edie Ochiltree appertains, the author may add, that the individual he had in his eye was Andrew Gemmells, an old mendicant of the character described, who was many years since well known, and must still he remembered, in the vales of Gala, Tweed, Ettrick, Yarrow, and the adjoining country. The author has in his youth repeatedly seen and conversed with Andrew, but cannot recollect whether he held the rank of Blue-Gown. He was a remarkably fine old figure, very tall, and maintaining a soldierlike, or military manner and address. His features were intelligent, with a powerful expression of sarcasm. His motions were always so graceful, that he might almost have been suspected of having studied them; for he might, on any occasion, have served as a model for an artist, so remarkably striking were his ordinary attitudes. Andrew Gemmells had little of the cant of his calling; his wants were food and shelter, or a trifle of money, which he always claimed, and seemed to receive as his due. He sung a good song, told a good story, and could crack a severe jest with all the acumen of Shakspeare's jesters, though without using, like them, the cloak of insanity. It was some fear of Andrew's satire, as much as a feeling of kindness or charity, which secured him the general good reception which he enjoyed every where. In fact, a jest of Andrew Gemmell's, especially at the expense of a person of consequence, flew round the circle which he frequented, as surely as the bon-mot of a man of established character for wit glides through the fashionable world. Many of his good things are held in remembrance, but are generally too local and personal to be introduced here. Andrew had a character peculiar to himself among his tribe, for aught I ever heard. He was ready and willing to play at cards or dice with any one who desired such amusement. This was more in the character of the Irish itinerant gambler, called in the country a carrow, than of the Scottish beggar. But the late Rev. Doctor Robert Douglass, minister of Galashiels, assured the author, that the last time he saw Andrew Gemmells, he was engaged in a game at brag with a gentlemau of fortune, distinction, and birth. To preserve the due gradations of rank, the party was made at an open window of the château, the laird sitting on his chair in the inside, the beggar on a stool in the yard; and they played on the window-sill. The stake was a considerable parcel of silver. The author expressing some surprise, Dr. Douglass observed, that the laird was no doubt a humourist or original; but that many decent persons in those times would, like him, have thought there was nothing extraordinary in passing an hour, either in card-playing or conversation, with Andrew Gemmells. This singular mendicant had generally, or was supposed to have, as much money about his person as would have been thought the value of his life among modern foot-pads. On one occasion, a country gentleman, generally esteemed a very narrow man, happening to meet Andrew, expressed great regret that he had no silver in his pocket, or he would have given sixpence :-“ I can give you change for a note, laird," replied Andrew. Like most who have arisen to the head of their profession, the modern degradation which mendicity has undergone was often the subject of Andrew's lamentations. As a trade, he said, it was forty pounds a-year worse since he had first practised it. On another occasion he observed, begging was in modern times scarcely the profession of a gentleman, and that if he had twenty sons he would not easily be induced to breed one of them up in his own line. When or where this laudator temporis acti closed his wanderings, the author never heard with certainty; but most probably, as Burns says. he died a cadger-powny's death The author may add another picture of the same kind as Edie Ochiltree and Andrew Gemmells; considering these illustrations as a sort of gallery, open to the reception of any thing which may elucidate former manners, or amuse the reader. The author's contemporaries at the university of Edinburgh will probably remember the thin, wasted form of a venerable old Bedesman, who stood by the Potter-row port, now demolished, and, without speaking a syllable, gently inclined his head, and offered his hat, but with the least possible degree of urgency, towards each individual who passed. This man gained, by silence and the extenuated and wasted appearance of a palmer from a remote country, the same tribute which was yielded to Andrew Gemmell's sarcastic humour and stately deporment. He was understood to be able to maintain a son a student in the theological classes of the University, at the gate of which the father was a mendicant. The young man was modest and inclined to learning, so that a student of the same age, and whose parents were rather of the lower order, moved by seeing him excluded from the society of other scholars when the secret of his birth was suspected, endeavoured to console him by offering him some occasional civilities. The old mendicant was grateful for this attention to his son; and one day, as the friendly student passed, he stooped forward more than usual, as if to intercept his passage. The scholar drew out a halfpenny, which he concluded was' the beggar's object, when he was surprised to receive his thanks for the kindness he had shewn to Jemmie, and at the same time a cordial invitation to dine with them next Saturday, "on a shoulder of mutton and potatoes," adding, "ye'll put on your clean sark, as I have company." The student was strongly tempted to accept this hospitable proposal, as many in his place would probably have done; but as the mo. tive might have been capable of misrepresentation, he thought it most prudent, considering the character: and circumstances of the old man,' to decline the invitation. Such are a few traits of Scottish mendicity, designed to throw light on a novel in which a character of that description plays a prominent part. We conclude that we have vindicated Edie Ochiltree's right to the importance assigned him; and have shewn, that we have known one beggar take a hand at cards with a person of distinction, and another give dinner parties. I know not if it be worth while to observe, that the Antiquary was not so well received on its first appearance as either of its predecessors; though in course of time it rose to equal, and with some readers, superior popularity. New Introduction to the Antiquary. Varieties. SUPERSTITION. Voltaire says, that superstition is to religion what astrology is to astronomy: the very foolish daughter of a very wise mother ANCIENT JOKE. One rogue brought a lawsuit against another, which was heard before Phillip of Macedon. His judgment is admired by Plutarch both for its wit and its justice. It was, "That the defendant should fly from Macedon, and the plaintiff should follow!" Poet's Corner. HOW KISSING CAME IN FASHION. And full of care already, And of it formed a lady. Now, when a child, I often smiled, I know there are some ladies fair, When Eve appear'd, how Adam stared! A form so bright as meets my sight, Was ever made from me? That beauteous face, those limbs of grace, Do all unearthly seem: Is what I see, bone, flesh of me? No, no, I'm in a dream." The vision still was there; She turn'd her head; her lips so red ARIO. Published by J. ROBINS, Bride Court, Fleet Street, where all communications (post paid) are requested to be addressed; and sold by J. DUNCOMBE, 19, Little Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields; SHERWOOD AND Co, Paternoster Row; SUTHERLAND, Edinburgh; MAC PHUN, Glasgow; and all Booksellers and Newsmen. OF AMUSEMENT AND INSTRUCTION, IN HISTORY, SCIENCE, LITERATURE, THE FINE ARTS, &c. "Malvina is like the bow of the shower, in the secret Valley of the Streams; it is bright, but the drops of heaven are rolling on its blended light. They say that I am fair within my locks, but on my brightness is the wandering of tears. Darkness flies over my soul as the dusky wave of the breeze along the grass of Lutha. What then, daughter of Lutha, travels over thy soul, like the dreary path of a ghost along the nightly beam? Young virgins of Lutha, arise, call back the wandering thought of Malvina.' OSSIAN. The scenery in the neighbourhood of Lake Glendalough has long afforded food for the pen of the poet, the pencil of the artist, aud the harp of the musician. The curious traditionary tales that are handed down to posterity must, of course, be at best but imperfectly related, and imagination is left to soar into its VOL. I. own delightful region, and fill up the spaces left by the historian. Moore and Edwards, in the sweetest music and poetry, have sung its praises. The eloquent Phillips has not forgotten it; and the amiable and accomplished Rowley, now, alas! no more, like the dying swan, poured out the most enchanting me 12 lody on this romantic spot, where his last breath departed in plaintive melody. It is a fact, however, that no regular account of the life of Saint Kevin, or particular description of the spot has, to the knowledge of the writer, been as yet penned in prose. In detached and brief articles from old Irish books, and from the poetry of Moore and Edwards, the beloved bards of Erin, but more particularly through the information obtained from an Irish clergyman, of the Roman Catholic priesthood, a scholar and a gentleman, and from a lady of high intellectual character, who had visited the spot, the writer has procured, and will lay before her readers, the following story. It will be found that she has given the reins to imagination; this, it is to be hoped, will be pardoned, as it is her wish to afford all the amusement in her power to her readers. The meaning of the word Glendalough, signifies in the Irish language, the valley of two lakes. This valley is situated in the county of Wicklow, about twenty miles from the city of Dublin, and was an Episcopal See till the year 1214, when it was annexed to the diocese of Christ Church, Dublin, soon after which it fell into decay, and became almost a desert.". Here, the poet and painter can contemplate with delight, the bold and rugged cliff, and the lofty height of the mountains reflected in the still and dark bosom of the gloomy lakes. The antiquarian can feast his eyes, and speculate in the fields of learning and imagination, while examining these venerable and singular relics of ancient times. On this spot is a round tower said to be one hundred and ten feet in height, and about fifty-two in circumference; also the ruins of seven chapels, which latter are contiguous to each other, and present a feature of intense interest and solemnity. The most singular and interesting of all the traditions handed down to us, though imperfect, and which has been the subject of many a fireside reverie to the writer, is the following. Saint Kevin, a native of Wicklow, was born A.D. 498, and from childhood, as it were, was intuitively of a pious disposition, nature having designed him for no ordinary purpose. His parents being themselves religious people, encouraged this propensity. Accordingly, when he reached the years of manhood, he embraced a monastic life, and leav ing friends and home, secluded himself among the romantic but gloomy wilds of Lake Glendalough and the Kippure Mountains, in whose vicinity he founded an abbey; and, if we may be permitted to believe tradition, he was as near perfection as it is possible for fallible man to reach. Saint Kevin, unfortunately for himself and others, was possesed of an uncommon share of personal attraction. His was the kind of beauty which steals imperceptibly on the heart, but its progress being slow, it fixes itself there never again to depart. His was moral beauty, for the attributes of his amiable character were strongly impressed on his finely formed face and features, and gave to his countenance a charm that fascinated every beholder, and was doomed to be the bane of the beautiful blue-eyed Kathleen O'Donnell, "the fair-haired, white-bosomed" maid of Clohoge, so called from the verdant hill where stood her parents' cabin. She was their only child, and because it was her pleasure to do so, they permitted her to ramble through the woods of her native valley, and, seeing that she was happy, they allowed her to be absent day after day, unquestioned and alone; in the season of flowers she amused herself by gathering the Saxifraga Umbrosa, or what is more commonly called "London Pride," |