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ra feekle; but I did na think sae red a sun
set ’ud a brung sae foul a risin’.”
“It won’t do, Sandy, I suppose, to make
the attempt any how, and hope for the weath
er to clear.”
‘*oh, bliss you, sir, nae, nae; we wad na
be able to gang half the way to the tap o’
the first ridge. Nae, nae, ye canna clcimb
the lien the day.”
We were reluctantly compelled to “give
it up so ;” and, indeed, in half an hour the
rain was falling in torrents. As Mr. D's
business arrangements required the progress
cf our party, we concluded to abandon alto
gether the ascent of the monarch of the High
lands, and to forego the unequalled beauty
and sublimity of the scenery which his bar
ren crown commands. It would have been
a luxury to look upon the dazzling snow
drift in the month of August, and this we cer
tainly might have done in some of the crevi
ces of its northern exposure. We would
have been pleased to tear away some of the
lichens that constitute the sole vegetation of
its lofty summit; but it could not well be,
and, giving Sandy a portion of the fees he
regarded as altogether lost, we dismissed
him, and in spite of the rain, at seven o’clock,
embarked on a snug little steamer, bound for
Inverness. At nine, the clouds lifted and the
glorious sun shed his bright beams upon the
scene that spread around us, as we glided on
the bosom of Loch Lochy, oneof the three
natural links in the Caledonian Canal. I
have not time to describe to you the beauties
which now met us at every step of our pro
gress. We were charmed and delighted.
Upon our left, as we approached the mouth
of Loch Ness, stood the picturesque ruins oi
the Castle of Invergarry—and on our right,
immediately after our entrance into it, which
is effected by passing through four successive
locks, we saw the celebrated Fort Augustus,
a modem fortification, exhibiting all the ele
gance of Art and Taste, contrasting finely
with the rude, wild mountain features around
it* The scenery of Loch Ness varies from
that of Loch Oich, partaking more of the gen
tle and winning, especially towards its east
ern extremity. Lovely glens open from its
cultivated borders, and crystal streams flow
into it in various directions. About nine
miles up this portion of the Canal, is the Fall
of Foyers, one of the boldest waterfalls in
Scotland. The stream ranks as a small riv
er, and falls into the Loch on the eastern side.
It descends through a fearful chasm, making,
in three or four contiguous leaps, a fall of
five hundred feet. It is a grand, bewildering
sight—the torrent white with foam, and
gleaming in the sun-beams throughout its
whole tremendous descent. Here is a word
painting of it, which the pencil of the painter
could scarcely surpass:
“ Among the heathy hills and ragged woods
The rearing Foyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds
Where through a shapeless breach his stream re
sounds.
As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
As deep recoiling surges foam below,
•Prone down the rock tho whitening sheet descends,
And viewless echo's ear astonished rends.
Dim seen through rising mists and ceaseless showers,
The hoary cavern wide resounding lowers;
Still through the gap the struggling river toils,
And still below the horrid caldron boils!”
Glen Urquhart is opposite the Foyers, and
a lovelier spot I have rarely looked upon —
rendered doubly beautiful by the ruins of
Urquhart Castle. I know not why it is that
I feel so much interest in ruins , but to me
they constitute the highest charm of a land,
scape. Essentially picturesque, they are
suggestive of so many events of the past,
that I gaze upon the ruins of a Castle with
more delight —subdued and melancholy, it is
true—than upon the proudest modern palace.
From the mouth of Loch Ness to the beau
tiful town of Inverness, the distance is eight
miles, over a perfectly level and most en
chanting region, seen, as it was by us, in the
soft light of a declining sun. Rich fields,
white with the harvest, lay spread out on ei
ther hand. Reapers were busy in their
g®®irla & a ss & air &&a ib ¥ ®as&mr b& ♦
midst, and ever and anon their bright sickles
gleamed like polished silver in the sun’s rays.
We saw at least three hundred laborers, male
and female, employed in the glad work of
“ harvesting,” and our hearts were filled with
pleasure at the goodly sight of plenty.
Embosomed in this Paradise of vallies —
surrounded on all sides by these harvest
teeming meadows and luxuriant vallies—lies
Inverness; and, as we passed along its quiet
streets, just at the edge of evening, to seek
quarters at the ‘ Culloden Arms,’ I thought I
could be content to dwell forever amid its
apparent peacefulness—shut out from the bu
sy, bustling world ; for the Canal is not like
our Erie, a perpetual track of Commerce,
but derives its chief income from the trans
portation of tourists over its romantic waters.
This town is quite in the Northern extremi
ty of Scotland, in the latitude of 57-8. On
the East of it lies the celebrated battle-field
of Culloden, where the house of Stuart was
overwhelmed, and where also, with that dy
nasty, fell the military greatness and inde
pendence of that mighty power, the Highland
chieftainry, which was leagued with the un
fortunate Prince. You will not wonder,
then, that we have visited this famous field,
and reviewed, to some degree, our study of
Scottish history on the banks of the Frith of
Moray, or Murray, as it is now generally
written.
The town is built on both sides the River
Ness, which flows only eight miles from the
Loch to the Fiith. There is considerable
elegance in this far remote town, which num
bers a population of perhaps ten thousand.
Its streets are well paved, lighted with gas,
and ornamented with fine buildings. The
booksellers* shops are well furnished with
the current issues of the day, and I was high
ly gratified to find, to-day, atone of them nu
merous copies of the popular works of our
American authors. I saw, among others, the
novels of Cooper—the poems of Bryant and
Longfellow’—and, indeed, quite too many
others to give you a Catalogue. Asa me
morial of my visit, I purchased a copy of
Burns’ Poems, which cost me only three shil
lings and sixpence sterling —although it was
a handsome volume, in small duodecimo,
bound in half calf.
From this point we commence our return
route, and shall proceed to Edinburgh by
Perth, which is some sixty miles to the
Southwest of Inverness, and where we pro
pose to spend the coming Sabbath.
Perhaps you will hear from me again, be
fore we bid adieu to the Highlands; but, as
our friend L. used to say, “that depends.”
I must bid you adieu, now; for lam under
an engagement to accompany Miss D. to a
Public Lecture, at the Towm Hall, to-night.
Truly yours, E. F. G.
1)0me (Jorresponiience.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
NEW-YORK LETTERS-NO. 28.
Rathbun Hotel, New York , )
Nov. 8, 1848. j
My dear Sir: “ Look not into the past: it
comes not back again,” says the poet. Des
pite that advice, I mean to glance, for a para
graph or so, at other days in the history of
our great Gotham, at the sturdy and hopeful
period of its youth, when it waxed fat and
hale upon delicious saur kraut and life-giving
kohislaa. As to “the past” not “coming
back again,” that, in this instance at least,
is all gammon. But turn over the immortal
pages of the great Diedrich, and it is before
you, living, palpable, like a thing of to-day.
As the rod of her gentle ladyship of Endor
called forth the shade of the defunct Saul, so
does the magic wand of Irving summons in
stantly before us the ancient ghost of Man
hattan. Vanish our Gothic sanctuaries, while
the venerable “Old Dutch” is once more the
Crusoe of churches. The “pile of stones” in
the Bowling Green, makes Way for the May
day festival and the trippings of Dutch dam
sels ; aristocratic mansions* with jealously
sealed window’s, are lost in the shadows of
the gable ends, which protect the merrily fill
ed “stoops.” The green-house plant gives
up in despair before the cabbage-heads. The
“genuine imported cigar” is all smoke by the
side of the august meerschaum; the cattle
stroll home to be milked, down Maiden Lane,
and old Governor Stuyvesant's fat friends
make a pilgrimage from town to the “Bowe
rie’* Manor. We gaze with increased plea
sure upon the “brave old oak,” over whose
head “a hundred years have gone,” when we
think of the tiny acorn from which it sprung;
and the contrast of the humble beginning and
the subsequent greatness in w’hatcver w’e wit
ness it, increases our interest in the contem
plation of one or the other. So great is this
contrast, in every respect, between our city
of tw r o centuries ago, and our city of to-day,
that we think of it always with curious sat
isfaction. Whether we would or not, this
contrast continually forces itself upon our
minds; but it has been presented to us more
especially of late, by the appearance of the
new edition of Irving's famous “Knicker
bocker’s History of New York”—that graph
ic portrait of the persons and characters of our
respected Dutch grand-papas. The venera
ble Deidrich is inimitable, and in his way,
may be looked upon as one of the “ not for
a day, but for all time” people. Everybody
is familiar with his mirth-moving narrative,
and there is no necessity for me to hold up
his picture of the old city and its inhabitants,
to display its contrast with the new’. If the
difference is unperceived by any, let them
roam through the crowded streets of our far
spreading and densely populated metropolis,
and then read this story of its early days and
its quiet people.
Besides the history of the blessed Deidrich. *
who was the last of his worthy family, Mr. ,
G. P. Putnam has just published a capital j
tale, called “The First of the Knickerbock
ers,” the perusal of w’hich suggested this gos
sip about the olden time. Contrast the fol-;
lowing description of a trip to Albany, with |
the trifling matter of a half-day’s jaunt, in the
splendid steamers of the present day:
“In the settlement above Fort Orange, or
as it was called by the English, Fort Albany,
resided a brother of the deceased Wilhelm us,
w’hose often-urged entreaties for a visit from
Rudolph, the latter now resolved to accept. —
The trouble of preparation for so extended a
journey, w’as at once a relief to his mind, and
the many sage admonitions which he receiv
ed as to the danger of the undertaking, con
vinced him that he was not in reality as friend
less as he supposed. A sloop waspreparing
to sail for the fort, for the transmission of
some munitions of war, and other government
stores, to the garrison at that settlement and
at Schenectady. On board this vessel Ru
dolph embarked. The voyage was unusual
ly long. There were head winds, and side
winds, and no winds, to baffle the wary skip
per, and there were stoppings at night, and
safe anchorings to be found, and watchings
for the day. Formal soundings too were to
be made, even where the bottom was visible
through the shallow and pellucid wave; and
the coast was to be examined for future con
quest ; and the charcoal chart of Captain
Van Dam was to be corrected by striking out
three cannibal islands, erroneously set down
in a former voyage, and by inserting a vol
canic mountain amongst the Highlands, which
like the pipe of its sage discoverer, is suppo
sed to have long since burnt out. A week
indeed elapsed before they had doubled St.
Anthony’s Nose, and another ere the six
frowning guns of Fort Albany were visible.”
Think of a passage from New York to Al
bany extending through two long weeks oi
dangers, nearly four times as long a period
as it will require for the transmission of this
sheet to Georgia! But you weary, perhaps,
of this old-fashioned subject, and would pass
on to other matters
Nothing, of course, is at present talked of
or thought of, but the elections, Yesterday \
was a lovely day, and every thing went off
in harmony with the weather. Before mid
night, all the city returns, and many f roin
distant States, (reported by telegraph,) had
come in. “ Old Zach’s” arms, thus far, arc
everywhere triumphant; the strongest for
tresses seem to fall before his victorious
march like empty air. He literally stormed
1 this great city, receiving a majority of nearly
ten thousand votes. The head-quarters of
the other parties were shut up quite early in
the evening. “Tammany Hall” was dark as
midnight at 9 o’clock! I stepped into La
fayette Hall, the Taylor Camp, late last night,
and found a large crowd of jolly people,
awaiting the arrival of returns. In the in
tervals of their reports, they had a nice time,
in listening to, or rather in applauding, vol
unteer speeches from the assembly. When
such voluntaries were wanting, sundry ac
tive b'hoys formed themselves into a provis
ional committee, and, passing through the
crowd, they laid violent hands on any comi
cal looking gentlemen whom they encoun
tered, and bore them off, nolens volens, to the
tribune, where they perched him, relieved him
of his chapeau, and compelled him to begin
with “Fellow-citizens!” whether he would
or no ! The more the unwilling orator refu-
I sed to speak, the greater was the immense
i applause. In a few instances, some capital
efforts were brought out. One wag, pretty
well corned, went through a long series of
the most approved flourishes and oratorical
gestures, without once opening his lips. It
was all the same to the listeners, for so up
roarious was the tumult, that, had he cried
with the voice of Niagara, he would have
been none the more heard.
Every body was in high glee, and half the
assembly narrowly escaped death from laugh
ter. A friend, who accompanied me, was
looking on the scene from a quiet corner,
where he supposed he would escape obser
vation ; but the press-gang nabbed him, and,
despite all his protestations, mounted him on
the platform, and compelled him to do some
thing for his country. Making the best he
could of his dilemma, he exclaimed, waving
his hat, “Fellow-citizens! we have met the
enemy, and they are ours! Three cheers for
General Taylor!”
In the confusion which followed, he sprang
from the rostrum, and, in another moment,
was half way to Union Park!
’ t FLJT.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
REPLY TO “BAYARD.”
Dear Sir —Will you publish the following
extract from the life of Ludv Mary Wortley
Montague, who introduced vaccination into
England, that “ people may know how much
reliance to place in a science (?) which needs
the advocacy of womankind ” .*
“ What an arduous, what a fearful, and we
may add, what a thankless enterprise it was,
nobody is now in the least aware. Those
who have heard her applauded for it ever
since they were born, and have also seen how
joyfully vaccination was welcomed in their
own days, may naturally conclude that when
the experiment had been made, and had prov
ed successful, she could have nothing to do
hut to sit down triumphant and receive the
blessings of her countrymen. But it was far
otherwise. The age she belonged to, resem
bled Farmer Good-enough in Miss Edge
worth’s popular tale, “The Will,” who set
his face resolutely against all changes, inno
vations, and improvements, no matter what.
Lady Mary protested that in the four or five
years immediately succeeding her arrival at
home, she seldom passed a day without re
penting of her patriotic undertaking; and she
vowed she would never have attempted it, it
she had foreseen the vexation, the persecu
tion, and even obloquy, it brought upon her.
The clamors raised against the practice, and
of course against her, were beyond beliet.
The Faculty all rose in arms to a man , loie
telling failure and the most disastrous conse
quences ; the clergy descanted from their pm*
pits on the impiety of their seeking to take
events out of the hand of Providence; the
common people were taught to hoot at heras
an unnatural mother, who had risked the
lives of her own children. ,
“We now read in grave medical biograph)