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220 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)