ower of
the Greek than any thing modern. The striking difference is, that while
fate was the radical element of those, free will is not less distinctly
the basis of this. Strangely enough, while it commences with a
supernatural oracle, there is not a trace of fatalism in it; but through
all, a clear, distinct recognition of moral responsibility, of the power
to resist evil, and the guilt of yielding to it. The theology of
Shakspeare is as remarkable as his poetry. A strong and clear sense of
man's moral responsibility and free agency, and of certain future
retribution, runs through all his plays.

I enjoyed this ride to Aberdeen more than any thing we had seen yet, the
country is so wild and singular. In the afternoon we came in sight of
the German Ocean. The free, bracing air from the sea, and the thought
that it actually _was_ the German Ocean, and that over the other side
was Norway, within a day's sail of us, gave it a strange, romantic
charm.

"Suppose we just run over to Norway," said one of us; and then came the
idea, what we should do if we got over there, seeing none of us
understood Norse.

The whole coast along here is wild and rock-bound; occasionally long
points jut into the sea; the blue waves sparkle and dash against them in
little jets of foam, and the sea birds dive and scream around them.

On one of these points, near the town of Stonehaven, are still seen the
ruins of Dunottar Castle, bare and desolate, surrounded on all sides by
the restless, moaning waves; a place justly held accursed as the scene
of cruelties to the Covenanters, so appalling and brutal as to make the
blood boil in the recital, even in this late day.

During the reigns of Charles and James, sovereigns whom Macaulay justly
designates as Belial and Moloch, this castle was the state prison for
confining this noble people. In the reign of James, one hundred and
sixty-seven prisoners, men, women, and children, for refusing the oath
of supremacy, were arrested at their firesides: herded together like
cattle; driven at the point of the bayonet, amid the gibes, jeers, and
scoffs of soldiers, up to this dreary place, and thrust promiscuously
into a dark vault in this castle; almost smothered in filth and mire; a
prey to pestilent disease, and to every malignity which brutality could
inflict, they died here unpitied. A few escaping down the rocks were
recaptured, and subjected to shocking tortures.

A moss-grown gravestone, in the pari