t upon bees. In wet, they grow, it
is true, dark and drumly--and at midnight, when heaven's candles are put
out, loud and oft the angry spirit of the water shrieks. But Aurora
beholds her face in the clarified pools and shallows--far and wide
glittering with silver or with gold. All the banks and braes reappear
green as emerald from the subsiding current--into which look with the
eye of an angler, and you behold a Fish--a twenty-pounder--steadying
himself--like an uncertain shadow; and oh! for George Scougal's leister
to strike him through the spine! Yes, these are the images of trees far
down, as if in another world; and, whether you look up or look down,
alike in all its blue, braided, and unbounded beauty, is the morning
sky!

Irishmen are generally men of the kind thus illustrated--generally
sweet--at least in their own green Isle; and that was the best argument
in favour of Catholic Emancipation.--So are Scotsmen. Whereas,
blindfolded, take a London, Edinburgh, or Glasgow Cockney's hand,
immediately after it has been washed and scented, and put it to your
nose--and you will begin to be apprehensive that some practical wit has
substituted in lieu of the sonnet-scribbling bunch of little fetid
fives, the body of some chicken-butcher of a weasel, that died of the
plague. We have seen as much of what is most ignorantly and malignantly
denominated dirt--one week's earth--washed off the feet of a pretty
young girl on a Saturday night, at a single sitting in the little
rivulet that runs almost round about her father's hut, as would have
served him to raise his mignonette in, or his crop of cresses. How
beautifully glowed the crimson-snow of the singing creature's new-washed
feet! First, as they shone almost motionless beneath the lucid
waters--and then, fearless of the hard bent and rough roots of the
heather, bore the almost alarming Fairy dancing away from the eyes of
the stranger; till the courteous spirit that reigns over all the
Highland wilds arrested her steps knee-deep in bloom, and bade her bow
her auburn head, as, blushing, she faltered forth, in her sweet Gaelic
accents, a welcome that thrilled like a blessing through the heart of
the Sassenach, nearly benighted, and wearied sore with the fifty
glorious mountain-miles that intermit at times their frowning forests
from the corries of Cruachan to the cliffs of Cairngorm.

It will be seen from these hurried remarks, that there is more truth
than perhaps Dr Kitch