wildest forms, among chasms and excavated rocks. The beauty of the scenery is heightened by the rich and luxuriant foliage of the lofty fir and spreading ash, intermixed with the taper hazel and the drooping birch; which, moving with the gentle gales, breathe responsive murmurs to the sound of innumerable cascades, that rush headlong down, and are collected into two falls of considerable magnitude. The approach to the falls is through a mazy and intricate path, and cannot safely be attempted by strangers without a guide. The frequent windings of the way produce an ever-changing variety of grand and picturesque effect. In many parts the rocks elevate their stupendous bulk in gloomy majesty, emitting from their perforated sides numerous rills, that stray among the entangled roots of trees and shrubs, till they join the rapid current, that winds its foaming course in the rude channel below. The dashing sound of the falls is heard at a distance through the wood, and the mind anticipates with awe the approaching scene. Those unaccustomed to Nature in her wildest dress, are, not without reason, surprised to find the poet Burns making choice of this place for amorous assignations. At the lower fall, a grand display of water meets the eye, and, looking downward, the rushing of the stream, nearly forty feet below, aided by the savage scenery around, and the united roarings of both the falls, creates a trepidation not easily subdued. The alarm, thus excited, is increased on the way to the upper fall: the ascent is, in many places, steep and slippery; the din of waters becomes more powerful, and anxiety is succeeded by consternation, when, on a sudden turn of the path, the cataract bursts at once upon the sight. The dreadful force of the waters is here seen, and the thundering noise occasioned by their fall precludes the interchange of speech. Bold, jutting rocks present themselves immediately in front, and are completely excavated into an immense cauldron below, where the waters fall, and rise again in continual mist to a considerable height. This interesting scene is adorned with noble trees, and others of smaller growth, that spread their brauches to the nutri cious and incessant moisture; the ground likewise is embossed with flowers, which imbibe the falling dew. But Nature spreads her sweets in vain, while amazement retains full possession of the faculties, and admiration is lost in wonder and astonishment. O THE FALLS OF FYERS, NEAR LOCH NESS. THE Country in the vicinity of the river Fyers, before its discharge into Loch Ness, strikes the imagination of the beholder with the gloomy grandeur of the most retired solitude. The ascent to the falls is over rugged precipices, and which, but to gratify the curiosity of the traveller, would scarcely ever be passed. An elegant bridge has been built over the upper fall, at the expence of a Mr. Frazer: the execution of this fabric is highly creditable to the architect. In order to see these falls to advantage, the bridge must be crossed; and descending a very steep precipice, the view is obtained of the upper fall, which we have engraved: then following a broken foot-path, immediately beyond the bridge, the lower fall presents itself: • Prone down the rock, the whit'ning sheet descends, The body of water which, after great rains, rushes down these falls, is immense: to form some idea of it, Johnson says, ' endeavour to conceive the effect of a thousand streams, poured from the mountains into one channel, struggling for expansion in a narrower passage, exasperated by rocks rising in their way, and at last discharging all the violence of their waters by a sudden fall through the horrid chasm.' Loch Ness, into which the river runs, is about twentyfour miles long, and from one to two miles broad; it fills a large hollow between two ridges of high rocks, being sup plied partly by the torrents which fall into it on either side, and partly by springs at the bottom; its water is remarkably clear and pleasant, and is imagined by the natives to be medicinal it is said to be in some parts of the almost incredible depth of one hundred and forty fathoms. THE HOUSE IN WHICH ROBERT BURNS WAS BORN. THIS cottage is situated at a short distance from Ayr, near to Kirk Alloway, and has nothing remarkable to recommend it, unless considered of consequence, on account of its being the birth-place of such an eminent poet. The house was built by William Burness, the father of Robert, shortly after whose birth, one end of it fell down, which occasioned an alarm, easier conceived than described. This house consisted of a kitchen at one extremity, and at the other was a room, dignified with the luxury of a fireplace and chimney; things not usual, at that time, in the cottages of the peasantry of Scotland. William Burness also constructed, in the kitchen, a concealed bed, with a small closet at the end, of the same materials with the house, and being altogether cast over both outside and inside with mortar, it had a neat and comfortable appearance. The person who occupies it at present has turned it into a snug public-house; at this house, yearly, on the birth-day of Burns, a social party meet, and celebrate it with festivity and rejoicing; scarcely a traveller passes who does not there pay a tribute to the inemory of the poet; and the possessor has contrived that none shall pass without knowing who once inhabited it, by placing the following inscription near the door : • Halt, passenger, and read : This is the humble cottage, that gave birth to the celebrated poet, ROBERT BURNS! MAUSOLEUM OF BURNS, AT DUMFRIES. THIS elegant and classical Monument is now nearly finished, and can scarcely be surpassed by any sepulchral erection. The interior is adorned by ornaments in alto relievo, and represents the apotheosis of the deceased bard. The genius of Scotland finds Burns, as the prophetic bard Elijah found Elisha, at the plough, and is throwing his inspiring mantle over him. The foundation stone was laid on the 5th of June, 1815, with due masonic formalities; and the building has been carried forward with a spirit highly honourable to the age and country. ON THE DEATH OF BURNS. BY MR. ROSCOE. REAR high thy bleak majestic hills, Thy airy heights, thy woodland reign, That ever breath'd the soothing strain? As green thy towering pines may grow, And dull and lifeless all around, For his wild harp lies all unstrung, And cold the hand that wak'd its sound. What though thy vigorous offspring rise, In strains impassion'd, fond and free, With step-dame eye and frown severe For all thy joys to him were dear, And all his vows to thee were due : |