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their arrangements are almost the same with those which may be seen in any part of our own Highlands. A dark apartment, where all sorts of dead and living things are huddled together; cows and calves living in kindly fellowship with man-the master or mistress of the house being only distinguished by occupying the great arm-chair; and dogs of all kinds appearing perfectly happy in the fellowship of a miraculous quantity of cocks, hens, chickens, swine, and pigs."

In the present state, however, of the unexampled diffusion of liberal knowledge, it is impossible to traverse even the most sequestered or inhospitable countries of Europe, without meeting occasionally with individuals whose attainments seem altogether disproportioned to the scene in which their lot is cast; with men, whose earlier days have been spent amidst all the elegance of refined society-or who have contrived, amidst the most apparently unpropitious circumstances, to enrich their minds with much valuable and even elegant learning. We know that Zetland possesses several individuals of this description; and Dr Hibbert has commemorated a day's excursion, which he had with one individual, whom he found to be a person who had seen and learned much, and with whom, when the one traveller had finished his fishing excursion, and the other had satisfied himself, by means of his hammer, of the nature of the rocks by which he was surrounded, he partook, upon the green turf, of an elegant collation, seasoned with exquisite Madeira, and washed down with a plentiful quantity of warm punch. We have said nothing of the Doctor's geological speculations, because they are not suited to our work; but those who can peruse them will find them very valuable.

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the Dwarfie-Stone; and from thence proceeded to view the other curiosities of the Orkney and Shetland Islands, now become so much the topic of conversation since the appearance of the new novel, by "the Author of Waverley." Whatever object that eminent person illustrates in the language of description, few feel confidence enough to attempt a more detailed account of. We may allude to the beautiful passages in these volumes, in which descriptions are given of the scenery in the neighbourhood of Stromness, the Standing-stones of Stennis, and the ancient buildings at Kirkwall. On the way to Shetland, the attention of the traveller is finely arrested by the isolated object of the Fair Isle; and on his ideal arrival at Shetland, the "inconstant stomach" of the landsman, who has never in reality visited those islands, feels a palpitating thrill at the very mention of Sumburgh Roost. Ample amends, however, is made for this by the striking descriptions of Sumburgh, and the fairy land of the "Fitful-Head." But it would be quite endless to attempt even a very general notice of the graphic descriptions contained in these volumes. Though I had for ever laid my notes regarding these islands on the shelf, yet the perusal of these volumes has created new desires for retracing my steps.

I HAD, Some years since, visited the island of Hoy, in Orkney, to see

VOL. X.

As the dimensions of the DwarfieStone of Hoy are only mentioned in a quotation from an old author, and as I doubt not the scenery of the "Pirate," in all its minute detail, will now be sought after as classic ground, and that, ere long, steam-boats will be advertised to make the Grand Tour of the Northern Archipelago, I shall here transcribe what had occurred to me upon my visit to the Dwarfie-Stone. S.

1816. After spending an interesting day in viewing the extensive lake and Standing-stones, in the parish of Stennis, situate between Kirkwall and Stromness, the two principal towns of Orkney, we entered the town and strangely-formed street of Stromness, where, like the inhabitants of the city of Venice, a great proportion of the people live upon the water. Here we took boat, and

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crossed the Sound to the beautiful flat green island of Gremsey, along which we coasted for a time, and then crossed the narrow Sound of Gremsey to the mountainous island of Hoy, and landed near the hospitable manse of Mr Hamilton, who directed our steps to the Dwarfie-Stone. It is difficult to say whether we were more surprised at the singularity of this huge stone, or the peculiarity of the vale of Rockwich, in which it lies. After walking upwards of two miles on a rising ground, with a boggy bottom, covered with so luxuriant a growth of heath, that in many places it might almost form a cover for the deer, we at length reached the Dwarfie-Stone, which, like the seat of "rest and be thankful," between the vales of Glencroe and Ardkindlas, to the weary traveller, afforded us a welcome seat. It was on a summer's evening that we undertook this walking excursion; and the sun was low in the north-west, when we began to admire the romantic beauties of this sequestered spot. The vale of Rockwich forms a deep ravine, which, in a very curious manner, intercepts the mountainous land of Hoy. Towards the south, by a winding passage, it opens to view the western entrance of the Pentland Frith and the shores of Caithness; to the north it falls into the Sounds of Gremsey and Hoy, and is itself intercepted by a stream, which occasionally assumes the character of a mountain torrent. On the west, this valley is bounded by the stupendous Wart or Ward hill of Hoy, which, us, exposed on one side a hollow, which had all the appearance of the crater of an extinct volcano, or the semicircular slip of an immense mass of the soil. On the eastern side, where the Dwarfie-Stone lies, the hill rises precipitously, exposing the formation of extensive crags of reddish-coloured sandstone, from which we were led to suppose the object of our visit had most probably been separated by the wasting effects of time.

Dr Wallace makes this stone 36 feet in length, 18 feet in breadth, and 9 feet in thickness. We, however, found its dimensions considerably less; but after making due al

lowance for its medium cubical contents, (about 25 feet by 15, and 6 or 7 feet in medium thickness), and allowing at the rate of 16 cubic feet of rock to the ton, we concluded its weight to be about 150 tons.

The two apartments, with a passage, a door, and a kind of sky-light window, and perhaps vent for smoke, forming the interior excavation of this huge stone, must have been a work of much patient labour and time, especially as the circumscribed area of the apartments would hardly admit of the work of more than one person. The area of the whole excavation measures about 9 feet 6 inches in length, and 4 feet 6 inches, or thereby, in width. The door and passage nearly divide the length of the excavated area equally, and measure about 2 feet 6 inches in width, and 3 feet in height. On the right is the bed-room, with an irregularlyformed aperture in the roof, which may answer for window or chimney, as before noticed, and which measures about 18 inches across. this curious apartment, a bed-place, measuring only 3 feet 4 inches in length, and having a ledge rising about 3 or 4 inches along the front of the bed, with a step at one end, which may be supposed to have answered the purpose of a pillow for the inmate of this cell, are all formed in the solid rock. The apartment on the other side of the passage is excavated in the same manner, but has neither bed-place nor window. These apartments are but rudely formed, and are of an irregular figure, the bed-room in particular being wider in the middle than at the end, arising evidently from the difficulty of working them of a square form.

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This extraordinary work has probably been the pastime of some frolicsome shepherd, or secluded devotee; and the history of the stone having been lost, it was natural for the people of a superstitious age and country to apply a fabulous origin both to the stone and its inhabitants, in so retired and lonely a place as the vale of Rockwich. The story, therefore, goes, that the DwarfieStone fell from the moon, and that it was once the habitation of a faires and his wife, a water-kelpie.

PHRENOLOGOS IN SEARCH OF A WIFE.

Canto II.

Now wae and wonder on your snout!
Wad you ha'e bonny Nancy?

Wad you compare yoursel' wi' me?
A docken to a tansy!

FROM Byron, seated on the sacred mount,

Old Song.

Who raves, blasphemes, and sings in strains sublime, Who mingles with Castalia's crystal fount

The stagnant pool and foul polluted slime:

To him, who must his thumb and fingers count,
Ere he can make the halting line to chime,

What numbers scribble, mangling sound and sense!
Some rhyme for love of fame, and some for paltry pence.

I sing, a member of the minstrel corps ;

But Prudence whispers, it were acting wrong,

To say, if sky-light attic, or first-floor,

If wealth, or poverty, inspire my song;

If duns, or liveried menials guard my door;
Or if I join the dilettanti throng;

A veil protects one from the public stare,

And still, to Fancy's eye, the shaded bosom's fair.

But praise is aye to every poet dear;

Though he should, fawning, write for place and pension; And I have heard, with keenly tickled ear,

That Canto First excited much attention;

Has been approv'd by plaudits most sincere,

From names my modesty forbears to mention ; It is in favour with the ladies, too,

The beauteous, blooming belle, and matronly bas bleu !

Besides, I'm told, the scientific train

Who meet to study Phrenologic lore,

In full divan, devoutly heard my strain,
And, at the close, all join'd, to call encore !
Hence, I have hopes still greater fame to gain,
And be appointed Laureate to the corps;
While Constable and Co. rich harvest glean,
For every member now takes in the Magazine.

And Spurzheim, too, whose penetrating eye

Sees through the skull, a cobweb, flimsy veil, Who can the passions in a cranny spy,

And measures mind, by compass, rule, and scale;
Who follies sees, like ants in hillocks lie,

Will smile applause, and, raptur'd, read my tale;
Which clearly shews his system's application,
When Science shall improve our future population.

We left Phrenologos in hapless plight,

For, though his prudence triumph'd in the strife,
Love's sun, that shed his golden rays so bright,
And gave the hope that they would gladden life,
Was buried deep in dark Cimmerian night;
For since Amanda must not be his wife,
It cost his heart full many a secret sigh,

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To leave her blooming cheek, soft smile, and sparkling eye.

Love, too, was wroth at suffering foul defeat,
And still could fit an arrow to his bow;
And, like the Parthian, fighting in retreat,
Contriv'd to vex and wound his wary foe;
Amanda sigh'd, with languid smile so sweet,
Just as the hero press'd her hand to go,
That as he from her syren witchery flew,
He felt the smother'd flame about to burn anew.

The youthful heart, that ne'er has lov'd before,
If fate or falsehood have its wishes cross'd,
Will rankle, wounded to its inmost core,

And deem that every joy of life is lost.
So did Phrenologos the day deplore;

For still Amanda's form his mind engross'd:
He, moping, mus'd, and brooding o'er the past,
Just like a petted child, resolv'd through life to fast-

It chanced, one day, when from his window peeping
On belles and beaux that pass'd in crowds below,
The western wind erewhile in chambers sleeping,
Like wounded whale, began in wrath to blow;
On Prince's-street, with rage resistless sweeping,
Would first a neck, and next an ancle shew;
This like the limb which lur'd Olympus' king,
That white as snowy down beneath the cygnet's wing.

Phrenologos still gaz'd with fond delight;

The gale, ungallant, still more fiercely blew;
Camilla tripping, as her namesake, light,

Came past-on wings of wind her bonnet flew !
And close beneath our hero's ravish'd sight
Her pericranium was expos'd to view;

While twenty beaux were jostling in the chace,
Keen, as the charioteers strove in the Olympic race.

Meanwhile, the blushing fair uncover'd stood,
Unconscious of the scrutinizing eye

Which glisten'd, as the gale, with kisses rude,
Play'd round her neck, and wav'd her tresses by;
The light-wing'd bonnet, still in sportive mood,
Before the breeze delighted seem'd to fly ;
Thus fate afforded time for observation,
And fix'd our hero's eyes as if by fascination.

The guileless fair had to his sight expos'd
Her head, in front, in profile, and behind;
And still some bump the wanton brecze disclos'd,
Which prov'd dame Nature most beningly kind;
For ne'er before had female skull inclos'd

So much materiel for transcendant mind!
Her form was light, adorn'd with youthful grace,
And Hebe's beauteous bloom was imag'd in her face!

But now a dandy stemm'd the stormy gale;

His hand triumphant bore the feather'd prize;
Phren curs'd his speed, beshrew'd the envious veil
That cover'd Eden from his wondering eyes;
But execration now could nought avail,
And to the street he all impatient hies,
Resolv'd to follow in the fair one's track;

For Love, with Science join'd, had plac'd him on the rack.

'Twas morning with the fashionable fair,
The sun above the Castle, call'd it noon;
But such a coil was hurtling in the air,

The ladies felt they were abroad too soon:
He traced Camilla on to George's Square,
And there, as clouds obscure the silver moon,
The light-heel'd lady call'd upon a friend,
While he was left alone, with tempests to contend.

The "Pirate" had just issued from the press,
And both the friends the treasure had enjoy'd ;
Mysterious Norna banish'd talk of dress,

And Minna Troil their busy tongues employ'd ;
Anon to Cleveland would the pair digress,

So rich the feast, the banquet never cloy'd :
Three lingering hours the fair prolong'd her stay,
Then blest our hero's eyes, and homeward bent her way.

Staunch as the blood-hound tracks the fierce Maroon,
Phrenologos was to his purpose true;

For Hope held out a soul-inspiring boon,

Which made him with unwearied feet pursue : As treads the hunter o'er the dark lagoon,

He, ever cautious, kept his prize in view;
At last in Heriot-Row he lodged the fair;

The polish'd door-plate told he was a stranger there.
Next to the Theatre he wends his way,

Hope whispering there the lady would be found;
And soon he saw her, to his sad dismay,

Shine in a box with beaux encompass'd round.

In vain did Stephens sing, or Siddons play;
He listen'd only to the welcome sound

That nam'd Camilla, just return'd from Paris,
Her father's only child, accomplish'd-and an heiress!

Our hero pass'd a most enraptur'd night,

His heart expanding with anticipation;
While glorious visions floated on his sight,
And fancy revell'd in their consummation:
He view'd his infant train with fond delight,
The rising grace and glory of the nation;
With limbs well turn'd, a matchless, beauteous brood;
And every caput cramm'd with intellectual food!

He saw their foreheads rise, their skulls expand,
Here swell'd a bump, there stretch'd a level plain;
Each head a fruitful globe of mental land,
No barren spot in all its rich domain;
But form'd and fed, by Nature's plastic hand,
No medullary pulp bestow'd in vain;

A hot-bed, where each virtue strikes its roots,
And, as the bumps enlarge, to full perfection shoots.

Why must he wake from this Elysian dream?
Why should such golden views by fate be cross'd?
Why shines, to mock our gaze, the meteor's gleam,
To sink the moment we admire it most?
Phrenologos had just matur'd his scheme,

The when, and how, he would the fair accost,
The day is fix'd-he whistles, jumps, and capers;
The morning comes-he reads her marriage in the papers!

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