From Blackwood's Magazine.

DIES BOREALES.-NO. IV.

CHRISTOPHER UNDER CANVASS.

SCENE-The Pavilion. TIME--One P. M.-
BULLER-SEWARD-TALBOYS-NORTH.

NORTH. What! in face of my prediction? Did I not tell you that in that dull, dingy, dirty, ochre sunset-in that wan moon and those tallow-candle stars-I saw the morning's Deluge.

TALBOYS. Here he is-here he is! I traced him by Crutch-print to the Van-like an old Stag of Ten to his lair by the Slot. SEWARD. Thank heaven! But was this David Brewster? right, my dear Sir?

BULLER. Your Majesty ought not thus to have secreted yourself from your subjects.

SEWARD. We feared you had abscondedabdicated and retired into a Monastery.

BULLER. But did you not also quote Sir In the atmosphere in which he lives and breathes, and the phenomena of which he daily sees, and feels, and describes, and measures, the philosopher stands in acknowledged ignorance of the laws which govern it. He has ascertained, indeed, BULLER. We have all been miserable about its extent, its weight, and its composition; you since an early hour in the morning-in- but though he has mastered the law of heat visible to mortal eye since yester bed-going and moisture, and studied the electric agengong-regal couch manifestly unslept in-cies which influence its condition, he cannot tent after tent scrutinized as narrowly as if for a mouse-Swiss Giantess searched as if by custom-house officers-no Christopher in the encampment-what can I compare it to -but a Bee-hive that had lost its Queen. The very Drones were in a ferment—the workers demented dismal the hum of grief and rage -of national lamentation and civil war.

NORTH. Billy could have told you of my

retreat.

SEWARD. Billy was in a state of distraction-rushed to the Van-and, finding it empty, fainted.

NORTH. Billy saw me in the Van-and I told him to shut the spring smartly-and be mum. BULLER. Villain!

NORTH Obedience to orders is the sumtotal of Duty. Most of the men seem tolerably sober-those whom despair had driven to drink have been sent to sleepingquarters the Camp has recovered from its alarm-and is fit for Inspection by the General Commanding the Forces.

SEWARD. But have you breakfasted, my dear sir?

NORTH. Leave me alone for that. What have you all been about?

TALBOYS. We three started at Five for Luib, in high glee.

VOL. XVIII. NO. III.

predict, or even approximate to a prediction, whether on the morrow the sun shall shine, or the rain fall, or the wind blow, or the lightning descend."

NORTH. And all that is perfectly true. Nevertheless, we weather-wise and weatherfoolish people-not Philosophers, but Empirics-sailors and shepherds-with all our eyes on the lower and the higher heavens-gather up prognostications of the character of the coming time-an hour or a day-take in our canvass and set our storm-jib-or run for some bay where the prudent ship shall ride at anchor, as safe and almost as motionless as if she were in a dry-dock; or off to the far hill-side to look after the silly sheep-yet not so silly either-for there they are, instinctive of a change, lying secured by that black belt of Scotch-Firs against the tempest brewing over Lockerby or Lochmaben-far from the loun Bilholm Braes!-You Three started at Five o'clock for Luib?

TALBOYS. I rejoice we did. A close carriage is in all weathers detestable your vehicle should be open to all skyey influences

with nothing about it that can be set up or let down-otherwise some one or other of the party-on some pretence or other-will be for shutting you all in. And then-Farewell,

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Thou green green Earth-Thou fair Day-and ye change of weather. How and when got ye Skies! It had apparently been raining for some little time

back?

TALBOYS. On horseback. Buller behind NORTH. For six hours, and more heavily, Seward-myself before a man who occaI do think, than I ever heard it rain before sionally wore a look of the Driver. I hope in this watery world. Having detected a it was he--if it was not-the Driver must few drops in the ceiling of my cubiculum, I have been drowned. We had now the wind had slipt away to the Van on the first blash—that is, the storm-that is, the hurricane of the business-and from that hour to this have been under the Waterfall-as snug as a Kelpie.

in our faces-and the animals every other minute wheeled about and stood rooted for many minutes to the road, with their tails toward Cladich. My body had fortunately lost all sensation hours before we regained the Camp.

NORTH. Hours! How long did it take you to accomplish the two miles?

TALBOYS. I did not time it; but we entered the Great Gate of the Camp to the sound of the Breakfast Bagpipes.

SEWARD. As soon as we had changed ourselves as you say in Scotland

TALBOYS. In we got-well jammed together a single gentleman, or even two, would have been blown out-and after some remonstrances with the old Greys, we were off to Luib. Long before we were nearly half-way up the brae behind the Camp, Seward complained that the water was running down his back-but ere we reached the top, that inconvenience and every other was merged. The carriage seemed to be in a sinking state, somewhere about Achlian; and TALBOYS. Let's bother Mr. North no more rolling before the rain-storm-horses we saw about it. With exception of the Bridge 'tis none-it needed no great power of imagina- not worth talking of-and we ought to be tion to fear we were in the Loch. At this thankful it was not Night. Then what a juncture we came all at once close upon delightful feeling of security now, sir, from and into an appalling crash, and squash, all intrusion of vagrant visitors from the and splash-a plunging, rushing, groaning, Dalmally side! By this time communication and moaning, and roaring-which for half-a-must be cut off with Edinburgh and Glasgow minute baffled conjecture. The Bridge-you-via Inverary—so the Camp is virtually inknow it, sir-the old Bridge, that Seward was never tired of sketching-going-going -gone; down it went-men, horses, all, at the very parapet, and sent us with a juup in among the Woods.

NORTH. Do you mean to say you were on the Bridge as it sunk?

TALBOYS. I know nothing about it. How should I? We were in the heart of the Noise-we were in the heart of the Water we were in the heart of the Wood-we, the vehicle, the horses-the same horses, I believe, that were standing behind the Camp when we mounted-though I had not seen them distinctly since, till I recognized them madly galloping in their traces up and down the foaming banks.

NORTH. Were you all on this side of the river?

TALBOYS. Ultimately we were-else how could we have got here? You seem incredulous, sir. Mind me-I don't say we were on the Bridge—and went down with it. It is an open question-and in the absence of dispassionate witnesses must be settled by probabilities. Sorry that, though the Driver saved himself, the Vehicle in the mean time should be lost-with all the Rods.

NORTH. They will be recovered on a

sulated. In ordinary weather, there is no calling the Camp our own. So far back as yesterday only, 8 English-4 German-3 French-2 Italian-1 Irish, all Male, many mustached-and from those and other countries, nearly an equal number of Femalesome mustached too-" but that not much."

NORTH. Impossible indeed it is to enjoy one hour's consciousness of secure solitude, in this most unsedentary age of the world.— Look there. Who the deuce are you, sir? Do you belong to Cloud-land--and have you made an involuntary descent in the deluge? Or are you of the earth earthy? Off, sir,— off to the back premises. Enter the Pavilion at your peril, you Phenomenon. Turn him out, Talboys.

TALBOYS. Then I must turn out myself. I stepped forth for a moment to the Front

NORTH. And have in that moment been transmogrified into the Man of the Moon. A false alarm. But methinks you might have been satisfied with the Bridge.

TALBOYS. It is clearing up, sir-it is clearing up-pails and buckets, barrels and hogsheads, fountains and tanks, are no longer the order of the day. Jupiter Pluvius is descending on Juno with moderated impetuosity-is

restricting himself to watering pans and garden engines-there is reason to suspect, from the look of the atmosphere, that the supplies are running short-that in a few hours the glass will be up to Stormy-and hurrah, then, for a week of fine, sunshiny, shadowy, breezy, balmy, angling Weather! Why, it is almost fair now. I do trust that we shall have no more of those dry, dusty, sandy, gravelly days, so unlike Lochawe-side, and natural only in Modern Athens or the Great Desert. Hark! it is clearing up. That is always the way with thorough-bred rain-desperate spurt or rush at the enda burst when blown-dead-beat

SEWARD. Mr. North, matters are looking serious, sir.

NORTH. I believe there is no real danger. SEWARD. The Pole is crackingTALBOYS. Creaking. All the difference in the world between these two words. The insertion of the letter E converts danger into safety-trepidation into confidence--a tent into a Rock.

BULLER. I have always forgot to ask if the Camp is insured?

NORTH. An insurance was effected, on favorable terms, on the Swiss Giantess before she came into my possession-the Trustees are answerable for the Van-the texture of the Tents is tough to resist the Winds--and the stuff itself was re-steeped during winter in pyroligneous acid of my own invention, which has been found as successful with canvass as with timber. Dee-side, the Pavilion and her fair Sisterhood are impervious alike to Wet and Dry Rot-Fire and Water.

TALBOYS. You can have no idea, sir, of the beautiful running of our drains. When were they dug?

"Fish without Fins" from the Wizard's Hook.

SEWARD. And he shall be sketched by his own Seward, in a moment of triumph, and lithographed by Schenck for the forthcoming Edition of Tom Stoddart.

BULLER. And his own Buller shall make the chips fly like Michael Angelo-and from the marble block evolve a Christopher Piscator not unworthy of Steele-or a Macdonald.

NORTH. Lay aside your tackle, Talboys, and let us talk.

TALBOYS. I am never so talkative as over my tackle.

BULLER. Lay it aside, then, Talboys, at Mr. North's request.

TALBOYS. Would, my dear Sir, you had been with me on Thursday, to witness the exploits of this GRIESLY PALMER. Miles up Glensrae, you come--suddenly on the leftin a little glen of its own--on such a jewel of a Waterfall. Not ten feet fall--in the pleasure-grounds of a lowland mansion 'twould be called a Cascade. But soft as its voice is, there is something in it that speaks the Cataract. You discern the Gaelic gurgleand feel that the Fountain is high up in some spot of greensward among heather hills. Snow-white it is not-almost as translucent as the pool into which it glides. You see through it the green ledge it slides over with a gentle touch--and seeking its own way, for a few moments, among some mossy cones, it slips, without being wearied, into its place of rest, which it disturbs not beyond a dimple that beautifies the quivering reflection of the sky. A few birch-trees--one much taller than the rest-are all the trees that are there --but that sweetest of all scents assures you of the hawthorn-and old as the hillsstunted in size--but full-leaved and budded as if in their prime-a few hawthorns close by among the clefts. But why prattle thus to you, my dear sir ?--no doubt you know it well--for what beautiful secret in the High

NORTH. Yestreen-at dusk. Not a field in Scotland the worse of being drained-my lease from Monzie allows it—a good landlord deserves a good tenant; and though it is rather late in the year for such operations, I ventured on the experiment-partly for sake of the field itself, and partly for sake of self-lands is unknown to Christopher North ? preservation. Not pioneers, and miners, and sappers alone the whole Force were employed under the Knave of Spades-open drains meanwhile-to be all covered in with tiles-ere we shift quarters.

TALBOYS. A continuance of this weather for a day or two will bring them up in shoals from the Loch-Undoubtedly we shall have Eels. I delight in drain-angling. Silver Eels! Gold Fish! You shall be wheeled out, my dear sir, in Swing, and the hand of your own Talboys shall disengage the first |

NORTH. I do know it well; and your description-so much better than I could have drawn-has brought it from the dimmer regions of memory, "into the study of imagi

nation."

TALBOYS. After a few circling sweeps to show myself my command of my gear, and to give the Naiad warning to take care of her nose, I let drop this GRIESLY PALMER, who alighted as if he had wings. A Grilse! I cried-a Grilse! No, a Sea-trout-an Amber Witch-a White Lady—a Daughter

Win to the brow, 'tis his; and if ye trace
Along his margin a more eloquent green,
If on the heart the freshness of the scene
Sprinkle its coolness, and from the dry dust
Of weary life a moment lave it clean
With Nature's baptism-'tis to him ye must
Pay orisons for this suspension of disgust."

of Pearl-whom with gentle violence and quick dispatch I solicited to the yellow sands-and folding not my arms, as is usual in works of fiction, slightly round her waist -but both hands, with all their ten fingers, grasping her neck and shoulders to put the fair creature out of pain-in with her-in with her into my Creel and again to business. It is on the First Victim of the Day, especially if, as in this case, a Bouncer, an angler fondly dwells in reminiscenceeach successive captive-however engrossing the capture-loses its distinct individuality in the fast accumulating crowd; and when, at close of day, sitting down among the broom, to empty and to count, it is on the First Victim that the angler's eye reposes in refilling, it is the first victim you lay aside to crown the treasure-in wending home-made them its own-and delights to feel in ward it is on the First Victim's biography you muse; and at home-in the Pavilionit is the First Victim you submit to the critical ken of Christopher

BULLER. Especially if, as in this case, she be a Bouncer.

NORTH. You pride yourself on your recitation of poetry, Talboys. Charm us with the finest descriptive passage you can remember from the British Poets. Not too loud-not too loud-this is not Exeter Hall -nor are you about to address the Waterwitch from the top of Ben-Lomond.

NORTH. Admirably said and sung. Your low tones, Talboys, are earnest and impressive; and you recite, like all true lovers of song, in the spirit of soliloquy, as if you were yourself the sole listener. How I hate Spouting. Your elocutionist makes his mouth a jet d'eau-and by his gestures calls on all the auditors to behold the performance. From the lips of the man who has music in his soul, the words of inspiration flow as from a natural fountain, for his soul has

their beauty an adequate expression of its own emotions.

TALBOYS. I spoke them to myself-but I was still aware of your presence, my dear sir.

NORTH. The Stanzas are fine-but are they the finest in Descriptive Poetry? TALBOYS. I do not say so, sir. Any request of yours I interpret liberally, and accede to at once. Finer stanzas there may be -many; but I took them because they first came to heart. "Beautiful exceedingly"

they are they may not be faultless.

NORTH. Sir Walter has said-" Perhaps there are no verses in our language of happier descriptive power than the two stanzas which characterize the Clitumnus." TALBOYS. Then I am right. NORTH. Perhaps you are. Scott loved Byron-and it is ennobling to hear one great Poet praising another: yet the stanzas which so delighted our Minstrel may not be so felicitous as they seemed to be to his moved imagination.

TALBOYS. Possibly not.

NORTH. In the first Stanza what do we find? An apostrophe-" Thou Clitumnus,' not yet quite an Impersonation-a few lines. on, an Impersonation of the Stream—

about the God. And observe, that no soon- | Talboys, as tell me in ten words the meaner is the God introduced than he diappears. ing of—in the next Stanza-“ keeps its memHis coming and his going are alike unsatis-ory of Thee?" factory--for his coming gives us no new emotion, and his going is instantly followed by lines that have no relation to his Godship at all.

TALBOYS. Why-why-I really don't know.

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TALBOYS. I will immediately.

NORTH. To my mind-angler as I am-
TALBOYS. The Prince of Anglers.

NORTH. To my mind, two lines and a half about Fishes are here too much-"finny darter" seems conceited-and "dwells and revels" needlessly strong-and the frequent rising of "finny darters with the glittering scales" to me seems hardly consistent with the solemn serenity inspired by the Temple

NORTH. I have mildly-and inoffensively to all the world-that is, to all us Four shown one imperfection; and I think-I feel there is another-in this Stanza. "The sweetest wave of the most living crystal" is" of small and delicate proportion" "keeping visioned to us in the opening lines as the haunt of river nymph, to gaze and lave her limbs where nothing hid them," and we are pleased; it is visioned to us in the concluding line, as "the mirror and the bath for Beauty's youngest daughters"—and we are not pleased; or if we are, but for a moment--for it is, as nearly as may be, the same vision over again—a mirror and a bath! TALBOYS. But then, sirNORTH. Well?

TALBOYS. Go on, sir.

NORTH. I am not sure that I understand "Beauty's youngest daughters."

TALBOYS. Why, small maidens from ten to twelve years old, who in their innocent beauty may bathe without danger, and in their innocent self-admiration may gaze without fear.

NORTH. Then is the expression at once commonplace and obscure."

TALBOYS. Don't say so, sir.

NORTH. Think you Byron means the Graces?

its memory of Thee,' -whatever that may mean;-nor do I think that a poetical mind like Byron's, if fully possessed in ideal contemplation with the beauty of the whole, would have thought so much of such an occurrence, or dwelt upon it with so many words.

TALBOYS. I wish that finny darters with the glittering scales had oft leaped from out thy current's calmness. Thou Glenorchy, yesterday-but not a fin could I stir with. finest tackle and Double-Nothings.

NORTH. That is no answer, either one way or another, to my gentle demur to the perfection of the stanzas. The "scattered water-lily" may be well enough-so let it pass-with this ob, that the flower of the water-lily is not easily separated from its stalk-and is not, in that state, eligible as an image of peace.

beauty.

said, its own beauty-and Byron doubtlessly intended that-but he has not said it-he has said the reverse-for a "scattered" water-lily is a disheveled water-lily-a water-lily no more-a dispersed or dispersing multitude of leaves-of what had been a moment before-a Flower.

TALBOYS. It is of NORTH. Be it so. But is "scattered" the right word? No. A water-lily to be scattered must be torn-for you scatter many, TALBOYS. He does-he does-the Graces not one-a fleet-not a ship-a flock of sure enough-the Graces. sheep, not one lamb. A solitary water-lily NORTH. Whatever it means--it means no-broken off and drifting by, has, as you more than we had before. A descriptive Stanza should ever be progressive, and at the close complete. To my feeling, "slaughters" had better been kept far away from the imagination as from the eyes. I know Byron alludes here to the Sanguinetto of the preceding Stanza. But he ought not to have alluded to it-the contrast was complete without such reference-between the river we are delighting in and the blood-named torrent that has passed away. Why, then, force such an image back upon uswhen of ourselves we should never have thought of it, and it is the last image we should desire to see?

TALBOYS. Allow me a few minutes to con

sider

TALBOYS. The image pleases everybodytake it as you find it, and be content.

NORTH. I take it as I find it, and am not content; I take it as I don't find it, and am. Then I gently demur to "still tells its bubbling tales.' In Gray's line

"And pore upon the brook that babbles by,"

the word "babbles" is the right one—a mit

NORTH. A day. Will you be so good, igated "brawling"-a continuous murmur