The Sun.
London, England, 1834-10-30 00:00:00

THE EAGLES 0' LOCH AVEN.

( From the Noctes Ambrosirinw, No. 68, in Blackwood's
Magazine for November.)
SHEPHERD—Oh, Sir ! but you've a profound knowledge
o' human natur ! Latin' at ane's.ease, ane's imagination can
flee up into the empyreanlike an eagle soaring up the lift
wi' a lamb in his talons, and then fauldin' up his wings, far
abune the shot o' the fowler, on the iaprnost o' a range o'
cliffs, leisurely devourin't, while ever and anon, atween the
rugs, he glances his yellow black-circled een far and wide
owre the mountainous region, and afore and after every
moothful, whattin' his beak wi' his claws, yells to the echoes
that afar aff return a faint but a fierce reply.
TICKLER—Does he spit out feathers and fur ?
SHEPHERD—He spits out naething—devourin' bird and
beast stoup and roup, bones, entrails, and a', and leavin'
after his repast but a wheen wee pickles o' bluidy down,
soon dried by the sun, or washed away by the rain, the only
evidence there had been a murder.
NORTH—The eagle is not a glutton.
SHEPHERD—Wha said he was a glutton ?
NORTH—Living constantly in the open air—
SHEPHERD—And in a high latitude. -
NORTH—Yes, James—for hours every day in his life,
sailing in circles some thousand feet above the sea.
SHEPHERD—In circles, noo narrowin', and noo widenin'
wi' sweepy waftage, that seems to carry its ain round among
its wing—noo speerally wundin' up the air staircase that
has nae need o' steps, till you could swear he was soarin'
awa' to the sun—and noo divin' doon earthwards, as if the
sun had shot him, and he was to be dashed on the stanes
intil a blash o' bluid ; but, in the pride o' his pastime, and
the fierceness o' his glee, had been that self-willed headlP:ng
descent frae the bosom o' the blue lift, to within fifty fathom
o' the croon of the greenwood—for suddenly slar,tin' awa
across the chasm through the mist o' the great cataract, he
has already voyaged a league o' black heather, and, cell'
another arc o' the meridian, taks majestic possession of
new domain in the sky.
TICKLER—No wonder be is sharp set.
SHEPHERD—I was ante in an eagle's nest.
TICKLER—When a child ?
SHEPHERD—A man—and no sae very P young ane. I
was let down de fac• o' the red rocks o' Loch Aven, that
affront Cairngorum, about a qua/4:er o' a mile perpendicu-
lar, by a hair rape, and after swingin' like a pendulum for
some minutes back an`l, forret afore the edge o' the plat-
form, I succeeded -;:n establishin' mysel in the eyrie.
TICKLER"--.What a fright the poor eaglets must have got!
SHEl.)."itEaD—You ken naething about eaglets. Wi' them
fear and anger's a' ane—and the first thing they do, when
taken by surprise amang their native sticks by man or
beast, is to fa' back on their backs, and strike up wi' their
talons, and glare wi' their een, and snap wi' their beaks, and
yell like a couple o' hell-cats. Providentially their feathe,:s
werena fu' grown, or they wou'd hae flown in my l'acf, and
driven me ower the cliff.
TICKLER—Were you not armed ?
SHEPHERD—What a slaughter-house
What a ceme-
tery ! Hale hares, and halves o' hares,
o' hares and lugs o' hares,
a' confused,
and fuds o' hares, and tatters o'
wi' the flesh and feathers o' /11
11irkol and wild dyeucks, and
ither kinds o' ggemm, fresh ar.d rotten, undevoor'd and di-
gested animal inaitter, mixed in blue-mooldy or bloody-red
masses—emittin' a strange charnel-hoose, and yet lardner-
smell—thickenire the air o' the eyrie—for though a blast
cam sughin' by at times, it never was able to carry awa'
ony o' the stench, which I was obliged to breathe, till I
grew sick., and feared I was gaun to swarf, and fa' into the
loch tl:;at I saw, but couldna hear, far doon below in anither
warld.

TICKLER—No pocket-pistol
SHEPHERD—The Glenlivet was ma salvation. I took a
richt gude wullie-waught—the mistiness afore my een cleared
awa'—the waterfa' in my lugs dried up—the soomin' in my
head subsided—my stamach gied owre bockin'—and takin'
my seat on a settee, I began to inspect the premises wi'
mair preceesion,- to mak a verbal inventory o' the furnitur,
and to study the appearance or character o' the twa guests
that still continued lying back on their backs, and regardin'
me wi' a malignity that was fearsome, but noo baith mute
as death.
NORTH—They had made up their minds to be murdered.
SHEPHERD—I suspect it was the ither way. A' on a
sudden doon comes a sugh frae the sky—and as if borne each
on a whurlwun(l.—the yell and the glare o' the twa auld
birds! A mortal man daurin' to invade their nest ! And
they 'lashed at me as if they would hae dung me intil the
':bek—for my back was at the wa'—and I was haudin on
wi' my hauns—and aff wi' my feet frae the edge o' the ledge
—and at every buffet I, like an insect, clang closer to the
cliff. Dazed wi' that incessant passing to and fro o' plumes,
and pennons, and beaks, and talons, rushin' and rustlin' and
yellin', I shut my een, and gied mysel up for lost ; when a'
at ante a thocht struck me that I woud cowp the twa imps
owre the brink, and that the parent birds woud dive doon
after them to the bottom o' the abyss.
TICKLER—What presence of mind !
NORTH—Genius !
SHEPHERD—I flang mysell on them—and I hear them
yet in the gullerals. They were eatin' intil my inside ; and
startin' up wi' a' their beaks and a' their talons inserted, I
flang aff my coat and wastcoat, and them stickin' til't, owre
the precipice !
TICKLER—Whew !
SHEPHERD—Ay—ye may weel cry whew ! Dreadfu'
was the yellin', for ae glaffand ae glint ; far doon it deaden'd ;
and then I heard nocht. After a while I had courage to
lay mysell doon on my belly, and look owre the brink—and
I saw the twa auld eagles wheelin' and skimmin', and dashill'
amang the white breakers o' the black loch, madly seekin'
to save the drowin' demons, but their talons were sae en-
tangled in the tartan, that after floatin' awhile wi' flappin'
wings in vain, they gied owre strugglin', and the wreck
drifted towards the shore wi' their dead bodies.
TICKLER—PI ay, may I ask, my dear Shepherd, how you
returned to the top.
SHEPHERD—There cam the rub, sirs. My freens abune,
seeing my claes wi' the eaglets flaffing, awa doon the abyss,
never dooted that I was in them—and they set up sic a
shriek ! Awa roon they set to turn the right flank p' the
precipice by the level o' the Aven that rins out sae yellow
frae the dark-green loch, because o' the colour o' the blue
slates that lie shivered in heaps o' strata in that lovely soli-
tude—hardly hopin' to be able to yield me ony assistance,
in case they sould observe me attemptin' to soom ashore—
nor yet to recover the body gin I was droon'd. Silly cretars!
there was I for hours on the platform, while they were
waitin' for my corp to come ashore. At last, ashore cam
what they supposed to be my corp, and stickin' tilt the twa
dead eaglets, and dashin', doon upon't, even when it had
reached the shingle the twa savage screamers wi' een
liehtenin' !

TICKLER—We can conjecture their disappointment,
James, on findin' that there was no corpse.
SHEPHERD—I shooted—but nature's self seemed deaf—
I waved my bannet—but nature's self seemed blin'. There
stool the great deaf, blin', stupid mountains—and a' that I
coud hear was ante a laugh echolike lauchter frae the airrn
heart o' Cairngorum.
TICKLER—At last they recognised the Mountair. Bard
SHEPHERD—And awa' they set again to the tap to pa'
me up ! but the fules in their fricht had let the rape drap,
and never thocht o' lookin' for't when they were below. By.
this time it was wearin' late, and thfc huge shadows were
stalkin' in for the nicht. The twa auld eagles cam back,
but sac changed, 1 could na help pityin' them, for they had
seen the feathers o' them they loo'd sae weel wrapt up, a'
drookit wi' death, in men's plaids—and as they keep't
in' slowly and disc,:msolately before the eyrie in which there
was naebody s'!tin' but me, they werena like the same birds,
NoPTP—No bird has stronger feeling than the eagle,
SHEPHERD—That's truth. They lay but twa eggs,
NORTH—You are wrong there, James.
SHEPHERD—Twa young ones, then, is the average, for
gin they lay mair eggs, axle's aften rotten, and I'm mista'en
if ae eagle's no nearer the usual numme':. than fowre for an
eyrey to send forth to the sky. Tken they marry for life—
and their annual families bela' sma', they concentrate on a
single sinner or twa, or tl):ree at the maist, a' the passion a'
their instinct, and sarage though they be, they fauld their
twhiedecluiff, a
ingssoure 'ale down in their " procreant cradle" op
tenderly as turtle-doves on theirs, within t!„0
shadow o' the tree. For beautiful is the gracious or?er
"P.!,,ur, sirs, and we maunna think that the mystr,y_.
hasnaits ain virtues in the den o' the wild bP...ast and the
nest o the bird o' prey.
TICKLER—And did not remorse srdiite you, James, for
the murder of those eaglets ? o' life
SHEPHERD—Aften and. salt.; What business had Ito
be let doon by a' hair rape ;ntil their birth-place ? And,
alas! how was I to be gotten up agin—for nae hair rape
cam' danglin' atweer, me and the darkenin' weather-gleam.
I began to doot the efficacy of a death-bed repentance, as I
tried to tak' account o' my sins a' risin' up in sair confusion
—some that I had clean forgotten, they had been committed
sae far back in youth, and never suspected at the time to
be sins ava' but noo seemin' black, and no easy to be for-
givon—though boundless be the mercy that sits in the skies.
But thank Heaven, there was an end—for a while at least
—o' remorse and repentance—and room in my heart only
for gratitude—for, as if let doon by hands o' angels, there
again dangled the hair-rape we a noose-seat at the curl o't,
safer than a wicker-chair. I stept in as fearless as Lltnardi,
aneath my hurdies, interlaked wi' a net-
andwals
wi' my hauns aboon my head glued to the teth.er—and
my atul a'knots, I felt mysell aseendin' and ascendin'
the sd,ietl loops andl
heard the voices o' tbtrn hoistin'. Launded
lk:vtia o'r,
at the tap, you may be sure 1 fell doon on my knees—and
while my heart was beginnia' to beat and loup again,
quaked a prayer,
NORTH—Thank ye, James ; I have heard you tell the
tale better end not so well, but never before at a Noctes.

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

Mr. Cooper's cock-and-a-bull story of having heard
of the burning of the two Houses of Parliament at
Dudley on the night of their destruction, was, we
believe, discredited by most reasonable minds before
the local inquiry was instituted. First, it was clear,
that if the story of Mr. Cooper was true, the fire must
have been the work of an incendiary, and the incen-
diary must have loved gossip so much more than he
feared hanging, as to have furnished a clue to disco-
very, by communicating to some other person or per-
sons the time fixed for the perpetration of the crime.
There is in this at least a gross improbability. An
incendiary must have had every motive for secrecy.
But what inducement, it is asked, had Mr. Cooper to
invent such a story? The answer is, that supposing
Mr. Cooper to be a man of weak nerves, circum-
stances must have disposed him to favour the idea: of
incendiarism. He was the stove-maker, and he or his
partner had the superintendence of the flues. He was
asked before the Council whether the flues could have
borne the heat of burning the tallies—the accident had
before been attributed to the flues ; the honour
of his flues was concerned, and imagination may
have helped out the conviction in his own mind
that the fire could not have proceeded from his
flues, but from the hands of an incendiary. We all
know that the prepossession of an idea, especially
where the interests are supposed to be concerned,
works wonders in the fancy of persons of a certain
temperament. Even where there is no motive to the
pranks of the imagination, the instances of uncon-
scious falsehood would make a large collection. The
class may be represented by the sailor who said he
knew Captain Lemuel Gulliver very well, and that he
lived at Deptford. When Sheridan spouted some
sham Greek, in pretended continuation of a quotation
from Demosthenes, delivered by the then Lord Bel-
grave, a member congratulated him on his readiness,
and said the passage was to the point, though he did
not recollect to have read it. A striking instance to
the same effect, in which this journal was concerned,
occurred not long ago. Upon something which was
alleged to have been published in the Times there was
much angry discussion in Parliament, and one of our
correspondents claimed the merit of having communi-
cated the information or document which was said to
have appeared. Strange to say, the subject-matter
of all this strife had never been published by us.
The notion that it had appeared was a match
for Mr. Cooper's Dudley conversations, with all
the circumstantialities of the boot-jack and slippers,
and the delusion which so struck Mr. Cooper of
the gentleman who fancied he had boots on, when
they were in fact shoes. There is something exqui-
sitely characteristic in the impression which this blun-
der made on the dreamer, of things not having the
degree of relation to truth which a boot has to a shoe.
As all plots have their names, this should be called
the Boot-jack-and-Slipper Plot ; or perhaps Cooper's
Novels will be a more familiar description, and cer-
tainly the author has outdone his American namesake.
Absurd as the story was on the face of it, the Council
were bound to investigate it, but the method of pro-
ceeding seems to have been almost as strange as the
tale itself. Instead of instantly instituting inquiries at
the inn at Dudley,where Mr. Cooper heard the wonder
of wonders, a chase after the guard of the Shrewsbury
coach was suggested by a high authority as indispen-
sably necessary, and some time was lost in hunting him
out. The logic of this appears to be highly curious.
Mr. Cooper said he heard certain reports at Dudley on
the 16th. "To ascertain whether he did hear those
reports or not at an inn at Dudley on the 16th, let
us find out whether he came up by the Shrewsbury
coach the next day," says our England's Solomon.
The second step of making the inquiries at Dudley
seems to common minds rather more to the purpose,
though the great inquisitor may have held with the
saying that " the longest way about is the nearest
way home." This train of examination would fur-
nish apt matter for a parody of John Gilpin's ride,
and when next a certain great man examines a guard,
our prayer is, may we be there to hear. The third
step has what the lawyers call a colourable ground ;
being, in fact, an elaborate examination as to the co-
lour of Mr. Cooper's supposed informant. Was his
complexion black, brown, or yellow ? Was his stock
black, white, or gray ? Was his coat claret or peach-
blossom ? Mr. Cooper seems to have been dumb-
founded by this extraordinary inquiry ; and indeed the
learned examiner does not give us any insight into his
particular object, though no doubt he had in his mind
some philosophical connexion between colour and con-
flagration—between " flame-coloured taffeta" and
blazing buildings. We dare say that the " Confusion
Society" will throw some light upon this subject in a
new edition, with additions, of the famous tract enti-
tled Experiments and Observations on the Inflection,
ROection, and Colours of Light.—Times,
When we stated a few days ago that it was to a
commutation of taxes, rather than to a diminution in
expenditure, that the country must look for relief, it
was by no means meant, as an intelligent correspon-
dent supposes, that therefore no farther reduction in
the expenditure of the country could be effected. That
there is still room for the exercise of a judicious eco-
nomy we do not doubt ; but when it is recollected how
small, in comparison with the revenue raised, is the
whole sum on which even this economy can be exer-
cised, it will be evident that, of whatever reduction the
expenses of our army, navy, civil list, &c., may be
susceptible, the whole amount cannot be great, and, in
comparison with the abolition of the restrictions on in-
dustry, and the lightening of the burdens which press
on labour, would be hardly worthy of consideration. It
should be borne in mind that in thus proposing the
abolition of the taxes which press most heavily on the
productive classes, we are advocating a measure which
will confer an almost equal benefit on every person
in the realm, be he an employer or one of the em-
ployed; for the taxes which are imposed on articles
of necessity, such as malt, tea, coffee, sugar, &c.,
by enhancing the amount of wages,. raise the price of
every thing which is produced in this kingdom; while
on the other hand, by the abolition of any of these
taxes, the consumer is benefited by the reduction in the
wages of labour, and consequently in the fall of the
price of all articles which are the result of such labour.
We have placed at the head of the list of the articles
which we consider thus injuriously taxed that of malt.
It is one which enters more or less into the consump-
tion of every family in the kingdom ; though'we regret
to observe that, in comparison with the increase of the
population, its consumption has, in fact, decreased,
and we can have no hesitation in attributing this
strange state of things to the present high and oppres-
sive duties, which have, in too many instances, almost
banished the article from the use of the poorer de-
scription of labourers. Merely to show how much the
labourer alone is suffering from this tax, let us see what
price lie is at present compelled to pay for his beer in
consequence. The present price of the best barley is
about 4s. per bushel ; so that, including all fair
expenses, and with the present low price of hops,
and allowing ten bushels of malt to the hogs-
head, a good and wholesome beer would be made
for 22d. per quart, which generally throughout
the country costs the purchaser 5d., and at too many
places 6d, notwithstanding the introduction of the
beer-shops ! !—and this price, be it remembered, is
paid for a much inferior article ; so that the majority
of the population are paying at least 100 per cent., in
consequence of the duties, for what should be their
daily beverage; and it is, we consider, no small ad-
ditional objection to this obnoxious tax, that it drives
the labourers to the public-house or to the beer-shop,
instead of allowing them, as formerly, to drink their
beer at their own houses, where their wives and fami-
lies might obtain some portion. It will be found, we
believe, on examination, that on the remaining arti-
cles of tea, sugar, and coffee, the labourer is taxed to
nearly 100 per cent. also, and this in direct violation
of Adam Smith's axiom, which is still recognised by
all as one from which we should not deviate—viz.,
" That the subjects of every State ought to contribute
towards the support of the Government as nearly as
possible in proportion to their respective abllittes.
That the above taxes fall indiscriminately on all ranks
we need not point out, and we are almost justified in
asserting that the pressure is not according to the
means pcosessed by each person to pay them, but
almost in an euetly inverse proportion. But it does