The Sun.
London, England, 1842-10-01 00:00:00

TAIT" S MAGAZINE.

The Queen's visit to Scotland, which, some two
or three weeks ago, set so many newspaper pens
ati 'work,- has furnished a-writer in the Number.
'before 'itaavitVereelcelleni theine fbr the'exer-
cise of his descriptive faculties; and, accordingly,
he gives several graphic sketches of the gay,
bustling, and picturesque appearance presented
by Edinburgh, during the brief period that her
Majesty resided in its immediate vicinity. His
account of the blunders and disappointments of
the Lord Provost and the Town Council, on the
morning of the Queen's arrival, is specially
amusing; but we could have dispensed with his
poetic description of the " Gathering," for it is
a mere vapid, servile imitation ofMr.Macaulay's
" Armada," one of the finest descriptive poems
in the language. We subjoin the account of her
Majesty's early and unexpected arrival in the
Scottish metropolis :
" The Royal body-guard had reached Howard-
place on their way to Granton, when they were met
by a troop of dragoons, in the centre of whom was
an open carriage, with her Majesty and Prince
Albert. On dashed the Toxophilites to claim their
post of honour. Heedless of their claims, and doubt-
ful of the intentions of such a strange-looking body,
the dragoons received their charge manfully, and
plume and quiver gave way before helmet and sabre.
Many a gallant squire was rolled over in the mud,
and by the time the Royal body-guard were recog-
nised by the officers of dragoons, and had their claims
allowed, the corps was in utter confusion, and glad to
follow the Royal carriage as best they might. On it
went at a quick trot. The barriers were reached.
Where is now the Provost with city keys, and
courtly speech ?—and echo answered—ln the Council.
Chamber ! The gates would not close, and her Ma-
jesty would not wait. Forward went the Royal ba-
rouche. The glitter of the soldiers' helmets, as they
stormed the barriers, proclaimed to the crowds that
filled the windows of Pitt-street and Dundas-street,
that the Queen was at hand. The cry spread through
all the avenues of the city, and people flew from street
to street, as from before a pursuing foe. Breathless
with surprise, the multitudes saw the carriage pass.
Those in the windows could not see her Majesty for
very amazement, and those in the streets had enough
to do to get out of the way of the crowd that swept
onwards with the Royal carriage. Still along the
line there rose a deafening shout that pealed along
from house to house, as the pink bonnet of her Ma-
jesty was recognised; and hats and handkerchiefs in-
numerable fluttered from every window. The streets
were like a billowy sea. Confusion worse confounded
prevailed on every side. Carriages drove furiously
along by cross streets to overtake the cortege at some
distant turning, pursued by multitudes on foot, run-
ning as if for life. The-Royal carriage moved on-
wards at a quick trot, and the body-guard, panting
like driven deer, toiled after it in vain.' One by
one, some archer, fatter than the rest, dropped off,
and might be seen calling wildly for ginger-beer or
lemonade in a neighbouring restaurateur's. Every-
where the people were taken by surprise. The Celtic
Society, who had mustered at the Royal Hotel in
Prince's-street, and were to have escorted the Royal
train from the barriers, had barely time to rush out
into the street, and with buttered roll in one hand,
and claymore in the other, to salute it as it passed.
Some were even unable to accomplish this, and one
enthusiastic Celt was seen leaning over a bed-room
window of the hotel, with one-half of his chin covered
with lather, and waving a razor with loud and exult-
ing cheers. The crowd that pressed onwards with the
Royal carriage had by this time become a mob, which
it would have required a stronger force than the
Royal Archers to keep at bay. I hear that they pressed
so close upon the carriage that they were even able to
accost her Majesty. If so, I presume she was regaled
with such expressions of Scottish loyalty as, I hope
yer Majesty's nane the waur o' the fleg that chiel
Oxford gae ye !" Gin I had Meister Francis by the
scruff o' the neck, my sang, if I wadna gar his haffets
dirl!" hae been sick for a chance : them east
winds inaks an unto potch in the water." An' hoo's
the bits of bairns ?' &c. &c. &c.; a species of conver-
sation that must have made her Majesty doubt whe-
ther the Scotch populace did not speak some foreign
language."
Sir Robert Peel, the writer assures us, was cor-
dially received by the Edinburgh folks—possibly
because the operation of the Income-tax is some-
what limited there—awl he " received these. tri-
butes with a smiling bonhommie that told well,
surrendering his hands to the shake of numbers
of the great unwashed, with a disregard of dirt
highly politic, but which, considering the na-
tional cutaneous irritability, must have required
no common fortitude." We agree with the
writer, that this was an instance of great moral
courage on the part of the Tory Premier. The
" Life of Viscount Keppel" is an impartial re-
view of a work lately published under this title.
Admiral Keppel was a man whose biography was
scarcely worth writing, for though an experienced
commander, he achieved no very brilliant tri-
umphs, and would have been long since forgot-
ten, had it not been for the eloquent, but exagge-
rated panegyric of Burke, with whom he usually
sided in politics. " Fashionable Senators" is a
spirited and sarcastic attack on those " boy-
members who are placed in Parliament by their
Noble relatives, as a sort of preparatory school
to the Eton of the Upper House." The writer
justly remarks that these form the " awkward
squad," or " chorus of the House," and that
they are a serious drawback on the march and
respectability of public business." " Sports of
the Saints" shows, in sprightly rhyme, how an
Orthodox Parson went out shooting one day, and
how a Methodist Preacher consigned him to the
devil in consequence. " Billy Sheridan" is a
characteristic sketch of College life in Dublin,
in the course of which occur one or two reminis-
cences of the late Rev. Charles Wolfe, whom an
impudent Scotch schoolmaster attempted the
other day to defraud of the fame of hit ode on
Sir John Moore's Burial, by coolly asserting that
ho had written it himself!

DUBLIN UMVERSITY MAGAZINE.
'the military reminiscences of " Jack Hinton,
the Guardsman," are here continued by Mr.
Lever, with a liveliness and vigour that as yet
exhibit not the slightest symptoms of ex-
haustion. No writer of the day—with the
exception, perhaps, of Mr. Maxwell—throws
.off' the light, dashing, ad captandum mi-
li.tary tale with so much ease and rea-
diness as this gentleman. His pen seems ever
prepared for active service, and his high animal
spirits carry him triumphantly through whatever
task he takes in hand. Yet the social, buoyant;
unaffected humour is his forte, there is no want
of earnestness and sensibility in his writings, and
occasionally, though not often, he strikes a deep
chord of feeling. In his present chapters, he
narrates the particulars of the disastrous retreat
from Burgos with considerable picturesque effect,
and with a minuteness of. detail that would
almost lead us to infer that he was himself a
sharer in the horrors he describes. " Au
Hour's Talk about Izaac Walton" chimes in
with the popular opinion of this overrated writer,
- who, because he has penned one or two pas-

sages studded with pleasing pastoral images,
drawn from his familiar acquaintance with the !
meadows near the Goat and Boots at Tottenham,
has set all the lovers of the rural raving about
the " heavenly innocence," " simplicity," " un-
worldliness," &c., &c., of his " Angler's Guide."
There is infinite cant in this admiration of a very
•rdinary writer; and we doubt much whether, of
those who hold him in such reverence, one half!
have ever read his works, or are at all aware how
much quiet, worldly shrewdness, he concealed
under his meek, unsophisticated demeanour.
" A Narrative of the Affghan War" is by the
late Colonel Dennie, who tell in that murderous
campaign, gallantly fighting at the head of his
beleaguered regiment. The narrative is curious,
as forming a correct index to the personal pecu-
liarities of the writer, who, unconsciously, gives
us an insight into his inmost nature, both as a
man and a soldier. His description—which we
subjoin—of the march to Caubul in 1839, will
give the reader a pretty correct idea of the her-
culean difficulties overcome by the British sol-
diers during that long and fatiguing expedition :
At length, after a march of ten months, behold us
safely arrived at this far-famed capital of the Affghans.
We moved from Kurnaul early in November; and
this circuitous and dreadfully lengthened route has—
thank God l—at last terminated. Man and beast are
fairly worn out. We have traversed great part of the
line of the Indus, upper and lower Scinde, scaled
precipitous mountains, forced desperate and difficult
passes, crossed boundless wastes, howling wildernesses,
endured the most intense heat—the thermometer at
140 degrees in the sun—suffered equal varieties, and
extremes of cold at night, had nought to cool our
burning tongues but brackish and filthy water, and
that most scanty at best of times, and often n9t pro-
curable at all. . . . Our losses in animals and
property have been fearful ; no less than thirteen of my
own camels have perished, or been carried off by the
different tribes of marauders through whose country
we have passed ; and who, although they never ven-
tured upon an open attack, yet hung upon our flanks,
or plundered our baggage, and murdered our defence-
less followers, or parties they found too weak to op-
pose them; well armed, well mounted, and being in
considerable numbers, they inflicted serious mischief
on us ; harassed our weary infantry, and laughed at
our cavalry, whose horses were quite unable to follow
them, or almost to drag through their daily march;
in fact, the greater part are dismounted. We have
now seen all of these horrid countries of Beloochistan,
Scinde, &c., and more inhospitable soils and climates
cannot be imagined, or more unfit for animal life. In-
credible as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that
for days, weeks, and months we have travelled over
as unbroken surface of sand; at other times of rock
or stone ; again of a long dreary line of a hundred
miles of thorns and thistles; not a town or village,
not s. bird or beast,to relieve this dreadful solitude.
Oiir.roiateacrosS thse dreary plains will never be for-
gotten : they are skirted by chains of mountains—the
residence of our friends the Cossacks I before alluded
to ; and those bands of predatory cavalry bear the
same name as with their kindred tribes among the
Russians ; indeed the name is common through the
East, but whether Tartar, Persian, or Arabic, I have ,
not learned. One thing we have satisfied ourselves of,
viz.—that no INVADING ARMY—be it Russian or Per-
sian, or of any other nation—could ever take the line we
have moved along on its road to India. It has cost the
Government no doubt a serious sum to purchase this
information.

- METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE.'
Notwithstiinding iiise-genorally prevalent taste
for light reading, we think that this periodical
would be more popular than it is, if it contained,
from tune to time, a little more of What Mas-
singer's " Justice Greedy" would call—the
" substantials." A sound literary paper, whe-
ther in the shape ofessay, criticism, or historiette,
seldom appears in its pages, which are almost ex-
clusively Occupied with slight, sketchy, and not
unfrequently flimsy, prose iales. These are all
well enough in their way, and there is an unques-
tionable demand for them on the part of Ma-
gazine readers; but the Editor should bear in
mind that enough is as good as a feast, and vary
his entertainment now and then, if only by way
of novelty. Verbum sap. " Savindroog," is a
carefully written story, whose scene is laid in the
ltlast. The author, a gentleman named Rafter,
has taken evident pains to be as accurate as pos-
sible as regards costume, scenery, manners, &c.,
and this imparts an interest to his narrative
which it would not otherwise possess; for it does
not exhibit much power of invention, nor are the
incidents, though wrought up with tact and
spirit, particularly remarkable for novelty. Oc-
casional notes are added which explain certain
local allusions in the text, and are of great 'assist-
ance to the reader. " Recollections of a
Royalist Officer" are chiefly taken up with de-
scriptions of the scenery of the Loire, and the
customs and peCUliarities of the peasantry in that
still unsophisticated quarter of 'France. In
hunting about for a poetical extract, we can find
nothing better than the following pretty lines by
Mrs. Abdy, entitled the " Ruined Church :"
Beneath thy roof, no eager thronz,
List to Salvation's word;
It only echoes to the song
Of the wild forest bird;
Around thy doors a mournful wreath
Of shrouding ivy falls,
And flowers a fleeting fragrance breathe
Amid thy crumbling walls.
I never grieve at the decline
Of palaces and towers,
Where dames and knights were wont to shine
In gay and festal hours;
The waving plumes, the gems of pride,
The dance, the banquet rare,—
These o'er my fancy lightly glide,
But do not linger there.
Yet when thy ruined walls I view,
How easy it appears
Each peaceful image to renew
Of long departed years
Thy silvery bells are heard around,
As once they used to be,
Filling the soft air with the sound
Of °Sabbath melody.
The villagers pursue their way
Along the primrose glade ;
The lisping child, the patriarch
The matron and the maid ;
They enter at the open door,
They meekly take their place,
And God's assistance they implore,
To bless the words of grace.
Long years have passed—that rustic train
Now lie in Death's cold thrall, .
And few, or none, perchance, remain
To sorrow for thy fall;
Yet are the truths of little worth
- They heard and treasured here ?
No, no—they raised their souls from earth
To reach a holier sphere.
And I am wrong to gaze in gloom
Upon thy dull decay,
Knowing thou art no common dome
To pass with time away ;
And though to thee it be not given
Through future years to last,
The spirits of the just in Heaven
Bear witness of the past.