The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1871-08-30

chlvalrlc tendency and temper OF
the times, SCOTS novels are an
nually issued from half a hundred
publishing houses: and caught up
and read by multitudes of chill
drcn, old and young, and mover
with greater pleasure than by
those who go back TO them after
many years, to find in them an
unceasing fountain Of comfort, in
struction an entertainment. What
a world it is, to be sure, and what
an odd impulse that carries US
back to the fantastic lights and
shadows, with a sort Of sneaking
kindness and no manner Of graft
tude that we ourselves are blessed
in living under a moro peaceful
dispensation Of Providence; that
every mansion Of our day is not 4
castle, and every castle a den Of
freebooters; that our highways
are plain and open and secure;
that our gypsies are merely vaga-
bonds, and that witches arc total.
ly unknown. The magic Of the
wizards wand holds US captive
when we cross the confines Of
SCOTS country and mingle with
his delightful and terrible people,
his hob-goblins, banditti an d
knights errant, his heroes in mail
armor and damsels in distress, his
killed ruAians and tartancd foot
pads. What q picture-g gallery !
The stately Baron of Bradwardine,
and the tremendous Balfour Of
Burley ; the voluble Davie Gclat-
ly, and the excellent old Dalghet-
ty Jcanie Deans and Dirk Hat
terick and Petit Andre; Lucy
Ashton, and Womba and Gurth,
the swincherd, and Rebecca, the
Jewess Dominic Sampson and
Rob Roy; Flora Mclvor and Die
Vernon and Amy Robsart-were
ever such women, such men, III
story or song? They are more
historic than history. They move
with life and inspiration. shut out
from the present only by a silver
mist, through which we see the
camp-fres glisten among the bills
and the turrets rise IN the moon
light. There is Old Mortality,
like figure in Scripture, gliding
among the tombs. There is Jcanle
Deans trudging across the country
to London. There is Caleb Bal
derstone tumbling down the stair
Of the wine cellar and spilling the
imaginary wine. There is the
woman sitting on the stone at the
turning in the mountains to warn
Barley that lion lies across his
path. There Is Meg Merrilies
grooming over the "bonny, bonny
BARN" There are the predatory
bands and burning cottages, the
bows and spears and claymores,
the moated castles and the caves
and crags, the pleasant old forests
and the ancient hostelrics, the
May-poies and the meeting-houses;
the buyles and the dogs, done to
the life, even down to the drycst
and most trivial detail. What a
world it was and is! One fancles
he can sec the fog roll away and
disclose the bold outline Of Ben
Lomond, and that he can catch,
through the haze Of the fiction,
the shine of the Tweed as it steals
off into the lowlands. One tancles
he can hear the notes Of the wind
ing horn and smell the breczes
taat blow up from Loch katrlne.
The spell is an undoubted power,
even at the present time, and can
be contrasted with nothing so
strong outside Of Shakespeare and
Dickens.
If the present celebration gives
no special impetus to literature, 1t
will, at least, freshen the popular
interest in SCOTS writings, and in
this way do a deal of good. Those
writings overflow with good in-
structions, as we'll as good enter
tainment, and should be made ia
miliar to all our children. They
answer better purpose, in this
direction, than the writings OF
Dickens, for they are the bcss
moral and historic text books in
the world, having the sure faculty
of cultivating as we'll as absorbing
the infant mind.
Coon FOR GEARY.-Goyernor
!. o.roroI