improbabilities, with which, it must be admitted, some of his circumstances are chargeable.

ita mentitur, sic veris falsa remiscet, Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum."

Nor is it the least of praise, that there is no part in which a caveat can be wanting to the chastest ear, no vestige of impure combinations, such as we find insinuating their meretricious appeals to passion even into the popular pages of Tom Jones, of Pamela, Clarissa, and, not excepting the good Vicar of Wakefield.

We would not be understood however, as lavishing an indiscriminate praise where not entirely deserved, and it is with a guarded qualification of his intended inferences that we receive the aristocratical lessons, scarcely to be mistaken, discoverable in more than one place*-lessons, adapted no doubt to serve a purpose, and which, though they may not avail to repress discontent and tumult in the country described, at least may harmlessly work the author's way into the notice and patronage of the powers that be.

But we have no objection to all this being placed to the account of patriotism, and should have been disposed to omit the task of animadversion altogether, did not a more weighty consideration appear to claim notice, one which it is to be hoped will not escape the author's observation ere he again appears before the public. His propensity to surprise by unexpected presences, and to produce effect by extraordinary and striking interpositions, have too much of magical appearance, by leaning greatly too far to the unlikely. That Andrew Fairservice, in a good situation by his own account, a Scotchman too, should relinquish it in the manner he did, to follow the fortunes of a young wanderer, without further evidence of secure advantage, is conduct scarcely becoming an apprentice tired of his trade. But we allude more especially to the appearance of Rob Roy, alias Campbell, at the justice's before Morris, in robbing whom he was concerned-his subsequent attendance at Glasgow, through the romantic agency of Miss Vernon,-his venturesome entrance into the jail with Francis, when the mention of Owen being there would have sufficed, the talismanic packet of the young damsel,-Frank's rencontre with Rashleigh at Glasgow, and the presence of Morris just before-hence his participation in Rashleigh's designs,-the interviews or rather glimpses that pass between Frank Osbaldistone and Diana Vernon in the Highlands, and again, the convenient and seasonable presence of Rob with his herd of cattle at the gate of Osbaldistone Hall when Sir Frederick Vernon is in jeopardy: all these, notwithstanding their connexion, design, and bearing may be traced and accounted for, still seem overstrained in application, and not easy to adjust satisfactorily in the mind

Quodcunque ostendas mihi sic incredulus odi.

We do not say that these points are not well cleared up, only it is a perfection in works of this kind when little mental effort is re

* Vide chapter xvi. vol. 2. passim.

quired in doing so, and the less doubt that is started, the more graceful and flowing the narrative.

It is with regret that this disposition ad captandum is perceived in so distinguished a writer-a recourse to the critical and wonderful in circumstance, by which weak minds are moved. Let any one attentively consider the dialogue between Baillie Jarvie and Rob Roy in Glasgow jail, and he will not fail to remark a forced strain of discourse, the argument bent to exhibit design, instead of flowing naturally and easily from premises; beyond these, a love of the ludicrous is pursued too far in dwelling too long upon the Baillie's suspension in mid-air, while scrambling down the Highland rocks, a theme repeated oftener than fitting to please such as do not take delight in trifles; in fine, as a specimen, nearly the whole of the following extract.

Ye're mad, Rob,' said the Bailliemad as a March hare, though wherefore a hare suld be mad at March mair than at Martinmas, is mair than I can weel say. Weavers! Deil shake ye out o' the web the weaver craft made. Spinners!-ye'll spin and wind yourself a bonnie pirn. And this young birkie here, that ye're hoying and hounding on the shortest road to the gallows and the deevil, will his stage-plays and his poetries help him here, dy'e think, ony mair than your deep oaths and drawn dirks, ye reprobate that ye are?-Will Tityre tu patule, as they ca' it, tell him where Rashleigh Osbaldistone is? or Macbeth, and all his kernes and galla-glasses, and your awn to boot, Rob, procure him five thousand pounds to answer the bills which fall due ten days hence, were they a' rouped at the Cross, basket-hilts, Andra-Ferraras, leather targets, brogues, brochan and sporrans?"

Ten days?' I answered, and instinctively drew out Diana Vernon's packet; and the time being elapsed during which I was to keep the seal sacred, I hastily broke it open. A sealed letter fell from a blank enclosure, owing to the trepidation with which I opened the parcel. A slight current of wind, which found its way through a broken pane of the window, wafted the letter to Mr. Jarvie's feet, who lifted it, examin ed the address with unceremonious curiosity, and, to my astonishment, handed it to his Highland kinsman, saying, Here's a wind has blown a letter to its right owner, though there were ten thousand chances against its coming to hand.'

Making due reservation for objections to some of the features. of the plot, and allowance for evident marks of precipitation in the course of the second volume, there are so many passages of exquisite beauty in the first, such just and apposite sentiments throughout, ranging through all walks of life, of business, and of society, that it is not too much to say, no publication of late years supplies equal knowledge of men and manners,-an acquaintance with the world in a few hours, amounting often to the collected experience of years. The forms of society there represented are new to us, though not less necessary to be known and understood. He is no friend to the enlargement of the boundaries of intelligence and civilization, who would deny to observation the full exercise of its powers. Few countries possess so little of value in their internal complexion, in all the little charities of human life, from which

nothing useful can be gleaned. It is the part of wisdom to consult those sources of information which furnish new ideas, extending beyond its own, nor are examples superfluous in reflecting the manners of a country and a people; whilst the mind is agreeably and profitably exercised in separating their good qualities from the blemishes that disfigure them. On these grounds we do not hesitate to recommend the volumes before us.

And now as to the author, hitherto veiled in impenetrable mystery-the rightful claimant of this string of honours,* one man, and but one is capable of producing such a work, known as the author to but a very few, and that by inference, yet irresistible to the mind of our informant, who is acquainted with the family of that individual. To a Reverend Doctor, once the colleague of the celebrated Blair in the High Church, and his successor in the professorship of Rhetoric and Belles Letters in the University of Edinburgh, the merit properly belongs-his name Greenfield, his present situation that of obscurity. Circumstances of a confidential nature, require that it should be so. The public sympathy would participate warmly in his interests and his feelings-but he is not to be approached, not to be known. The desire of secrecy has led to ingenious devices for having his works attributed to others, particularly to Walter Scott. That Walter Scott furnished most of the poetical fragments interspersed in Waverley as in Rob Roy, there is strong ground to believe, from the manner so easily

* To an acknowledgment of Waverley, Guy Mannering, and the Antiquary, should have been added the Tales of my Landlord.' The latter, by a politic manœuvre, were brought out by a different publisher, and kept out of view, as part of a system of concealment. Some of the sentiments contained in it might appear too favourable to the cause of the exiled house of Stuart, in the eyes of the ruling interest; or, as is more probable, it was necessary to avoid the too searching beams of public curiosity. A fifth Edinburgh edition of Waverley in our possession, contains a curious preface connected with this ambiguity, an extract of which we insert below, as it is in none of the American editions, they having been printed from an edition prior to the third, wherein it first appeared. "To this slight attempt at a sketch of ancient Scottish manners, the public have been more attentive than the author durst have hoped or expected. He has heard, with a mixture of satisfaction and humility, his work ascribed to more than one respectable name. Considerations, which seem weighty in his particular situation, prevent his releasing these gentlemen from suspicion by placing his own name in the title-page; so that, for the present at least, it must remain uncertain whether Waverley be the work of a poet or a critic, a lawyer or a clergyman, or whether the writer, to use Mrs. Heidelberg's phrase, be "like Cerberus-three gentlemen at once." The author, as he is unconscious of any thing in the work itself (except perhaps its frivolity) which prevents its finding an acknowledged father, leaves it to the candour of the public to chuse among the many circumstances peculiar to different situations in life, such as may induce him to suppress his name on the present occasion. He may be a writer new to publication, and unwilling to avow a character to which he is unaccustomed; or he may be a hackneyed author, who is ashamed of too frequent appearance, and employs this mystery, as the heroine of old comedy used her mask, to attract the attention of those to whom her face had become too familiar. He may be a man of grave profession, to whom the reputation of being a novel-writer may be preju. dicial; or he may be a man of fashion, to whom writing of any kind might appear pedantic. He may be too young to assume the character of an author, or so old as makes it advisable to lay it aside.'

recognized; and that he assisted as far as regards Rob Roy's exploits, and the scite of them, we conclude from the fact of his having been known to be spending some time last summer in that part of the country and collecting such materials. But, if he shared in any degree in the second volume, it is certain that the first is infinitely above Walter Scott's power of attainment.

The term Wig-wam occurs in describing the residence of Rob, and in some of his former publications the author alludes to "the plantations," a name by which these States used formerly to be known. Dr. Greenfield visited America some years ago, and his accurate descriptions of sea affairs and seamen, their feelings, together with many other matters likely to fall under his notice in crossing the Atlantic, coincide with this circumstance. To account for such phenomena in the sedentary vocation of a literary life in London, which, in all probability, did not escape the scrutiny of the curious, rumour was purposely busied in imputing to a brother of Walter Scott at Quebec, the credit of the real author. This gentleman, though he might participate in the family genius of his distinguished relative, could not possibly be familiar enough with that classical lore, that theological reading, evinced in frequent biblical allusions, and the science of grammatical rules, which an acute observer will discern and trace, as belonging chiefly to those who, like the author, have been engaged in instructing others. It answered but a temporary purpose to direct the current of public opinion into such a channel; for, although paymaster Scott might be supposed to be acquainted with the plantations,' and too far removed for importunity on the subject to reach, yet it was manifestly out of all probability that a personage so capable of wielding his pen to sublimer purposes than the posting of a leger, should continue at so remote a distance from his publisher, and persevere in an anonymous character.

Far be it from us to violate the sanctuary of private motives, where one might blush to find it fame;' but, in the homage due to his exalted literary attainments, in admiration of transcendent abilities, which we hope long to see exerted in the cause of public instruction, allied as they ever have been on the side of morality, and all the social and charitable affections, Dr. Greenfield must allow us to hail him as the genius of the age, unparalleled in the path he has chosen. Though no longer sensible to the attractions of celebrity, and writing only for support, he has done too much for reputation to allow it any longer to slumber in the taciturnity of rest. As a scholar he adorns our time; as a writer may he contribute to its improvement! He is a man of consummate talents, and evidently of extensive observation; his retired habits of late years have afforded those opportunities of profound reflection, superadded to indefatigable study, which eminently qualified him for the highest rank to whatever walk his genius might determine him.

'Much had he seen, much read, and in th' original perused mankind.

IT is well known that Rob Roy Macgregor was a real character, that he flourished at the beginning of the last century, and that he died in the year 1740.* The following anecdote, while it corroborates at the conclusion the authenticity and renown of his prowess, exhibits a gratifying view of that generous feeling, which, honourable to humanity, and relieving the harsher features of civil war, cannot be too much circulated and admired.

"When the Highlanders upon the morning of the battle of Preston made their memorable attack, a battery of four field pieces was stormed and carried by the Camerons and the Stewarts of Appine. The late Alexander Stuart of Invernahyle was one of the foremost in the charge, and observed an officer of the King's forces, who, scorning to join the flight of all around, remained with his sword in his hand, as if determined to the very last to defend the post assigned to him. The Highland gentleman commanded him to surrender, and received for reply a thrust which he caught in his target. The officer was now defenceless, and the battle-axe of a gigantic Highlander (the miller of Invernahyle's mill) was uplifted to dash his brains out, when Mr. Stuart with difficulty prevailed on him to surrender. He took charge of his enemy's property, protected his person, and finally obtained him liberty on his parole. The officer proved to be Colonel Allen Whiteford, of Ballochmyle, in Ayrshire, a man of high character and influence, and warmly attached to the house of Hanover; yet such was the confidence existing between these two honourable men, though of different political principles, that while the civil war was raging, and straggling officers from the Highland army were executed without mercy, Invernahyle hesitated not to pay his late captive a visit as he went back to the Highlands to raise fresh recruits, when he spent a few days among Colonel Whiteford's whig friends as pleasantly and good humouredly as if all had been at peace around him. After the battle of Culloden it was Colonel Whiteford's turn to strain every nerve to obtain Mr. Stuart's pardon. He went to the Lord Justice Clerk, to the Lord Advocate, and to all the officers of state, and each application was answered by the production of a list in which Invernahyle (as the good old gentleman was wont to express it) appeared marked with the sign of the beast!' At length Colenel Whiteford went to the Duke of Cumberland. From him also he received a positive refusal. He then limited his request for the present, to a protection for Stuart's house, wife, children, and property. This was also refused by the Duke: on which Colonel Whiteford, taking his commission from his bosom, laid it on the table before his Royal Highness, and asked permission to retire from the service of a sovereign who did not know how to spare a vanquished enemy. The Duke was struck, and even affected. He bade the Colonel take up his commission, and granted the protection he required with so much earnestness. It was issued just in time to save the house, corn, and cattle, at Invernahyle, from the troops who were engaged in laying waste what it was the fashion to call the country of the enemy. A small encampment of soldiers was formed on Invernahyle's property, which they spared while plundering the country around, and searching in every direction for the leaders of the insurrec

* See Memoirs of Rob Roy, pages 134 and 250 of this volume.