her innocent face, asked me if I was married. I could scarcely contain my gravity, while I took her by the hand, and answered in the negative.—"An' hae ye no gotten a piece o' the bride's cake?"—"Indeed, my dear, I am sorry I have not."—"O, that's a great shame, that ye hae nae gotten a wee bit! I canna bide to see a stranger guided that gate. Here, sir, I'll gie ye the tae half o' mine, it will ser' us baith; an' I wad rather want mysel than as civil a gentleman that's a stranger should want."
So saying, she took a small piece of cake from her lap, and parted it with me, at the same time rolling each of the pieces carefully up in a leaf of an old halfpenny ballad; but the whole of her demeanour showed the utmost seriousness, and of how much import she judged this trivial crumb to be. "Now," continued she, "ye maun lay this aneath your head, sir, when ye gang to your bed, and ye'll dream about the woman ye are to get for your wife. Ye'll just think ye see her plainly an' bodily afore your een; an' ye'll be sae weel acquainted wi' her, that ye'll ken her again when ye see her, if it war arnang a thousand. It's a queer thing, but it's perfectly true; sae ye maun mind no to forget."
I promised the most punctual observance of all that she enjoined, and added, that I was sure I would dream of the lovely giver; that indeed I would be sorry were I to dream of any other, as I deemed it impossible to dream of so much innocence and beauty.— "Now mind no to forget" rejoined she, and skipped lightly away to join her youthful associates.
As soon as the bride was led into the house, old Nelly, the bridegroom's mother, went aside to see the beast on which her daughter-in-law had been brought home; and perceiving that it was a mare, she fell a-crying and wringing her hands. I inquired, with some alarm, what was the matter. "O dear, sir," returned she, "it's for the poor bairnies that'll yet hae to dree this unlucky mischance—Laike-a-day, poor waefu' brats! they'll no lie in a dry bed for a dozen o' years to come!"
"Hout! haud your tongue, Nelly," said the best man, the thing's but a freat a' thegither. But really we coudna help it: the factor's naig wan tit a fore-fit shoe, an' was beckin like a water-craw. If I had ridden five miles to the smiddy wi' him, it is ten to ane but Jock Anderson wad hae been drunk, an' then we wadna hae gotten the bride hame afore twall o'clock at night; sae I thought it was better to let them tak their chance than spoil sae muckle good sport, an' I e'en set her on Wattie Bryden's pownie. The factor has behaved very ill about it, the muckle stoottin gowk! If I had durst, I wad hae gien him a deevil of a thrashin; but he says, 'Faith it's—that—yes, indeed—that—he will send them—yes, faith—it's even a—a new tikabed every year.'"
The ceremony of the marriage next ensued; but as there was nothing peculiar about it (except that it took place in the bridegroom's house, and not at the bride's former home, which was out of the parson's reach); and as it was, besides, the dullest part of that day's exercise, I shall not say much about it, only that every thing was done decently and in order. But I have run on so long with this Number, that I fear I must postpone the foot-race, the dinner discourse, and final winding up of the wedding, till a future opportunity. H.
REMARKS ON GREEK TRAGEDY.
No. II.
(Æschyli Chœphori—Sophoclis Electra.)
When we study the history of our race, which is little else than a chronicle of crimes and follies, of blood shed in vulgar wars, and intellect wasted on unworthy purposes, the eye that wanders with disgust over the blotted page, turns with delight to the contemplation of the virtues and the genius by which it is semetimes brightened; nor are periods wanting, in which, degraded as man has generally been, he exhibits such moral and intellectual grandeur, as to make even the most cynical abate of the harshness with which he usually judges of human nature. Of these favoured times, in an eminent degree, was the age in which Æschylus flourished. Never, perhaps, did there exist at once, a greater number of men distinguished by virtue and talent. To prove this assertion, nothing more were necessary than to give a list of the honest statesmen who then presided in the councils of Athens,—of the warriors
