objects that address themselves to his corporeal faculties. This delightful experience, as it may be called, I have enjoyed this evening to an exquisite degree, at the funeral of the king; but, although the whole succession of incidents is indelibly imprinted on my recollection, I am still so much affected by the emotion that they excited, as to be incapable of conveying to you any intelligible description of what I saw It was indeed a scene witnessed through the medium of the feelings, and the effect partakes of the nature of a dream.

I was within the walls of an ancient castle,

"So old as if they had for ever stood,

So strong as if they would for ever stand,"

and it was almost midnight. The towers, like the vast spectres of departed ages, raised their embattled heads to the skies, monumental witnesses of the strength and antiquity of a great monarchy. A prodigious multitude filled the courts of that venerable edifice, surrounding on all sides a dark embossed structure, the sarcophagus, as it seemed to me at the moment, of the heroism of chivalry.

"A change came o'er the spirit of my dream," and I beheld the scene suddenly illuminated, and the blaze of torches, the glimmering of arms, and warriors and horses, while a mosaic of human faces, covered like a pavement the courts. A deep low under sound pealed from a distance; in the same moment, a trumpet answered with a single mournful note from the stateliest and darkest portion of the fabric, and it was whispered in every ear, "it is coming." Then an awful cadence of solemn music, that affected the heart like silence, was heard at intervals, and a numerous retinue of grave and venerable men,

"The fathers of their time,

Those mighty master spirits, that withstood
The fall of monarchies, and high upheld

Their country's standard, glorious in the storm,"

passed slowly before me, bearing the emblems and trophies of a king. They were as a series of great historical events, and I beheld behind them, following and followed, an awful and indistinct image, like the vision of Job. It moved on, and I could not discern the form thereof; but there were honours, and heraldries, and

sorrow, and silence; and I heard the stir of a profound homage performing within the breasts of all the witnesses. But I must not indulge myself farther on this subject. I cannot hope to excite in you the emotions with which I was so profoundly affected. In the visible objects of the funeral of George the Third, there was but little magnificence; all its sublimity was derived from the trains of thought and currents of feeling, which the sight of so many illustrious characters, surrounded by circumstances associated with the greatness and antiquity of the kingdom, was necessarily calculated to call forth. In this respect, however, it was perhaps the sublimest spectacle ever witnessed in this island; and I am sure that I cannot live so long as ever again to behold another, that will equally interest me to the same depth and extent. Yours, ANDREW PRIngle.

We should ill perform the part of faithful historians, did we omit to record the sentiments expressed by the company on this occasion. Mrs. Glibbans, whose knowledge of the points of orthodoxy had not their equal in the three adjacent parishes, roundly declared, that Mr. Andrew Pringle's letter was nothing but a peasemeal of clishmaclavers; that there was no sense in it; and that it was just like the writer, a canary idiot, a touch here and a touch there, without any thing in the shape of cordiality or satisfaction. Miss Isabella Todd answered this objection with that sweetness of manner and virgin diffidence which so well becomes a youthful female member of the establishment, controverting the dogmas of a stoop of the relief persuasion, by saying, that she thought Mr. Andrew had shown a fine sensibility. "What is sensibility without judgment," cried her adversary," but a thrashing in the water, and a raising of bells?-could na the fallow, without a' his parleyvoos, have said that such and such was the case, and that the lord giveth and the lord taketh away-but his clouds, and his spectres, and his visions of Job-O! an he could but think like Job!-O! an he would but think like the patient man!-and was obliged to claut his flesh with a bit of a broken crock or porrenger, we might have some hope of a repentance unto life. But Andrew Pringle, he's a gone dick; I never had comfort or expectation of the freethinker, since I heard that he was infected with the blue and yellow calamity of the Edinburgh Review is

the which, I am credibly told, it is set forth, that women have not souls, but only a gut, and a gaw, and a gizzard, like a pigeon-dove, or a raven-crow, or any other outcast and abominated quadruped.”

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed her effectual mediation, and said, "It is very true that Andrew deals in the diplomatics of obscurity; but it is well known that he has a nerve for genius, and that, in his own way, he kens the loan from the crown of the causeway, as well as the duck does the midden from the adle dib." To this proverb, which we never heard before, our correspondent, Mr. M'Gruel, subjoins an erudite note, in which he states, that middens were of great magnitude, and often of no less antiquity in the west of Scotland; insomuch, that the Trongate of Glasgow owes all its magnitude and grandeur to them-it being within 'the recollection of persons yet living, that the aforesaid spacious and magnificent street, was at one time an open road, or highway, leading to the Trone, or market-cross, with thatched houses on each side, such as may still be seen in that pure immaculate royal borough of Rutherglen; and that before each house stood a luxuriant midden, by the removal of which, in the progress of modern degeneracy, the stately architecture of Argyle-Street was formed. But not to insist at too great length on such topics of antiquarian lore, we shall now insert the Doctor's account of the funeral, and which, patly enough, follows our digression concerning the middens and magnificence of Glasgow, as it contains an authentic anecdote of a manufacturer from that city, drinking champaign at the king's dirgie.

The Rev. Z. Pringle, D. D. to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster and Session Clerk of Garnock.

London.

DEAR SIR,-I have received your letter, and it is a great pleasure to me to hear that my people were all so much concerned at our distress in the Leith smack; but what gave me the most contentment, was the repentance of Tam Glen. I hope, poor fellow, he will prove a good husband; but I have my doubts; for the wife has really but a small share of common sense, and no married man can do well unless his wife will let. I am, however, not overly pleased with Mr. Craig on the occasion, for he should have

considered frail human nature, and accepted of poor Tam's confession of a fault, and allowed the bairn to be baptised without any more ado. I think, honest Mr. Daff has acted like himself, and, I trust and hope, there will be a great gathering at the christening, and, that my mite may not be wanting, you will slip in a guinea note when the dish goes round, but in such a manner, that it may not be jealoused from whose hand it comes.

Since my last letter, we have been very thrang in the way of seeing the curiosities of London; but I must go on regular, and tell you all which, I think, it is my duty to do, that you may let my people know. First, then, we have been to Windsor Castle, to see the king lying in state, and afterwards, his interment; and sorry am I to say, it was not a sight that could satisfy any godly mind on such an occasion. We went in a coach of our own, by purselves, and found the town of Windsor like a fair. We were then directed to the castle gate, where a terrible crowd was gathered together; and we had not been long in that crowd, till a pocket-picker, as I thought, cutted off the tail of my coat, with my pocket-book in the pocket, which I never missed at the time. But it seems the coat tail was found, and a policeman got it, and held it up on the end of his stick, and cried, whose pocket is this? showing the book that was therein, in his hand. I was confounded to see my pocket-book there, and could scarcely believe my own eyes, but Mrs. Pringle knew it at the first glance, and said, "it's my gudeman's;" at the which there was a great shout of derision among the multitude, and we would baith have then been glad to disown the pocket-book, but it was returned to us, I may almost say, against our will; but the scorners, when they saw ou confusion, behaved with great civility towards us, so that we got into the castle-yard with no other damage than the loss of the flap of my coat-tail.

Being in the castle-yard, we followed the crowd into another gate, and up a stair, and saw the king lying in state, which was a very dismal sight-and I thought of Solomon in all his glory, when I saw the coffin, and the mutes, and the mourners, and reflecting on the long infirmity of mind of the good old king, I said to myself, in the words of the book of Job, "Doth they not die even without wisdom."

When we had seen the sight, we came out of the castle, and went to an inns to get a chack of dinner; but there was such a crowd, that no resting-place could for a time be found for us; gentle and semple were there, all mingled, and no respect of persons, only there was, at a table nigh unto ours, a fat Glasgow manufacturer, who ordered a bottle of champaign wine, and did all he could in the drinking of it by himself, to show that he was a man in well doing circumstances. While he was talking over his wine, a great peer of the realm, with a star on his heart, came into the room, and ordered a glass of brandy and water; and I could see, when he saw the Glasgow manufacturer drinking champaign wine on that occasion, that he greatly marvelled thereat.

When we had taken our dinner, we went out to walk and see the town of Windsor, but there was such a mob of coaches going and coming, and men and horses, that we left the streets, and went to inspect the king's policy, which is of great compass, but in a careless order, though it costs a world of money to keep it up. Afterwards, we went back to the inns, to get tea for Mrs. Pringle and her daughter, while Andrew Pringle, my son, was seeing if he could get tickets to buy, to let us into the inside of the castle, to see the burial-but he came back without luck, and I went out myself, being more experienced in the world, and I saw a gentleman's servant with a ticket in his hand, and I asked him to sell it to me, which the man did with thankfulness, for five shillings, although the price was said to be golden guineas. But as this ticket admitted only one person, it was hard to say what should be done with it when I got back to my family. However, as by this time we were all very much fatigu d, I gave it to Andrew Pringle, my son, and Mrs. Pringle, and her daughter Rachel, agreed to bide with me in the inns.

Andrew Pringle, my son, having got the ticket, left us sitting, when shortly after in came a nobleman, high in the cabinet, as I think he must have been, and he having politely asked leave to take his tea at our table, because of the great throng in the house, we fell into conversation together, and he understanding thereby that I was a minister of the church of Scotland, said he thought he could help us into a place to see the funeral; so, after he had drank his tea, he took us with him, and got us into the castle-yard