esteem for his worth and valour. His unusual dress and figure, when he was in London, never failed to draw after him a great crowd of boys, and other young people, who constantly attended at his lodgings, and followed him with huzzas, as he went to court, or returned from it. As a man of humour, he would always thank them for their civilities, when he left them at the door, to go in to the king; and would let them know exactly at what hour he intended to come out again, and return to his lodgings. When the king walked in the park, attended by some of his courtiers, and Dalziel in his company, the same crowds would always be after him, showing their admiration at his beard and dress, so that the king could hardly pass on for the crowd; upon which his majesty bid the Devil take Dalziel, for bringing such a rabble of boys together, to have their guts squeezed out, while they gaped at his long beard and antique habit; requesting him, at the same time, (as Dalziel used to express it), to shave and dress like other Christians, to keep the poor bairns out of danger. All this could never prevail with him to part with his beard; but yet, in compliance to his majesty, he went once to court in the very height of the fashion; but as soon as the king, and those about him, had laughed sufficiently at the strange figure he made, he reassumed his usual habit, to the great joy of the boys, who had not discovered him in his fashionable dress."

Creichton, immediately after the affair of Bothwell, is eager to return to his old amusement of preacher-hunting.

"On Sunday morning, when the army was to march for Glasgow, I desired the General's leave to go with twelve dragoons, in search of some of the rebels, who might probably pass the Clyde, about Dunbarton, to shelter themselves in the Highlands. With these dragoons, clad in grey coats and bonnets, I made haste down the side of the river; and about midnight, after travelling twenty-four miles, I came to a church, and while the soldiers stayed to refresh their horses in the church-yard, I spied a country fellow going by, and asked him in his own dialect, 'Whither gang ye this time of night?' He answered, Wha are ye that speers?' I replied, We are your ane fo'ke.' Upon this the fellow came up, and told me, there were eighteen friends with horses, at an old castle, waiting for a boat to pass over into the isle of Arran. I mounted the man behind one of the dragoons, and went toward the place: but the rebels, not finding a boat, were gone off, and the guide dismissed. There was a great dew on the grass, which directed me and my party to follow the track of their horses, for three or four miles, till the dew was gone off; I then inquired of a cow-herd on a hill, whether he saw any of our 'poor fo'ke' travelling that way? he answered, that they had separated on that hill, and gone three several ways, six in a party; adding, that in one party there was a braw, muckle kerl, with a white hat on him, and a great bob of ribands on the cock o't.' Whereupon I sent four of my dragoons after one party, four more after another; and myself, with the remaining four, went in pursuit of him with the white hat. As I went forward, I met

another cow-herd, who told me that the fellow with the hat, and one more (for as the rogues advanced farther into the west, they still divided into smaller parties) were just gone down the hill, to his master's house. The good man of the house returning from putting the horses to grass in the garden, was going to shut the door: whereupon myself and two of the dragoons commanded him, with our pistols at his breast, to lead us to the room where the man lay who wore a white hat. We entered the room, and before he awaked, I took away his arms, and commanded him to dress immediately: then finding his companion asleep in the barn, I forced him likewise to arise, and mounting them both on their own horses, came at nine o'clock in the morning, with my two prisoners, to the other dragoons, at the place where we appointed to meet. From thence we rode straight to Glasgow, and arrived there about eight in the evening, after a journey of fifty miles since we left the army at Bothwell the day before."

Our author had a strange faculty of dreaming where he should find certain proscribed preachers, and his dreams were usually verified in the sequel. He thinks proper, however, to apologize for having put faith in such illusions, and endeavours to explain the association of ideas which produced them.

About a month after the battle of Bothwell Bridge, he was sent with eighty horsemen under his command, in pursuit of one hundred and fifty of the Covenanters, who still kept in a body; and after a pursuit of several days, brought them to action, and succeeded in killing, capturing, or dispersing them. In pursuing some stragglers into a morass, he received several severe wounds, and narrowly escaped with his life. One of his wounds, owing to the carelessness of his surgeon, in allowing the tent to slip into it, remaining unhealed for seven months, he returned to Ireland for the benefit of his native air, and there, by as great an accident as when it got in, he was relieved from the tent, and soon perfectly recovered. He accordingly returned to Scotland, and resumed his dreaming of rebels, and displayed his accustomed dexterity in catching them.

One of his enterprises is related in the ensuing extract:

"I shall here occasionally relate an unfortunate accident, which happened this summer in Scotland.

"M'Donnel, laird of Cappagh in the Highlands, within eight miles of Inverlochy, was unjustly possessed, as most men believed, for many years of an estate, which in right belonged to the laird of Mackintosh. Both these gentlemen were well affected to the king. The laird of Cappagh, after sowing-time was over, had gone that summer, as it was his custom, to make merry with his clans, on the mountains, till the time of harvest should call him home. But in his absence, Mackintosh, and his clans, assisted with a party of the army, by order of the Government, possessed himself of Cappagh's estate: whereupon M'Donnel, and his clans, returning from the mountains,

set upon the enemy, killed several gentlemen among them, and took Mackintosh himself prisoner. M'Donnel had given strict orders to his men, not to kill any of the army; but Captain M'Kenzie, who commanded on the other side, making a shot at one of M'Donnel's men, who was pursuing his adversary, the man, discharging his pistol at the captain, shot him in the knee, who, after having been carried fifty miles to Inverness, to a surgeon, died of his wound.

"Soon after, the Government ordered me to detach sixty dragoons, with a lieutenant, cornet, and standard, and to march with Captain Streighton, and two hundred of the foot guards, against the M'Donnels; to destroy man, woman, and child, pertaining to the laird of Cappagh, and to burn his houses and corn. Upon the approach of our party, M'Donnel, laird of Cappagh, dismissing his prisoners, retired farther into the mountains; whereupon we who were sent against him continued to destroy all the houses and corn, from the time of Lammas to the 10th of September: and then we advanced toward the borders, to join the Scotch army, which at that time was marching toward England, against the Prince of Orange, who then intended an invasion."

What must we think of the Government which could issue such an order!

On the expected invasion of the Prince of Orange, the forces were recalled to England, whither Creichton accompanied Claverhouse, now Viscount Dundee, who was one of the few who stood by James, even after he had deserted himself; and, had his advice been followed, the Revolution might have cost a severe struggle. After James's flight, Dundee waited on William; but, meeting with a cool reception, he speedily retired into Scotland. His regiment was given to Sir Thomas Livingston, who, however, was as much devoted to James as his predecessor; and when Dundee appeared in arms, these dragoons were sent, among others, to attack him, under the command of General M'Kay. The officers of this corps were almost all jacobites, and intended, with their men, to go over to Dundee the first opportunity. Creichton was their agent in this treachery, and found means privately to inform Lady Dundee of their intention.— The General, however, got some intimation of their design, and sent Creichton and several of his companions prisoners to Edinburgh. He was committed to a dungeon in the Tolbooth, and was examined before the Council, in the hope of getting him to inform against his more important colleagues; but Creichton stoutly denied all knowledge of the plot. Finding him obstinate, it was given out that he was to be hanged; but Dundee hearing of it, sent them word, "that if they hanged Captain Creichton, or touched a hair of his tail, he would cut the laird of Blair and the laird of Pollock joint by joint, and

would send their limbs in hampers to the Council." The Council knew Dundee would be as good as his word, and Creichton was reprieved for the present. After the death of Dundee, and the dispersion of his forces, a more lenient system was adopted; but Creichton's character as a desperate jacobite was so well known, that it was deemed prudent to keep him in confinement. After remaining three years in the Tolbooth, he was allowed, through the solicitation of his friends, to remove to a private lodging, on giving bail for one hundred pounds, and having a sentry to attend him. Some of his quondam companions being soon after arrested, he became alarmed, and, with the privity and consent of his bail, escaped to Ireland. He settled in the County of Tyrone, with his wife, two daughters, and his father (who died two years afterwards), and made a shift to maintain them, by industry and manual labour, for twelve years, till his wife died, and his daughters were married, when he made over to them what little property he had, and resided with them.

ART. V.-Des. Erasmi Epistola, Lugduni Batavorum, 1703. Tom. 3tius. Op. Erasm. Clerici.

Among the voluminous and valuable writings of Erasmus, his Letters occupy a very distinguished station, both in respect of their bulk and importance. It frequently happens, that the Epistola of the old scholars, who flourished during the revival and the early stages of modern literature, now form the only, at least the most interesting part of their works. Other of their compositions produced the effect intended at the time; and, having done this, are no longer to be regarded, except with that feeling of respect and attachment which ought always to be paid to an old and valued servant, who has survived his usefulness; while the letters of these men still continue to deserve, if not receive, a considerable share of the modern student's attention, inasmuch as they eminently tend to illustrate the history of literature, during a most remarkable period. Though the writings of Erasmus can by no means be said to be grown into disuse, for they still retain much of that beauty and freshness with which genius never fails to inspire its productions, and will do so as long as the charms of exquisite humour and elegant composition continue to exert their power; yet we may still be allowed to say, no part of them are so intrinsically valuable to us as the bulky volume of his Epistola. The vast number of

interesting notices of the lives, works, and manners of his contemporaries they contain, not to mention their value merely as admirable specimens of epistolary composition, renders them a fund of important information, which affords the reader, who is familiar with them, a complete insight into the literary history of the times. They are, however, of too voluminous a nature to be thoroughly discussed here; but we think, we can turn our attention to a particular part of them with both profit and amusement. It is well known, that Erasmus, in the reign of Henry VIII., spent a considerable time in England, of which and of its inhabitants we find frequent mention scattered through his writings. Of these notices, we propose to select a few of the most remarkable, which we shall translate for the benefit of that numerous class of readers who feel more at their ease in perusing English than Latin.

We will first quote his description of England, written to the physician of Cardinal Wolsey.

"I often grieve and wonder how it happens, that Britain has now for so many years been afflicted with a continual plague, and chiefly with the sweating sickness, which is a malady that seems almost peculiar to the country. We have read of a state being delivered from a long continued pestilence by changing the style of building, upon the advice of a philosopher. If I am not deceived, England may be freed in a similar manner. In the first place, the English have no regard to what quarter of the heavens their windows or doors are turned; in the next, their sitting rooms are generally so constructed, as to be incapable of being ventilated, which is a thing that Galen particularly recommends. Furthermore, a great part of the wall is made transparent by glass plates (or squares) which admit the light, but exclude the wind; and yet through the small crevices they admit the air to be strained, which becomes somewhat more pestilent by staying there a long time. The streets too are generally covered with clay and rushes, which are so seldom renewed, that the covering sometimes remains twenty years, concealing beneath, a mass of all descriptions of filth, not fit to mention. Hence, upon a change in the atmosphere, a certain vapour is exhaled, in my opinion not at all wholesome for the human body. Added to this, England is not only surrounded by the sea on every side, but is also, in many places, marshy, and intersected by salt streams, to say nothing at present of the salt food, of which the common people are amazingly fond.

"It is my firm opinion, that the island would become much more wholesome, if the spreading of rushes on the ground were not used, and if the chambers were so built as to be exposed to the heavens on two or three sides, the windows of glass being so made as to open altogether, and close in the same way, and to shut so as not to admit noxious winds through the crevices. Since, as it is sometimes wholesome to admit the air, so it is sometimes as much so to keep it out. The common people laugh if a person complain of the cloudy