Wednesday, Sept. 28.

St. Eustochium, Vir. A.D. 419.

Moon's Last Quar. 28m after 4 Afternoon.

As both Chimney-Swallows and House-Martins begin now to be very much diminished in numbers, particularly if the wind blows from the N., there seems no doubt but that the general migration of these birds in this part of Europe usually takes place about Michaelmas. As they do not arrive all at once, but come sparingly at first, their numbers daily increasing, so they retire, not altogether, but by several different fleets. The Swallow was a favourite bird among the Greeks; her first appearance made a holiday for the Greek boys, and a song has been preserved in Athenæus, by which the young mendicants used to levy contributions on the good-nature of their fellow-citi zens. It is the general opinion of naturalists that the same pair of Swallows annually return to the village where they built the preceding year, and attach themselves to the same nest, if it remains; should it be destroyed, they erect another in the same station, and this as long as they escape the various contingencies of their migratory life.

Thursday, Sept. 29. .

St. Michael and all Angels.

High Water 7m after 7 Morn-43m after 7 Aftern. In the Romish Calendar, this day is called the Feast of the Dedication of St. Michael, from a

church in Rome having been dedicated to that Archangel, by Pope Boniface III. A.D. 606.

The churches consecrated to St. Michael-among which the one in Cornwall, and another in Normandy, stand pre-eminent, as well for their lofty situations as for their traditionary histories,-are usually to be found on elevated spots, in allusion, no doubt, to his having always been regarded as the principal or highest of the heavenly host.

According to Bishop Hall, the red velvet buckler which the Archangel Michael made use of when he combated the dragon, is still preserved in a Castle of Normandy.

It used to be customary for sailors, when passing St. Michael's Grecian Promontory Malea, to invoke the saint with their best devotions, that he would hold still his wings from resting too hard upon their sails.

It is a popular saying, that "if you eat goose on Michaelmas Day, you will never want money all the year round." In the "British Apollo," the proverb is thus discussed:

Supposing now Apollo's sons

Just rose from picking of Goose bones,
This on you pops, pray tell me whence
The customed proverb did commence,
That who eats goose on Michael's Day,
Shan't money lack his debts to pay?

This notion, framed in days of yore,
Is grounded on a prudent score;
For, doubtless, 'twas at first designed
To make the people seasons mind;
That so they might apply their care
To all those things which needful were,
And, by a good, industrious hand,

Know when and how t' improve their land.

Friday, Sept. 30.

St. Honorius, abp. of Canterbury, 653.

Sun rises 9m after 6—sets 50m after 5. Sept. 30, 1568.-Revolution in the government of (Sweden. Eric the 14th, the unworthy son and successor of Gustavus I. dishonoured the memory of his father by the most horrible cruelties. Unable openly to deprive his brothers of their inheritance, he resolved to assassinate them at a feast. The princes, informed of the dark design, immediately took up arms, besieged Eric in Stockholm, made him prisoner, and compelled him to renounce the crown. John III. second son of Gustavus, was put in his place, and the monarch, dethroned, ended his days in prison.

Saturday, Oct. 1.

St. Remigius, bish. and conf. A.D. 533. High Water 5m after 10 Mor-52m after 10 After. OCTOBER is a month as various as April-clear skies and fogs, drought and rain, sunshine and storm, greenness and nakedness,-it has them all, and often in a rapid succession. In the early part of the month the hardy yarrow and a few other flowers remain, and the meadow-saffron and the autumnal crocus spring up, and give a last glean of floral beauty to the year. The grass, if the weather be mild, is vividly green and luxuriant as in Spring. Fine clear days occasionally come out, affording in the perfect repose of the landscape, the blueness of the waters, and the strong shadows cast by the trees upon the sunny ground, the highest pictorial beauty; but they are speedily past, and rains and mist wrap the face of the earth in gloom. Yet the glooms and obscurity of Autumnal fogs, however dreary to the common eye, are not unwelcome to the lover of nature. They give an air of wildness to the most ordinary scenery; but to mountains, to forests, to solitary sea-coasts, they add a sombre sublimity that at once soothes and excites the imagination; and even when not pleasant themselves, they minister to our pleasures by turning the heart to our bright firesides, to the warmth and perpetual Summer of home.

Sunday, Oct. 2.

EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Lessons for the Day.- Ezekiel, 20 chapter Morn. Ezekiel, 24 ch. Evening.

Oct. 2, 1187.-Jerusalem taken by Saladin. The Christians of Palestine, ill governed, effeminate, and betrayed by their supposed defender, Count Raymond of Tripoli, were attacked by the wisest, and best sovereign of that age, Saladin, Sultan of Egypt. Jerusalem fell almost without resistance, on the news of a battle at Tiberias, in which its two great orders of knighthood were nearly extinguished, and all the military barons from the west utterly destroyed. Saladin and his infidels treated the conquered with the tenderest humanity.Far otherwise had the soldiers of Godfrey de Bouillon demeaned themselves at the taking of Jerusalem in 1099.

Monday, Oct. 3.

St. Thomas, Bish. and Conf.

Sun rises 15m after 6-Sets 48m after 5. Oct. 3, 1692.-The surrender of Limerick, on the Shannon, in Ireland, on this day, to the forces of King William, put an end to the war in that country.

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Illustrated Article.

THE WHITE LADY; A TALE OF THE HIGHLANDS.

WHOEVER has passed the old military road from the Black Mount to Fort William, will remember the deep secret corrai which opens from the extremity of Kinloch-Leven. Surrounded by lofty precipices, it lies like a vast cauldron in the bosom of the hill. and it is only for two or three hours after noon, that the sun ever shines upon the little stream which murmurs along its bottom. Before the last century, its gloom was deepened by the forest of birch and pine trees which overhung the crags; but, partially covered with short turf and deer's grass, it affords excellent pasture in the summer months. For this and its profound solitude, it was formerly the favourite haunt of the great stags at that season when they retire from the herds into the recesses of the mountains. Their passes were well known to the hunters of Lochabyr, and, at the twilight or full moon, the dark VOL. VIII.

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figure of a deer-stalker might sometimes be seen watching behind the great stone of Cean-glass, or stealing down the deep hollow of Sloch-dubh.

It was on a bright still morning in February, that such a figure appeared, following the bank of the stream which descends from the corrai. Though the sun had risen, the shade was still so deep under the mountain, that the green tartans of the Highlander were scarcely visible as they moved through the blue tint of the dewy heath, and at times he could only be distinguished by the motion of his long white purse and the little snowy speck of the cockade in his bonnet. At length his dark figure reached the gorge of the corrai; and as it passed into the sunshine, the light flashed brightly upon the long Spanish matchlock which he carried on his shoulder, and the dirk, pistols, and broadsword, which kept a continual glitter as he moved. The light now discovered the shaggy limbs of a large deer-greyhound, which followed at his foot, and sometimes stopped to stretch his nose to the wind, or prick his ear

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at the forked thorns which shewed their grey, half-withered points among the cairns.

They had entered the parks which lie along the side of the lake, and were approaching the little peel-tower which then occupied the site of the present house of Kinloch, when suddenly the dog put his nose to the ground, and, raising his ears, tracked the path with increasing speed, till, all at once, he bounded forward, and disappeared in the winding of the ground. The hunter hastily unslung his matchlock, and, springing forward, glanced his keen eye to every bush and hollow from which the game might start.Without, however, seeing any object, he came to the deep chasm where the stream falls over a lofty crag into a deep black pool overhung by birchtrees and aspens; but as he turned the rock which shuts in the ravine, he at once discovered the object which the dog had tracked.

By the edge of the pool stood a tall dark young man, wrapped in his plaid, and leaning on his deer-gun; his mantle was of the coarse thick tartan worn by a simple deer-stalker; but the broad eagle's wing, and tuft of heath in his bonnet, were distinctions which could be worn by none but a duine-uasal of the clan Donnel. As he stood musing on the foaming water, he was roused by the dog, which bounded up the path, and, leaping on his breast, whined, howled, and saluted his cheek with his rough, dewy nose.

The young man received him with the caresses of an old friend, but, immediately looking round, hastened towards his master with the extended hand, and the exclamation, "Failte, mo chalt fein!"-("Welcome, my own fosterbrother!")

The hunter returned his salutation with that mixture of affection and respect with which the inferior foster-brother regarded the superior. After the first words "I fear, Kinloch, that I keep late tryst, since you are thus early abroad to meet me," said the hunter.

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No, Angus," replied the young laird, you are before time; but it is I that am impatient to see you, upon an enterprise which will take all our space to concert. I returned last night from Loch Awe-"

"Loch Awe!" exclaimed the hunter, "and did you see the young lady of Fraoch-Elan ?"

No," replied Mac Donnel; "I had enough to escape the Campbells and

dubh-gaul, without crossing the laird of Mac Naughton, whose right hand is left unchristened to revenge his father's blood on me and mine. I saw red Duncan, however, who has not forgotten that I spared his life at Inverlochie: from him I learned that Beatrice is confined to the island, and that Allan Dubh Mac Allan has sworn by the holy rood that his daughter shall never cross the shore till she submits to give her hand to the Black Knight of Arcdonnel. Mac Lauchlin is unremitting in his endeavours to obtain her favour, but, during his visits to the island, she never leaves her room; at other times she often walks alone upon the narrow beach, and her white figure is seen standing on the little green rock above the water after the twilight has fallen."

"And is there never a bird on the lake would fly over the waves, and whistle a true song from the blue stone?" said Angus.

"I have a grey goshawk' would fly with 'Lord William's!'" replied Kinloch "Argyll is panic-struck by his defeat at Inverlochy, and, expecting nothing less than to see Montrose at Inverara, has summoned all the chieftains who owe him service to bring their vassals to the castle on Saint Valent's day. By the help of Duncan, I have concerted a tryst with Beatrice; and on the evening after her father leaves the island, she will wait on the little cladach under the east rock. We must be on the lake an hour before sunset. Duncan will provide the boat, and I trust to you and your brothers to be in my aid."

"We are as the sword in your belt, and the gun on your shoulder," answered Angus.

As Kinlock was about to reply, his attention was drawn by the low restless growl of the dog, and, glancing down the ravine, he saw one of his men ascending the path with great haste. In a few minutes he reached the fall, and, without replying to the question of his master, delivered a small billet into his hand. As Kinloch glanced on the seal, his cheek became red as the collar of his crimson doublet, and, tearing open the paper, his eyes ran eagerly over the writing; but all at once his face changed deadly pale, and, turning suddenly to the attendant

66

"Cross the larich with all your speed," said he ; warn Eachain Mor, and Donald Ladir and his brothers, to meet at the ferry of Glen Co an hour before sunset; bid them bring their

mail-shirts and two-handed swords, and put balls in their pouches;-I shall wait you at Invercoe."

Angus stood in silent amazement, while Kinloch gave some further brief instructions to his vassal; but as soon as he had left them, Mac Donnel put the letter into the hand of his fosterbrother.

"Alan Mac Alan has discovered the tryst," said he ;-" Ardconnel is at Fraoch-Elan, and the bridal is fixed for to-morrow before vespers in the convent-church of Inishail."

The clansman ran quickly over the fair but trembling lines which had been traced by the unsteady hand of Beatrice. "What will you do?" exclaimed he.

"That I know not yet," replied Kinloch, "but there is not a moment to lose. Alan Dubh has not discovered the assistance of Duncan; and while we wait your brothers, we will take farther counsel with the black clerk of Kilmoray, whose silk gown and gray beard are often better than coat of mail and steel winyard.'

Angus threw his matchlock over his shoulder, and his brother leading the way, they bounded into the ravine, and fording the brook, were lost under the copse-wood which descended to the tower.

The day began to close within the cloister of Inishail. The stained light faded in the narrow casements, and faintly touched the tall pillars and white figures of the tombs around the chancel. One by one the lamps appeared like twinkling stars through the dim and solitary aisle, and the black figures of the monks glided like shadows across the choir, and vanished at their stalls; but not a sound disturbed the profound stillness, except the faint hum of the water, and the slow toll of the vesper-bell, scarce audible within the building.

At length the bell ceased, the light was illuminated about the altar, the dark cowls of the monks appeared motionless in their stalls, and in a few moments, the white figure of the abbot, followed by the procession of friars, entered the aisle and passed towards the choir. The priests were scarce seated, when the faint sound of pipes pealed through the cloisters, and as they gradually advanced, continued moving round the church with the wild thrilling clamour of a war-march.

The music stopped all at once, and,

in the succeeding pause, the heavy measured tramp of feet approached through the cloister, and suddenly the black shadows of an armed crowd entered the aisle. As they passed forward, the flutter of female drapery appeared beyond the dark tartans and blue mail; and the veiled figure of Beatrice, attended by a white train of bride-maidens, moved slowly towards the altar. Supported by their arms, the bride advanced like an inanimate shadow through the crowd of gazing monks and warriors. Her face was wholly covered by the veil of her white plaid, but, as she passed, the quick palpitation of her breath was visible on the mantle, and the hand which held it had the cold lifeless whiteness of death. Except from her place in the procession, she had not been distinguished among the rest of the female figures; for her dress had no other ornament than the simplest of her attendants, and the plaids drawn over their heads, discovered only the features of a few.

As the train approached the altar, the bride became visibly agitated, and once or twice her head moved as if her eyes glanced round for some object of hope or expectation; but there was none to meet them, except the black still figures of the monks; and as she drew her plaid closer to her face her slender fingers trembled like a leaf.

At length the crowd gathered before the altar, and the black knight, who had closed the procession with his own followers, advanced to the rail; but the bride never lifted her eyes, nor offered any reply to the few eager words which he whispered at her cheek. The abbot stepped down to the rail and opened the missal, Alan Mac Alan fixed his stern eye upon the bride, and all at once the deep voices of the monks began the chorus of the service. The bridemaids fell on their knees before the rail, but the bride remained fixed and motionless, till Alan Dubh, taking her hand, signed to her to kneel, and she sank slowly down with the empty passiveness of an infant. The service proceeded without interruption, the care cloath was spread over the kneeling couple, the ring was placed on the finger of the bride, and the abbot was about to speak the final benediction, when several armed men rushed into the church, and, regardless of the sacred service, cried the alarm-cry of the Mac Naughtons, and, forcing their way towards the chiefs,