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some warmth, “they were as brave troops as ever took the field.” To an inquiry how he liked Niagara, he replied that it was a fine river and a noble cataract; but in his opinion the Oronoco was fully equal to it. This old soldier had been in the service upwards of twenty years, visiting in that time South America, the West Indies, and Canada. At length becoming tired of arduous campaigns and poor pay, he has retired to his native Highland glen, to pass the remnant of his days in penury. On the following morning, we walked over the town, for the purpose of looking at its public buildings, and whatever else is worthy of attention. It has a population of ten or twelve thousand, and is the capital of the northern Highlands. Some of its streets are spacious and handsome. The Hospital, the Academy, the Assembly Rooms, for the accommodation of the northern gentry, at their annual meetings; and the court-house and gaol, under the same roof, are among the most stately edifices. In the lofty steeple of the latter, near its top, a horizontal fissure is still seen, which was cleft by a severe shock of an earthquake, in August, 1816. "The spire was entirely broken off, and turned partly round, giving it a disjointed appearance. Several earthquakes were experienced about the same time; and by the one above referred to, the people were so alarmed as to remain whole days and nights in the open fields. The river Ness, which flows through the town with a broad and rapid current, contributes much to its beauty and cleanliness although the water is not of sufficient depth, to form a good port, or for purposes of navigation. Ships of 500 tons burden come up within a mile of the town, and those of a smaller class much nearer. A considerable trade is carried on with Edinburgh, London, and other places. Two bridges have been thrown across the river, one of which is a handsome stone structure, supported by half a dozen arches. On an eminence near one end of it, formerly stood an old castle, which is said to have been the scene of the murder of Duncan by Macbeth. Every vestige of it has been obliterated, and its claim to the consecration of Shakspeare's muse is questionable. Historians as well as the bard merely state, that Duncan was murdered at Inverness, without fixing precisely the locus in quo. It is certain that the heath, where Macbeth and Banquo met the weird sisters,

was near Fores, or Moray Firth, some distance to the east of Inverness.” Besides its connexion with this drama, Inverness possesses many interesting associations. It lays claim to great antiquity, and as early as the sixth century was the capital of the Pictish kingdom. In the year 1067, it was constituted a royal burgh; and its wealth several times subjected it to the capture and plunder of the Lords of the Isles. In after times, it fell into the hands of Cromwell, who demolished its ecclesiastical edifices and converted the materials into fortresses. During the last rebellion, it became the camp and head quarters of Prince Charles; but since that turbulent period, it has enjoyed an undisturbed quiet, and an unusual measure of prosperity. Having completed a survey of the town, and the day being remarkably fine, we mounted ponies, and set out on an excursion to the Field of Culloden, distant five or six miles in a south-easterly direction. The environs of Inverness on all sides are picturesque, presenting pretty combinations of mountains, woods, and waters. Our route led us at first along the shores of Moray Firth, and thence through crossroads by Culloden House, the seat of Mr. Forbes, heir to the estates, but not to the talents, of the late President of the Court of Sessions, whose bust was seen in the Parliament House at Edinburgh. The mansion is charmingly situated, and the grounds are laid out with much taste. *The incidents on which the tragedy of Macbeth is founded, are thus related in Holinshed's Chronicle: “It fortuned as Macbeth and Banquo journied towards Fores, where the King (Duncan) then lay, they went sporting by the way together without other company, save only themselves, passing through the woods and fields, when suddenly in the midst of a laund, there met them three women in strange and wild apparel, resembling creatures of elder world, whom, when they attentively beheld, wondering much at the sight, the first of them spake and said, “All hail, Macbeth, thane of Glamis,” (for he had lately entered into that dignity and office by the death of his father Smel.) The second of them said, “Hail, Macbeth, thane of Cawdor.” But the third said, “All hail, Macbeth, that hereafter shall be King of Scotland,” Then Banquo, “what manner of women,” saith he, “are you, that seem so little favourable unto me, whereas to my fellow here, besides high offices, ye also assign the kingdom, appointing forth nothing for me at all?’ ‘Yes,’ saith the first of them, “we promise greater benefits unto thee, than unto him; for he shall reign indeed, but with an unlucky end: neither shall he leave any issue behind him to succeed in his place; where contrarily, thou indeed shalt not reign at all, but of thee those shall be born, which shall govern the Scottish kingdom by long order of continual descent. Herewith the aforesaid women vanished immediately out of their sight.”

A mile beyond this place, and after passing through a grove of pines, we reached the celebrated Field of Culloden, where on the 16th of April, 1749, expired the last hopes of the Stuarts. Every reader will recollect the poetical description of this battle by Campbell, which in my opinion is one of the sublimest compositions in the English language, and would of itself be sufficient to immortalize his muse. The infamous Duke of Cumberland# was at the head of the English army, and Prince Charles commanded the Highlanders in person, or rather pretended to command them; for although said to be a gallant man, he behaved in a most inglorious manner on this occasion, concealing himself in the garb of a peasant, and lingering in the corps de reserve, instead of bringing his brave countrymen to the onset. His conduct is ascribed to a full conviction of defeat, and the failure of his cause.

A wilder and more romantic arena for an engagement of this kind cannot be well imagined; although Marshal M’Donald, who paid it a visit a few months since, condemned it in a military point of view, and thought the Scotch mad to risk a decisive action on such ground. The scene of the battle is an extensive fell or moor, commanding a full view of the distant mountains, Moray Firth, and the ocean, being elevated more than a thousand feet above the latter. It is covered with brown heath, above the level surface of which a few turf cottages now rise, but have probably been constructed since the sanguinary and fatal conflict. The Duke of Cumberland approached from the east; and as the field inclines gently towards the west, he enjoyed a decided superiority in point of position. But an adventitious circumstance gave him a still more important advantage. A high wind, accompanied with rain, blew from the east, directly in the faces of the Highlanders, and often prevented them from seeing their antagonists. The armies met about midway in the field, when a tremendous contest took place, and heaps of carnage strewed the ground. Trenches were opened, and thousands were buried upon the spot. Their graves are now only distinguishable by being covered with a smooth green sod, forming little patches of verdure on the desert heath. Here fell the flower of the Highland Clans, whose valour deserved a more gallant leader and a better fate. The event of this battle had a more important influence than any other cause in breaking down the chivalrous and heroic spirit of a brave people:

*The ravages and atrocities of this monster after the battle of Culloden, are thus detailed in Smollet's History of England:—“In the month of May, the Duke of Cumberland advanced with the army into the Highlands, as far as Fort Augustus, where he encamped, and sent off detachments on all hands, to hunt down the fugitives, and lay waste the country with fire and sword. The castles of Glengary and Lochiel were plundered and burned: every house, hut, or habitation, met with the same fate, without distinction: all the cattle and provision were carried off: the men were either shot upon the mountains, like wild beasts, or put to death in cold blood, without form of trial : the women, after having seen their husbands and fathers murdered, were subjected to brutal violation, and then turned out naked with their children, to starve on the barren heaths. One whole family was enclosed in a barn, and consumed to ashes. Those ministers of vengeance were so alert in the execution of their office, that in a few days there was neither house, cot

tage, man, nor beast, to be seen in the compass of fifty miles: all was ruin, silence, and desolation.”

“Land of proud hearts and mountains grey,
Where Fingal fought and Ossian sung !
Mourn dark Culloden's fatal day,
That from thy chiefs the laurel wrung.
Shades of the mighty and the brave,
Who, faithful to your Stuart, fell;
No trophies mark your common grave,
Nor dirges to your mem'ry swell!”

Following the example of others, we sent the guide from house to house for a spade, and dug over some of the tumuli, which had already been opened in search of relics. Several interesting memorials of the place were obtained. Nearly two hours were passed upon the field, and even then it it was left with a lingering regret. We visited two or three of the huts, whose tenants could neither speak nor understand a word of English. They are miserable abodes, rudely furnished, and but little superior in any respect to the wigwams of the aborigines of our country. Marshal M’Donald succeeded in finding an old woman in one of these cabins, who was at the age of twenty, in the year 1746, and who witnessed the battle of Culloden. She imparted to him a great many minute facts, relative to the incidents of the day. An ignorance of the Gaelic language rendered our inquiries less successful.

One of the most conspicuous objects to be seen from the Field of Culloden is Fort George, at the distance of four or five miles on the Firth of Moray. It is built on a peninsula, which stretches more than halfway towards the opposite shore, and completely commands this great pass from the sea to the

northern Highlands. The fortress was begun the year after the battle of Culloden, and cost 160,000l. It covers nine acres, mounts 80 pieces of cannon, and has accommodation for a garrison of 3000 men. The ramparts appear to rise out of the sea. It is said to be the most perfect work of the kind in Great Britain, and some degree of curiosity was felt to give its construction a nearer examination. But our last day at Inverness was now fast declining, and as the time for our return towards the south had been fixed to an early hour on the following morning, we were compelled to hasten home and make preparations for our departure.



October, 1825.--The servant awoke us at 5 o'clock, on the morning of the 4th, giving an hour to prepare for our journey, and to walk a mile to the steam-boat. We were abroad before the dawn of day, while the stars were yet forth, and the moon hung her crescent in the west. So far as our meteorological observations of a few days extended, Invermess enjoys an elysian climate. In a latitude reaching so near to the polar regions, being between the parallels of 57 and 58, ten degrees farther north than Quebec, fears were entertained that at this season the hills would be lashed by autumnal storms. But so far from encountering any inclemencies of weather, balmy gales breathed around us, and a genial sun preserved the verdure of the fields and woods in all the freshness of summer. The air during our visit of two or three days possessed a delicious softness, which I have never experienced elsewhere, not even excepting the finest ortion of our Indian summer ; nor those serene skies which sometimes brighten the banks of the Potomac. The morning of this day was a continuation of the same mild seaa on ; but the sequel proved, that if a clear and calm atmos

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