the mind of Bethune, when we remember that on the scanty proceeds of his own and his brother's earnings, as day-labourers, depended the support of two aged parents. We find, him, however, amid all this suffering and poverty, diligently devoting his leisure hours to the cultivation of his taste for literary pursuits; and besides contributing several tales and other pieces to the periodicals of the day, in the year 1836 he had finished the Tales and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry,' a work which has been justly admired for the light which it throws on the character of the Scottish peasant, and the author's general knowledge of human nature. With the manuscript of the 'Tales' in his pocket, he visited Edinburgh, where he was accidentally introduced to the notice of a young man then engaged as reader in one of the printing-offices in that city, to whom he was afterwards much indebted for the critical knowledge and advice which he gave as to the publication of the work. This friend, besides revising the manuscript, and affording him all the information which his talents and experience so well qualified him to give, was the means of inducing Mr Shortrede, then a printer in Edinburgh, to undertake the risk of the publication. The terms agreed on were, that Bethune should receive fifty copies in boards for the entire copyright of the work. This may be thought by many to have been a very paltry remuneration, and so to the author it certainly was; but when the risk attending the publication of such works is remembered, and that the whole expense devolved on the printer, the conditions are not to be wondered at. With these terms, at all events, the author was perfectly satisfied.

Previous to the publication of the Tales and Sketches,' John Bethune obtained the situation of overseer on the estate of Incbrye, and in the prospect of somewhat bettering his condition, Alexander accompanied him as assistant. This was regarded by both as a great improvement in their circumstances, but in the course of the first year after entering on their new duties, the lands passed into the hands of a new proprietor, notice was given that their services would not be required beyond the year, and that they would have to quit the house at Lochend, which formed part of the Inchrye property. To leave the home which they had inhabited from boyhood, must have been to the Bethunes exceedingly trying; but the honourable independence of their character was not to be overcome, and with that noble perseverance which ever characterised these two brothers amid all the difficulties with which through life they had to struggle, they came to the resolution of feuing a piece of ground on which to rear a dwelling-house which they could call their own. While the Tales and Sketches' were in course of publication, Bethune, finding that fictitious composition was not likely to prove a lucrative employment, commenced, with the assistance of his brother, writing a series of lectures on practical economy. These they purposed to deliver personally, but on reflection the idea was abandoned. We find him writing to the friend formerly alluded to in the following terms:

'With respect to the Lectures themselves, there are some parts of them which you will perhaps deem ultra, and others uncalled for; and yet we have adverted to nothing the tendency of which did not appear to us evidently bad. The station which we occupy, however, must have given us a view of some subjects rather different from that which has been presented to you; and this being the case, we cannot expect you to coincide in all our opinions, though with some of them I feel moderately certain that you will agree.

if

'As to the disposing of the manuscript, should it not answer the firm of Mr Shortrede, which is highly probable, you would show it to any other publishers in whose line of business it may more immediately lie, and try to collect their opinions as to what they would be willing to give, you would confer a very great favour on its authors. As we do not wish to dispose of the absolute copyright, we would prefer an offer for one or two editions, consisting of a limited number of copies. Offers, however, might be

made both ways, if publishers were so inclined. And if an agreement could be made at an early period, it would be of considerable importance to us on the following account. My father and mother, through the caprice of an individual who has lately purchased the estate on which they live, must remove at the first term from the house which they have occupied for the last twenty-four years. They are now very infirm, and unable to bear the fatigue of either far or frequent removals, to save them from which, we have feued a small piece of ground near Newburgh, and are now busy making preparations for building a house for them. To accomplish this, we must perform at least one half of the mason and nearly the whole of the wright work ourselves; and even then, as materials at the cheapest are expensive, we shall hardly be able to finish it. Several circumstances have contributed to make our joint savings smaller than otherwise they would have been. Some serious accidents, by which I was incapacited for work for a length of time-some attempts, perhaps foolish ones, to relieve the necessities of others, and the very trifling rewards for labour in this part of the country, often not more than 7s. or 7s. 6d.-these, with the responsibility of providing for two aged individuals, for the last eight or ten years, have all been against us in the way of saving money. And though we have nearly enough for the outside work of our proposed erection-that is to say, though we can make it habitable-unless an additional sum can be procured, we cannot finish it within; and as this can never be done so conveniently afterwards, if anything could be made of the Lectures, it would be most acceptable at the present juncture.'

On Mr Shortrede being made acquainted with the circumstances in which the Bethunes were placed, he at once agreed, in place of fifty copies of the ' Tales and Sketches,' to give the price of the first fifty sold; and while the work was in progress, he kindly remitted £5, to assist in the rearing of their dwelling, which, in the words of Mr M'Combie, 'notwithstanding the little assistance they were able to obtain from tradesmen, the building and fittings-up are substantial and workmanlike; and this house, with its many interesting and many melancholy associations, will, it is to be hoped, remain for ages not the least impressive monument of their indomitable energy and skill.'

In 1838, the Tales and Sketches were published. These at once stamped the author as a person of no ordinary description. The truthful delineations of character, and the strong moral feeling which pervades the work, speedily attracted the notice of the public; but while reviewers were awarding to Bethune that justice which his talents demanded, and which under ordinary circumstances must have been highly gratifying to any one, and particularly to an individual who had been so long struggling with adversity, we find him writing to the friend who had been the first to acquaint him with the success which the work had met with, in the following terms:

'I hasten to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, which came by post; and also that of the parcel which it announced. The first I received one day after date, and the last this afternoon; and if they do not 'rejoice my heart,' it is because at present it cannot rejoice. Eight days ago, and they would have made me happier than any other earthly thing; but within this short period I have seen my father sicken; I have watched his bed, I may say, night and day; I have seen every remedy which medical skill could devise prove fruitless; I have seen his lifeless clay; and I am but now returned from consigning his remains to the dust. Thus the deepest sorrows of men, and what would otherwise be their greatest pleasures, are sometimes strangely blended. The scenes which I have thus so recently seen, the part I have acted in them, and the impression which they have left on my spirits will, Í hope, be some excuse if at present I cannot thank you as I would wish to do, for all your kindness, and all your exertions in my behalf. Do not suppose however that I am insensible to the extent of my obligation-I feel it; and after having read your most friendly letter, the re

views, &c. I had for a moment half forgotten my late bereavement, but a sad recollection was at hand-namely, that one parent for whom I had toiled, and thought, and written, could never more be benefited by toil, or thought, or writing of mine.'

Various offers were now made to Bethune to become a contributor to the periodicals of the day, and numerous were the inquiries to learn something of his history and personal appearance. In answer to one of these inquiries he returned the following characteristic answer :

'For a man to deal largely in his own biography is, I fear, a sad way of fishing for fame-little better than fishing with a cable; and ten to one but the fish sees the line and flies from the bait. There is, besides, but little in my history worth noticing. Of privations I have had my share; but who cares for these things? Nevertheless, I must give you such notices of my life as will satisfy your self and friends. I owe you this and a thousand times more, but must defer it for the present. And, in the meantime, though I can perceive that you are only jesting when you put certain questions concerning the author of the Tales and Sketches' in the mouths of certain individuals, you may tell the romantic damoselle, if ever she should call again-or rather, I may tell you in case she should not-that, so far as I know, he is in his thirty-first or thirty-second year-too old by at least a dozen years to be at all interesting. You may also tell the maiden of a certain age, that, though unmarried, he lately wore a coat that was out at the elbows! tell her this, and she will ask no more. For other inquirers, you may tell them that he is about five feet ten inches high, and, so far as I can judge, of such proportions as other men; that the hair on his forehead, from that part of his upper story having been partially unroofed, is thin; that though both his eyes are still in their sockets, only one is serviceable; that his dinner in winter, year after year, was wont to be a little bannock of barley-meal with such a quantity of snow as would serve to moisten it, that is, when the last mentioned article of diet could be found, and when it could not, it frequently cost him a journey to the nearest burn to supply its place with water. I might tell you a good deal more about the habits, appearance, &c. of my acquaintance, but must desist; and if these notices, notwithstanding their length, should still seem unsatisfactory, I will try to pack him up, some time or other, and send him over to Edinburgh for your inspection.'

In 1839, the 'Lectures on Practical Economy,' the joint production of Bethune and his brother, were published, and notwithstanding the very sanguine anticipations which were entertained as to the probable success of the work, by those well qualified to judge, it proved the reverse of a fortunate speculation. Shortly after the publication of these, Bethune's brother died, and in the course of the following year this event was followed by the death of his mother. These bereavements, particularly the death of his brother, pressed so deeply on the sensitive mind of Alexander, as to shed a gloom on the whole of his future history. His diary, and the letters which he wrote to his friends on this occasion, form a most interesting portion of the Memoirs, but our limits will not permit of extract. At the request of many friends, Bethune was induced to undertake the revision of the poems left by his brother. From the unfinished state in which many of them were left, this was no easy task for one who was compelled day after day to undergo the fatigues of an out-door labourer. To the duty, however, he commenced with his usual energy, and almost immediately upon the appearance of the volume, the whole edition, consisting of 700 copies, was disposed of; but from the limited number of copies, and the delay which took place before a second edition was got ready, Bethune reaped very little pecuniary advantages from the publication of the poems. A copy of the work having fallen into the hands of Mrs Hill, the lady of Frederick Hill, Esq., inspector of prisons, she was so much struck with the ability which it displayed, that she at once wrote Bethune, offering to use her influence to procure him a

situation in some way connected with the prisons; and as it was necessary that he should attend for some time in the bridewell of Glasgow, without salary, previous to being qualified for an appointment, Mrs Hill generously offered to defray his travelling and other expenses during this period. In answer to the letter acquainting Bethune with this, and requesting to know what particular department he was best qualified to superintend, we find him writing in the following terms:

'While I would thank you and Mr Hill for your generosity in offering to bear my expenses, I would humbly beg to say that I should consider myself bound to bear these myself. They would not amount to any very great sum; for my habits are still almost as unexpensive, and my wants almost as few, as when I was a boy. As an evidence of this, I may be allowed to say, that a pound of oatmeal made into porridge, and a pennyworth of milk, serves me regularly for both breakfast and supper; my dinner is even still less expensive; and beyond a draught of cold water, I never required any intermediate meals. In short, my ordinary fare has seldom cost more than the cheaper kinds of what is called prison diet. After having seen the working of the system,' if I thought the duties were such as I could perform, I should then be ready thankfully to accept of a temporary appointment to some subordinate situation; and if I could succeed in performing the duties of that situation in a more creditable way than they had been performed by others, I would naturally expect to be advanced. But, on the other hand, if I had good reason for suspecting that my own experience and abilities were not such as to qualify me for the task, I would certainly be doing wrong were I to allow any prospect of pecuniary advantage, or even the overweening kindness of a patron, to weigh with me in accepting a situation where I could not ultimately give satisfaction to my employers. These are simply and briefly my views of the matter; and I hope you will pardon the abrupt manner in which circumstances have at present compelled me to state them.

Though a natural propensity for trying everything which came in the way, and a somewhat checkered fortune, have contributed to make me partially acquainted with various kinds of work, I fear there are only a few, and these the least available, which I could superintend.' With the blasting of rock, stone-breaking, hedging, ditching, the forming of roads, wood-cutting and pruning, sawyers'-work, and gardening, I have been familiar since boyhood. At some of these occupations, I have occasionally directed the operations of twenty men-without, however, receiving a farthing more for my trouble than the least responsible labourer of the gang-and I do not think I should find much difficulty in superintending any to a considerable extent; but they could be of no service in the case under consideration. When I was a boy, with the odd halfpence which children usually spend at fairs and in toy shops, I bought wrights' tools, with which I made chairs and tables; and of these, that upon which I now sit, and at which I now write, are specimens. To oblige, and at the same time save the money of some poor neighbours, I was also in the habit of working during my leisure hours as a cooper; and there is not at present a single wooden vessel in the house, which I have not at some time or other repaired. From having devoted a portion of my spare time to mending shoes, I had once some little fame as a cobbler; I never indeed attempted to make new ones, but, with a little attention, I could have repaired the old almost as well as most shoemakers. After I came to be engaged in the quarries, when the smith chanced to be from home, I sometimes endeavoured to supply his place by sharpening the quarry tools myself; and at this branch of the business I had acquired a tolerable proficiency. By far the greater part of both the mason and wright work of the house in which I now live was performed by myself and my poor brother. We succeeded, however, more by patient and unwearied perseverance, than by that despatch which should characterise a good tradesman; and it would be utter folly in me to

overcome.

'Of music, when supplied by others, I was always fond; but I could never either sing or play upon any instrument myself. Perhaps my ignorance of these accomplishments may be partly attributable to the circumstance of having had so much of what some one has called, 'sterner work to do.' I was wont, moreover, to consider music as a mere amusement, and, when carried to excess by those who had to earn their bread with the sweat of their brow, as a sort of dissipation of time; and, as I always wished to be engaged in something useful, I never thought of following after it. To drawing I can advance no claim. I beg to enclose for your inspection the only trial I ever made in my life. As you may see by comparing it with the frontispiece to my brother's poems, it is an attempt to take a sketch of that group of old houses in one of which my best and happiest years were spent. I had no teacher or assistant. I soon found that I wanted that accuracy, and delicacy of touch which would have been necessary to finish a picture upon which a lithographer could proceed, and after working upon it for half an hour, I gave it up in despair. I should say, however, that I have drawn plans of fields, plantations, and roads, upon a given scale, with no other instruments for taking angles, &c. than such as I had constructed myself. My life throughout has been a busy one; and, with respect to getting forward in the world, the result holds out but small inducement to others to follow my example. Yet it was not in my nature to be idle. With me, to be employed upon some new undertaking, and to find that I could succeed in it, was frequently to be as happy as mortals need ever expect to be in the midst of what has emphatically been called 'a vale of tears!' and perhaps if I had got less to do, I should only have had more time to muse on those melancholy subjects of which enow have been in my way."

In March, 1811, Bethune set out for Glasgow, for the purpose of being initiated into the duties of his new office; but we can easily suppose the disappointment he felt on being placed in the situation of a common turnkey. Notwithstanding that every kindness was shown to him by the governor of the prison, his health, at no time robust, immediately gave way under the confinement attendant on his official duties, and within a week he returned to his solitary home in Newburgh. His benevolent benefactress, there is good reason for believing, never intended that he should be limited to such a sphere; and it is more than probable that Bethune's modesty operated considerably in the matter, in so far as he wrote that he did not wish the application to be made for one who had any qualifications above the average rate of a common labourer. We may eage the eagle and feed him on the most sumptuous fare, nevertheless he will soon pine and die; while, bad he been allowed to soar over our native hills, enjoying the pure air of heaven, with only a precarious subsistence, he might have outlived a generation. So with Bethune. While we regret that he should not have been provided for in some way more congenial to his merits and dispositions, we are ready to confess that we would rather have beheld him, for a shilling a-day, labouring from morn to night in a ditch, than found him a turnkey in a prison with ten times the amount of remu

neration. The letters which passed on this subject are of a highly interesting character. Mrs Hill showed her anxiety still to procure for Bethune a situation as teacher in some of the prisons, and this seems to have been congenial to his views; but from unavoidable causes the appointment never took place.

Shortly after this point in his history, a second edition of the Life and Poems of John Bethune was published in Bristol, and this having come under the notice of two ladies connected with that body who really are what their name imports, the Society of Friends, they used every means to further the interests of Bethune. Their first letter enclosed a post-office order for three pounds; a gift which, as on several similar occasions, and with all respect for the kindness of the motives which prompted it, he declined to accept. These ladies ever afterwards took a deep interest in his welfare, and materially aided the sale of his publications.

Bethune's acquaintance with the editor of his Memoirs commenced in 1841, and arose from a desire on the part of Mr M'Combie, after having read some of his works, to know something of the history of one for whom he had been led to form a very high opinion. The correspondence between two such kindred spirits resulted in Bethune setting out in 1842 on a visit to this friend, who resides in Aberdeenshire; upwards of fifty miles of which journey he performed on foot. The same year Bethune visited Edinburgh, and entered into arrangements with the Messrs Black as to the publication of the Scottish Peasant's Fireside,' which appeared early in the following year; but previous to this the author was seized with fever, from which he never thoroughly recovered, the disease merging into pulmonary consumption. During his partial recovery, an offer was made to him to undertake the editorship of the Dumfries Standard, a newspaper then about to be started; but after conditionally accepting of the situation, should his health permit, he felt himself under the necessity of almost immediately after abandoning all hope of ever being able to enter on the duties of editor. He had removed to Kennoway, a village distant about sixteen miles from Newburgh, for the change of air; but all proved unavailing; and he returned to that home which was endeared to him from having been the abode of a father, mother, and brother, whom it had been his aim through life to render comfortable and happy; and here, too, the last of that household, he calmly resigned his spirit to the God who gave it, on the 13th June, 1843.

We have already expressed the extreme interest with which we have perused the Memoirs of Bethune. From these being chiefly in the form of letters, a more thorough knowledge of the character of one so well entitled to admiration is obtained than can be imparted by any attempt to relate his history. To the attention of all, but particularly our youthful readers, we would again take leave earnestly to recommend the work.

TOM RESTON'S REVENGE. THE ancient family of Burleigh had their family residence near the town of Kinross. The remains of the castle still form a fine and venerable ruin, the appearance of which is rendered still more picturesque by a few aged oak trees which grow around it. It stands within a small distance of Lochleven, and, from the upper windows of the ruin, that fine sheet of water stretches out in full prospect and appears quite at the door. The traveller on his way to the north of Scotland may view this old castle, which is situated to the right, a little after leaving Kinross. Its last inhabitant or proprietor was attainted at the conclusion of the Rebellion of 1715, and any attempts to have the title restored have as yet proved unsuccessful. This individual was named Robert Balfour, and had a strange history. In the traditional records of that district, in which lay his patrimonial territory, he is represented as having possessed when a boy an exquisite bodily shape and a beauty of countenance strictly feminine. He had two sisters younger than himself, Margaret and

Mary, but no brothers, and was of course styled from his boyhood the Master of Burleigh. His sister Mary was a very beautiful girl, and so exceedingly like her brother, that, when children, they used, by exchanging clothes, to impose on their nearest relatives; and the inhabitants of the district, when they went abroad so habited, were not unfrequently deceived. Robert, however, was, though a lovely, a wayward, passionate, and most vindictive child. Both he and his sisters had, it must be confessed, a sorry upbringing. Lady Burleigh, the mother, a daughter of the Earl of Melville, was, after the death of her third child, reduced to such a lamentable state of physical and mental debility, as to require the almost constant attendance of a sicknurse herself. The father, Lord Burleigh, though an active soldier in his youth, had evinced for the last twelve years, and indeed from the time he succeeded his celebrated father on the estate, an eccentricity which bordered on madness. Like Lord Holland, the father of the famous statesman Charles Fox, it was his favourite maxim that children when quite young should scarcely be contradicted, but have all things their own way; and as, from some unaccountable reason, he never invited to the castle a single relative, either of his own family or his wife's, the three Balfours, Robert, Margaret, and Mary, grew up in years and stature under the influence merely of their own sportive humours; and happy children on the whole they were, notwithstanding the sad turn that the master's gusts of passion too frequently gave to things. The scenery around the castle is very fine, and the building itself, surrounded in those days by a large verdant park studded with immense oak trees, had a very imposing appearance. In this park the children of the neighbourhood had Lord Burleigh's permission during summer to engage, for two nights in the week, in whatever sport they chose; and on a fine evening it was no uncommon sight to see the little urchins trooping in scores beneath the huge branches of the ancestral trees, and his own children joining with them in their favourite games.

His ec

All this while the Baron of Burleigh himself saw no company. His establishment consisted merely of two female servants; a footboy, who was for the most part employed in running messages; and an old man, a species of Caleb Balderstone, who looked after the poultry, and on stated occasions stood behind the baron's chair while he and his family were dining. The task of educating the children, Lord Burleigh took upon himself, admitting only as an occasional assistant the woman who attended his lady as nurse. Many were the speculations afloat in the neighbourhood, and indeed all Scotland over (for the baron had an extensive list of acquaintances), in reference to this unaccountable mode of acting on his lordship's part. It was so unlike anything that his conduct previous to succeeding his father could have led the public to expect, that it was generally set down to the score of lunacy. A few only guessed the real cause. centricity was mere pretence. He succeeded his father, and found the estate dreadfully burdened with obligations which had never been dreamed of. The fortune he got by his marriage was much smaller than he anticipated. Proud, haughty, and determined, he would not submit to the degradation of revealing to his friends or the world how matters stood; so he resolved, in order to recover himself and save money, to mad Tom it a little: and certainly he acted his part to admiration. He scarcely met a peasant child but he stroked the urchin's head and gave him a small piece of coin. He was bountiful to the poor of his own immediate district. He encouraged his children to visit cottages, and gain universal goodwill by their hilarity and condescension. He held up to positive ridicule the fopperies and vanities of the genteel families around, thus making it appear that his not associating with his equals was the consequence not of necessity but of choice. He walked about and conversed with the humblest peasant that came in his way with a freedom and frankness that gained him their decided attachment; he even occasionally aided his own labourers in pruning

hedges, repairing dykes, and making drains. He paid his accounts promptly and ungrudgingly, so that few suspected how matters stood; he was, in short, at once praised and pitied, styled the poor man's friend and the really good nobleman besides, but something had occurred to touch his intellect; nevertheless, he had not his equal in Fifeshire, nor Clackmannan to boot. For a considerable number of years matters went on in a style somewhat similar to what we have described; his lordship never seeing company, and associating with merely his own children and the peasants around; at length an arrival was announced: it was a sister of his father's who resided in the south of Scotland. His lordship at first was not for seeing her, but she insisted, and so brought him round at the very first interview that his own children were surprised at the change. She had, as it afterwards turned out, discovered in his writing desk a large unpaid bill due by her late husband to the father of the baron, and her object in coming to the castle was to have it paid out of her own fortune, which was considerable. What the sum was we cannot say, but it operated miraculously on Lord Burleigh. He pretended to have all at once recovered his senses, sent for workmen to put matters about the castle to rights, got from Edinburgh a governess to take charge of his daughters, and though he still kept out of society, yet he was in the main an altered man. The master was now turned of eleven, a fine, elegant, ladylooking boy. He would not hear of a tutor when the thing was one evening proposed to him by his aunt-nay, he stamped and stormed like a maniac, and, drawing out a claspknife, threatened he would stab the person brought for such a purpose on the reading of the first lesson.

And how, my pretty gentleman, are you to get on with your learning?' inquired the aunt.

'Oh, hae nae care about that, auntie Kate; I'm gaun to Kimmerwood School on Munaday morning, where Bob Purdie and Tam Purvis baith gangs. The master's grand at the Latin and Greek, and faither can learn me French at by-hours.'

The aunt laughed outright at the simplicity and earnestness of her spoiled nephew, and Lord Burleigh chancing to come in at the very moment, it was agreed to let him have his own way for once, as no doubt a few weeks would prove sufficient to effect a cure, the master being but an indifferent walker, and the school in question nearly three miles from the castle of Burleigh. On the following Monday young Balfour accordingly set out for Kimmerwood with a satchel on his back and half-a-crown in his pocket to pay his school fees. The schoolmaster started when, a short while after lessons had begun, the vision of a young nobleman in laced jacket and cambric ruffles presented itself without the ceremony of tapping. He was still more astonished when, tendering his halfcrown, the Master of Burleigh expressed his determination to become a regular pupil.

'And what do you intend to learn?' asked the halfbewildered teacher.

'Oh, you're to teach me Latin and Greek, and papa is to put me up to the French at by-hours; so where am I to sit?'

The rustic scholars, as the master looked about, made no little stir. 'Come here, Lord Bobbie,' for so he was familiarly styled all the country over; and here,' ' and here,' whispered the half laughing, half trembling urchins, for they saw, by a cloud on the pedagogue's brow, that they had gone too far.

'Silence!' thundered the indignant tawse-wielder, and the incipient commotion was allayed. Here, my little master, take this seat near to myself, it will be most convenient for the acquisition of your Latin task.

Na, heth!' said the impracticable scion of nobility, I'm gaen to hae a seat between Ned Douglas and Joe Frame; we ken ither fu' weel.'

A universal shout of laughter, in which the teacher himself affected to join, accompanied this natural burst ; and a minute after, the boys towed himself away between the two worthies aforesaid; the first being the sexton