almost impassable, and in many instances woods and corn-fields were preferred. The British public have heard enough of mud roads in the Crimea to know something of the effects of such an impediment. The army was, however, destined to meet greater and insurmountable obstacles to their advance. Having arrived on the banks of the Senischal, a reconnaissance was made, and as the Russians had retired and taken up position at Mehranie, the general informed the troops that they should fight the enemy on the morrow-a notification which was received with a host of deafening Inshallahs.' The gallant old general and his brave band were doomed to learn that while

duties are ours, events are God's. Large drops of rain, and a heavy lowering sky, followed the loud Inshallahs, and but too soon a perfect deluge came on.

Every ditch was swollen, and the whole country was intersected by deep streams quite unfordable for infantry. A great part of it was absolutely under water. Some idea of the rapidity with which these floods had risen, may be formed from the fact that the stream which separated our tent from Omer Pacha's, and which the day before had scarcely reached up to the horse's knees, was now quite unfordable either for man or beast.

The whole plain upon which the camp was pitched, was absolutely under water; the floors of the tents were flooded, in spite of futile efforts at trenching. The author was called to witness a scene in the tent of Omer Bey. On his arrival, he found a duck swimming about, and gobbling up bits of floating biscuit. The army was running short of provisions, and Mr. Oliphant was besides suffering from fever and ague.

In this hopeless state of affairs, with the rivers in front impassable, food running short, and the streams in the rear rising, and already cutting off communication with the depôts at Ziewie, the order for retreat was reluctantly given on the 8th December. It was felt the more bitterly from the fact, that had the army been enabled to cross the Senischal, they were not only in sufficient force to have beaten the Russians, but they would also have had direct water communications

for their stores lying at Redoute Kaleh. Had the Land Transport Corps only been sufficient, they would have reached the river a week sooner, when its passage would not have been difficult, and Kutais would have been an easily won prize. To add to their mortification, the fall of Kars tolled sadly on their ears, and to increase their difficulties, the people of the country-either from fear of the Russians or from innate ill-will to the Turk-harassed them in their retreat.

The campaign being over, no further object existing for the author continuing with the army, and his health being bad, he took leave of his friend Colonel Ballard, and gradually found his way to Redoute Kaleh, where a strong westerly wind kept him for many days a prisoner, as the harbour is so unprotected that vessels must go to sea, or seek shelter in Batoum ; from which fact, Mr. Oliphant partly infers that there is an insuperable objection to this port being used as a landing-place for an army. While remaining wind-bound, Omer Pacha and his staff arrived, and also all the English officers who had shared the toils of the expedition, and were now bent upon quitting the dismal scene.' Colonel Ballard was the only one who remained with Omer Pacha.

The last chapter contains, in conjunction with an Appendix, the author's views of the various advantages to be derived from carrying the war into these parts, as the most vulnerable points whereon to assail Russia. Peace will no doubt take away much from the interest the public will feel in Mr. Oliphant's book, but this latter part may, if the accursed tocsin of war should sound again, be referred to with advantage, for it contains information worthy of consideration, in connexion with any future dispute between the Muscovite ruler and the Western Powers. In the work we have been reviewing, Mr. Oliphant keeps up the same easy, happy style, which has already made him a favourite with the reading public, and we hope that in good time he will afford us another opportunity of giving him a welcome.

H. A. M.

Woodhouselee-were authors and men of letters; the intercourse between educated men of all professions was social, agreeable, and well-conditioned, and the closing of the Continent by war had induced several English and some Irish families of small means to choose Edinburgh as a place of residence for themselves, and_of education for their families. The genius of Scott and of Jeffrey had also made the Scotch capital the abode of the most popular poetry, and, from October, 1802, the period of the publication of the Edinburgh Review, of the most brilliant criticism. The Memorials therefore possess a general interest.

Henry Cockburn, the author of them, was born on the 26th October, 1779, either in the flats to the east side of the Parliament-close, or at Cockpen, a small estate eight miles south of Edinburgh, then possessed by his father, though subsequently sold to the Earl of Dalhousie. His father, at the period of his birth, was sheriff of the county of Midlothian, afterwards Judge Admiral, and finally a Baron of the Exchequer. His mother was Janet Rannie, one of the daughters of Captain Rannie, of Melville, and her sister was married to Henry Dundas, the first Viscount Melville.

In October, 1787, Henry, the 'son of these parents,' was sent to the High School of Edinburgh, then notorious for its severity and riotousness. He describes the person to whose uncontrolled discipline he was subjected, as a good man, an intense student, filled, rather in the memory than in the head, with knowledge,' and as bad a schoolmaster as it was possible to fancy. This man, like hundreds of other pedagogues, both in England and. Scotland, was unacquainted with the nature of youth, ignorant of the characters of his boys, and without a conception of the duty of alluring them. Being unable to lead, he drove his scholars by constant and indiscriminate harshness.' The effects, it need not be stated, were disastrous to his pupils. Out of the whole four years of Cockburn's attendance, he states there were not ten days in which he was

He

not flogged once at the least, though he never entered the class nor left it without feeling perfectly qualified in ability and preparation for the whole business. Yet he never got a single prize, and once sat boobie at the annual public examination. It is no marvel that under such a master the beauty of no Roman word or thought or action ever occurred to him, or that he conceived Latin of any use, except to torture boys. After four years of this class, young Cockburn passed into that of the rector, Dr. Alexander Adam, the author of the work on Roman Antiquities, who had raised himself from the very dust' to that high position. was born,' says his pupil, with nervous brevity, to teach Latin, some Greek, and all virtue.' Adam's industry is described as 'appalling.' If one moment late at school, he would hurry in and explain that he had been detained in verifying a quotation. Though Adam was no politician, and scarcely knew one public man or measure from another, yet, as in explaining the classic authors he must naturally speak about such things as liberty, the people, republics, etc., this caused him to be watched and traduced for several years. Such a circumstance appears incredible at this time of day in England. But it must be remembered that this was in Scotland in 1789, the epoch of the first French Revolution, when men's minds were, even in this freer country, appalled at the events that occurred in France. Not one

of the boys of Cockburn's class attained any eminence, and he tells us there were only two boys of any of the classes of his time who achieved any general renown. These were Horner and Brougham. Horner is described as grave, studious, honourable, kind, steadily pursuing his own cultivation: everything he did marked by thoughtfulness and greatness. One day,

when Horner stood forth as the dux, to present the old master, Adam, with a book, subscribed for by the scholars, and addressed the master in a Latin speech of his own composition, not exceeding three or four sentences, the effect is described as complete on Adam, on

the audience, and on the boys. Cockburn thought Horner a god, and wondered what it was that made such a hopeless difference between them.

We are told some interesting traits of Brougham, who was not in the same class with the memorialist. The future English Chancellor was originally a pupil of Luke Fraser, who in his two immediately preceding courses of four years each had the good fortune to have Francis Jeffrey and Walter Scott as his pupils. Brougham dared to differ from his instructor, a hot but good-natured old fellow, on some small bit of Latinity. The master maintained his infallibility, and punished the rebel pupil; but Brougham reappeared next day loaded with books, returned to the charge before the whole class, and compelled the pedagogue to acknowledge he had been wrong. This made him famous as the fellow who had beat the master.' The dress of the High School at this period consisted of a round black hat, a shirt fastened at the neck by a black ribbon, a cloth waistcoat, a single-breasted jacket, corduroy breeches tied at the knees by showy brown tape, and clumsy shoes, with brass or copper buckles. The coat and waistcoat were of glaring colours-bright blue, grass green, or scarlet.

While yet a boy, Henry Cockburn was called in by his uncle, Henry Dundas, to the inn at Middleton, where he found the company, a body of aristocratic road trustees, roaring and singing and laughing in a low-roofed room, with wooden chairs and a sanded floor. There was plenty of wine, particularly elaret, in rapid circulation; but the eye of the youngster was chiefly attracted by a huge bowl of hot whisky-punch, the steam of which was dripping from the roof. There were songs, toasts, disputation, and practical fun, with noise, heat, and uproarious mirth. Such was the manner in which the Buccleuchs, Arnistons, Hepburns, and others, spent their evenings some seventy years ago.

In October, 1793, young Cockburn was sent to the college of Edinburgh. Andrew Dalzel, the

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author of the Collectanea Græca, was the Greek professor. As a teacher his pupil pronounces him to have been ineffective; but then, he pertinently asks, how is it possible for a language to be taught to an hundred boys at once by a single lecturing professor? Dalzel was mild, affectionate, and simple; an enthusiast about learning; and as an exciter of boys' minds, his pupil avows he did him more good than all the other instructors he had, Dugald Stewart alone excepted. After being thus kept nine years at two dead languages which he did not learn, the intellectual world was first opened to young Cockburn by Professor Finlayson's lectures on what was called logic. After this class he advanced to the moral philosophy of Dugald Stewart, which was, he says, the great era in the progress of young men's minds.

Stewart he describes as of about the middle size, weakly limbed, and with an appearance of feebleness which gave an air of delicacy to his gait and structure. His forehead was large and bald, his eyebrows bushy, his eyes grey and intelligent. His voice was singularly pleasing, and, as he managed it, a slight burr only made its tones softer. His ear both for music and for speech was exquisite; and he was,' says Lord Cockburn, the finest reader I have ever heard.' He goes on to say