terror and astonishment at first excited soon yield to a mingled sensation of pleasure and awe. The banks of the river on both sides, as far as the eye can reach, are clothed with trees and natural brushwood. The drooping branches of the hazel and birch kiss the eddying torrent, while the creeping ivy seems to bind them to earth. During the spring and summer months, innumerable wild-flowers spring out of the fissures of the rocks, like jewels upon the brow of beauty. Through Bonnington Park numerous nicely kept gravel walks conduct to most favourable points of view. Overhead wave the branches of stately trees of ancient growth, while around we behold, protected by their giant companions, the smaller but beautiful natives of a warmer clime, flourishing in this favoured spot in defiance of the rigour of our icy winters. The Falls of the Clyde, in comparison with some others, are of course insignificant, if judged by their height, or by the quantity of water discharged over them; but if viewed as examples of beautiful and picturesque scenery, they appear to us perfect. No doubt the mind is more impressed by the grandeur of Niagara, but we doubt if it will not be more agreeably occupied by the beauties of Clydesdale. On an eminence overlooking Corra Lynn, embowered in woods, stands Corehouse, the ancient seat of the extinct family of Edmiston. It is rapidly crumbling into ruins, and is habitable only for a colony of jackdaws, which have formed a settlement here. A romantic interest is attached to the last survivors of the Edmiston family. One of these, a young lady of great personal and mental attractions, married the heir apparent to the crown of Bohemia, and became queen of that country. Her fate was, however, an unhappy one, such as generally attends ill assorted marriages. She became an object of dislike to the vacillating sensualist to whom she had given her hand, and instead of love, received cruelty, and ultimately banishment. Her two sisters, the last of their race, lived to a great age; the last died in 1827 or '28, aged one hundred and four years. Both were much respected, from the benevolent interest they exhibited to their poorer neighbours, a circumstance strangely discordant with that narrow egotism which is considered generally the cause of celibacy with persons in their position. The extensive cotton manufacturing establishment called New Lanark, situated in the valley of the Clyde, about a mile below Corra Linn, deserves a passing notice. It was built by a Glasgow merchant named David Dale, who, by his industry and talents alone, realized a princely fortune. This was transmitted by marriage to the wild but benevolent schemer Mr Robert Owen, whose Utopian notions have dissipated the largest portion of it, while he has bought a world-wide celebrity from his endeavours to constitute society on a new basis. In New Lanark he possessed a field in which he could practically display his designs, without receiving any obstruction. None but families employed in the establishment were allowed to settle in it; house rent there was none; the comforts and necessaries were provided at prime cost; a liberal education was gratuitously given to all the children; after the manner of ancient Greece, gymnastic exercises occupied a prominent place; the boys were all dressed alike in tartan kilts, in winter and summer, and the same material was made into simple and becoming dresses for the girls. Whatever may be the ultimate result of the experiment, at present it appears to work admirably, for, amongst the whole of the inhabitants, for many years, not a crime of the most trivial importance has attracted the attention of justice.* (Continued.) POLISH LAMENT. WHEN I see thy green valleys Deserted and lone, And hear the wild winds Whistle and moan Through thy once noble dwellings, That erst echo'd with glee, Oh, then, my dear country, When I see my brave countrymen By despotic tyrants And laws most unjust; From their fair land to flee, Oh, then, my dear country, When I see the vile Cossack With merciless hand, In the blood of his victims Crimson the land; When I see other nations Happy and free, Ob, then, my dear country, I mourn for thee! * Me Owen ultimately removed his establishment to New Harmony, in America. Of this the writer does not seem to have been aware. When by torturing cares Still! still! oh, my country, W. F. N.* WEEKLY RECORD. We have for some days been in latitude 45°, in which we expected to find strong westerly breezes. This expectation has been realised in a way which admits of no diversity of opinion. A fierce gale has followed us ever since. Through driving clouds, storms of sleet, hail, and icy rain, and angry seas, we have been running as if fleeing from an enemy. Tossed on the summit of a wave, or buried beneath its overwhelming crest, our only music the roaring of the waters, the whistling of the wind, and plaintive scream of the passing sea-bird-a gloomy sky before us, and a threatening one behind - death and burial amongst us; all have tended to create an impression under which we have observed the stoutest hearts quailing. Who has not remarked the extraordinary number of sea-birds constantly surrounding us? In the size and variety of those observed in the Southern Ocean, we discover its most marked difference from the Northern Atlantic. There is the albatross, the largest of all ocean * Vide Note, p. 53. birds-and, in the spread of its wings, perhaps of all terrestrial ones-sailing majestically, almost without an effort, sometimes low in the hollows between the waves, and again high among the drifting clouds. One observes a philosophic calm about its grey head, as it sweeps slowly over the vessel, examining minutely every object on deck. In its power of enduring fatigue, it is probably without a competitor. It appears indifferent to tempest or calm, and no alteration in the speed of the vessel changes the easy curves that mark its flight. Food thrown overboard, for which a flock of smaller birds is contending, attracts his attention, and he slowly descends to secure a portion of the prey. The indifference which marked his conduct to his winged brethren in the air is no longer observed. He threatens them with his powerful beak, the strength, however, of which appears sufficiently recognised, for long before he has an opportunity of inflicting a wound, his antagonists in an unseemly hurry have deserted the field. This is probably not without good cause, the voracity of this bird not being confined to a particular kind of food, as the following incident will testify. A ship of war was returning from the East Indies, and had arrived off the Cape of Good Hope, when she was caught in a gale. In performing the duty rendered necessary by that event, one of the crew accidentally fell overboard. Inspired with the hope of saving the drowning man, a young lieutenant, without calculating the chances of life, threw himself into the water. His father -a distinguished old officer, who had his flag as viceadmiral in the vessel-was on the poop when the accident happened, and witnessed the attempted rescue, without recognising his only son in the person of the chivalric |