dividually, and with the utmost nicety and exactness. The whole arc from Formentera to the Orkneys will contain nearly 229 of the earth's meridian; and thence the quadrantal are of the whole meridian, extending from the equator to the pole, being ascertained, will afford the best of all possible standards of length and capacity, whenever it shall be determined by the Legislatures of both countries to equalize their weights and measures by the same common standard. The great are deduced from these operations will be found to pass over a part of Spain, all France and Great Britain; Belgium has already followed the example of France, and has taken the standard from the same natural source; thus, if by this participation, the three nations, from their united meridian, should agree to take the same standard derived from it, there seems little reason to doubt, the rest of the world, without loss of time or difficulty, would follow their example. M. Biot and myself beg to return thanks to Mr Bain for his book on the variation of the compass, and with his compliments to yourself, I have the honour to remain, sir, your most obedient humble servant, Wm Blackwood, Esq. W. MUDGE. SOME ACCOUNT OF BOWED DAVIE, THE SUPPOSED ORIGINAL OF THE " BLACK DWARF.' MR EDITOR, THERE is an evident propensity in man, to confer the stamp of reality or past existence on even the most imaginary characters that come before him, whether from the pen of the dramatist, novelist, or incidental story-teller. Accordingly, in conformity with this principle, I find the Quarterly Review ers, in an article just published, on the "Tales of my Landlord," pointing out an individual as the probable prototype and original of the Black Dwarf or Cannie Elshie,' of the ingenious and far-famed novelist. Now, sir, with a laudable regard to facts, the Reviewer has referred us to the actual spot where this supposed original is said to have resided. He has thus rendered inquiry practicable, and as I happen to know some particulars regarding the indi vidual alluded to,which bear the Reviewer's story out, as far as facts go, and correct it where exaggeration seems to have led astray-I here propose to lay them before your readers, whom they may perhaps serve to interest or amuse. David Ritchie, for such was the name of this real dwarf, lived for many years in a small cottage on the farm of Woodhouse, parish of Mannor, Peeblesshire, and was very generally known in that part of the country, by the name of Bowed Davie o' the Wud'use," a name given to him from his remarkable personal deformity,his stature being short-his body thick and his legs awkwardly bent-and although not altogether possessed of that spheroidal form which is given to the Black Dwarf, yet evidently affording us, in his personal appearance, an imperfect prototype of that mysterious personage. He also resembled Elshie in his temper, which was quite sour and misanthropical. This was particularly displayed in his conduct to a sister of his own, who resided many years in a neighbouring cottage, but from whom he was completely estrang ed. This cottage was erected for him by Sir James Nasmyth, and was given to him rent-free. It was remarkable for the lowness of the door, which was made proportionate to the size of the inhabitant. The cottage was surrounded by a garden, which was cultivated by Davie himself, and was long the admiration of every passenger who came through the sequestered vale in which it lay. It was, in fact, the richest garden for verdure and beauty which the surrounding country could display; its wall was nearly seven feet high (a height uncommon in that part of the country)-and included some very large stones, which the dwarf himself was said to have lifted. The late Dr Adam Ferguson, who resided in the neighbouring mansion of Hallyards, used sometimes to visit Davie, as an amusement, in this retired spot; but I never heard that any thing remarkable occurred on those occasions. Mr Walter Scott was also a frequent visitor of Davie's, and was said to have held long communings with him.-So far the Reviewer's account of Bowed Davie' is consistent with facts; but I believe it may be affirmed, that he was never much remarked for his intellectual superiority, and that the history of his mysterious appearance, and hasty rearing of the cottage, rests on no better grounds than the mere exaggerations of vulgar report. He lived to the advanced age of 76 years, and, rendered more dwarf-like by infirmity, died 6th December 1811,-utterly unconscious, I dare say, that his name and story would ever come before the public. He was interred in the parish church-yard-although he himself had expressed a wish that he might be interred on a particular hillock in the neighbourhood of his cottage. The following not inappropriate epitaph was proposed by some pseudopoet, to mark his remains: "Here lies D. Ritchie's singular banes, Stretched on the light red gravel stanes. In yon queer cave on Woodhouse croft, A little garden he had wrought, "Twas there, through life, his way he fought." EPISTLE OF A HIGHLAND CHIEF. [The following article, purporting to be the "Copy of a letter of Sir Ewan Cameron of Lochiel," was given to us for insertion in our Antiquarian Repertory,' by a very worthy gentleman, who had allowed himself to be bronzed by a facetious correspondent. We insert it, however, as a curiosity in its kind.] ("Probable date about 1702.”) DEAR JAMES,Yt is a grete losse that ye plee is takin this turne, forr ye Min cd gang of certy his alone, but I wull se mysell richtit iff ye wull not, on that poore sillie callont, which kens not his bettirs. What forr wull ye nivir com doon in the vacins tull se us a-butt ye heelans is sore changitt syn ye sa yem. Yt is amashing hoo ye are changyt forr ye warse. I was at dener on Satirday at ye Duke's, and yt is a sore changet hous. I mynd in my yout whan I was a younge litil callont, I dynit on a day at ye Duke's wyt meny nobilities, and ithers of a degris; and behynt ilk chaire or stul, as we hadde yem, was a rid-leggit loone, wyt a clapadhu† shell; and all ye dyshes was timmer; and whan I was dune I pitet my dysh our my shouther to the ladie, and he scartet yt Sir Ewan seems to have been engaged in some lawsuit, wherein the law of deathbed was concerned. The letter is to his counsel. + I believe this is the large rock-mussel. MR EDITOR, You have already furnished your readers with two learned dissertations on the expression of "Sitting below the Salt," and it seems we are to be favoured with more of them. Without wishing to divert them from this inquiry, or to prevent an answer to the very edifying questions of P. F.— may I request, from some of your antiquarian correspondents, information on an ancient practice, which bears some affinity to that which has engaged their attention. In the Records of the Presbytery of Edinburgh, Sept. given of an oath required from Scots 20, 1586, the following account is merchants trading to the Baltic, when they passed the Sound : skerne, and cuming neir elsinnure, chus"Certan merchantis passing to Dansing out ane quhen they accompted for the payment of the toill of the goods, And that be depositioun of ane othe in forme following, viz. Thei present and offer breid and salt to the deponer of the othe, whereon he layis his hand, and deponis his conscience, and sweiris." I shall be glad to learn the origin and precise meaning of this rite, and the extent to which it prevailed. Provided I obtain satisfaction on these heads, I am not very anxious to know whether the bread was presented on a platter, and the salt in a vat; and if so, of what materials these were composed, &c. &c. ;-but your correspondents, notwithstanding, may communicate their own information in their own way.-I am, yours, &c. Y. Z. Query-Was this Mr Campbell's fee? REMARKS ON THE HUMOUR OF OUR ANCIENT SONGS, MR EDITOR, I was pleased to see in your first Number, an old ballad introduced which was always my greatest favourite" The Wyfe of Auchtermuch tie." It is singular that this song, or rather poem, should have been so often overlooked by our late collectors of ballads, though, in many instances, they have raked them up to the very lees. I wish you could have afforded us some key to the author, either drawn from record or probability, for I have heard some violent disputes about this since it appeared. I cannot now tell how it is, but ever since I remember, I have been impressed with the belief that it was the production of king James V.; that I have heard this asserted a hundred times I know, but yet I can scarcely believe that it was from tradition alone that I at first had this intimation. So thoroughly was I convinced of the truth of it, that I had nearly quarrelled outright with a very intimate friend, for saying that there was no proof nor insinuation in any work extant that warranted such a belief; and after a good deal of research, to my great disappointment, I confess that I can discover none, excepting the resemblance between this ballad and those that are usually supposed to have been written by that prince. This likeness may be chimerical, for fancy is powerful in modelling images that she believes or wishes to exist, but to me it seems fully apparent. The same disposition to depict the manners of low life, and of the country people, with their blunders and perplexities, predominates in them all. As one instance it may be noted, that the insurmountable difficulties of the Gudeman of Auchtermuchtie,-the perplexity of the Gudewife in the ballad of "The Gaberlunzie-man," when she found that her daughter had eloped, --and the utter despair of the lass in "TheJolly Beggar," when she discovered that she had lain beside" the puir auld bodie," bear all strong evidences of the same mind and the same mode of thinking. Poets have generally but a few situations in which they naturally incline to place their principal characters. The favourite one of James was that of a ludicrous perplexity. The resemblance between this ballad and "Christ's Kirk on the Green," VOL. I. is still more striking;* in particular, the serio-comic way that prevails in both, of relating the most extravagant incidents, which, above all other things, has the effect of heightening the hu mour. In short, sir, if either you or any of your correspondents can adduce farther proof that this ballad was indeed written by the redoubted "Gudeman of Ballangeich," I will account myself much beholden to you; and though my evidence may appear frail, still I will hang by the tradition; and unless some of my opponents can advance something more conclusive on the other side, I will retain my integrity, and refuse to pay the dinner and drink that I betted on the issue of the research. I cannot help remarking here, while I am on this subject, how wonderful it is that no regular collection has been made of our humorous songs by themselves. If these were well selected, arranged, and set to their own old ranting tunes, they could not fail of being highly acceptable to the lovers of innocent frolic and social glee. The best of our old songs are those of humour. That class, at the head of which we may place "The Wyfe of Auchtermuchtie," "Fy let us a' to the Bridal," "Rob's Jock," and "Muirland Willie," are greatly superior to the Damons and Phillises of the same age. Our forefathers had one peculiarity in song-writing, which their children seem to have lost, it was the art of picking up an occurrence, of all possible ones the most unfeasible, whereon to found a song. This adds greatly to the comic effect. The following song, entitled, "Simon Brodie," as it is short, and rarely to be met with, may be given as an instance. Och! mine honest Simon Brodie, Och! mine honest Simon Brodie, &c. Och! mine honest Simon Brodie, &c. "Christ's Kirk on the Green" is commonly, and we believe justly, ascribed to King James I. 2 H EDITOR And here our song ends-we have no more. Perhaps an acute observer might infer from this, that in some northern county, no body knows where, there lived in some age or generation a good-natured extremely stupid fellow, called Simon Brodie, and this is all; still the shrewd idea of pretending to define a character from two such bald and weatherbeaten incidents has something in it extremely droll. I may mention another of the same cast-" A mile aboon Dundee." The auld man's mare's dead; A mile aboon Dundee. There was hay to ca', an' lint to lead, She had the cauld, but an' the cruik, An' yet the jade to dee! The auld man's mare's dead, &c. The auld man's mare's dead, &c. No poet now alive would ever think of writing a ditty on such an old miserable jade as this that died above Dundee, far less of holding it out as so wonderful that she should have died, while, in the mean time, every line shows that it was impossible the beast could live. Haply these songs may exist in some collection, but as I never saw them in any, and write them down from recollection, as I heard them sung, I cannot assert that they are given in full. The confusion of characters and dishes that are all blent together in "Fy let us a' to the Bridal," is a mas terpiece of drollery. It is a pity that there should be one or two expressions in it that are rather too coarse to be sung in every company; for wherever it is sung with any degree of spirit, it never misses the effect of affording high amusement. The first man whom I heard sing this song, accompanied it always with an anecdote of the author (who was a Scotch laird, whose name I have forgot) singing it once in a large private assembly at London. There were three Scotch noblemen present, who were quite convulsed with laugher, and the rest perceiving that there was something extremely droll in it which they could but very imperfectly comprehend, requested the author to sing it again. This he positively declined. Some persons of very high rank were present, who appearing much disappointed by this refusal, few noblemen, valuing themselves on their knowledge of Scotsmen's propensities, went up to this northern laird, and offered him a piece of plate of an hundred guineas value, if he would sing the song over again; but he, sensible that his song would not bear the most minute investigation by the company in which he then was, persisted in his refusal, putting them off with an old proverb, which cannot be inserted here. He seems to have been precisely of the same opinion with an author of our own day, between whom and his friend the following dialogue took place in a bookseller's shop in this town, to the no small amusement of the bystanders: "Let me entreat you, for God's sake, to make the language of this ballad so as that we can understand it." "I carena whether ye understand it or no, min; I dinna aye understand it very weel mysel'." "It is not for what you, or I, or any Scotsmen may understand; but remember this must be a sealed book to the English." "O it's a' the better for that-thae English folk like aye best what they dinna understand." I know that many old songs of much genuine humour still survive in the country, which have never been collected into any reputable work, merely because they contain some expressions that were inadmissable. A difficult question arises here. Whether is it better to lose these brilliant effusions altogether, or to soften down and modify such expressions so as to suit the taste of an age so notorious for its scrupulous and superficial delicacy? I certainly would give my vote for the latter. It is delicate ground; for it would scarcely be possible to do always just enough and not too much. But though I would not recommend the garbling of original songs as Allan Ramsay did, so as quite to change their character, nor the forging a new volume of old songs off at the ground as Cromek did, with the help of his friend Allan Cunningham, having nothing but a few ancient chorusses or couplets, familiar among the peasantry, to bear them through; yet I certainly would like to see a saving hand stretched out to rescue these relics of broad and simple humour; and, rather than they should perish, or give offence to modesty and good breeding, venture to use the pruning knife a little. Are we to lose such productions as "The Wyfe of Auchtermuchtie,” because, forsooth, there may be two words in it that one would not choose to read aloud in a mixed company? Ritson has done a good deal for the preservation of our lyrical lore; Johnson has done more; and as both their works are wearing scarce, it would surely be a good speculation to republish them together, with such omissions or additions as a man of judgment might see meet. I look upon Johnson's Museum as the most valuable collection of that nature that ever was made in our country-not so much on account of the songs, (for many of them are now to be found in other collections) as for the great mine of original music which it contains. Many of these tunes, it is true, have been since modernised, and certainly are improved by the symphonies, graces, and accompaniments, that have been added; still the preservation of them in their simple and original state is a laudable and desirable object; and there is no doubt but an enlarged edition of that work, wherein elegance and utility might be conjoined, is a desideratum in the vocal and musical miscellanies of the day. Observing that you had set out on your miscellaneous career, with the resuscitation of some valuable old poetic lore, I have thrown these few cursory remarks together, in hopes they may be instrumental in bringing to light some more relics of the pastoral, romantic, and rustic poetry of former ages, which you will do well to preserve, and of which the collectors of songs and music may afterwards avail themselves to their own advantage, and "A friend of mine possesses an estate in this county, a great part of which lying along the Moray Frith, was, at some period not very well ascertained, but certainly not less than sixty years ago, covered with sand, which had been blown from the westward, and overwhelmed the cultivated fields, so that the agriculturist was forced to abandon them altogether. My friend, soon after his purchase of the estate, began the arduous but judicious operation of trenching down the sand, and bringing to the surface the original black mould. These operations of improvement were so productive, as to induce the very intelligent and enterprising proprietor to undertake, lately, a still more laborious task; viz. to trench down the superincumbent sand, on a part of the property where it was no less than eight feet deep. Conceiving this to be a favourable opportunity, for trying some experiments relative to the length of time which seeds preserve their power of vegetation, even when immersed in |