we dream ourselves away into the heart of that choral anthem. Woe to the "wee bourracks o' houses," bigged on the holm-lands! Bridges! that have felt the ice-flaws of a thousand winters rebounding from your abutments, as from cliff to cliff you spanned the racing thunder, this night will be your last! Your key-stones shall be loosened, and your arches, as at the springing of a mine, heaved up into the air by the resistless waters. There is no shrieking of kelpies. That was but a passionless superstition. But there is shrieking-of widows and of orphans-and of love strong as death, stifled and strangled in the flood that all night long is sweeping corpses and carcasses to the sea.

But it is high time to shut our ears and our eyes to this description. It is getting painfully pathetic; and we had intended, and do still intend, that this shall be an amusing article. To secure its being so, we turn to Sir Thomas Lauder Dick without further preface. Sir Thomas is a man of taste and feeling-nay, of genius and science-and is well known, or at least deserves to be so, both in the scientific and literary world, by various works of very great merit. His paper, in the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, on the Parallel Roads in Glenroy, is most ingenious and satisfactory; and his two romances, "Lochandu," and the " Wolf of Badenoch," are full of excellent character, incident, and description. But neither the one nor the other is to us nearly so interesting as the volume which we now introduce to the public. It is worth a gross of fashionable novels, and twenty Tours. Sir Thomas tells a pathetic, or a hu morous story admirably, and many such are scattered over these 400 pages. He looks at nature with a painter's and a poet's eye, and de scribes her well both with pen and pencil. His heart, too, is as warm as his imagination; and as the scenes of suffering he brings before us were real, he awakens all our most tender and generous sympathies, by the earnestness and sincerity of his own; so that his book, we doubt not, will inspire many of his readers to contribute by their charity to the relief of the distress brought on many hundred poor people by the floods that swept away their "little all," and left them

nothing but endurance and resignation. But we are in danger of falling again into the pathetic-the sin, indeed, which most easily besets us, but which, in this case, may, we trust, be forgiven for sake of our subscription. Reader! gentle and generous! perhaps, after reading our article, you will unclasp with your slight fair fingers that pretty silk purse (not made out of a sow's ear,) and set apart a coin-mayhap a sovereign-or be it but a crown-sweet sister of charity-for behoof of some aged crone now sitting blind in her shieling, or some bright-eyed lassie singing in the sunshine at the door, built now on some knoll safe from the river that, last autumn, made the one a widow, and the other an orphan.

Many of our readers, we dare say, read accounts in the newspapers of Great Floods during August last year in the Province of Moray. But newspaper accounts of calamities are generally considered apocryphal, except they record the bite of a mad dog-each strange tale of hydrophobia being held devoutly true by the Reading Public. Sir Thomas Lauder Dick has spared no pains in collecting all the most interesting circumstances of that unexampled Flood, many of them bordering so closely upon the marvellous, that he acknowledges he might have felt some difficulty in reporting them, had they not, in every instance, been well vouched. The extent of ground carried off or destroyed in particular places, the various items of miscelfaneous damage, and the sums of money at which the various losses are estimated, are stated from returns made after the survey by able and responsible men, whose valuations were exclusive of all such injuries as might affect mere taste, or any thing not usually measured by money. The sums specified, Sir Thomas says, are rather under than above the truth. For no surveyor could expect to gain favour in the eyes of his employer by exaggerating his misfortunes; and no proprietor would consider it his interest to promulgate an extravagant account of the deterioration of his estate; while, on the other hand, very potent reasons may exist for country gentlemen putting the best possible face

on the state of their affairs. As the limited nature of his work necessarily compelled him to pass over all the lesser, though more numerous items of destruction, nothing approaching to any just estimate of the grand total can possibly be formed. But when we consider that the injuries done to the estates of Lord Seaforth are estimated at thirty thousand pounds, to those of Mr Macpherson Grant at eight thousand,-to those of Mr Cumming Gordon at five thousand, to those of Sir Thomas Dick at twelve hundred, (we think,) and to the estates of many other gentlemen in like proportion; to which is to be added all the loss of crops and steadings-along so many strathsthe sum-total of the loss must indeed have been enormous.

The deluge of rain that produced the flood of the 3d and 4th of August, 1829, fell chiefly on the Monadhleadh mountains, rising between the south-eastern parts of Lochness, and Kingussie in Badenoch, and on that part of the Grampian range forming the somewhat independent group of the Cairngorums. The heat in the province of Moray, during the months of May, June, and July, had been unusually great; and in the earlier part of that period, the drought so excessive, as to kill many of the recently planted shrubs and trees. As the season advanced, the fluctuations of the barometer became very remarkable; but they were not followed by the usual alternations of weather. It often followed that the results were precisely the reverse of its prognostications, and observers of the instrument began to lose all confidence in it. These apparent derangements arose, Sir Thomas Dick remarks, from electrical changes in the atmosphere. The Aurora Borealis appeared with uncommon brilliancy about the beginning of July, and was frequently seen afterwards, being generally accompanied by windy and unsteady weather, the continued drought having been sometimes interrupted during the previous months by sudden falls of rain partaking of the character of waterspouts. One of these occurred on Sunday the 12th of July, at Keanlochluichart, a little Highland hamlet at the head of the lake of that name, in the parish of Contin, in Ross-shire. A man, who had taken shelter under a

bridge, suddenly beheld a moving mountain of soil, stones, and trees coming down the deep course of the stream. He had just time to leave his stance before it reached the bridge, overthrew it in a moment, and devastated the plain bordering the lake. All the grown-up people of the hamlet were at church, but the children, who were playing at home, were miraculously preserved by escaping to a hillock before the river reached the spot. The people coming from church were, by the fall of the bridges, caught between two impassable torrents, and had barely time to save their lives by crowding to an elevated spot, where they remained till the waters subsided. The whole fury of the flood rushed directly against their devoted houses; and these, and every thing they contained, were at once annihilated, as well as their crops, together with the very soil they grew on; and after the debacle had passed away, the course of the river ran through the ruined hearths of this so recently happy a community. This waterspout did not extend beyond two miles on each side of the village, which led, continues Sir Thomas, these simple people to consider their calamity as a visitation of Providence for their landlord's vote in Parliament in favour of Catholic Emancipation.

Sir Thomas has a very plausible theory to account for the great floods of the 3d and 4th of August. The previous prevalence of westerly winds had produced a gradual accumulation of vapour somewhere to the north of our island, and the column being suddenly impelled by a strong north-easterly blast, it was driven towards the southwest, its right flank almost sweeping the Caithness and Sunderland coasts, until, rushing up and across the Moray Frith, it was attracted by the lofty mountains of the Monadh-leadh range, and discharged its torrents into the Nairn, the Findhorn, the Spey, the Lossie, the Deveron, the Don, and the Dee, and their various tributaries. Certain it is, that these and other rivers were all more or less affected by the flood exactly in proportion as they were more or less connected with those mountains. That part of the Spey which is above the line marked by Sir Thomas was hardly swollen at all; while below Kingussie,

it and all its tributaries were elevated to an unexampled height. Some persons could not believe, looking at the floods, that they could have been produced by merely twenty-four hours' rain. But sure, such rains were never seen; for Mr Murdoch,gardener to the Duke of Gordon, at Huntly Lodge, ascertained that 33 inches of rain fell between five o'clock of the morning of the 3d, and five o'clock of the morning of the 4th of August; that is to say, that, taking the average of the years from 1821 to 1828 inclusive, about one-sixth part of our annual allowance of rain fell within those twenty-four hours! This, too, was at a great distance from the mountains-so that among them the rain must have been like one of the floods, which was described by one of the sufferers, from its fury, as "just perfeckly ridiculous."

On the 27th of July, there was what Sir Thomas calls 66 an appendix flood," Each of the four principal rivers, the Nairn, the Findhorn, the Spey, and the Dee, had an appendix flood. But these appendices did not, like those of Dr Parr to his Spital sermon-to his sermon on education —and to the character of Fox by Philopatris Varvicencis, transcend in magnitude the very original performances to which they severally were appended. The Nairn seems to have been more ambitious in his appendix than any of his brethren. The Findhorn had so completely exhausted the subject in his first discourse, that he had but little new matter to bring forward on the 27th. The Spey had so triumphantly removed all obstacles in his great appearance on the 4th, that on the 27th it was comparatively plain sailing; and as for the Dee, there was little left for him to do, but to sweep away the bridge and harbour of Aberdeen, which would have been not only very wicked, but foolish, and little better than cutting his own throat. We shall therefore have small and seldom occasion to refer to the appendices, and shall confine ourselves to the main current of the great body of the discourses.

The united line of the rivers, whose devastations Sir Thomas undertakes to describe, cannot be less in extent than from 500 to 600 miles. Having visited the greater part of the flood

ed districts in person, he writes about them very much from his own observation, aided by the ample oral and written information obtained from persons of intelligence; and often he brings forward the witnesses to tell in their own words their own story. The narrative, therefore, is often enlivened by dramatic scenes, equal in interest to the best in Sir Walter's novels.

Let us begin with the river NAIRN, and dismiss him in not many words. He is, in his upper story, of a fine bold Highland character, and runs through a straight line of country, of somewhat more than 30 miles in extent, but of much longer course in its sinuosities; and he drains off the waters from a small part of the Monadh-leadh group. He rushed from his mountains, with his tail, on the morning of the 4th, and being armed with stones and gravel, committed sad havoc on many farms, especially on that of the Mains of Aberarder. Seven hands were able to reap, in one day, all that remained there of a crop, for which L.150 of rent was payable. He then swept away the fulling-mill of Faillie, with all its heavy machinery, down to Cantray, nine miles below, whence it was with much labour brought back to its Highland home; but the Nairn, in the flood of the 27th, bore it away on a second expedition, and landed it at Kilravoch, after a voyage of eleven miles. Our friend then amused himself with sweeping away two bridges on the parliamentary line of road, one at Dunmaglass, and the other of two arches over the burn of Aultranagh. He then fell foul of the mill of Clara, which he utterly demolished. But it was rebuilt with all possible expedition, so as to be ready for him on the 27th, when he again came down in great fury, and swept it off, we suppose, to the sea. On the estate of Cantray, the villain did damage to the tune of L.1200inundating the garden of the mansion-house, ruining utterly the houses of the gardener and miller, and sweeping away about fifteen acres of valuable land. He then attacked the bridge of Holm, and so shook the handsome arch of 55 feet span, that on the 27th he had but to give it a shove with his shoulder, and down it went like a sack. Here the Nairų

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must have been much amused by a little incident. Having risen high on a dry-stone wall, dividing the Holm and Kilravoch estates, he had no sooner touched the foundation, than the sods on the top of it became, as hit were, alive with mice, all forcing their way out, to escape as fast as they could from the inundation that threatened their citadel. The old castle of Kilravoch seemed to stand in a sea, but the Nairn could make no impression on its walls, so, out of spite, he carried off above two acres of a thriving wood of deciduous trees. A little farther down, he carried away about one-third of the fifty arable acres belonging to the farm of Rosefield, or destroyed them beyond all power of redemption, by deposits of gravel and stones. The crops and grass were utterly ruineda number of extensive works annihilated the lime-beds of manure swept away, together with the whole corn of last year; and the whole farm, now in a state of chaos, lies at the mercy of every partial rise of the river. The crop ruined on the estate of Kilravoch, is estimated at L.500, and the actual damage done to the property, has been calculated by the factor at L.2400. Lord Cawdor's loss of soil, and other injury done to his estate along this part of the Nairn, may be set down at L.2000, and that of Mr Macintosh of Geddes, at L.1200. The inundation here spread far over the rich plain on the right bank, flooding some of the farm-houses that were 500 yards from the usual margin of the river, and ruining the crops to an extent that defies calculation.

All this was pretty well, and ought, we think, to have satisfied the Nairn. But after quitting the above extensive arable plain, he got into another, and attacked Fir-hall. The offices were substantially built, on the summit of a bank about 30 feet high, and at the distance of about 30 horizontal yards from the edge of the river. The Nairn attacked the base of this bank with great strength and science, and cut it entirely back, until he had undermined the buildings. Then down came the thrashing-mill and the gable of a lofty barn. Not satisfied with this signal display of skilful prowess, he swept away great part of a very thriving plantation of wellgrown timber-trees from behind the

offices. Arrived at the burgh of Nairn, he immediately attacked the washing-green, and made off with a couple of acres. The three arches of the bridge of Nairn, aggregate breadth 120 feet, stood fast; but one of two stone bulwarks below the bridge, appertaining to the pierworks, eleven feet high, and very strong, was levelled and scattered. The flood of the 27th did far greater damage, for the piers on the right bank of the harbour gave way, and one arch of the bridge, 30 feet span, was ruined, and the whole fabric shaken. It was very remarkable that a fishing-hut, about 12 feet long, standing on a beach in the middle of the river, constructed of four posts, with beams stretched between them at top and bottom, and covered, roof and all, with outside planks, stood unmoved in the midst of the waters of both floods uninjured, except that it swayed a little from the perpendicular; while the bridge, the pier, a vessel that had bulged, nay, the very rocks, were all yielding to the furious force of the deluge. No building of stone and lime could have stood in the same place; and its preservation, Sir Thomas rightly says, is worthy of record, as a valuable fact, to prove how much power posts and planks will resist in such a situation. It stands, says he, as a useful instructor to the burghers of Nairn, for the restoration of their harbour, the damage done to which is calculated at L.2500. And here we conclude our abstract of the achievements of the Nairn. His hands were not died in human blood. On the evening of the 3d of August, a schooner-rigged vessel was lost in attempting to run into Nairn harbour before the wind, and the crew perished; but the river had no hand in that catastrophe, and it is but fair play to give the devil his due.

The FINDHORN is in all respects a superior being to the Nairn; nor will any one who has seen Relugas-the residence of our worthy authorwonder at the enthusiasm with which he writes about this noble river. The Findhorn is born in a marish on the summit of a mountain in the midst of the Monadh-leadh group-and pursues a rejoicing course of about ninety miles through a district of country of not less than sixty, and of all the rivers of Scotland, there i

not one perhaps that possesses so exquisitely varied a character. Many a long day and short night have we lain and lingered among his banks and braes-in many of his pellucid pools have we dived and darted "like a wild goose at play"-and not few are the silver-shiners, fish and trout, that we have seduced by fly-fascination from the stream to the sandbank, while all the scenery round seemed beautified by the presence of the splendid spectacle. Tourists go blindfolded, hoodwinked, fancy-fettered, soul-swindled through the Highlands, with some wretched guide-book in their hand,* playing at cross purposes with the glens, and hide-and-seek with the woods, and blind-man's buff with the mountains. Let them use their seven senses, and finding its source, take some river for their guide, and walk in music to the sea. Why, the Findhorn will shew them more of the spirit of Highland scenery, in three days, than they will ever see all their life-long, in their present leading-strings along roads civil and military; the Spey too is a pleasant and instructive fellow traveller, and the Dee a positive Poet, who embues the dullest wight with some of his own imagination.

But let us view the Findhorn in flood. After leaving its bleak parent hill, it runs through a deep ravine in the primitive rocks, whence it enters a beautiful pastoral glen and valley, bounded by steep and high mountains, with occasional rocky faces, but generally covered with a rich and valuable herbage. In those regions the flood was without parallel, and did all the harm it was possible for water to do-sweeping away, for example, the great wool-house of Laggan, and the whole shearing of wool of heaven knows how many thousand sheep. Lower down he sadly injured the estates of Dalmigarie, Killochie, and Balnespeik-scattering the corn and potatoes of many poor families-and by cutting off parts of fields diminishing greatly the value of entire farms. The little burn of Aultaneachgra, which here joins the Findhorn, filled up and ruined the dams

and watercourses of its carding and meal-mills, injured the houses and machinery, and left all in a state of silent, melancholy, and motionless ruin. Near its junction, the side of a wooded hill 100 feet high, slid down at once and covered the great public road with débris and with large trees, many of them in the growing position. The Findhorn now meeting with some opposition from the old bridge of Corryburgh, commonly called the bridge of Freeburn, consisting of three large arches, heaved them all up into the air, like the lid of a chest, and leaving nothing but the ruins of the two land-abutments, rolled on to other triumphs. The beautiful valley, or plain, below Freeburn, in olden time, no doubt, a lake, resumed that character. The river changed its course in several places, scarifying many acres, and carrying some away from the farm of Invereig. The eight-mile long, and everywhere extremely narrow glen, called the Streens, felt the fury of the flood-the spouts of rain having converted every dry scar on the mountain-faces into a torrent, which soon cut it into a ravine, and covered acres with huge stones and heaps of gravel, to the depth of many feet. In some places, where the hillside was formerly quite entire, it was torn open, and fragments of detached rocks, eight or ten tons in weight, were thrown down into the glen. Coming to Lord Cawdor's property, the flood carried away the garden of the house of Cuilliachan, and the crop on twenty acres of land-injuring more or less the whole farm. Indeed, all the small farms hereabouts were nearly ruined by the annihilation of half their arable lands. Easter Tchirfogrein," the place hid from the sun," stood 100 horizontal yards from, and twelve feet above, the usual surface of the river. The two brothers, who farmed it, seeing the house surrounded three feet deep, carried their sister and bed-ridden old mother to the side of a hill, from which they soon saw their dwellinghouse and other dwellings disappear in the flood. Next morning, one end