NOCTES GOURLIANÆ.-No. I. Daisy-Bank, the residence of David Gourly. The Parlour.-Time, Seven o' Clock.-David Gourly and Della Crusca. DAVID GOURLY. I DOOT, sir, ye will think Daisy-Bank but a dowy place throughout the night, an' mair especially as ye wunna alloo me to help ye to a drap of our Islay whusky to put the neb on your cauld yill. DELLA CRUsca. Nay, nay, my kind sir, does it not accord with reason and common sense, that he must have a very poor opinion of his friend, of his conversation, of his talents, and of his society, who cannot enjoy his company-who is not able to endure it, without the aid and the assistance of spirituous liquors. Is it not undeniable that he must feel very little interest in the subject of which he speaks, who cannot become animated with its importance, until a portion of intoxicating liquors has heated the animal passions? I conceive that spirits are altogether unnecessary and pernicious for conversation, for liveliness, and mirth. They burn up the social affections-they destroy the physical energies, and the cheerfulness obtained by every one glass, is one step ascended on the ladder of insanity! DAVID GOURLY. Haw! Haw! Haw! That's maist intemperate language, howsomever, nor can I see that ava; for confoun' me gin I could say ony thing worth a pinch o' snuff, unless I had a wee drap speerits to clear my head. It's nonsense gan aboot the bush wi' the maitter,I mak free to confess, that I couldna for the verra life o' me sit hummin' an ha'in, in a twa-haund crack wi' the best fallow I e'er met wi' without a thumblefu' to gie the blue deevils the fling. Od keep us! it gars me a' grew to see ye sniff, sniff, snifflin' ower that sma' yill;— wull ye no at ance an' to be dune wi't, tak a quiet sook out o' the toddy jug? DELLA CRUSCA. You will excuse me, sir,-you will not succeed in overruling my determination. I have become a member of a Temperance Society, and by so doing, I have nailed up the door of Intemperance. You may tell me that it is more manly to abstain from spirits, and be temperate in all things, without giving a pledge, by which I bind myself and become the servant of a bond;-I will answer your question, by asking another-Whether is it safer to avoid temptation altogether, or wilfully to risk, to tempt temptation, for the mere sake of trying whether it or our powers of resistance be the strongest? By your admitting that it is more noble to resist DAVID GOURLY. Losh preserve us! I ne'er admitted ony DELLA CRUSCA. sic thing. Hear me, sir,-By your admitting that it is more noble to resist, you are admitting that in ardent spirits there is the presence of evil and where is the merit of resisting an evil, when the evil exists merely in accordance with your own will and deed. By your mere admission of resistance, you are admitting the possibility of your falling a victim to the power you resist. And how can you pray in the words of our Lord "Lead us not into Temptation," while you are affirming, and acting upon the principle, that it is more noble, and more manly to permit, and enter into temptation, than to avoid it? DAVID GOURly. An' what for wad ye no be puttin' awa' that blash as weel as the ither? Isna the presence o' evil in wine? Moreover, I shud like to ken distinckly the difference between it an' whusky. Now ye are alooed to drink the ane, while ye are forced to steek your een, an' to turn awa' your head frae the ither wi' a perfeck loathin', as if the thoosand ills that flesh is heir to lay in ambushcade in a caulker o' guid Scotch drink. Heard ye ever o' sic unacoon table conduct,— there's surely as muckle o' the evil speerit, as ye are pleased to ca' it, in the wine as in the whusky; an' I hae mony an' mony a time thought that he wha could sit for ony length o' time drinkin' the former maun be a doonright doitered sot. Troth, sir, it's nae better than burn water, an' far ower cauld for my stamach at this time o' day; an' yet I'll uphaud it against ye that the maist feck o' your wine-bibbers are gien to get themselves fou as auld drucken fiddlers. Has it been weel certified, or can ye say as sure's death, that nane o' your temperance chiels get ower far ben wi' the yill an' the wine? But aiblins, I'm ower hard on ye now-shove across the jug as ye'll no hae't, an' I'll sing ye a sang fu o' the true Scotch speerit, in mair senses than ane, (sings.) THE BARLEY BREE. TUNE-"Bide ye yet." The barley bree! the barley bree! What reddens the haffets, an' brightens the ee, Gin ye wad be strang, sir, and scaithless frae sairs, The barley bree! the barley bree! It cheers the faint-hearted, it warms the cauld, The barley bree! the barley bree! Noo thae verses were written by Maister Wilson the sticket minister, an' what wad ye say to hae them humbly inscribed to the members o' the Berwick Temperance Society, and put in prent in the Border Magazine! DELLA CRUSCA. While I admire the vigour and naïveté of the song, I cannot help lamenting that the author's genius should have been drawn into the service of the drunkard. Such compositions have a very bad tendency, and the pernicious influence which they exercise over the inexperienced heart, has instigated thousands of our youth to their own ruin. Spirituous liquors are neither necessary for health, for strength, nor for existence, and they are healthier, stronger, and fuller of life who never taste them. It is all very well to tell us of the exchange of soul and of sympathy, and of the expansion of heart produced by intoxicating liquors; but it is fitting to remember that they likewise beget shame, disease, prostitution and crime; nor can we ever think the night's jollity over in the morning without a headach. DAVID GOURLY. A headach!! wha minds a headach! It's true feelosophy to purchase pleasure wi' pain, an' for my ain pairt, I think the writer of the lines I hae just sung, is deservin' o' unqualified praise for his nervous an' beautifu' sang. Its features are entirely Scotch, an' surely ye haena to be tauld that a bard o' nature's ain makin' maun be keenly alive to the cheerfu' an' pleasant humanities o' this world o' ours. Ye're no ane o' them wha wad fain apologeese for sic men as Robbie Burns an' Ferguson! Ma faith! could ony o' the twa hear o' the racket that has been raised ower their cauld clay by the chawk chowers, an' vinegar drinkers o' ye're Temperance Societies, they're wad be a fine colleyshangie here, or I'm a' cheatit. Puir chiels! there were nae Hippocrene's or Helicon's wi' them,-'Guid Auld Scotch Drink' was the only muse they coortit, an' yet whar will ye meet wi' productions sae weel steepit in the natural dews o' poetry, or fin' twa hearts mair delicately susceptible to the finer impulses of the internal an' external world. Heard ye ever o' human laws that are mair influential than their compositions? An' what waur is the peasant lassie, windin' doon the lang glen in the happiness o' her ain innocent heart, that she has been taught to sing the sangs o' Scotland's twin-stars o' genius. Tell me if they will lead her to the abjuration o' the faith that her forefaithers sealed wi' their heart's best blood on her native hills? Na, na, it's the dilutions o' trashiness, concoctit by a herd o' rhymin' guid-for-naething gentlemen, an' the hidden venom o' the Little schuil that ought to be visited wi' the waters o' truth, an' swept awa wi' the besoms o' destruction. The writings o' Burns and Ferguson address themselves to our nawtional an' patriotic associations, an' link us closer an' closer to our hames an' to our country, nor is there a heart in a' bonnie braid Scotland that disna hallow the memories o' them baith. DELLA CRUSCA. My good sir, you cannot but admit that spirituous liquor destroys the quickness of the apprehension, and the strength of the memory; and as a lively imagination, and a clear conception, depend upon parts in our structure, which are easily impaired, there is nothing that more immediately affects those organs, by the help of which we conceive, reason, and remember. Is it reasonable to think we can inflame our brain without injuring it? and though we drink to raise our spirits, by thus raising we weaken them, for whatever fresh vigour we may seem to derive from the bowl, it is a vigour which wastes them, and ruins its source, our natural fancy and understanding. The hand of friendship may attempt to hide the bloat which attaches to the sepulchre of Burns, by mellowing it over with the bright halo which his genius shed over his native land, but it was his thoughtless follies that laid him low, and stained his memory. Nor will his proud and far-flown fame ever palliate for a moment the deep debaucheries, whose repeated indulgence too frequently fired his muse to lewdness and profanity, and at last crippled the force and the grasp of his mind, and hurried him off the stage of life, bowed down with a variety of painful distempers, in the full blossoming of manhood! What a mournful picture does the fate of Burns and Ferguson present to the rational mind! What lofty ruins to contemplate!-Ferguson! ill-starred Ferguson! See him plunging heedlessly on in the giddy and boisterous round of dissipation, deserting himself, abandoning his own discretion, and relinquishing all hopes of his God's assistance, madly borrowing support from his misfortunes, from the inflaming bowl, till at length reason is hurled from her thronehis mind, a sad, sad blank,-and the marvellous youth, whose harp had already taught his wild mountain land to echo its beautiful and sprightly lays, is torn from the sheltering roof of a tender and disconsolate mother, and huddled out of sight in the cell of a lunatic asylum. DAVID GOURLY. Mercy on us! but ye're preaching noo wi' a vengeance! An' yet I wush ye wadna sa anither word anent aither the ane or the ither this night. For though it be contrar to the rules o' guid breedin' I canna help frae tellin' ye that I look on ilka attempt to blacken their fair fame as a misdemeanour o' nae little magnitude. Burns was a jovial warm-hearted fallow, an' Ferguson was a canty callant, an' for this a vile, hypocritical crew whose approbation I wad consider a disgrace to the auld collie that noo sleeps sae soon on the hearth stane, raised a thoosand revilin' falsehoods, an' the world believed their slander. But I'm glad frae the bottom o' my heart that they baith had the manliness to expose, an' the honesty to despise sic cantin', flap-eared boobies; for in spite o' a' their daffin ye will find that the character o' Burns an' Ferguson will brush up to as perfeck a moral polish as that o' ony o' the inspired pairt o' the poppilation o' the nineteenth century. But let us change the subject. Wi' your permission, here's the "Border Magazine." DELLA CRUSCA. Thank you, sir, might I beg a short communication from your pen to grace its pages? DAVID GOURLY. To tell ye the truth, my pen might as weel be in the goose's wing as ony whar else the noo. The fack is, sir, I'm devoored wi' visitors ; I'm never a day without some,-an' yet as I sall answer, od, man! but I'm glad to see them. DELLA CRUSCA. I can appreciate the hearty honest squeeze of that hand. It is felt, and I shall long remember with gratitude and pride, Daisy-Bank's hospitable master and mistress. DAVID GOURLY. Hoots! I wadna hae ye to speak o't. Wha's the Editor ken ye o' Tait's Magazine? Its garrin Blackwud's folk cock their lugs brawly. DELLA CRUSCA. Two of the principal conductors of the defunct Edinburgh Literary Journal-Bell and Weir-are said to be connected with it. Be this as it may, it is got up with extraordinary talent, and its first and second numbers have exhibited specimens of most powerful composition. It is out and out a political Magazine. But there is no heaviness nor fustian about its material. The writers use the thrilling good old language of England, full of its home power, and though I might object to the unnecessary warmth in which they occasionally indulge, yet as the politics they espouse are supported by the great mass of the nation, I can well forgive the saucy, cutting, trenchant style of its political papers. It might be properly called the National Magazine! DAVID GOURLY. Aye, that gars ane scart their head;-but I see ye're a whig, or ye wadna hae thocht sae highly o' them. I ax pardon, sir, for dif ferin' wi' you, yet I canna admit that the gratification to be derived frae the readin' o' them is aither considerable or endurin'. They are owre shallow, pert, an' vapid, to become extensively popular. An' wi’ scarcely ane exception I dinna see that ony o' the light articles contain muckle promise. Nor can ye hae a presumption in the Magazine's favour, frae the names that hae clubbed to produce it; for I'm no single in my opinion, when I affirm, that nane o' them a', wha are said to be attached to Tait's publication, afford a pledge that ony man o' letters wad tak, for the guid and substantial value o' its contents. Only look at yon attack on Soothey, an' our late King, an' sae if ye can help frae turnin' pale wi' anger at the puir frenzied cretur wha wrote it. But isna the poetry a' unco sumphish? DELLA CRUSCA. With regard to the light reading I think it puts forth at least as fair claims to popular favour, as any I have met with. Whether or not any of the reigning dynasty of big-wigs have lent their talents to the li terary undertaking, I cannot say ;-but certain I am that close, scrutinizing, and philosophic pens are engaged in its composition. And if solid ability, and a thorough acquaintance with the national character |