ffected. In the visible objects of the funeral of George the Third
there was but little magnificence; all its sublimity was derived from the
trains of thought and currents of feeling, which the sight of so many
illustrious characters, surrounded by circumstances associated with the
greatness and antiquity of the kingdom, was necessarily calculated to
call forth. In this respect, however, it was perhaps the sublimest
spectacle ever witnessed in this island; and I am sure, that I cannot
live so long as ever again to behold another, that will equally interest
me to the same depth and extent.--Yours,

ANDREW PRINGLE.

We should ill perform the part of faithful historians, did we omit to
record the sentiments expressed by the company on this occasion. Mrs.
Glibbans, whose knowledge of the points of orthodoxy had not their equal
in the three adjacent parishes, roundly declared, that Mr. Andrew
Pringle's letter was nothing but a peesemeal of clishmaclavers; that
there was no sense in it; and that it was just like the writer, a canary
idiot, a touch here and a touch there, without anything in the shape of
cordiality or satisfaction.

Miss Isabella Tod answered this objection with that sweetness of manner
and virgin diffidence, which so well becomes a youthful member of the
establishment, controverting the dogmas of a stoop of the Relief
persuasion, by saying, that she thought Mr. Andrew had shown a fine
sensibility. "What is sensibility without judgment," cried her
adversary, "but a thrashing in the water, and a raising of bells?
Couldna the fallow, without a' his parleyvoos, have said, that such and
such was the case, and that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh
away?--but his clouds, and his spectres, and his visions of Job!--Oh, an
he could but think like Job!--Oh, an he would but think like the patient
man!--and was obliged to claut his flesh with a bit of a broken crock, we
might have some hope of repentance unto life. But Andrew Pringle, he's a
gone dick; I never had comfort or expectation of the free-thinker, since
I heard that he was infected with the blue and yellow calamity of the
_Edinburgh Review_; in which, I am credibly told, it is set forth, that
women have nae souls, but only a gut, and a gaw, and a gizzard, like a
pigeon-dove, or a raven-crow, or any other outcast and abominated
quadruped."

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed her effectual med