neighbourhood, and picked up a living from the passengers going that way, who generally threw him a few pence as the reward of his musical talents. A certain gentleman, who never failed in his generosity to the piper, was surprised, on passing one day as usual, to miss him from his accustomed place:-upon inquiry, he found that the poor man had been taken ill in consequence of a very singular accident. On the joyful occasion of the arrival of one of his countrymen from the Highlands, the piper had in fact made too free with the contents of his keg: these so overpowered his faculties, that he stretched himself out upon the steps of the church, and fell fast asleep. These were not times to sleep on church steps with impunity. He was found in this situation when the dead cart went its rounds; and the carter supposing of course, as the most likely thing in every way, that the man was dead, made no scruple to put his fork under the piper's belt, and, with some assistance, hoisted him into his vehicle, which was nearly full, with the charitable intention that our Scotch musician should share the usual brief ceremonies of interment. The piper's faithful dog protested against the seizure of his master, and attempted to prevent the unceremonious removal; but, failing of success, he fairly jumped into the cart after him, to the no small annoyance of the men, whom he would not suffer to come near the body; he further took upon himself the office of chief mourner, by setting up the most lamentable howling as they passed along.

The streets and roads by which they had to go being very rough, the jolting of the cart, added to the howling of the dog, had soon the effect of awakening our drunken musician from his trance. It was dark; andthe piper, when he first recovered himself, could form no idea either of his numerous companions or his conductors. Instinctively, however, he felt about for his pipes, and playing up a merry Scotch tune, terrified, in no small measure, the carters, who fancied they had got a legion of ghosts in their conveyance. A little time, however, put all to rights;-lights were got, and

it turned out that the noisy corpse was the well-known living piper, who was joyfully released from his awful and perilous situation. The poor man fell badly ill after this unpleasant excursion, and was relieved, during his malady, by his former benefactor, who, to perpetuate the remembrance of so wonderful an escape, resolved, as soon as his patient had recovered, to employ a sculptor to execute him on stone-not omitting his faithful dog, keg of liquor, &c.

The famous Caius Gabriel Cibber was then in high repute, from the circumstance of his having executed the beautiful figures which originally were placed on the entrance gate of old Bethlem Hospital; and the statue in question of the Highland bagpiper remains an additional specimen of the merits of this great artist.

It was long after purchased by John the great duke of Argyll, and came from his collection, at his decease, into the possession of the present proprietor.

LINES WRITTEN IN RICHMOND CHURCHYARD, YORKSHIRE*.

"It is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles; one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias." Matt. xvii. 4.

METHINKS it is good to be here;

If thou wilt let us build-but for whom?

Nor Elias nor Moses appear,

But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom,
The abode of the dead, and the place of the tomb.

The above lines, amongst other poetical effusions, are from the pen of Herbert Knowles, of Canterbury. Though left unfinished, they may give some idea of the early excellence and superior abilities of this youth, which were sufficient to procure him, in an eminent degree, the favour of one of the most eminent poets of the present day (Southey); but the advantages of this friendly connexion he did not live to enjoy. H. K. died in the neighbourhood of Richmond, on the 17th of February 1817, at the early age of 19, deeply lamented by all who knew him.

Shall we build to Ambition? oh, no! Affrighted he shrinketh away;

For, see! they would fix him below,

In a small narrow cave, and begirt with cold clay,
To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey!

To Beauty? ah, no!--she forgets
The charms which she wielded before-

Nor knows the foul worm that he frets The skin which but yesterday fools could adore, For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.

Shall we build to the purple of Pride

The trappings which dizen the proud?

Alas! they are all laid aside;

And here's neither dress nor adornment allow'd,
But the long winding-sheet and the fringe of the shroud!

To Riches? alas! 'tis in vain;
Who hid, in their turns have been hid;
The treasures are squander'd again;

And here in the grave are all metals forbid,
But the tinsel that shone on the dark coffin lid.

To the pleasures which Mirth can afford— The revel, the laugh, and the jeer?

Ah! here is a plentiful board;

But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer,
And none but the worm is a reveller here.

Shall we build to Affection and Love?

Ah, no! they have wither'd and died,

Or fled with the spirit above;

Friends, brothers, and sisters, are laid side by side,
Yet none have saluted, and none have replied.

Unto Sorrow?-The dead cannot grieve;

Not a sob nor a sigh meets mine ear,

Which compassion itself could relieve!

Ah! sweetly they slumber, nor hope, love, nor fearPeace, peace is the watch-word, the only one here!

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow?, Ah, no! for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow!

Beneath the cold dead, and around the dark stone,
Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown!

The first tabernacle to Hope we will build, And look for the sleepers around us to rise:

The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfill'd; And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice, Who bequeath'd us them both when he rose to the skies! Richmond, October 7, 1816.

ON RESPECTABLE PEOPLE.

THERE is not any term that is oftener misapplied, or that is a stronger instance of the abuse of language, than this same word, respectable. By a respectable man is generally meant a person whom there is no reason for respecting, or none that we would choose to name: for if there is any good reason for the opinion we wish to express, we naturally assign it as the ground of his respectability. If the person whom you are desirous to characterize favourably is distinguished for his good nature, you say that he is a good-natured man; if by his zeal to serve his friends, you call him a friendly man; if by his wit or sense, you say that he is witty or sensible; if by his honesty or learning, you say so at once; but if he is none of these, and there is no one quality which you can bring forward to justify the high opinion you would be thought to entertain of him, you then take the question for granted, and jump at a conclusion, by observing gravely, "that he is a very respectable man." It is clear, indeed, that where we have any striking and generally admitted reasons for respecting a man, the most obvious way to ensure the respect of others will be to mention his estimable qualities:

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where these are wanting, the wisest course must be to say nothing about them, but to insist on the general inference which we have our particular reasons for drawing, only vouching for its authenticity. If, for instance, the only motive we have for thinking or speaking well of another is, that he gives us good dinners, as this is not a valid reason to those who do not, like us, partake of his hospitality, we may (without going into particulars) content ourselves with assuring them that he is a most respectable man; if he is a slave to those above him, and an oppressor of those below him, but sometimes makes us the channels of his bounty, or the tools of his caprice, it will be as well to say nothing of the matter, but to confine ourselves to the safer generality, that he is a person of the highest respectability; if he is a low dirty fellow who has amassed an immense fortune, which he does not know what to do with, the possession of it alone will guarantee his respectability, if we say nothing of the manner in which he has come by it, or in which he spends it. A man may be a knave or a fool, or both (as it may happen), and yet be a most respectable man, in the common and authorized sense of the term, provided he keeps up appearances, and does not give common fame a handle for no longer keeping up the imposture. The best title to the character of respectability lies in the convenience of those who echo the cheat, and in the conventional hypocrisy of the world. When we hear the word coupled with the name of any individual, it would argue a degree of romantic simplicity to imagine that it implies any one quality of head or heart, any one excellence of body or mind, any one good action or praiseworthy sentiment; but as soon as it is mentioned, it conjures up the ideas of a handsome house with large acres round it, a sumptuous table, a cellar well stocked with excellent wines, splendid furniture, a fashionable equipage, with a long list of elegant contingencies. It is not what a man is, but what he has, that we speak of in the significant use of this term. He may be the poorest creature in the world