er shortened, but oftener aggravated and protracted, the evils produced by the wars and factions of the times. It has occasionally been assailed, and sometimes been surrendered by treachery and famine, but no permanent impression has been made upon its walls, nor any material alteration taken place in its plan. It has more than once run an imminent risk of being demolished by gunpowder, and but for some slight accident, or momentary caprice, this elaborate structure, which, if left to itself, would survive a dozen centuries, without the loss of a moulding, the hasty or envious rage of a military leader would have levelled with the ground in a few weeks. The history of its escapes would be an instructive comment on the destiny of most buildings of this kind.

There was one purpose, however, for which it was by far too convenient.

One of its inner towers was originally designed as a prison, and was constructed, not so much with a view of excluding those that were without, as to detain those that were already within. Such a building was necessary to a fortress, in war time, but it could not fail to have its use as a prison extended at all times beyond its own walls, and the chief of the estate, or his deputy, being master of the castle, this tower was a ready engine of punishment. Donald, the last factor or steward, took care that it should seldom be empty. Indeed the history of this castle is far more remarkable as a prison than in any other light, and, in this light, its erection must be numbered among the most disastrous events in the history of C. The power of the chiefs, which has been rendered by circumstances more absolute than that of any monarch, would of course display itself, on some occasions, in immuring its victims within these inaccessible walls. Not only a breach of law, but an opposition of interests or inclinations, laid an obnoxious tenant at his mercy. Not only his subject tenants, but even his own family, a wife or

child, were liable to the same fate. It was even sometimes subservient to the interests or cruelty of persons at a distance, and one very memorable instance occurred, in what we may call the reign of Donald, which only wants the embellishment of circumstances, to make one of the most mournful that has ever been recorded.

A lady, nearly connected with the C family, brought a large fortune to her husband; but that husband was a selfish and tyrannical wretch; and after driving her to the desperate resolution of seeking a divorce, he prevented the execu tion of her design, by having her secretly conveyed to Cand put into the power of Donald, whose concurrence had been purchased by a large sum. She was immured in this prison, with no attendant but a beldame who could not speak her language, and died a very few months before the arrival of sir A, after a miserable exile of eleven years. What aggravates the horror of the story, is the reflection that she was married, against her will, to a man recommended only by his birth and specious qualities, and who sought only her fortune. Donald's bribe was taken out of this fortune, while the husband continued to enjoy the rest.

Great pains were taken, by Donald and the husband, to bury in oblivion all traces of this event; but the diligence and penetration of sir A brought them to light, and such measures were taken as to load the guilty with all the punishment which the laws would inflict.

On sir A's arrival, an exact survey was made of this castle. All its vaults and passages were thoroughly explored, and the use to which it might be applied became a subject of much deliberation.

The establishment of law and or der through the nation, and the union of the three kingdoms of England, Ireland, and Scotland, took away, in a great measure, the use of this castle as a fortress. The nature of the coast, and the defences

raised at the mouth of the harbour, almost the only accessible or vulnerable point in the whole circuit of the lordship, contributed still more to render its aid superfluous. It was still possible, however, that the shelter of its walls might one day become necessary, and with a view to such a possible emergency, it deserved to be valued and cherished. Meanwhile, there were certain temporary or immediate benefits, which it might be calculated to afford.

Some place of detention and confinement, for accused or guilty persons, was still absolutely necessary; but the number of such persons was greatly diminished, not only by the diligence exerted to prevent crimes, by annihilating poverty and temptation, and by a strict police, but likewise by banishing guilty, and even suspected or questionable persons, from the lordship. Notwithstanding this, however, there was occasionally a necessity for continuing the use of the castle, or rather of one of its towers, as a prison. But this prison was no longer the receptacle of the victims of injustice. Its unfortunate tenants were no longer subjected to the caprices of ignorance and obduracy, in the form of a jailor. Their gloomy cells were no longer the seats of filth and indolence. It was subjected to a mild superintendance, and salutary discipline. Care was taken that a state of accusation should not be a state of punishment, and that punishment should be no more than a process for supplanting knavish, dissolute, and idle habits, by honest, abstemious, and laborious ones.

The power of imprisoning had always been exercised by the lords, not only over real or imagined culprits, but likewise over such as could not or would not pay their debts. On this account, the inhabitants were in the power, not only of the lord, but of each other, it being optional with every creditor to take the goods, or imprison the person of the debtor. As every process for debt was conducted before the lord or his deputy, and he had irresisti

ble means in his hands of influencing the conduct of the suitor, without a formal abrogation of any usage or law, no debtor was thenceforth liable to be imprisoned, unless on account of some fraud or iniquity, quite distinct from the mere naked circumstance of owing money.

The history of this prison, which has been amply compiled by sir A's direction, exhibits a truly horrible picture of human depravity and misery. From age to age it was filled with real or imaginary criminals, who were subjected to all the evils of a listless indolence, a noisome atmosphere, and a hardhearted and despotic keeper. Neglect could not but make it the seat of darkness, moisture, cold, and filth. Food, dress, water, firing, bedding were all provided in the worst fashion, and the genius of man could not have devised more successful means of generating despair and ferocity, pestilence and death.

This, it is true, is the picture of almost every prison in Europe.They only want a historian, to produce a catalogue of ills as long and as shocking as this prison has furnished. But when we view the state of things at present within these dreary walls, the mind is lost in astonishment at a change, at once so total, so thorough, and yet, as it seems, so easily effected. Now it is the abode of order, peace, industry, and happiness. It has a striking resemblance to a convent, the chief points of whose discipline are cleanliness and quiet. This prison was always what the sovereign will of the lord determined to make it.Whatever took place within its bounds, was the absolute result of either his direction or his negligence. Its present condition betrays, in like manner, the uncontroulable authority of the present ruler. He has expressly prescribed the whole system of management, and his admirable wisdom and unslackened energy have fully provided for the good of its tenants, and carried these provisions into full effect.

The keep, or great central tower,

was a building containing a great many spacious apartments. The proportions of these rooms were not deficient in beauty or grandeur, and a very large family could be conveniently accommodated in them. For a century after the death of its founder, it was the customary residence of the lords of C—, and had been deserted for a modern mansion, nearer the centre of the estate, more through caprice than necessity. During that period, it had been furnished and embellished in the prevailing style of the times, but neglect and the weather had reduced it to a state of nakedness. For many years previous to sir A—'s succession, no domestic use was made of it. The glass in the windows was gone. The wooden doors had vanished. Through these apertures the wind and rain found an unobstructed passage. Particles of dust, wafted by the gales from afar, lodged and insensibly accumulated in ledges and angles. Some of the subterranean apartments were pools of water. Minute and vagrant seeds of creeping plants insensibly made good their footing in the chinks and corners. Owls, and reptiles, and foxes, found a safe harbour in the darksome passages.Superstition lent its aid still more to estrange the steps of man. Tradition supplied a thousand incidents wherewith to build up the story of an apparition, and nobody would trust themselves within the door, for any reward.

This edifice, as I mentioned before, was so constructed that time and the weather could have no effect but upon the surface. The stones could not be removed from their places. Water might insinuate itself sometimes between them, but their coherence could not be affected by that circumstance. Nothing but the wooden parts and the iron which chanced to be exposed to the air had decayed; nay almost every vestige of these had disappeared.

The same description will apply to the apartments and passages in the walls, as well as to those of a

second inner tower, which corresponded in situation, height, and size with the prison. This building was originally designed as a kind of monastery. It was occupied by religious persons, whose mode of life was monastic or collegiate. They seem to have been appointed to officiate in all the clerical and studious functions pertaining to the fortress, and to have formed a separate community. It was in the same desolate condition with the keep.

Sir A was no stranger to those emotions which give sanctity or solemnity to scenes of past transactions. In the towers and apartments of this castle, he beheld the principal abode of the ancestors of his house, for more than seven centuries. Every door and window was connected with the lively recollection of numberless incidents; some joyous, and some mournful, but all, in some degree, involving or affecting the destiny of those from whose loins he sprung. In the vaults below the monk's tower lay, hearsed in marble, their reliques. He determined, therefore, not to forsake it, but to restore it to a habitable state. To effect this, little more was necessary than to supply the doorways with doors, and the windows with glass; to dislodge the owls and bats, the snakes and spiders; to cleanse every nook and corner, and to place in it canopies and bed-steads, tables and seats.

It is true, the mansion was, in some respects, gloomy. The jambs of the windows are ten feet in depth, but the gloom is not too great for convenience. None of the apartments exceed twenty or twenty-five feet in breadth, except one, which is forty feet wide, but their form and proportions are magnificent and beautiful. The artist seems to have studied the most consummate simplicity in embellishing and finishing his work, which has been productive of one advantage: that future proprietors have enjoyed the privilege of superinducing any ornaments they pleased. The great depth and solidity of the walls allow of former

sculptures to be erased, and their place supplied anew. Both these capacities were found extremely useful by sir A- who had much more occasion for the chisel, in clearing away the rude sculptures of the sixteenth century, than in adorning the original simplicity of the design. This simplicity, indeed, might, in some cases, rather deserve the name of nakedness.

The gothic style, as it is called, was in some degree adopted by Sarchi in constructing the abbey, and the Tuscan in building the castle. In both cases, he adhered to much greater simplicity, and exercised much greater freedom than is any where else to be found. The chief characteristic in both was the form given to rooms, and especially to the upper part of rooms, passages, and apertures. In the abbey, the shape of the rooms presented only polygonal figures of three or more sides, and the upper part or ceiling continually affected an arch composed of several successive segments of a circle. In the castle, every room was purely cylindrical, always terminating above in a spherical concave. The arch, in all cases, was a single curve. Almost all his surfaces were plane ones. To mark, externally, the division of the stories, and blunt the sharpness and abruptness of the angles formed by the upward and downward terminations of the walls, both outer and inner, he admitted, though sparingly, those curvilineal and rectilineal members, on the relative dimensions and position of which the ornamental part of architecture depends. The form of every tower, like that of every apartment, was cylindrical, its smooth surface being chiefly diversified by oblong openings, for doors and windows, square at bottom, but arched at top. On the sweeping curves, either convex or concave, formed by this figure, and the symmetrical variety produced by cavities and apertures, placed with due and exact order, together with the graceful bend of vaults and arches, the architect almost wholly depended for making

agreeable impressions on the eye. Sir A was fully sensible of the simple grandeur and genuine beauty flowing from these principles, and most of the labour employed in his improvements was designed to renovate the original plan, by chiseling away all the injudicious or fantastic mouldings and emblems produced by his predecessors.

In his choice of furniture and ornaments, he was guided by the value which things derive, not from the rarity or costliness of the materials, but from the convenience or grace of the form, and from the delicacy and perfection of the workmanship. He was profuse of nothing but glass and marble. The finest of these substances, in colour and texture, abounded; the first in windows, mirrors, and lustres, and the second in cornices, pannels, and tablets, in mosaics and relievos.Every improvement in mechanism, and every contrivance for conveying water and heat; every instrument of rational enjoyment, wholesome luxury, culinary order, and domestic convenience, were adopted by sir A- in this and in all his buildings.

In this plan of renovation and improvement, the monk's tower was included, as well as the mural towers, and all the apartments and communications in the wall itself. The monk's tower was fitted up for the residence of learned men, to whose care was consigned all the registers and records of the estate and the family, which had been spared by the malice or neglect of his predecessors. Every written document, and every monument and relique, ancient or recent, connected with the history and political state of the lordship, was deposited in this treasury. From several peculiar causes, these monuments were very numerous; and the task of arranging and digesting them required, for a long time, the care of more than one person.

In the researches instituted by sir A, into the former history and actual condition of the lordship, he

was influenced not merely by the necessity of knowing the size and extent of the evil before it could be remedied, but by a liberal curiosity. A kind of passion for this object of his thoughts and cares acquired daily new fervour, and he overlooked nothing, how remote, obscure, or inconsiderable soever, which bore any relation to the lordship. Every department, and every period of its history, both natural and civil, was minutely and laboriously investigated, by learned and skilful persons, whose devotion to this service he repaid by placing them, for their lives, in affluence and ease. This tower, supplied with every thing that could make it a quiet and luxurious abode, was allotted to those who employed their whole attention on the civil and economical state of the district, previous to sir A's possession of it.

This tower contained three apartments, twenty feet in diameter, and thirty in height, and twelve other rooms, half the diameter and height of the former, besides numerous closets, passages, and staircases. By this you may judge of the extent of accommodation in the keep, which is a tower twenty feet higher, and double the diameter of that just described.

The substance of the walls and mural towers is, for obvious reasons, a more entire solid than that of the towers within the inclosure. The rooms in the latter are smaller, and the apertures by which light and air are admitted more narrow. They were therefore less suitable for human habitation, and were indeed originally designed for little else than for stairs and store-rooms. The mural apartments, especially in the upper stories, being lighted from within the court, were more spacious and luminous than the rest.

In time of war and danger, all these rooms and avenues were no more than sufficient to accomodate the persons, and store the luggage and provisions, which would be obliged to take shelter in them; but in time of peace, they could only be

THIS performance is one of the most useful and agreeable that could have been transplanted to our soil. The author is an old man, but he writes in an entertaining and persuasive, and even in an elegant manner. The work is entirely free from technical obscurity, or scientific method. It is written to instruct, and, for that purpose, endeavours to engage the attention of that sex, whose interests he takes into his care.

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