Such, therefore, is the principle of legitimacy, invoked by Louis XVIII, and recognized by the Allies. But it must not be confounded with the slavish doctrine, that the right thus vested is by divine origin indefeasible. The heir-at-law in private life may dissipate by his folly, or forfeit by his crimes, the patrimony which the law conveys to him; and the legitimate monarch may most unquestionably, by departing from the principles of the constitution under which he is called to reign, forfeit, for himself and for his heirs if the legislator shall judge it proper, that crown which the principle we have recognized bestowed on him as his birthright. This is an extreme case, provided, not in virtue of the constitution, which recognizes no possible delinquency in the sovereign, but because the constitution has been attacked and infringed upon by the monarch, and therefore can no longer be permitted to afford him shelter. The crimes by which this high penalty is justly incurred, must therefore be of an extraordinary nature, and beyond the reach of those correctives for which the constitution provides, by the punishment of ministers and counsellors. The constitutional buckler of impeccability covers the monarch (personally) for all blameworthy use of his power, providing it is exercised within the limits of the constitution; it is when he stirs beyond it, and not sooner, that it becomes no defence for the bosom of a tyrant. A king of Britain, for example, may wage a rash war, or make a disgraceful peace, in the lawful, though injudicious and blame-worthy, exercise of the power vested in him by the constitution. His advisers, not he himself, shall be called, in such a case, to their responsibility. But if, like James II, he infringes upon, or endeavours to destroy the constitution, it is then that resistance becomes lawful and honourable, and the king is justly held to have forfeited the right which descended to him from his forefathers.

The principles of hereditary monarchy, of the inviolability of the person of the king, and of the responsibility of ministers, were recognized by the constitutional charter of France. Louis XVIII. was, therefore, during the year previous to Buonaparte's return, the lawful sovereign of France, and it remains to be shown by what act of treason to the constitution he had forfeited his right of legitimacy. The errors of his government were not only fewer

than might have been expected in circumstances so new and difficult, but were of such a nature as an honest, well-meaning, and upright opposition would soon have checked; not one of them could be personally attributed to Louis XVIII., and far from having incurred the forfeiture of his legitimate rights, he had, during these few months, laid a strong claim to the love, veneration, and gratitude of his subjects. He had fallen a sacrifice, in some degree, to the humours and rashness of the princes of his familystill more to causeless jealousies and unproved doubts, the watercolours which insurrection never lacks to paint her cause with, but, above all, to the fickleness of the French people, who became tired of his simple, orderly, and peaceful government, and to the dissatisfaction of a licentious and licensed soldiery, and of moody banditti, panting for a time of pell-mell havoc and confusion. The forcible expulsion of Louis XVIII., arising from such motives, could not break the solemn compact entered into by France with all Europe, when she received her legitimate monarch from the hand of her clement conquerors, and with him, and for his sake, such conditions of peace as she was in no condition to demand, and could never have otherwise obtained. His misfortune, as it arose from no fault of his own, could infer no forfeiture of his vested right. Europe, the virtual guarantee of the treaty of Paris, had also a title, leading back the lawful king in her armed and victorious hand, to require of France his reinstatement in his rights; and the termination which she thus offered to the war was as just and equitable, as its conduct during this brief campaign had been honourable and successful. Ed. An. Reg.

EMPLOYMENT.

EMPLOYMENT is the great instrument of intellectual dominion. The mind cannot retire from its enemy into total vacancy, or turn aside from one object, but by passing to another. The gloomy and the resentful are always found among those who have nothing to do, or who do nothing. We must be busy about good, or evil, and he to whom the present offers nothing, will often be looking backward on the past.

MEMOIR OF ROB ROY.

[Continued from our last number.]

The tribute of black-mail, extended, under Rob Roy's system, to all classes of people, to inferior proprietors, and to every description of tenantry; but the more powerful chieftains, though they at times considered him as an useful auxiliary, and though their property was often subjected to spoliation, would seldom consent to that compulsatory regulation, as being too degrading to that consequence which they were anxious to maintain. Rob Roy did certainly, as occasion required, exact what he conceived to be his due in this way, with some severity; but he often received the tax as a voluntary oblation. Of this last description was an annual payment made to him by Campbell of Abruchil; but this proprietor having omitted to pay him for some years, he at last went to his castle with an armed party, to demand the arrears due to him. Having knocked at the gate, leaving his men at some distance, he desired a conversation with the laird; but he was told that several great men were at dinner with him, and that no stranger could be admitted. Then tell him,' said he, that Rob Roy is at his door, and must see him, if the king should be dining with him.' The porter returned, and told him that his master knew nothing of such a person, and desired him to depart. Rob Roy immediately applied to his mouth a large horn that hung by his side, from which there issued a sound that appalled the castle guard, rung through every corner of the building, and astonished Abruchil and his guests, who quickly left the dining-table. In an instant Rob Roy's men were by his side, and he ordered them to drive away all the cattle they found on the land; but the laird came hastily to the gate, apologised for the rudeness of the porter to his good friend, took him into the castle, paid him his demand, and they parted apparently good friends.

The various assaults which Rob Boy had made upon the duke of Athol and his numerous vassals, were not dictated by a wish for spoil, but intended as a chastisement for the treachery of that nobleman, who did not respect his bravery, although he had often seen and dreaded its effects. Having shown no inclination to de

sist from those practices, Athol resolved to correct him in person, as all former attempts to subdue him had failed, and with this bold intention he set forward to Balquhidder. A large portion of that country then belonged to Athol in feu; and when he arrived there, he summoned the attendance of his vassals; who very unwillingly accompanied him to Rob Roy's house, as many of them were Macgregors, but dare not refuse their laird. Rob Roy's mother having died in his house at this time, preparations were going forward for the funeral, which was to take place that day; and on this occasion he could have dispensed with such unlooked for guests. He knew the purpose of their visit, and to escape seemed impossible; but with strength of mind and quickness of thought, he buckled on his sword, and went out to meet the duke. He saluted him very graciously, and said, that he was much obliged to his grace for having come, unasked, to his mother's funeral; which was a piece of friendship he did not expect; but Athol told him he did not come for that purpose, but to desire his company to Perth. He, however, declined the honour; as he could not leave his mother's funeral, but after doing that last duty to his parent, he would go, if his lordship insisted upon it. Athol said, the funeral could go on without him, and would not delay. A long remonstrance ensued; but the duke was inexorable, and Rob, apparently complying, went away amidst the cries and tears of his sisters and kindred. Their distress roused his soul to a pitch of irresistible desperation; and breaking from the party, several of whom he threw down, he drew his sword. Athol, when he saw him retreat, and his party intimidated by such resolution, drew a holster pistol and fired at him. Rob Roy fell at the same instant, not by the ball, which never touched him, but by slipping a foot. One of his sisters, the lady of Glenfallach, a stout woman, seeing her brother fall, believed he was killed, and making a furious spring at Athol, seized him by the throat, and brought him from his horse to the ground. In a few minutes that nobleman would have been choked, as it defied the by-standers to unfix the lady's grasp, until Rob Roy went to his relief, when the duke was in the agonies of suffocation.

Several of our hero's friends, who observed the suspicious haste of Athol and his party towards his house, dreading some

evil design, speedily armed, and running to his assistance, arrived just as Athol's eyeballs were beginning to revert into their sockets. Rob Roy declared, that had the duke been so polite as allow him to wait his mother's burial, he would have then gone along with him; but this being refused, he would now remain in spite of all his efforts; and the lady's embrace having much astonished the duke, he was in no condition to enforce his orders, so that he and his men departed as quickly as they could. Had they staid till the clan assembled to the exequies of the old woman, it is doubtful if either the chief or his companions would have ever returned to taste Athol brose.

Rob Roy who was in a great degree sanctioned to raise blackmail, openly demanded his dues, and took strong measures to enforce payment-his attack on Garden castle was of that description. The owner was absent when he went to claim his right, which had long been withheld on pretence of not being lawful. He, however, took possession of the fortress, and when the owner returned he was refused admittance, until he would pay the reward of protection: but he refused; and Rob Roy having ascended the turrets with a child from the nursery, threatened to throw it over the walls, which speedily brought the laird, at the intercession of his lady, to an agreement, when our hero restored the keys of the castle, and took his leave.

While our hero continued in Argyllshire, he frequently tra versed that interesting country, exploring its most unfrequented vallies and hidden recesses. One evening in autumn, as the declining sun had nearly sunk beneath the Atlantic wave, and the parting tinge played upon the towering pinnacles of the lofty Ben-Cruachan, he was travelling alone through the sequestered passes of Glenetive. An unusual stillness reigned over the face of nature, and nothing seemed to ruffle the tranquillity except the gentle murmuring of the tide, as it played over the pebbled shore of the lake, which increased the solemn placidity of the hour, and touched the mind with a full conviction of the inimitable grandeur of the scene that was now presented to the contemplation of Rob Roy. He felt, with enthusiastic delight, the sublimity of the objects before him, and he sat down on the point of an elevated rock, that his soul might enjoy the perfect magnificence he be