JAMES CAMPBELL. BY AN OCTOGENARIAN. From thee, Eliza! I must go, Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, A boding voice is in mine ear, But the last throb that leaves my heart While death stands victor by, That throb, Eliza! is thy part, Burns. IN Glasgow, all must remember well the first weeks of April, 1820, With a considerable part of the west of Scotland, they formed a period which might be called the Reign of Terror, the very Saturnalia of democracy. These weeks, however, were not without their uses, nor was that a time of unmitigated evil; for, although a spirit of rebellious turbulence armed a portion of our citizens against the time-honoured constitution of their country, it also gave an opportunity to thousands of young and gallant hearts to shew their reverence for the institutions of their fathers, and display a noble courage in their defence. To an old man like myself, it was indeed an animating sight to behold the youth just bursting into manhood, as well as the father of a family, each, at the appointed hour, exchanging the weeds of peace for the martial garb of Lincoln Green; forsaking the desk and the counter of commerce, for the parade and muster place of expected strife, and throwing down the pen to shoulder the rifle. Old though I be, I am an early riser; yet how often, in the depth of the severe winter preceding the outrages of the spring of 1820, did I meet, when proceeding to the Coffee Room, for my usual morning dose of intelligence and gossip, crowds of striplings and of vigorous. youths, hastening, with light and loyal hearts, to the place of rendezvous and drill, under an atmosphere, and with circumstances combined, which might have even warranted a grumble from a veteran of ten campaigns ;— yet there was no such thing heard from them. The cheery jibe, or the mirthful laugh, were the sounds that greeted my ear at these their matin meetings. I admired much, as I believe there were few who did not, the appearance of our sharpshooters in their martial costume; but I must confess, I was fonder of them, and felt a more parental kindness as it were, towards them, when they were seen at muster, with the white, infantry belt, and lumbering cartouch box, hastily buckled over their every day and peaceful habiliments. They then wore upon them, obvious to every eye, the stamp of the soldier citizen-—of the patriot, who, though he had not renounced the offices of peace, was yet ready, unpaid, and unfettered, to encounter the dangers of warfare for the preservation of tranquillity, and the safety of those who were nearest and dearest to him. There may be cowards in a regular regiment ;—for a life of comparative idleness to that of the industrious tradseman, an insured regularity of stipend, with all the changes of scenes and faces, and the unending variety which the military occupation offers, may occasionally tempt a poltroon to join the ranks. (How few there are of such a cast in our army, however, let its conduct for the last five and twenty years bear witness!)-but one who makes a great and almost unlooked for sacrifice of time, ease, and safety, by entering into a military association for the defence of his country from invasion, or for the more invidious, gracious, and, let me add, dangerous purpose of preventing or suppressing civil strife, gives an incontestible proof of his courage. It was quite delightful to me to observe how much of that quality existed in the breasts of many youths of my acquaintance, who had never before been placed in circumstances at all likely to generate un it. It was cheering to find that it formed a part and parcel of their nature, a sort of store, ready for any emergency, or, to use their own business-like phraseology, a deposit, on which they might draw to any amount; a bank, on which they had an unlimited letter of credit. Among those who distinguished themselves by their alacrity and ardour on the occasion I set out with alluding to, was a young man towards whom I entertained great good will. The mischances which have befallen him, I shall shortly relate, as it was the receipt of some additional intelligence respecting them, and the sight of a lovely, but unfortunate friend of his, that gave rise to the preceding train of reflection, of which it is more than probable, my readers are already heartily tired. James Campbell was one of a numerous family, to which his parents, occupying a small farm in Argyleshire, had given existence. James, and his brothers and sisters, were sent to receive the usual education of a country parish school, one of those simple, and incom plicated, but all powerful machines for the propagation of the useful elements of knowledge, to which Scotland is so much indebted for its pre-eminence, not only in the walks of mind, but also in the practical business of every-day life. At this humble seminary, he fistin guished himself above all his juvenile compeers, by his skill in penmanship and ciphering. His hand-whting was indeed beautiful, even after the rapidity of busines transactions gave but little time for the display of taste. This, with some other qualifications, seemed to point him out to his parents, as particularly fitted for the mercantile profession, and accordingly James received instruction for some years longer than the rest of his relatives, who had no higher views than to "tread the path their fathers trod before." When he had, at length, reached an age, at which his affectionate parents thought he might, with some degree of safety, be trusted among the allurements and temptations of a great city, he was sent to Glasgow. His father's landlord was distantly related to a merchant of eminence, and, as the principle of clanship yet exists in our northern counties, to an extent that Englishmen can hardly believe possible, the fact of his being the son of a feudal retainer of this merchant's friend, and withal, bearing the same patronymic, was of more advantage to him, than even his knowledge of caligraphy, and its sister arts, to his acquirements in which I have before alluded. James, at this time, was a rough material, yet sound at the core. Sound he continued to be; but the roughness speedily gave place to the polish of a well-bred young man, though he never assumed the airs of a petit maitre. He had not been educated in the school of Chesterfield, but he had been brought up in one far better suited to the production of men of virtue, sense, and genuine politeness-that of unsophisticated Nature |