In reply to an OLD SUBSCRIBER (p. 290), J. G. N. writes, that he has reason to suppose that no measure has yet been taken to repair the breach which, by the admission of the Earldom of Roscommon, was made by the House of Peers in the patent of Lord Bloomfield. The Barony of Milford was not (as your Correspondent presumes) appropriated to that purpose; as it was one of those mentioned in the patent of the Barony of Fitzgerald and Vesey; the two others being Coleraine and Eardley. For the Earldom of Norbury the extinctions alleged were the Viscounty of Newcomen, the Barony of Whitworth, and the Viscounty of Carleton. The peerage of Barrymore, although the late Earl died as long since as 1823, appears (unlike Roscommon) never to have been considered extinct by the advisers of the Crown, the Viscounty (as stated by your Correspondent) having been claimed before the House of Peers. The extinct Irish peerages, then, which have not yet been acted upon, stand thus, in the order of their occurrence: 1826, Viscounty of Netterville (but for which also a claim has been preferred); 1827, Earldom of Ulster, and Barony of Castlecoote; 1829, Earldom of Carhampton, Earldom of Blesinton, and Viscounty of Clermont. As "the next extinction after the revival of the Earldom of Roscommon was not, according to the terms of the Act, duly passed over by the Crown as affording "no new right," it certainly appears to be high time that the omission should be remedied, lest not only the integrity of the Barony of Bloomfield, but that of every subsequent creation, should become debateable in consequence of the neglect."

Mr. W. WANSEY says, "Since I sent you an account of the Clay moulds for Roman Coins, which are occasionally found in the parish of Wakefield (p. 32), I have had another opportunity of visiting that place, and have procured a few more, and among them one with the coin still in it. It is a Julia Domna, of the small bronze size. Obv. IVLIA AVGVSTA, head of Julia Donna. Rev. CERERI FRVGIF. Ceres seated. (See Mionet, p. 189.) It is in perfect preservation. The edge of the mould is broken away in one or two places, and the shape of the coin corresponds to those vacancies which it has evidently run into while in a state of fusion, proving, without doubt, that it was cast in the mould, which it still fits exactly. I also obtained two or three coins of S. Severus and his family, and a sort of crucible, apparently made of the same sort of clay as the moulds, about as large as a moderate sized apple, which, supposing a slice cut off the

top, it resembles in shape. The lower part of it is black outside, and quite vitrified, evidently the effect of the action of fire."

If any of our Correspondents know of the existence of any sale or MS. Catalogues of the Books and MSS. of Bysshe and St. George, Clarencieux Kings of Arms, in any public or private repositary, we shall be obliged by a line upon the subject. Sir Edward Bysshe died 1680, when the remains of his library, not disposed of in his life-time, were sold by John Dunmore, at the Woolpack in Ivy-lane. Sir Henry St. George died 1715, and his books were sok! by Messrs. Wine and Gregory.

The Rev. T. DYER, Rector of Abbess Roding, Essex, states that," in the chancel of Abbess Roding Church, there is a handsome ancient monument erected to the memory of Mildred Lady Luckyn, the wife of Sir William Luckyn, of Little Waltham, Essex, Bart. and the youngest daughter of Sir Gamaliel Capel of Rookwood Hall, Knt. and Dame Jane his wife, who died in the year 1633. On the other side of the wall is another monument to the memory of her father and mother, and nine of their children. A description of these monuments, and a view of the Church, appeared in Gent. Mag. for May 1797. Both of these monuments (adds Mr. Dyer) are very much dilapidated, and he therefore wishes to discover the descendants. of those to whose memory they were erected, in hopes that they will contribute something towards their restoration. The Earl of Essex, descended from the abovementioned Capels, has been applied to, but his Lordship refused to contribute anything, erroneously supposing that the parish is obliged to keep up all monuments in the Church."-Mr. Dyer is informed that the lineal male representative of Sir William Luckyn is Earl Verulamn, whose great-grandfather, Sir William Luckyn, first assumed the name of Grimston.

The Correspondent who favoured us with a drawing of a stone jug, having impressed upon it medallions of heads in Roman costume, is requested to communicate further with us, previously to its publication.

We are much obliged by the view of the Town of Axbridge, sent by G. B. and are only withheld from engraving it, from the Cross and many of the buildings therein represented, appearing also in the view of that town, inserted in vol. LXXV. p. 201.

The view of Hawkshead Church is not admissible.

We have received a private communication for our correspondent A. C. C., with whose address we are unacquainted.

Sco

MAGAZINE.

COTLAND, from Edinburgh to Stirling, is a country excessively cultivated, but too open, and of the bleak sea-coast character. There is not so much deficiency of trees in the foreground as there was formerly; but there is a bad effect produced from the manner of planting these trees, which have grown up, like regiments of soldiers, in straight lines, stiff, priggish, half-sized, and formal. How ever wooded or England-like the foreground may have been made, there is always in a Scotch view a bad background, a chilly, naked mountain behind, a regular Cotswold of the first magnitude, too near and too russety to be picturesque or landscape-like. All this, the lowland country, is intersected with broad rivers, and consequently steam-boat_travelling is the order of the day. They are seen plying about in great numbers, and giving much life to Scotch views. The long tails of smoke out of their huge iron cylinders, may be seen coming round the jutting promontories and corners of the rivers, long before the noble drudge comes dashing and rumbling into view. I stept into the Stirling steam-boat, and got up the Forth to Stirling, forty miles, for 3s. 6d., and walked on to the next village to sleep, eleven miles. We met with a half-drunken Highlander, who told us he could take G- - and myself a shorter way. He led us through a park, under magnificent trees, along a river side, at the end of which he came into a wood, shot suddenly down to the river's side, twice as wide as the Wye, and dashed unconcernedly over a dam-head of loose stones, where we were obliged to follow in the dark, with a certainty of drowning if we had slipped. On went the Highlander, a perfect master of localities, just as if he had been crossing Wilton bridge, and we luckily got

off with only our shoes and stockings full of water. We had seen no

thing hitherto worth mention, but the beautiful coasts of Fife-a glorious outline of half sea, half river character, rocks, wooded villages, and parks, and an admirable general outline.

The approach to the Highland scenery is, like that of all mountainous countries, a long reach of dreary moorland for the high ground, with intermediate bottoms of loose stones, weeds, and brooks. You find nothing but what excites ideas of desolation and unsheltered desertion, till you get into the heart, when up rise the mountains in endless groups, like mole-hills in a field. This Highland scene has two characters. It consists, first, of successive groups of mountains, arranged in circles, within which are inclosed, as in a basin, smooth broad silvery lakes; and secondly, in the narrow lines of separation between these mountains, of cataracts, that pour headlong down' over the loose rocks that are washed out of the base of the hills, and tossed about like a thousand tomb-stones, upright, perpendicular, across, and in all directions, overhung with copses of hazel, pine, birch, and mountain ash. We had a fine specimen of this in "the Brachan's thundering wave," and the Pass of Glenfinlas.

Some of the Highland cottages on the road are curious. Many of them, of loose stones without mortar, black with age, and a crop of grass on the thatch, are lettered as inns, licensed to sell British and foreign spirits, whisky, and porter. Inside, a fire in the centre of the hovel, and a hole in the wall to let out the smoke, and one bed almost on the earth; children half naked, men ragged. But in one of these there was Johnson's Dictionary, and other works of note; for the march of intellect, some how or other, peeps into every hole in Scotland. A gamekeeper, a way-faring man, some middle farmers, and people of the peasantry class in the packets, surprised us with

an intelligent discourse on government and colonization, and the ancient history of Scotland.

The two crowning scenes in the western Highlands are the Trosacs and Lochlomond. We passed under Benledi, a huge mountain, till we reached the road, with Loch Verachee at our feet on one side, and the hill side clothed with wood on the other. At the head, of the lake, which we were approaching, was a chain of seven wooded -mountains, complete half globes, which passed straight across the lake; and over these seven juniors was a tier close at their backs, of six or seven, three times as high, starting up and staring like grenadiers over the shoulders of drummer-boys. To pierce this double girdle of mountains, the Trosacs, and see what was within them, we had to pass through a winding ravine of wood and crags, rising so high as to shut out all sky but what was suspended over our heads. In this magnificent hollow, the cliffs and trees thrown all about, and sloping down in irregular terraces, (with a ground, not of moss but of heath, matted as thick as box in a garden, two feet high, and loaded with crimson blossoms and green stems,) formed the most complete Salvator Rosa, or Radcliffe picture, that it is possible to imagine. Just out of the path was the solitary grass-plat where Scott describes the fall and death of James Fitz James's horse. Within this girdle we found Loch Katrine, like "one burnished sheet of molten gold," diversified with liule isles, and that sweet isle, all trees and rocks, whence Ellen pushed "her light shallop to the shore," and to the left, that mighty monarch of bluish sterile surface, with a long Gaelic name, where Douglas concealed himself and some of his household. Here the Highlanders were pushing their boat into the creek, full of Cantabs and tourists, loading the cart from the Inn with luggage.

The Inns in the Highlands are excellent, having carpeted well-furnished parlours, and the visitors dining to gether on the Table d'hôte system. These, like the Welch Inns, are built by the nobility. The Inn at Loch Katrine was situated at the mouth of the Trosacs, surrounded with the wood, a flower garden in the front above the road, and the lake below. Here I dined with a brother of " the

-r," a great and a Bra

Earl of M— and Dfriend of A- Mzennose man; he inquired for TThere were also three Cantabs, an American, a Russian, and sundry Scotch and English. The Duchess of Portland had left the day before. The Cantabs come up here, and study at the vacation. C was at Loch Katrine all last summer. I and G started from the Trosacs on foot, on a showery evening, to cross the mountains to the Clachan of Aberfoil, Rob Roy's country, passing a cataract or two. Here and there was an Highlander talking Gaelic to himself, and eating wild raspberries. The Clachan is an ordinary vale of meadows and ploughed fields.

We started next morning to cross Benlomond, to descend to the Loch on the other side. I shall never forget this Ben (all the mountain gentry are Bens). The Highlanders told us we should find a road and a horse track. It was all very well as far as the sides of LochAchray, a sweet lake, but when we began to ascend the mountain range, we found ourselves on a wild scowling scene of hill-tops, all moor ground, covered with heath and bog, and ten miles in a direct line to Lochlomond. We were obliged to doff shoes and stockings, and slave all this distance, lifting our knees to our chests to clear the heath, trotting from bog to bog, sometimes fording a torrent, sometimes passing through ditches of black earth; sometimes the water flowing under the grass, sometimes over peaks covered with the stumps of plants burnt by the Highlanders in distilling "mountain dew," prickly plants, and sharp stones. The whole scene, as far as we could see, was the abomination of desolation, and nothing but a cow, a moorfowl, or the ruins of a cottage, to be seen. At last we reached Lochlomond, had a capital dinner, with delicious pancakes, made with cream and spices, and elegant accommodation, and spent the evening in walking about fifteen miles along the sides of Lochlomond, seeing the steam-boats plying about, &c.

The morning business had almost brought me to Johnson's opinion of Highland scenery, who says that "the appearance is that of matter incapable of form or usefulness, dismissed by Nature from her care, and disin herited of her favours, left in its origi