In the present aspect of the controversy, indeed, the only antagonists entitled to anything like a patient hearing are the respectable, perhaps venerable, geologists and antiquarians who still lodge or linger about the Roman Wall; who talk, with a solemn air, about stern facts; who are also fortified by the authority of Hugh Miller and Smith of Jordanhill, and are led on to continuous defeat on their own ground, under the auspices of the _Scotsman_, who knows well how to shut the door politely in any man's face who pursues them. These gentlemen are far from being either unimportant or unworthy antagonists, if they would only speak intelligently for themselves and not allow their credit to be usurped by some nameless reviewer in a newspaper, who may know less about the whole matter in dispute than they do about Sanscrit. But let them have patience. Their favourite haunts, and impregnable strongholds, about Dunglass and Duntocher, shall be investigated with religious care; and the waters of the Clyde, as high as they will honestly flow, let in upon them without ceremony or remorse. As for the others, who, with no great semblance of either grace or grammar to support them, persist in affirming, with point-blank stolid effrontery, that Macpherson "must have been an impostor," and that Ossian is a "fudge"--they may safely be consigned in silence to their legitimate fate. P. HATELY WADDELL. (_To be Concluded in our next._) TO PROFESSOR JOHN STUART BLACKIE. A LOCHABER LILT. A health to thee, Stuart Blackie! (I drink it in _mountain dew_) With all the kindliest greetings Of a heart that is leal and true. Let happen what happen may With others, by land or sea; For me, I vow if I drink at all, I'll drink a health to thee. A health to thee, Stuart Blackie! A man of men art thou, With thy lightsome step and form erect, And thy broad and open brow; With thy eagle eye and ringing voice (Which yet can be soft and kind), As wrapped in thy plaid thou passest by With thy white locks in the wind! I greet thee as poet and scholar; I greet thee as wise and good; I greet thee ever lord of thyself-- No heritage mean, by the rood! I greet thee and hold thee in honour, That thou bendest to no man's nod-- Amidst the din of a world of sin, Still lifting thine eye to God! Go, search me the world and find me; Go, find me if you can, From the distant Farœs with their mists and snows, To the green-clad Isle of Man; From John O' Groats to Maidenkirk, From far Poolewe to Prague-- Go, find me a better or wiser man Than the Laird of Altnacraig.