of O’Connor disappointing him:—“I expected great discoveries in Irish antiquities, and large publications in the Irish language, but the world still remains as it was—doubtful and ignorant. What the Irish language is in itself, and to what languages it has affinity, are very interesting questions, which every man wishes to see resolved that has any philological or historical curiosity. Dr Leland begins his history too late; the ages that deserve an exact inquiry are those times (for such they were) when Ireland was the school of the west, the quiet habitation of sanctity and literature. If you could give a history, though imperfect, of the Irish nation from its conversion to Christianity to the invasion from England, you would amplify knowledge with new views and new objects. Set about it, therefore, if you can; do what you can easily do without anxious exactness. Lay the foundation, and leave the superstructure to posterity.” This is a very interesting and remarkable letter, and exhibits Johnson as entirely free from the vulgar anti-Celtic prejudices which long obtained in many quarters after his day. It pointed to the lines of study which the Celtic student should follow. But both Irish and Highland scholars failed to comply with the lexicographer’s wishes. Philology did not then exist, and accurate philosophical histories had not then made much progress. Celtic scholars travelled to Spain and Egypt and other places in the East for the cradle in which the first pure Gaelic baby was rocked; linguistic affinities were sought in Hebrew and Arabic; while Gaelic or Celtic was sometimes declared to be the mother of all languages. This race of Gaelic Orientals continued to exist till recently, if indeed it is even now wholly extinct. The Irish, however, at last have abundantly shown the great extent of literature, manuscript and printed, which is enshrined in their language. The recent works of learned Irishmen are evidence that the interest is not abating in Irish literature. While it is admitted that the Irish Gael is in possession of some literature, it is yet denied that the Scottish Gael has any literary remains to show. And indeed, looking at the barrenness of the Highland hills, and the bareness of the Highland glens, the stranger from the sunnier South is apt to think that no literature could flourish on so sterile a soil. The lakes and straths, swept by the fresh breezes, he feels too coldly uncongenial—too frigid a home for the cultivation of letters—too dreary a land for the muses to dwell in. Men of stout arms and lion hearts have issued from these regions. That fact is recognised. But it is not well known that also there, far from what have hitherto been regarded as the great civilising centres, letters and knowledge have had for ages their sacred precincts and earnest votaries. Unpromising though the Highlands look to the literary eye, yet we find that even Dr Samuel Johnson, no lover of either