Leona from. My Autobiography. By the Rev. C. Rogers. (Published
by the Grampian Club.)—" The public," we read in the preface, " must determine whether the author of these Leaves has acted wisely in pro- ducing them." That some had better have been given to the winds or the flames can hardly be doubted. The history, for instance, of the "Wallace Monument" is tedious and unedifying. The admiration for Wallace is a method for displaying national feeling which no one can reasonably object to, except on the possibly irrelevant grounds that Wallace was a brutal freebooter, who did not even possess the merit of being a Scotchman,—but why should the miserable disputes about the management of the memorial be inflicted upon us? Still there are
some interesting things in the book. Dr. Rogers, who seems a quite candid person, confesses that he went up to St. Andrew's able, indeed, to "repeat verbatim the Latin rudiments," but knowing nothing of Greek but the letters. It surprises us somewhat to find that through interest with professors of the University he "obtained one of the best scholarships, or bursaries,—the sum of ten pounds annually for eight years." That a lad too ignorant even to be admitted into an English public school should be so distinguished seems to prove that oven poor endowments may be grossly abused. As a matter as fact, indeed, the bursary was well bestowed, for Dr. Rogers was an industrious student, and had thus the opportunity of storing up a great amount of curious historical knowledge. We are glad to read that his services in this branch of study have been appropriately recognised. The concluding page gives a vignette of the house with which his friends and admirers have presented him. This is a decided improvement on the way in which Scotland has sometimes rewarded her literary sons.
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