cameos, and of late years have been imitated by
a similar but much easier process of cutting on
certain sea-shells.

Besides cameos or raised figures cut on this
class of stones by removing part of the upper
belt or zone, other beautiful effects have been
produced, such as sculpturing complete figures,
taking advantage of the peculiarities of the
specimens operated on, and still more frequently
bold alto-relievos, and deep cuttings beneath the
surface, the latter forming intaglios for seals and
other purposes. It is impossible to over-estimate
the ingenuity and high art exercised in these
works, and the demand for them was at one time
so great, that onyxes became scarce. Few now
carry on the art with success, and thus we must
seek for the finest specimens among the antiques
or mediæval specimens. One remarkable cameo
was cut in the fifteenth century, representing the
head of Dejanira, in which the different tints of
the stone were made use of to represent in their
natural colours the flesh and hair of Dejanira and
the lion's skin, while a red streak in the stone,
which might otherwise have appeared as a flaw,
was so cleverly taken advantage of for the inner
side of the lion's skin, that it gave it the appearance
of having been recently flayed from the
animal. It is especially this adaptation of the
treatment of the subject to the peculiarities of
the stone, that characterises the glyptic art as a
department of sculpture. It is, in fact, the department
that treats, whether in relief or intaglio,
these banded stones so capriciously moulded by
nature, taking a curious advantage of their accidents
of structure.

WILD OATS FROM SCOTLAND.

QUAINT pickings fall to the share of readers
of old books. Things which successive generations
of writers have rendered so familiar, that
they seem as if they had always been a part of
our inheritance of knowledge, come upon us
there in their original form, and antiquated
dress, so changed from what we have known
them, that they are as good as new, and we feel
quite sure that the world has vital need to be
made acquainted with them. Pitcairn's Scottish
Criminal Trials is a mine full of such old "workings."
Many a powerfully interesting story
may be gathered from them—sad, tender,
terrible; but one of the saddest of them all is
the trial of Lady Warriston—the young, beautiful,
well-born Jeane Levingstoune, of Dunipace.

Jane and her husband, John Kincaid, lived none
of the happiest lives together. He was a coarse
and cruel man: she, high-spirited and impatient,
little able to bear, less to submit, to one without
hand or check upon his passions. So their intercourse
was for the most part wild, fierce,
and angry, and but little of peace or married
love was with them. But Jeane had much to
bear. The "dittay" setting forth the crime
with which her accomplices were charged, incidentally
confesses the provocation she received, in
showing how she had "consanet ane deidlie
rancour, haitrent, and malice aganis vmq le
Johanne Kincaid, of Wariestoune, for the allegit
byting of hir in the arme, and streking hir
dyuerse tymes." We can scarcely blame her if,
with all the pride of her race strong upon her,
and her womanly instincts quick to feel and
intolerant to endure, she should have conceived
this "deadly hatred and malice" against a man
who expressed his discontent by biting her in
the arm and striking her divers times. Even
the law allows of extenuating circumstances, in
fact if not in theory, and the Christian can
do no less. Wretched Jeane! though one would
not advocate husband-murdering as a safe or
proper proceeding for discontented wives, yet
we cannot be surprised that she got thoroughly
tired of her unhappy state, or that she was
anxious to end it. After long meditation,
Jeane sent for her nurse, Jonet Murdo, told
her of her miserable condition, and uttered
some wild threats and wishes, which that
nurse was only too ready to take up. For
Jonet seems to have been a true foster-mother,
and to have loved her charge better
than anything else under heaven. She soon
found a way for her. There was a man in her
father's service, a "horse-boy," one Robert
Weir, who would do her bidding whatever it
might be; cheerfully, too, though it might
be murder. Would her bairn speak with him?
She knew how all at the old homestead loved
her; but none more than Robert Weir, who
would shrink from nothing that might do her
pleasure. The lady put the offer by for the present,
but thought none the less. She hated that
rude coarse husband of hers, and would brave
a large amount of both sin and danger to be
freed from him. But this? Folks do not make
up their mind to such a terrible alternative
without some hesitating, and many a balancing
between their wishes and their fears; yet, at
last, she yielded so far as to send word to
Robert Weir, by Jonet Murdo, that he might
come down and speak with her; and he came,
ready to do anything to which she might put
him. But Jeane's mind was not yet fully bent
to the extreme. She suffered him to come to
Warriston once or twice before she had speech
of him; but at last, on the "first day of Julij,
1600 yeiris," when she had been perhaps more
terribly tried than usual, she gave way to the
temptation haunting her, and again spoke to her
nurse. "God forgive the nurse," says she, in
her confessions, "for she helped me too well in
mine evill purpose; and for when I told her
that I was minded to do so, she consented to
the doing of it: And upon Tuesday, when the
turn was done, when I sent her to seek the man
who would do it, she said, 'I shall go and seek
him; and if I get him not, I shall seek another!
And if I get none, I shall do it myself.'" So
Jonet Murdo sent to the groom, "desyreing him
of new agane to cum downe to hir; quhairto the
said Robert granted," and went down to Warriston
to confer with Jeane Levingstoune concerning
the ill-treatment of her husband. When
Jeane had sunk so low—she so stately and high-bred