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A child of beauty and of bliss,
Sent from some purer sphere to this,
Not, in her exile, to sustain
The trial of one earthly pain;
But, as a sunbeam, on to move,
Wak'ning all hearts to joy and love?
That airy form, with footsteps free,
And radiant glance-could this be she?
From her fair cheek the rose was gone,
Her eye's blue sparkle thence had flown,
Of all its vivid glow bereft,

Each playful charm her lip had left;
But what were these? on that young
face,

Far nobler beauty fill'd their place!
'Twas not the pride that scorns to bend,
Though all the bolts of Heaven descend;
Not the fierce grandeur of despair,
That half exults its fate to dare;
Nor that wild energy which leads
Th' enthusiast to fanatic deeds;
Her mien, by sorrow unsubdued,
Was fix'd in silent fortitude;
Not in its haughty strength elate,
But calmly, mournfully sedate.
"Twas strange, yet lovely to behold
That spirit in so fair a mould,
As if a rose-tree's tender form,
Unbent, unbroke, should meet the storm.

One look she cast, where firmness strove With the deep pangs of parting love; One tear a moment in her eye Dimm'd the pure light of constancy; And pressing, as to still her heart, She turn'd in silence to depart. But Ulric, as to phrenzy wrought, Then started from his trance of thought: "Stay thee, oh! stay-it must not be→→→ All, all were well resign'd for thee! Stay! till my soul each vow disown, But those which make me thine alone! If there be guilt-there is no shrine

More holy than that heart of thine;

There be my crime absolv'd-I take
The cup of shame for thy dear sake.
Of shame! oh no! to virtue true,
Where thou art, there is glory too!
Go now! and to thy sire impart,
He hath a shield in Ulric's heart,
And thou a home !-remain, or flee,
In life, in death-I follow Thee!"

"There shall not rest one cloud of shame,
Oh Ulric! on thy lofty name;
There shall not one accusing word
Against thy spotless faith be heard!
Thy path is where the brave rush on,
Thy course must be where palms are won;
Where banners wave, and falchions glare,
Son of the mighty! be thou there!

Think on the glorious names that shine Along thy sire's majestic line;

Oh, last of that illustrious race!
Thou wert not born to meet disgrace!
Well, well I know each grief, each pain,
Thy spirit nobly could sustain;
E'en I unshrinking see them near,
And what hast thou to do with fear?
But when hath warriors calmly borne
The cold and bitter smile of scorn?
'Tis not for thee-thy soul hath force
To cope with all things-but remorse ;
And this my brightest thought shall be,
Thou hast not brav'd its pangs for me.
Go! break thou not one solemn vow;
Clos'd be the fearful conflict now;
Go! but forget not how my heart
Still at thy name will proudly start,
When chieftains hear, and minstrels tell
Thy deeds of glory-fare thee well!"

And thus they parted-why recall
The scene of anguish known to all?
The burst of tears, the blush of pride,
That fain those fruitless tears would

hide;

The lingering look, the last embrace,
Oh! what avails it to retrace?
They parted-in that bitter word
A thousand tones of grief are heard,
Whose deeply seated echoes rest
In the far cells of every breast;
Who hath not known, who shall not
know

That keen, yet most familiar woe?
Where'er affection's home is found,
It meets her on the holy ground;
The cloud of every summer-hour,
The canker'd worm of every flower;
Who but hath prov'd, or yet shall prove,
That mortal agony of love?

The Autumn moon slept bright and still
On fading wood and purple hill;

The vintager had hush'd his lay,
The fisher shunn'd the blaze of day,
And silence, o'er each green recess,
Brooded in misty sultriness.
But soon a low and measur'd sound
Broke on the deep repose around;
From Lindheim's towers a glancing oar
Bade the stream ripple to the shore.
Sweet was that sound of waves which
parted

The fond, the true, the noble-hearted;
And smoothly seem'd the bark to glide,
And brightly flow'd the reckless tide,
Though, mingling with its current, fell
The last warm tears of love's farewell.

(To be concluded in our next.).

THE LITERARY LEGACY.

MR EDITOR,

No. I.

WILL you have the goodness, my dear Sir, to examine the following sample of erudition, and give me your opinion of its merits.

Uncle Gabriel departed this life on the 13th ult., and left me, by way of legacy, a species of property, whose intrinsic worth, I freely confess, is far enough beyond the range of my calculation. Mr Monreath, the executor, was kind enough to transmit me a copy of the will, by which it would appear, that my share of the personals, is, in Uncle's estimation, much more valuable than the real estate bequeathed to my cousin Archy, at least I am led to believe so, from the manner in which he expresses himself. His words are precisely these:-"I have no notion of such humdrums. Archy may do very well to preside at a county meeting, and amend the phraseology of a loyal address-nay, he may even become entitled to the Society's medal for bettering the growth of turnips, improving irrigation, and crossing the Cheviot breed, et cetera; and, very likely, appear to advantage in the musical interlude of Auld Glenæ at a country wedding; but never will his mental qualifications entitle him to distinction in polite society. He is a poor painter, a bad poet, and a worse musician; therefore do I cut him off with the lands of Killywhingrum, Maigrumbrae, and Carlinecraigs, consisting of eleven hundred and ninety-three acres of arable and pasture, Scots statute measure; together with the fisheries, superiorities, and pertinents thereto belonging

so much for Archy. On the other hand, my nephew Sam is a lad of promise a fellow whose exuberant fancy and rare talent for versification will sooner or later enable him to figure away amongst the first-rate ballad-makers of these piping times. What a special blessing for the house of Killigrew, hitherto deemed incapable of celebrating the martial achieve ments of a midden-cock, in either prose or verse! To him, therefore, do I give and bequeath the whole of my valuable manuscripts, autographs, correspondencies, flute, fiddle-strings, &c. &c. &c."

VOL. X.

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Ye maidens fair, consider well,

And look both shrewd and sly,
Ere reverend lips make good the knot
Your teeth will ne'er untie.

Many are the fair visions of ideal felicity that alight on the boughs of my imagination, like the pyeman's cry of "piping hot" on the ear of pennyless mendicity; but the fairest I ever beheld in reality was at the Grange of Balachan. John Dinwoodie stood by the hag-block, dissecting the finest carcases of hillwedder-mutton that ever revolved on a spit, or tottled in a pot. Deacon Midriff, and his man Caleb Gorum, were just arrived with a prime hind quarter of genuine Galloway stot, bred and brought up on Terraughty meadows, under the eye of the old laird himself; and the deep wreathes of feathery drift, enveloping both her and the stool whereon she sat, plainly testified that old Janet Clockerton had not been idle on the hen-roost. But the bustle of preparation for a most sumptuous banquet was not confined to the outdoor department-the same laudable exertion was also observable throughout the whole interior establishment. Young Harriet Halliday displayed much culinary knowledge in the construction of fruit, pigeon, giblet and other pies, dumplings, puddings, and haggises, under the immediate superintendance of that most excellent woman, Mrs Hannah Drummond, so justly esteemed by the Gowk-biggin family for the exquisite delicacy of her dishes; and Aggie Dinwoodie-the fairest lily that ever sprang in the vale of Nith-she, too, was up to the elbows. Never did I see a young woman stand so purposelike at a bake-board, nor fashion dough in such style with her rolling

C

pin. None of your ribless round sticks, shaped agreeably to the rule of thumb, without either taste or judgment; but a well-proportioned cylindrical utensil, from the loom of Willie Edgar, gracefully swollen in the middle, and grooved longitudinally from both ends, by his matchless hand, save and except a smooth round pivot at each extremity, exactly proportioned to the fair hands of Miss Dinwoodie. A well-toasted, rib-rolled farl, is as welcome to my teeth as the Land o' Cakes is dear to my heart; and I would seriously advise all young men to abstain from seeking consorts in gumshonless families, where plain rollingpins are used. Nor was the gudewife of Balachan an idle spectator to passing events.

He was

No woman could garnish hazel rods more adroitly with black and white puddings, nor hand them up to Harmless Habbie with a better grace, as he stood with one foot on the meal-barrel, and the other on an old oak cupboard that had been an heir-loom in the family from time immemorial. "Poor Habbie," quoth Mrs Dinwoodie, one day to an inquisitive neighbour, "he's a Lockerby lad that our Adam knows something of; and weel may they ca' him harmless, for a more inoffensive creature never broke world's bread. just within a day or twa o' being married to Provost Pirniecowl's dochter o' Lochmaeban. The bridal braws were bought, bed, bedding, and every thing else that the heart o' woman could desire, when, gude forgie the light-headed limmer! she ran off wi' lang Jock Johnston the horsecowper, and the poor lad has never been himsel' sinsyne. Habbie's o' a gude family, and, was his reason to tak' a turn for the better, there wadna be a finer fallow in a' the parish. He comes to our house regularly on the first Monday night o' every month, and gangs awa as regularly on the Tuesday morning, after he gets his parritch out o' a luggie that stands on the shelf beside Aggie's-nane else will he let it stand beside; and truly it's diverting enough to think o' his queer gates, for he winna sleep in a ha' house that keeps jades and sluts within its wa's, to mak free wi' his ain words;

nor lie doun i' the barn, unless Aggie mak's his bed, and Adam hauds the candle. Poor fallow, I aften banter him about our Aggie. The very last time he was here, Troth, Habbie,' quoth I, she'll may be fill the neuk yet that the provost's dochter ran awa frae;' but he just put off the joke wi' a-whist, whist, gudewife; all things will be made manifest in due season,"

and that's the langest speech he ever made in my presence." Mrs Dinwoodie might have treated her friend with a much larger portion of fugitive biography, had she been so disposed.

Tinkers, hawkers, beggars-in fine, all manner of itinerants, who trouble not their heads about to-morrow, visited the Grange with a kind of periodical regularity, that gave rise to much curious speculation. Some were of opinion that the movements of these wanderers were regulated by means of a secret understanding amongst themselves; for it was very observable, that their numbers seldom exceeded, and never fell short of John Dinwoodie's accommodation, and yet no traces of previous arrangement could ever be discerned. Others, again, imagined, that they were piloted to warm kilns and empty barns, by their instinct; whilst a few handled the subject a little more philosophically, and maintained, that the gudeman's dwelling possessed a kind of sensitive attraction, so judiciously discreet in the exercise of its powers, that whenever a troop of mendicants forsook the barracks, another was draughted from the general stock, by means of the aforesaid attraction, in order to supply the vacuum. Be that as it may, John Dinwoodie, generally speaking, had always his full share of strollers.

Saunders Waddle the packman, now Mr Alexander Waddle, merchant, Dumfries, assured me many years ago, that he had seen no less than three full-grown pedlars, and five regularly-bred beggars, daft John Tamson, manting Will, and Wattie Kennedy, all billeted in Balachan barn at one and the same time. As for the kiln, Messrs Marshall and Co., the Annandale tinkers, merely went through the ceremony of asking leave and licence, before they took

up their abode therein, and the croft was always deemed by their respective cuddies a kind of birthright inheritance.

Many were the jokes and jibes passed on John Dinwoodie's goodnatured simplicity, for harbouring such swarms of unprofitable sojourn ers; but they stirred not his bristles against the houseless Gaberlunzie, nor soured his loving kindness in the smallest degree. On the contrary, he defended himself with an eloquence so peculiarly in unison with the character of his philanthropy, that I really cannot resist the temptation of presenting the following morsel by way of specimen :-" In a land where every man enjoys himself his own natural way, providing that way interfere not with the comfort and well-being of his neighbour, the poor soul, who struggles with hunger, and scorn, and nakedness, whether from choice or necessity, it matters not, may surely be allowed the like indulgence

not to say. All I know of the matter is this, the Grange of Balachan was always deemed what we call a fou, substantial house.

he shall never want a nook wherein to enjoy his morsel, so long as I have a barn to throw a sheaf in."The gudeman of Balachan certainly possessed a very large share of practical benevolence he was, moreover, prudently frugal and temperate in all his enjoyments; yet nevertheless, it is a matter of much surprise to me, how a family could possibly thrive with so many idlers living at free quarters; and there is a problem in rural

But to resume our subject. Mrs Dinwoodie having disposed of her puddings in a manner that could not fail of commanding respectful attention, most willingly transferred her services to the baking department, and lent Aggie a helping hand to stow away her well-toasted farls, in a tastefully-carved girnal that flanked the meal-barrel. Harriet and her worthy preceptress cleared the decks of the finest specimens of pastry that perhaps ever felt the genial warmth of hot bricks; and when all and sundry, the offspring of their respective labours was fairly disposed of, the house set in order, and the hearth swept-never-failing symbol of good housewifery-in came the gudeman with a "Weel, Sirs, here's ae special day's wark aff our hands." "Troth, John Dinwoodie," quo' the gudewife, "it's the first day's wark o' the kind that ever came the gate o' our family, and right blithe am I to declare, that a single hand's turn hasna gane to Coupar this whole blessed day, nor can the bouk o' that (pointing to her thumb nail) look out o' the jawhole, and remind ane o' us o' the auld proverb, a willfu' waste makes a waefu' want. Wha's yon, think ye, coming owre the craft? -nae less than nine o' them?-My word, we'll hae a rare merry feetwashing."-And Mrs Dinwoodie was not far behind in her reckoning. Davie Morrison and Sarah Glendinning o' Kittlecannalie; Leesie Gillespie and Jenny Macmillan o' Midgieloan; auld Roger Lindsay oʻ Glenbuckie, and five more, male and female, whose names have really slipt my memory, passed the hallan in orderly succession, and introduced themselves with the salutation usual on such occasions, "Peace be i' the house, and luchters o' luck to the bride." "Come awa," quo' the gudeman, as he arose from his armchair, and shock Roger cordially by the hand; "blithe faces are ay as welcome to a blink o' our ingle as my ain twa shins; and truly, when a whiff o' luck comes in at the door, it's unco heartsome to see a fou langsettle. Such is my landart notion

economy, naturally arising therefrom, that has never yet been solved to my entire satisfaction. John Dinwoodie's farm produced finer and more luxuriant crops than any of his neighbours, though the soils were equally good; and Balachan cheese, wool, butter, and so forth, were noted far and wide. Yet in the cultivation of their fields, and in the management of their flocks and dairies, nothing in the semblance of superior judgment, &c. on the part of the Dinwoodies was ever observable. Whether the lands of Balachan were more favourably visited than those of the neighbouring tenantry, by the Hand that feeds the fowls of heaven, and provides for the beasts of the field, or merely bore testimony of the superior skill and industry of the gudeman and his family, I pretend

o' a neighbourly fireside," continued the gudeman; " and, conscientiously speaking, if the lass may be deemed lucky wha meets wi' a douce, weelliving lad before the minister, I think we may safely say that our Aggie was born to fa' on her feet." 66 Aye, aye," quo' Harmless Habbie," she'll fa' cat-fashion, i'se warrant her, and light on a hearth-stane where lang Jock Johnston darna show his illfaur'd face." "Weel done, Habbie!" exclaimed Harriet Halliday; "my word, lad, thou hits a nail on the head wi' an auld-farrand hammerGawin himsel' coudna better the clink o't." "He has paid the Maister a weel-faur'd compliment indeed," observed Mrs Dinwoodie; "but, poor fallow, it's awittens him-he kensna the signification o' his ain sayings they just come awa frae his lips like sweet sounds frae the thairms o' Hughie Paisley's fiddle." As Mrs Dinwoodie's conjecture may happen to be called in question by-and-by, I shall merely observe, for the reader's information, that Habbie's sally had the merit of wakening a certain species of rogueish wit, that scruples not at times to overleap the fences of moral discretion; and a very long and learned altercation ensued regarding the affinity of snoods and apronstrings, the which I certainly feel not inclined to put on record, though sanctioned by the smudging laugh of Mrs Dinwoodie herself.

This strain of high-kilted conviviality ceased not to tickle the risibility of all concerned, until the bride's brother, Adam by name, sported a point, the true intent of which may very well be gathered from the identical words he made use of, viz. "There's a wheen prime wind instruments among us, that wadna be a plack the waur o' weeting before they begin." "Troth, Adam Dinwoodie," quo' the gudewife, "ye ken the gate o' the house unco weel-just slip awa to the awmrie, my man, and keep in mind the gude auld saying, blessed is he who can help himsel, for he'll ne'er be in want." Now, Adam was, from his youth, a most compliable lad, and exceedingly attentive to good counsel, particularly that of his mother, whose will and pleasure he consulted on every occasion. Nay, such was the filial deportment of this

most amiable young man, when a perfect child, that it actually became proverbial. Nothing was more common, in those days, than to behold the moody dames chacing their rebellious children, switch in hand, and bawling as loud as their tongues could clink, "O thou lang-legged ne'erdoweel-ae lith o' Adie Dinwoodie's wee finger's worth the whole o' thy scaw'd carcase." No wonder that a goodly bowl of honest half and half was speedily prepared by this most dutiful young man, a bowl that Belshazzar himself would never have budged from, so long as a ladleful remained therein; and a full quegh of its potent contents being handed about for the opinion of all whom it might concern, their verdict was such as the convivial punch-drinking reader will most assuredly approve of; unanimous in praise of its very superior accomplishments, both as to quality and zest. The remembrance of this famous beverage is cherished in Nithsdale even unto this day. No longer ago than last August, old Robin Lauder paid a very high compliment to its memory, when delivering his opinion of a bowl at Davie Flunkison's wedding: "Deed," quo' Robin, smacking his lips, and holding up a glass between his eye and the candle, "it's a sowp rare stuff, sure enough-the better o't hasna visited my interior since the night o' Aggie Dinwoodie's feet-washing." The reader will therefore not feel surprised when I assure him, that Adam's punch visited the life-springsof all present, and wakened a livelier strain of hilarity that evening than was ever known before at the Grange of Balachan, or indeed any where else. "The bride-thumping luck, and fat bairns"-went round the hearth with a cordiality bordering on enthusiasm. "The bridegroom," followed as a matter of course. "John Dinwoodie," and "Nanse," most respectfully took their circuit, and every individual of the family was honoured in the like neighbourly manner. Then it was that Roger forgot his locks were grey, and sang, "Tak' your auld clock about ye," in a strain of humour unknown to the classic stage, not forgetting to make his bow of perfect obedience to the bride, as he laid a peculiarly-expres

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