Honest Robin, not approving of the air with which this was spoken, answered bluntly, Aweel, I ken every country has its ain fashions, and Thomas and you may be very genteel, for ony thing I ken to the contrary; but I think, like my namesake, Robin Burns, that it's better to be at the head o' the commonality, than at the tail o' the gentry."

hae it sae." "I'm no blaming you, my bairn; | their ways, and have come into all their but I wish it was weel ower, and that nane o' fashions." the daft callants may get broken banes riding the broose. That glaiket gomeril, Jamie Cargill, wants Robin to lend him the gray mare; and Robin thinks he canna weel refuse him. I wouldna wonder if the beast got some mischance." "Dear mother," said Peggy, her patience quite exhausted by her continued moans, "what for will ye gie yoursell sae muckle vexation? Just leave it a' to me, and sit down and rest yoursell; and as ye dinna like to be idle, ye may pook the feathers out o' that hen.” "Hech, sirs!" said Janet, "to think how many eggs this puir burdie has laid! But your father will be pleased now, for there's no a hen left about the house but auld Daidly, and she has gi'en ower laying. Wiser-like to hae drawn her neck." And choked the folk!" said Peggy. Nae fear o them. I'll answer for them, their throats are no sae strait."

William's arrival was a happy relief to Peggy. She gave him a hint to divert her mother, and he good-naturedly drew in his chair beside her, and began to speak on her favourite topics of butter and cheese, and what profit a good milk cow should yield, &c. &c.; so that Janet, pleased with his sensible discourse, gradually recovered her good humour.

This rebuff silenced Mrs. Caldwell before Robin; but she determined to have ample amends when she got Mrs. Baillie and Peggy to herself. After dinner the female part of the company adjourned to Mrs. Caldwell's room, whence Peggy was called out to speak with an errand boy. "What do ye want wi' me, my wee man?" said Peggy, kindly. "There's something for ye frae Mrs. Elphinstone of Calder Hall. She was gaun to send up Menie, but I asked her to let me bring it, and I promised to gie it into your ain hand." But stop a minute, Donald, and tak a bit dinner." "I haena time the now," said Donald. "I maun be thrang the night, for ye ken I'm to be ower here the morn to dance at your wedding; and John the coachman is to gie me the lend o' the wee black poney; and wha kens but I may win the broose." **Daft callant," said Peggy, as she returned to the room where her mother and Mrs. Caldwell were in close conversation.

see how well the English live. They must have everything cooked to a nicety. They would no more eat lamb without mint, or a goose without apple sauce, than I would eat salt-beef without mustard." "I dinna ken how ye do, Jeanie," said Mrs. Baillie, “but I couldna be fashed wi' sic fikery.”

The day before Peggy's marriage Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell arrived at the mill in a neat plain gig, or, as Janet denominated it, a "Upon my word," said the wife of the whisky. Mr. Caldwell was the son of a neigh-stocking-weaver, "you would be surprised to bour of Robin Baillie, and had lived long near the mill. He married Jeanie Johnston, a cousin of Mrs. Baillie, who accompanied her husband to Nottingham, where he became a stocking-weaver, and, being an industrious, frugal man, he had gradually amassed a moderate fortune. He had lately come to a neighbouring town on business, where, hearing of the rising importance of the Baillies, and of Peggy's intended marriage, they proffered a visit to Robin, which was kindly accepted.

"Look, mother," said Peggy, interrupting this discussion, "only see what Mrs. Elphinstone has sent me in a present!" "I declare," said Janet, "if ever I saw the like o' that! A dozen o' bonnie real silver spoons.”

She exhibited them to Mrs. Caldwell, and said, Ye see, Jeanie, how muckle we are respeckit at the Ha'. Tak care, Peggy, that ye pit them by in a safe place." "I am sure," answered her daughter, "I wasna looking for ony present frae Mrs. Elphinstone, she has been sae kind to me already."

Mr. Caldwell now quickly opened a small trunk, from which he took out half a dozen pairs of fine cotton stockings, and, presenting them to Peggy, wished her health to wear them. Janet thought them much too fine ever to be

worn, and charged Peggy to lock them up | cream, &c.; but Janet would by no means beside the spoons.

firing off of pistols out of doors, and the snapping of fingers and shouts of commendation within, raised such a tempest of sound, as nearly drowned the efforts of the fiddlers to be heard. Disdaining to be kept in the background, they moved near the scene of action, and rained upon the ears of the delighted rustics a succession of feet-stirring sounds.

old rusty gun under the very nose of Mr. | gave drew down thunders of applause. The Caldwell's horse, which frightened the Nottingham courser so much, that he cleared a space for himself, and set off full speed, and in a moment Mr. Caldwell, his wife, Janet, and the whisky disappeared from the sight of the whole group. Janet roared to be set downMr. Caldwell tugged at the reins-Mrs. Caldwell screamed-and to all appearance the whisky and its contents were in a fair way of running the broose much against their inclinations. Donald, however, kept ahead of the party. Three only had been dismountedthe rest kept whipping and spurring-but all in vain; for, much to the mortification of the beaux, wee Donald reached the house first, and was declared victor. Most fortunately, no bones were broken-even the gray mare had escaped all injury, and the company sat down in great glee to a plentiful dinner.

Our remembrance of the rest of the revels is very imperfect. We can only recollect hearing the fiddlers playing every one upon a key of his own choosing, "Good night, and joy be wi' ye a'.”

ABJURATION.

There was a time-sweet time of youthful folly !—
Fantastic woes I courted, feigned distress;
Wooing the veiled phantom, Melancholy,
With passion born, like Love, "in idleness.”

And like a lover, like a jealous lover,

There was a tappie-tourie of hens in the middle, a hundredweight of black puddings graced one corner, and an enormous ham another. A mountain of beef, encircled with a forest of greens, smoked at the end of the board where Robin sat, and a whole salmon was placed under the jurisdiction of Mrs. (Lest vulgar eyes her sweetness should discover) Baillie. A roasted pig, with an orange in its mouth, and a boiled jigot of mutton, figured as small side-dishes; while a fat haggis and beef-brose served as entremets.

The knives and forks were plied with persevering assiduity, and although there was neither a goose nor lamb with mint-sauce, Mrs. Caldwell managed to dine tolerably well. Even Janet had got into the spirit of the thing, and saw her very best cheeses hewed down with great indifference. The punch was baled out of the milk boins in pewter ladles, and we have every reason to believe that Robin did not spare his whisky.

I hid mine idol with a miser's art

Close in the inmost chambers of mine heart

And there I sought her-oft in secret sought her.
From merry mates withdrawn, and mirthful play,
To wear away, by some deep stilly water,

In greenwood lone, the livelong summer day:

Watching the flitting clouds, the fading flowers,
The flying rack athwart the wavy grass;
And murmuring oft, "Alack! this life of ours-
Such are its joys-so swiftly doth it pass!"

And then, mine idle tears (ah, silly maiden !)
Bedropt the liquid glass, like summer rain;--
And sighs, as from a bosom sorrow-laden,
Heaved the light heart, that knew no real pain.

The barn was just cleared for dancing when Mr. and Mrs. Elphinstone joined the party. The former immediately led out the bride, and desired William to stand up with Mrs. Elphinstone. Before setting off, Mr. Elphinstone, as in duty bound, kissed the bride, and the fiddles then striking up "The Merry Lads of Ayr," set them all in motion. The company all respectfully stood back, and when To think of passing bells - of death and dying—

they had finished, a murmur of applause was heard.

The happy miller now drew Mrs. Caldwell

And then, I loved to haunt lone burial-places,
Pacing the churchyard earth with noiseless tread;-
To pore in new-made graves for ghastly traces,
Brown crumbling bones of the forgotten dead:

Methought 't were sweet in early youth to die, So loved, lamented-in such sweet sleep lying, The white shroud all with flowers and rosemary

me

into the middle of the barn, and desiring the Strewed o'er by loving hands!--But then 't would grieve fiddlers to strike up the "Cameronian's Rant," he boldly commenced an everlasting jig, which he carried on with such spirit that the very rafters shook. Every new fling the miller

Too sore, forsooth! the scene my fancy drew;I could not bear the thought, to die and leave ye; And I have lived, dear friends! to weep for you.

BEN BLOWER'S STORY;

OR HOW TO RELISH A JULEP.

[Charles Fenno Hoffman, born in New York, 1806. He is most favourably known in America as a lyrical poet, but his novels and shorter tales have also obtained a measure of popularity. Greyslaer, a romance of the Mohawk, was perhaps the most successful of his prose works. Wild Scenes in Forest and Prairie and A Winter in the West were his first important productions. He had nearly completed another romance en

titled the Red Spur of Ramapo, but was interrupted

"You have seen the Flame then afore, strannger? Six year ago, when new upon the river, she was a raal out and outer, I tell ye. I was at that time a hand aboard of her. Yes, I belonged to her at the time of her great race with the Go-liar. You've heern, mahap, of the blow-up by which we lost it. They made a great fuss about it; but it was nothing but a mere fiz of hot water after all. Only the springing of a few rivets, which loosened a biler-plate or two, and let out a thin spirting upon some niggers that hadn't sense enough to get out of the way. Well, the Go-liar took off our passengers, and we ran into Smasher's Landing to repair damages, and bury the poor Here we laid for a fools that were killed. matter of thirty hours or so, and got things to rights on board for a bran new start. There was some carpenters' work yet to be done, but the captain said that that might be fixed off jist as well when we were under way-we had worked hard-the weather was sour, and we needn't do anything more jist now-we might take that afternoon to ourselves, but the next morning he'd get up steam bright and airly, There was no temperance society at Smasher's Landing, and Certing, manny! I could tell her pipes I went ashore upon a lark with some of the acrost the Mazoura."1

by illness. His servant, arranging the author's study,
burned the manuscript and carefully put away the
"clean paper. Mr. Hoffman's chief poetical works,
are: The Vigil of Faith, The Echo, Lays of the Hudson,
and Love's Calendar. He has been much occupied as
the editor of various magazines and literary journals.
Of his songs an American critic (H. T. Tuckerman)
says, many of them, "from their graceful flow and
tender feeling, are highly popular, although some of the
metres are too like those of Moore not to provoke a
comparison." Of his humour the following tale is an
excellent example.]

"Are you sure that's the Flame over by and we'd all come out new. the shore?"

"And you will overhaul her?"

'Won't we though! I tell ye, strannger, so sure as my name's Ben Blower, that that last tar-bar'l I hove in the furnace has put jist the smart chance of go-ahead into us to cut off the Flame from yonder pint, or send our boat to kingdom come."

"The devil!" exclaimed a by-stander who, intensely interested in the race, was leaning the while against the partitions of the boiler"I've chosen a nice place to see the fun, near this infernal powder-barrel."

room.

"Not so bad as if you were in it," coolly observed Ben as the other walked rapidly away. "As if he were in it! in what? in the boiler?"

"Certing! Don't folks sometimes go into bilers, manny?"

"I should think there'd be other parts of the boat more comfortable."

"That's right; poking fun at me at once't: but wait till we get through this brush with the old Flame and I'll tell ye of a regular fixin scrape that a man may get into. It's true, too, every word of it, as sure as my name's Ben Blower."

The name "Missouri" is thus generally pronounced upon the western waters.

hands."

I omit the worthy Benjamin's adventures upon land, and, despairing of fully conveying his language in its original Doric force, will not hesitate to give the rest of his singular narrative in my own words, save where, in a few instances, I can recall his precise phraseology, which the reader will easily recognize.

The night was raw and sleety when I regained the deck of our boat. The officers, instead of leaving a watch above, had closed up everything, and shut themselves in the cabin. The fire-room only was open. The boards dashed from the outside by the explosion had not yet been replaced. The floor of the room was wet, and there was scarcely a corner which afforded a shelter from the driving storm. I was about leaving the room, resigned to sleep in the open air, and now bent only upon getting under the lee of some bulkhead that would protect me against the wind. In passing out I kept my arms stretched forward to feel my way in the dark, but my feet came in contact with a heavy iron lid; I stumbled, and, as I fell, struck one of my hands into the manhole' (I think this was the name he gave to the oval-shaped opening in the head of the boiler), through which the smith had entered to make his repairs. I fell with my arm thrust so far into the aperture that I received