Sae blythe, yet sae douce, sae respectfu', sae kind,
I shall ne'er hae anither sae much to my mind.

A' day he stood watching to guess my intent;
On me, and me only, his fancy was bent:
He stood at my back, or he knelt at my knee ;
Why is he awa' to that dirty Dundee ?

On him the first glamer o' fondness I cast;
It dizzied his brain, and the chain held him fast;
The chain was as light as his temper was mild;
He fancied me mither, I fancied him child.

At morn he came saftly, and tirled at the pin,
And waited my pleasure till he would win in ;
At night he bow'd low whan he wish'd me gude e'en ;
He was a weel-doing and beautifu' wean.

He louped the burn and he clamber'd the brae,
To pu' me the rasp or the wee shining blae ;
The fast-binding ivy he tore frae the tree,
And gard it a wreath for my temples to be.

As I sat at my wark the gay callant was near,
Wi' saft words sae canty my labour to cheer;
He found the lost needle, the sunky he brought,
And knew what I needed as soon as I thought.

Oh! Waly, I'm wae that the laddie is gane;
I'm a' the day dighted sae weary alane;
And when he departed, I grat mysel' blind,
To forget him sae sune wad betray a light mind.”

"Now for the Aunty:

"Now hush ye, ye silly bit lassie! now hush,

For sure the warld's tongue wad hae been crying tush! To view a young creature o' gentle degree Forgath'ring and daundering wi' sic na laddie.

It is weel for ye baith he 's off to Dundee ;
It is weel for ye baith that no more ye shall see
Thae silly daft days o' sic bairnish delight,
For sure they your life might wi' penitence blight.

Beware o' the scaith, and beware o' the scorn
That dark overcasts fair youth's brilliant morn,
Which cankers the flower ere its leaves are all blown,
Till they drap ane by ane, and their glory is faw'n.

Calve luve is a dangerous thing weel I ken,
For bairns grown to laddies, and laddies to men ;
The burn rins by wimpling that passes the lea,
But sune it is ane wi' the wild roaring sea.

Then haud your tongue, lassie, nae mair let me see Ye are murning for him that 's awa' to Dundee:

Be wise, bairn, be wise, glamour o❜ luve

mas a vapour frae earth, no' a spark frae above."

"And now the Lassie replies:-
:-

"O, auntie! nae mair o' your prudence and preaching;

The lessons o' age to my youth ye are teaching ;
The chill frosts o' winter now strip the bare tree,
And preach wi' mair meaning a lesson to me.

They tell me each season o' life, like the year,

First blooms, then decays, and at length becomes sear;
Should Spring's early dawn, then, an Autumn face

wear?

Say when would ye gather the fruits o' the year?

I heedna the scaith, and I heedna the scorn;
Sic tauntings and girnings are easily borne:
When the heart is right leal to virtue's fair laws,
What care I for censure or wardly applause.

To you, like the seer, sae sad and sae wae,
The past scenes o' life can the future display.
You fancy that ill which perchance ne'er betides,
And tyne present peace in the future besides.

But I, with youth's instinct o' joy, still pursue

The glamer o' pleasure that blinks in my view;

Wha is the maist happy?-be candid; confess, Though your pains may be fewer, your pleasure is less.

I pu' at the rose, and I heedna the bryar,
Gin I miss the fair flower I grip at a higher.
Say I catch but a leaf wi' a thorn ilka while,
It is but repaying a tear for a smile."

""Tis unco weel, lassie! I canna pretend

Wi' the gift o' your gab ony mair to contend.

Ye make wrang appear right, and right appear wrang ;

Sic fausseties sure to young

lassies belang.

Oh! wha to the waves o' the ocean can say,

Your roarings gie o'er, and expect they'll obey,
Or wha will enkindle the fire wi' the snaw,

Or bid the winds bide, when they 're willing to blaw.

Gin there be ony sich, let them claver to youth;
'Tis paulky experience alane teaches truth;
Youths' confident minds 'tis in vain to alarm-
Lord guide us, be gracious, and keep us frae harm!”

The circle who had stood around the piano, professed themselves enchanted; and Mrs. Fitzhammond said she "could listen all night."

"Did you ever?" said Lady Frances to Lady Arabella, looking with contemptuous astonishment at the party around the singer.

"Did you ever ?" Lady Arabella, with an answering expression of horror, replied—“ too!” and Lady Frances rejoined, casting her eyes upwards, “beyond.”

It would have been difficult, certainly, for any one uninitiated in the manners and language of the sect to affix a precise meaning to unconnected words like the foregoing; and if indeed any interpretation at all had been attempted, Charity would rather have inclined to the belief that they were sounds falling from the lips of in

fants who were as yet ignorant of the use or power of speech. But Charity, though kind, must be just, and the words which, in their insignificance might have challenged untutored Nature, in its first lisping efforts at pronunciation, came accompanied with looks of contempt and arrogance, that left those who caught them in little doubt as to the context, and none at the indecorum and want of breeding of the speakers.

Poor Miss Macalpine, who knew enough of the bye-language of the fashionables of her day to interpret Lady Arabella's and Lady Frances's expressions to their utmost extent, felt for her friend, and endeavoured, by talking to her incessantly, to draw off her attention from the attack; but the language of the looks cannot be mistaken, and every one of the party, even Miss Paterson herself, was aware of the ill-suppressed ridicule of these accomplished young women of

fashion.

Fortunately, at this moment, several of the expected evening guests were announced, more rooms were thrown open, and the saloon where the concert was to take place, was already filling