served that music was the best way of filling up the time, and, addressing herself to Miss Macalpine, said, "I have often heard that you Scotch ladies are famous for reciting and singing those interesting ballads, which are, I believe, common to your country: do pray favour us with any you may know; there is nothing that I love so much; no entertainment that so completely absorbs me for the time being, as the union of story and poetry with music."

Mrs. Fitzhammond spoke her real sentiments; for she had a genuine love of both, and understood and felt them thoroughly.

"Oh! do pray, do pray!" was echoed from all sides, save from the spot where sat the Ladies Frances and Arabella.

"One must have lived before the flood," murmured Lady Frances to her companion, "to have had length of life for one of those interminable ballads. Good heavens! she will not sing, surely." "Troth!" said Miss Macalpine, in her broadest Scotch; "I never "I never was gude at minding thae ballads though ance I had a voice wad ha'e riven a stane dyke; but my friend, Miss Paterson

yonder, has a gey wheen o' thae rants; come, Jennie, g'e us a tune."

66

Really, Marian, I dinna mind ony at this present; as sure as I'm asked it aye pats them clean out o' my head."

"But The Lassie's Moan wi' the Aunt's Re proof,-maybe, ye 'll no hae forgotten that?"

"Ablins I can mind it, if you'll just put in a word now and then: at ony rate I can but try;" and down she sat to the piano, giving it a fine thumping staccato touch. "Hoot! it's no' that —let's see—” thumping again on another key"whare was I? wait awee," and she twirled her fingers about with the true jerking strathspey time. Then, in a voice that was still sweet, though it had known better days, she sang

"The Lassie's Moan wi' the Aunt's Reproof.

"THE little foot page is awa' to Dundee ;
Much rather I wad he had bidden wi' me;

The bonnie wee boy wha ran light at my knee
Made me joyfu' to hear, made me blythsome to see.

My little foot page diverted me weel;

A glance frae my blue een rewarded his zeal:

D 2

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

"And now the Lassie replies :

66

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.”

“The Auntie's last wordie :—

""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.