24 10 639 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d904b1e43aea4b285e686512d6d12bf8.pdf 51acb2d7759f10c7fcb3fe90c0b3e478 PDF Text Text THE POPULAR STORIES SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM MASON OF GRANADA. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. ��THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. ON the summit of one of the heights of the Odenwald, a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany, that lies not far from the confluence of the Maine and the Rhine, there stood, many, many years since, the Castle of the Baron Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to decay, and almost buried among beechtrees and dark firs; above which, however, its old watch-tower may still be seen struggling, like tho former possessor I have mentioned, to carry a high head, and look down npon the neighbouring country. The baron was a dry branch of the great family of Katzenellenbogen,* and inherited the relics of the property, and all the pride of his ancestors. Though the warlike disposition of his predecessors had much impaired the family possessions, yet the baron still endeavoured to keep np some show of former state. The times were peaceable, and the German nobles, in general, had abandoned their inconvenient old castles, perched like eagles' nests among the mountains, and had built more convenient residences in the valleys: still the baron remained proudly drawn up in his little fortress, cherishing, with hereditary inveteracy, all the old family feuds; so that he was on ill terms with some of his nearest neighbours, on ac* i. e. CAT'S-ELBOW—the name of a family of those parts very powerful in former times. The appellation, we are told, was given in compliment to a peerless dame of the family, celebrated for her fine arm. �4 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. count of disputes that had happened between their great-great-grandfathers. The baron had but one child, a daughter; but nature, when she grants but one child, always compensates by making it a prodigy; and so it was with the daughter of the baron. All the nurses, gossips, and country cousins, assured her father that she had not her equal for beauty in all Germany ; and who should know better than they ? She had, moreover, been brought up with great care under the superintendence of two maiden aunts, who had spent some years of their early life at one of the little German courts, and were skilled in all the branches of knowledge necessary to the education of a fine lady. Under their instructions she became a miracle of accomplishments. B y the time she was eighteen, she could embroider to admiration, and had worked whole histories of the saints in tapestry, with such strength of expression in their countenances, that they looked like so many souls in purgatory. She could read without great difficulty, and had spelled her way through several church legends, and almost all the chivalric wonders of the Heldenbuch. She had even made considerable proficiency in writing; could sign her own name without missing a letter, and so legibly that her aunts could read it without spectacles. She excelled in making little # elegant good-for-nothing lady-like nicknacks of all kinds; was versed in the most abstruse dancing of the d a y ; played a number of airs on the harp and guitar; and knew all the tender ballads of the Minnielieders by heart. Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes in their younger days, were admirably calculated to be vigilant guardians and strict censors of the conduct of their niece; for there is no duenna so rigidly prudent, and inexorably decorous, as a superannuated coquette. She was rarely suffered out of their sight; never went beyond the domains of tho �MB SttidfM MfMa&ooM, 6 castle, unless well attended, or rather well watched; had continual lectures read to her about strict decorum and implicit obedience; and, as to the men—pah!— she was taught to hold them at such a distance, and in such absolute distrust, that, unless properly authorized, she would not have cast a glance upon the hanrlsomest cavalier in the world^—no, not if he were eve© dying at her feet. The good effects of this system were wonderfully apparent. The young lady was a pattern of docility < and correctness. While others were wasting- their sweetness in the glare of the world, and liable to be plucked and thrown aside by every hand, she was coyly blooming into fresh and lovely womanhood under the protection of those immaculate spinsters, like a rose-bud blushing forth among guardian thorns. Her aunts looked upon her with pride and exultation, and vaunted that though all the other young ladies in the world might go astray, yet, thank Heaven, nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress of Katzenellenbogen. But, however scantily the Baron Yon Landshort might be provided with children, his household was by no means a small one; for Providence had enriched him with abundance of poor relations. They, one and all, possessed the affectionate disposition common to htfmble relatives; were wonderfully atwtached to the baron, and took every possible occasion to come in swarms and enliven the castle. All family festivals w7ere commemorated by these good peopie at the baron's expense; and when they were filled with good cheer, they would declare that there Wfts nothing on earth so delightful as these family meet' ings, these jubilees of the heart. The baron, though a small man, had a large sotd and it swelled w ith satisfaction at the consciousness of being the greatest man in the little w7orld abom him. He loved to tell long stories about the sta?K �6 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. old warriors whose portraits looked grimly down from the walls around, and he found no listeners equal to* those who fed at his expense- H e mivcfr $ v m to the marvellous, and a firm believer in all thosei supernatural tales with, which every fountain and valley in Germany abounds. The faith of his guests exceeded even his own ; they listened to every taW of wonder with open eyes and mouth), and never failed to be astonished, even though repeated for the hundredth time. Thus lived the |3aron Von Landr? short, the oracle of his table, the absolute mon-arob of his little territory, and happy, above all things, ia the persuasion that he was the wisest man of the age. A t the time of which my story treats*, there was a great family gathering at the castle,, on an a$air of the utmost importance; it was to receive the destined bridegroom of the baron's daughter. A wegotija.tion had been carried on between the fathet and an old nobleman of Bavaria, ta unite the, dignity of their houses by the marriage of their children. The pre-* liminaries had been conducted with proper punctilio. The young people were bethrothed without seeing each, other, and the time was appinted for the marriage ceremony. The young Count Von Altenburg had been recalled from the army for the purpose, and was actually on his way to the baron's to, receive hia bride. Missives had even been received! from himy from Wurtzburg, where he was accidentally detained^ mentioning the day and hour when he might be ex*, pected to arrive. The castle was in a tumult of preparation; ta give him a suitable welcome. The fair bride had been decked out with uncommon care. The two aimts. bad superintended her toilet, and quarrelled the whei& morning about every article of her dress. The young lady had taken advantage of their contest to follow the bent of her own taste, and fortunately it was a good one. She looked as lovely as youthful bride* �7 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. groom could desire; and the flutter of expectation heightened the lustre of her charms. The suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the gentle heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost in reverie, all betrayed the soft tmnult that was going on in her little heart. The aunts were con tin-. ually hovering around her ; for maiden aunts are apt to take great interest in affairsof this nature. They were giving her a world of staid counsel how to deport herself, what to say, and in what manner to receive the expected lover. The baron w7as no less busied in preparation. H e had, in truth, nothing exactly to d o ; but he was naturally a fuming, bustling little man, and could not, remain, passive when all the world was in a hurry. He worried from top to bottom of the castle with, an air of infinite anxiety ; he continually called the sqr^ vants from, their work to exhort them to be djjigenj;;, and buzzed about every hall and chamber a$ idly restless and importunate as a, blue-bottle fly on a, warm summer's day. In the meantime the fatted calf had been killed ;, the forests had rung with the clamour of the huntsmen ; the kitchen was crowded with, good cheer; the cellars had yielded up whole oceans of Bhein-wein and Ferne-wein ; and even the great Heidelburgtun had been laid under contribution, Everything was ready to receive the distinguished guest with Sausr and Braus in the true spirit of German hospitality— but the guest delayed to make his appearance. H^our rolled after hour. The sun, that had poured his, downward rays upon the rich forest of the Odenwald, now j/ust gleamed along the summits of the mountains. The baron mounted the highest tower, and strained his eyes in hopes of catching a distant sight of the count and his attendants. Once he thought he beheld them ; the sound of horns came floating from the valley, prolonged by the mountain echoes* �8 spectre m t v m m o u s A number of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing along the road; but when they had nearly reached the foot of the mountain, they suddenly struck off in a different direction. The last ray of sunshine departed—the bats began to flit by in the twilight—• the road grew dimmer and dimmer to the view, and nothing appeared stirring in it, but now and then a peasant lagging homeward from his labour. While the old castle of Landshort was in this state of perplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting in a different part of the Odenwald. The young Count Yon Altenburgh was tranquilly pursuing his route in that sober jog-trot way in which a man travels towards matrimony when his friends have taken all the trouble and uncertainty of courtship off his hands, and a bride is waiting for him as certainly as a dinner at the end of his journey. He had encountered at Wurtzburg a youthful companion in arms, with whom he had seen some gervice on the frontiers; Herman Yon Starkenfaust, one of the stoutest hands and worthiest hearts of German chivalry, who was now returning from the army. His father's castle was not far distant from the old fortress of Landshort, although an hereditary feud rendered the families hostile and strangers to each other. In the warm-hearted moment of recognition, the young friends related all their past adventures and fortunes, and the count gave the whole history of his intended nuptials with a young lady whom he had never seen, but of whose charms he had received the most enrapturing descriptions. As the route of the friends lay in the same direction, they agreed to perform the rest of their journey together; and, that they might do it the more leisurely, set off from Wurtzburg at an early hour, the count having given directions for his retinue to follow and overtake him. �9 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. They beguiled their wayfaring with recollections of their military scenes and adventures; but the count was apt to be a little tedious, now and then, about the reputed charms of his bride, and the felicity that awaited him. In this way they had entered among the mountains of the Odenwald, and were traversing one of its most lonely and thickly-wooded passes. It is well known that the forests of Germany have always been as much infested by robbers as its castles by spectres; and, at this time, the former were particularly numerous, from the hordes of disbanded soldiers wandering about the country. It will not appear extraordinary, therefore, that the cavaliers were attacked by a gang of these stragglers, in the midst of the forest. They defended themselves with bravery, but were nearly overpowered, when the count's retinue arrived to their assistance. A t sight of them the robbers fled, but not until the count had received a mortal wound. H e was slowly and carefully conveyed back to the city of Wurtzburg, and a friar summoned from a neighbouring convent, who was famous for his skill in administering to both soul and body; but half of his skill was superfluous; the moments of the unfortunate count were numbered. With his dying breath he entreated his friend to repair instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain the fatal cause of his not keeping his appointment with his bride. Though not the most ardent of lovers, he was one of the most punctilious of men, and appeared earnestly solicitous that his mission should be speedily and courteously executed. "Unless this is done," said he, " I shall not sleep quietly in my grave!" He repeated these last words with peculiar solemnity. A request, at a moment so impressive, admitted of no hesitation. Starkenfaust endeavoured to soothe him to calmness; promised faithfully to execute his wish, and gave him his hand �10 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. in solemn pledge. The dying man pressed it in acknowledgment, but soon lapsed into delirium—raved about his bride—his engagements—his plighted word; ordered his horse, that he might ride to the castle of Landshort; and expired in the fancied act of vaulting into the saddle. Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh arid a soldier's tear on the untimely fate of his comrade; and then pondered on the awkward mission he had undertaken. Ilis heart was heavy, and his head perplexed; for lie was to present himself an unbidden guest among hostile people, and to damp their festivity with tidings fatal to their hopes. Still there were certain Whisperings of curiosity in his bosom to see this farfamed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, so cautiously shut up from the world; for he was a passionate admirer of the sex, and there was a dash of eccentricity and enterprise in his character that made him fond of all simple adventure. Previous to his departure he made all due arrangements with the holy fraternity of the convent for the funeral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried in the cathedral of Wurtzburg, near some of his illustrious relatives; and the mourning retinue of the count took charge of his remains. It is now high time that we should return to the ancient family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient for their guest, and still more for their dinner; and to the worthy little baron, whom we left airing himself on the watch-tower. ft ight closed in, but still no guest arrived. The baron descended from the tower in despair. The banquet, which had been delayed from hour to hour, could no longer be postponed. The meats were already overdone; the cook in an agony; and the whole household had the look of a garrison that had been reduced by famine. The baron was obliged reluctantly to give orders for the feast without the presence of the �TIIE SPECTRE BRZDEGROOM. U gnest. All were seated at table, and just on the point of commencing, when the sound of a horn from without the gate gave notice of the approach of a stranger. Another long blast filled the old courts of the castle with its echoes, and was answered b y the warder from the walls. The baron hastened to receive his future son-in-law. The drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger wTas before the gate. H e was a tall, gallant cavalier, mounted on a black steed. H i s countenance was pale, but he had a beaming, romantic eye, and an air of stately melancholy. The baron was a little mortified that he should have come in this simple, solitary style. His dignity for a moment was ruffled, and he felt disposed to consider it a want of proper respect for the important occasion, and the important family with which he was to be connected. H e pacified himself, however, with the conclusion, that it must have been youthful impatience which had induced him thus to spur on sooner than his attendants. " I am sorry," said the stranger, " t o break in upon y o u thus unseasonably " Here the baron interrupted him with a world of compliments and greetings, for, to tell the truth, he prided himself upon his courtesy and eloquence. T h e stranger attempted, once or twice, to stem the torrent of words, but in vain; so he bowed his head, and suffered it to flow on. B y the time the baron had come to a pause, they had reached the inner court of the castle; and the stranger wTas again about to speak* when he was once more interrupted b y the appearance of the female part of the family, leading forth the shrinking and blushing bride. H e gazed on h e r for a moment as one entranced; it seemed as if his whole soul beamed forth in the gaze, and rested upon that lovely form. One of the maiden aunts whispered something in her e a r ; she made an effort to fipeak; her moist blue eye was timidly raised; gave �12 THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. a shy glance of inquiry on the stranger; and was cmst again to the ground. The words died away; but there was a sweet smile playing about her lips, and a soft dimpling of the cheek that showed her glance had not been unsatisfactory. It was impossible for a girl of the fond age of eighteen, highly predisposed for love and matrimony, not to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier. The late hour at which the guest had arrived left BO time for parley. The baron was peremptory, and deferred all particular conversation until the morntag, and led the way to the untasted banquet. It was served up in the great hall of the castle. Around the walls hung the hard-favoured portraits of the heroes of the house of Katzenellenbogen, and the trophies which they had gained in the field and in the chase. Hacked corslets, splintered jousting Spears, and tattered banners, were mingled with the spoils of sylvan warfare; the jaws of the wolf, and the tusks of the boar, grinned horribly among crossbows and battle-axes, and a huge pair of antlers branched immediately over the head of the youthful bridegroom. The cavalier took but little notice of the company, Or the entertainment. H e scarcely tasted the banuet, but seemed absorbed in admiration of his bride, fe conversed in a low tone that could not be overheard—for the language of love is never loud; but where is the female ear so dull that it cannot catch Ihe softest whisper of the lover ? There was a mingled tenderness and gravity in his manner, that appeared to have a powerful effect upon the young ytdy. Her colour came and went as she listened with deep attention. N o w and then she made some blush!ng reply, and when his eye was turned away, she Would steal a sidelong glance at his romantic countenance, and heave a gentle sigh of tender happiness. I t was evident that the young couple were completely f �13 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. enamoured. The aunts, who were deeply versed in the mysteries of the heart, declared that they had fallen in love with each other at first sight. The feast went on merrily, or, at least, noisily, for the guests were all blessed with those keen appetites that attend upon light purses and mountain air. The baron told his best and longest stories, and never had he told them so well, or with such great effect. If there was anything marvellous, his auditors were lost in astonishment; and if anything facetious, they were sure to laugh exactly in the right place. The baron, it is true, like most great men, was too dignified to utter any joke but a dull one; it was always enforced, however, by a bumper of excellent H o c k heimer; and even a dull joke, at one's own table, served up with jolly old wine, is irresistible. Many good things were said by poorer and keener wits, that would not bear repeating, except on similar occasions; many sly speeches whispered in ladies' ears, that almost convulsed them with suppressed laughter; and a song or two roared out by a poor, but merry and broad-faced cousin of the baron, that absolutely made the maiden aunts hold up their fans. Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest maintained a most singular and unseasonable gravity. His countenance assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the evening advanced; and, strange as it may appear, even the baron's jokes seemed only to render him the more melancholy. A t times he was lost in thought, and at times there was a perturbed and restless wandering of the eye that bespoke a mind but ill at ease. His conversations with the bride became more and more earnest and mysterious. Lowering clouds began to steal over the fair serenity of her brow, and tremors to run through her tender frame. All this could not escape the notice of the company. Their gaiety was chilled by the unaccountable gloom of the bridegroom; their spirits were in- �14 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. fected ; whispers and glances were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs and dubious shakes of the head. The song and the laugh grew less and less frequent; there were dreary pauses in the conversation, which were at length succeeded by w7ild tales and supernatural legends. One dismal story produced another still more dismal, and the baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hysterics with the history of the goblin horseman that carried away the fair Leonora ; a dreadful story, which has since been put into excellent verse, and is read and believed by all the world. The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound attention. l i e kept his eyes steadily fixed on the baron, and, as the story drew to a close, began gradually to rise from his seat, growing taller and taller, until, in the baron's entranced eye, he seemed almost to tower into a giant. The moment the tale was finished he heaved a deep sigh, and took a solemn farewell of the company. They were all amazement. The baron was perfectly thunderstruck. " W h a t ! going to leave the castle at midnight? why, everything was prepared for his reception; a chamber was ready for him if he wished to retire." The stranger shook his head mournfully and mysteriously ; " I must lay my head in a different chamber to-night!" There was something in this reply, and the tone in which it was uttered, that made the baron's heart misgive him ; but he rallied his forces, and repeated his hospitable entreaties. The stranger shook his head silently, but positively, at every offer; and, waving his farewell to the company, stalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were absolutely petrified-—the bride hung her head, and a tear stole to her eye. The baron followed the stranger to the great court of the castle, where the black charg*er stood pawing �TIIE SPECTRE BRZDEGROOM. U the earth, and snorting with impatience. When they had reached the portal, whose deep archway wras dimlv lighted by a cresset, the stranger paused, and addressed the baron in a hollow tone of voice, which the vaulted roof rendered still more sepulchral. " Now that we are alone," said he, " I will impart to you the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indispensable engagement " " W h y , " said the baron, "cannot you send some 3ne in your place V* " It admits of no substitute—I must attend it in person—I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral——'' " A y , " said the baron, plucking up spirit, " b u t not until to-morrow—to-morrow you shall take your bride there." " N o ! n o ! " replied the stranger, with tenfold solemnity, u my engagement is with no bride—the worms ! the worms expect me! I am a dead man— I have been slain by robbers—my body lies at Wurtzburg—at midnight I am to be buried—the grave is waiting for me—I must keep my apppointment !" He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the drawbridge, and the clattering of his horse's hoofs was lost in the whistling of the night-blast. The baron returned to the hall in the utmost consternation, and related what had passed. Two ladies fainted outright, others sickened at the idea of having banqueted with a spectre. It was the opinion of some, that tliis might be the wild huntsman, famous in German legend. Some talked of mountain sprites, of wood-demons, and of other supernatural beings, with which the good people of Germany have been so grievously harassed since time immemorial. • One of the poor relations ventured to suggest that it might be some sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that the very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with so melancholy a personage. This, however, drew on him the indignation of the whole com- �16 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. pany, and especially of the baron, who looked upon him as little better than an infidel; so that he was fain to abjure his heresy as speedily as possible, and come into the faith of the true believers. But whatever may have been the doubts entertained, they were completely put to an end by the arrival, next day, of regular missives, confirming the intelligence of the young count's murder, and his interment in Wurtzburg cathedral. The dismay at the castle may well be imagined. The baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, who had come to rejoice with him, could not think of abandoning him in his distress. They wandered about the courts, or collected in groups in the hall, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders, at the troubles of so good a man; and sat longer than ever at table, and ate and drank more stoutly than ever, by way of keeping up their spirits. But the situation of the widowed bride was the most pitiable. To have lost a husband before she had even embraced him—and such a husband ! if the very spectre could be so gracious and noble, what must have been the living man ? She filled the house with lamentations. On the night of the second day of her widowhood she had retired to her chamber, accompanied by one of her aunts, who insisted on sleeping wTith her. The aunt, who was one of the best tellers of ghost-stories in all Germany, had just been recounting one of her longest, and had fallen asleep in the very midst of it. The chamber was remote, and overlooked a small garden. The neice lay pensively gazing at the beams of the rising moon, as they trembled on the leaves of an aspen-tree before the lattice. The castle clock had just tolled midnight, when a soft strain of music stole up from the garden. She rose hastily from her bed, and stepped lightly to the window. A tall figure stood among the shadows of the tree. A s it raised its head, a beam of moonlight fell upon the counten- �t m M&cmti MiwmmoM* 17 atice. Heaven and earth! she beheld the Spectre? Bridegroom ! A loud shriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and her aunt, who had been awakened by the music, and had followed her silently to the window, fell into her arms. When she looked again, the spectre had disappeared. Of the two females, the aunt now required the most soothing, for she was perfectly beside herself with terror. As to the young lady, there was something, even in the spectre of her lover, that seemed endearing. There was still the semblance of manly beauty; and though the shadow of a man is but little calculated to satisfy the affections of a love-sick girl, yet, where the substance is not to be had, even that is consoling. The aunt declared she never would sleep in that chamber again ; the niece, for once, was refractory, and declared as strongly that she would sleep in no other in the castle : the consequence was, that she had to sleep in it alone: but she drew a promise from her aunt not to relate the story of the spectre, lest she should be denied the only melancholy pleasure left her on earth—that of inhabiting the chamber over which the guardian shade of her lover kept its nightly vigils. H o w long the good old lady would have observed this promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk of the marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the first to tell a frightful story; it is, however, still quoted in the neighbourhood, as a memorable instance of female secrecy, that she kept it to herself for a whole week; when she was suddenly absolved from all further restraint, by intelligence brought to the breakfast-table one morning that the young lady was not to be found. Her room was empty—the bed had not been slept in—the window wTas open, and the bird had flown ! The astonishment and concern with which the intelligence was received, can only be imagined by those �18 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. who have witnessed the agitation which the mishaps of a great man cause among his friends. Even the poor relations paused for a moment from the indefatigable labours of the trencher; when the aunt, who had at first been struck speechless, wrung her hands, and shrieked out, " The goblin! the goblin ! she's carried away by the goblin !" In a few words she related the fearful scene of the garden, and concluded that the spectre must have carried off his bride. Two of the domestics corroborated the opinion, for they had heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs down the mountain about midnight, and had no doubt that it was the spectre on his black charger, bearing her away to the tomb. All present were struck with the direful probability; for events of the kind are extremely common in Germany, as many well- authenticated histories bear witness. What a lamentable situation was that of the poor baron!' What a heart-rending dilemma for a fond father, and a member of the great family of Katzenellenbogen ! His only daughter had either been rapt away to the grave, or he \ym to have some wood-demon for a son-in-law, and perchance, a troop of goblin grandchildren. As usual, he was completely bewildered, and all the castle in an uproar. The men were ordered to take horse, and scour every road and path and glen of the Odenwald. The baron himself had just drawn on his jack-boots, girded on his sword^ and was about to mount iiis steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, when he was. brought to a pause by a new apparition. A lady was seen approaching, the castle, mounted on a palfrey, attended by a cavalier on horseoaek. She galloped up to the gate, sprang from her horse, and falling at the baron's feet^ embraced his knees. It was his lost daughter, and her companion—the Spectre Bridegroom ! The baron was astounded. He looked at his daughter, then at the spectre, and almost doubted the evidence of hi§ �TIIE SPECTRE BRZDEGROOM. U senses. The latter, too, was wonderfully improved in his appearance since his visit to the world of spirits. His dress was splendid, and set off a noble figure of manly symmetry. He wTas no longer pale and melaiH clioly. His fine countenance was flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted in his large dark eye. The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier (for, in truth, as you must have known alt the while, he was no goblin) announced himself as Sir Herman Y o n Starkenfaust. He related his adventure with the young count. He told how he had hastened to the castle to deliver the unwelcome tidings, but that the eloquence of the baron had interrupted him in every attempt to tell his tale. How the sight of the bride had completely captivated him, and that to pass a few hours near her, he had tacitly suffered the mistake to continue. H o w he had been sorely perplexed in what way to make a decent retreat, until the baron's goblin stories had suggested his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hostility of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth—had haunte$ the garden beneath the young lady's window—had wooed—had won—had borne away in triumph—and, in a word, nad wedded the fair. Under any other circumstances the baron would have been inflexible, for he was tenacious of paternal authority, and devoutly obstinate in all family feuds; but he loved his daughter; he had lamented her as lost; he rejoiced to find her still alive ; and, though her husband was of a hostile house, yet, thank heaven, he was not a goblin. There was something, it must be acknowledged, that did not exactly accord with his notions of strict veracity, in the joke the knight had passed upon him of his being a dead man ; but several old friends present, who had served in the wars, assured him that every stratagem was excusable in love, and that the cavalier was entitled to especial privilege, having lately served as a trooDer. �20 KM sptertiE mivmti&oM. Matters, therefore, were happily arranged. The baron pardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels at the castle were resumed. The poor relations overwhelmed this new member of the family with loving-kindness ; he wTas so gallant, so generous —and so rich. The aunts, it is true, were somewhat scandalized that their system of strict seclusion and passive obedience should be so badly exemplified, but attributed it all to their negligence in not having the windows grated. One of them wTas particularly mortified at having her marvellous story marred, and that the only spectre she had ever seen should turn out a counterfeit; but the niece seemed perfectly happy at having found him substantial flesh and blood—and so the story ends. END OF THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM, �T H E M A S O N OF G R A N A D A . There was once upon a time a poor mason, or bricklayer, in Granada, who kept all the saints' days and holidays, and Saint Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all his devotion, he grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his numerous family. One night he was roused from his first sleep by a knocking at his door. He opened it and was accosted by a tall, meagre, cadaverous-looking priest. " H a r k ye, honest friend!" said the stranger, " I have observed that you are a good Christian, and one to be trusted; will you undertake a job this very night?" " With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condition that I am paid accordingly." " That you shall b e ; but you must suffer yourself to be blindfolded." To this the mason made no objection; so, being hoodwinked, he was led by the priest through various rough lanes and winding passages, until they stopped before the portal of a house. The priest then applied a key, turned a creaking lock, and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They entered, the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was conducted through an echoing corridor, ami a spacious hall, to an interior part of the building. Here the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he found himself in a patio, or court, dimly lighted by a single lamp. In the centre was the dry basin of an old Moorish fountain, under which the priest requested him to form a small vault, bricks and mortar being at hand for the purpose. He accordingly worked all night, but without finishing the job. Just before day-break, the �22 THE MASON OE GEANADA. priest put a piece of gold into his hand, and haying again blindfolded him, conducted him back to his dwelling. " Are you willing," said he, " to return and complete your work ?" " Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am so well paid." " Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call again." He did so, and the vault was completed. " N o w , " said the priest, " y o u must help me to bring forth the bodies that are to be buried in this vault," The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words: he followed the priest, with trembling steps, into a retired chamber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectac^o of death, but was relieved on perceiving three or four portly jars standing in one corner. They were evidently full of money, and it was with great labour that he and the priest carried them forth and consigned them to their tomb. The vault was then closed, the pavement replaced, and all traces of the work obliterated. The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a route different from that by which he had come. After they had wandered for a long time through a perplexed maze of lanes and alleys, they halted. The priest then put two pieces of gold into his band: " Wait here," said he, " until you hear the cathedral bell toll for matins. If you presume to uncover your eyes before that time, evil will befall y o u : " so saying, he departed. The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself by weighing the gold pieces in his hand, and clinking them against each other. The moment the cathedral bell rang its matin peal, he uncovered his eyes, and found himself on the banks of the Xenil, from whence he made the best of his way home, and revelled with his family for a whole fortnight on the �THE MASON 0 2 GRANAD4. 23 profits of his two nights' work; after which he was as poor as ever. He continued to work a little, and pray a good deal, and keep saints' days and holidays, from year to year, while his family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of gypsies. As he was seated one evening at the door of his hovel, he was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon, who was noted for owning many houses, and being a griping landlord. The man of money eyed him for a moment from beneath a pair of anxious shagged eyebrows. " I am told, my friend, that you are very poor.'* " I h e r e is no denying the fact, Senor—it speaks for itself." " I presume, then, that you will be glad of a job, and will work cheap." " A s cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada/' "That's what I want. I have an old house fallen into decay, that costs me more money than it is worth to keep it in repair, for nobody will live in it; so I must contrive to patch it up and keep it together at as small expense as possible." The mason was accordingly conducted to a large deserted house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, where his eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain. He paused for a moment, for a dreaming recollection of the place came over him. " Pray," said he, " who occupied this house formerly ?" " A pest upon him," cried the landlord, " i t was an old miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He was said to be immensely rich, and having no relations, it was supposed would leave all his treasures to the Church. He died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take possession of bis wealth; but nothing could they find but a few ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck �24 THE MASON OF GRANADA. has fallen on me, for, since his death, the old fellow continues to occupy my house without paying rent, and there's no taking the law of a dead man. The people pretend to hear the clinking of gold all night in the chamber where the old priest slept, as if he were counting over his money, and sometimes a groaning and moaning about the court. Whether true or false, these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not a tenant will remain in it." " E n o u g h , " said the mason sturdily; " let me live in your house rent-free until some better tenant present, and I will engage to put it in repair, and to quiet the troubled spirit that disturbs it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and am not to be daunted by the Devil himself, even though he should come in the shape of a big bag of money! " The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; he moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his engagements. B y little and little he restored it to its former state; the clinking of gold was no more heard at night in the chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he increased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neighbours, and became one of the richest men in Granada: he gave large sums to the Church, by way, no doubt, of satisfying his conscience, and never revealed the secret of the vault until on his death-bed, to his son and heir. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a6257215e708062e578442c3f55452fc.jpg d3986dc6f0c396b059a8b3cf5e8748c2 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3129 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The popular stories of The spectre bridegroom and The mason of Granada. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934059213505154">s0582b28</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The spectre bridegroom The mason of Granada. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a fashionable man standing with a boy and girl, trees in background surrounded by woodcut border '29' is printed at the foot of the title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/17da837d0283a93ebaf83b486269bc9c.jpg 588634d49b06da049141dece4fc42dd3 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3526 Width 2230 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f07760fba46d92f944fc773b62a2560d.jpg d18a4dfdcca38158fd02d84c54690440 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3308 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The history of King Robt. Bruce, containing the memorable battle of Bannockburn, &amp;c &amp;c. &amp;c. Subject The topic of the resource War Chapbooks - Scotland - Edinburgh Robert I, King of Scots, 1274-1329 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228223505154">s0585b35</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Glasgow, Scotland Description An account of the resource '15' is printed at the top right of the title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Chapbook Genre: biography https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d6f8782d4e445c33a1a0fca45b197881.pdf 0a26ec88674e54614fa19273f75b20e1 PDF Text Text Weather Beaten O R T H Soger/ E Burgo-Mafter of Venice. I N FOUR PARTS. Edinburgh • Printed by J« Marten CWgatfij, , �THE WEATHER-BEATEN SOGER, P A -II T ERE you may fe« the turns of fate, From woe to joy, from poor to great; 4 mark oi Fortune's fpecial ]ovp, Who did a fokliers gri^f remove* One who An former days, ?tis told, Had trudg'd through weather hot and cold, *TiU he was poor and pennyfefs You would have laughM to«ve feen the drefs* His fhoes with trudging up and down, No fole the}' had; a hat no crown ; His coat no fleeves, his Curt the farrte, But by his fide a {word of fame. Without a fcabbard good or bad, Nor was there any to be had; Bis coat and breeches would not come, In deptlf to cover half.his buro. Now being weary of his trade ; One day he to his Captain ftid, Pray now give me a lull difeharge, That 1 my fortune may enlarge. I am perfuaded £ lhall be, 4 burgo-mafter, Sir, faid h$> T o Venice, if you'll let me go* Hi» Ciptain fmiling,. attfwer\lr No> With you, faid he, I will not part? Then, thought the foldier, H i defcrt. My colour^ let what will befal: % ^iid foon he went For good and all. Now as he mareh'd with all his might* & ^Qaqhman 3?n4 Hit yortfry. kr.ig'nt. H �Upon the road he chanc'd to find, And afkVi to borrow full fi ve pound. At this the Knight laughM out avails, A * d faid, When wilt you pay% again ? He anfvverM, Sir you ftuili be paid, When t am a Burgo- mailer made. Of Vepice, which (hill be my lot, The Noble Knight away he got, ^ Apd laugh'd to iee hira inthattru^, But yet the the coachman lent it him* This being clone away he,went, T o Venice, where iome time he fpent. T o view the palace rich and gay. And then to Burgo's weat away, Who kept a houfe to entertain All kin4s of g^efis—*s it is pUin ; He cail'd for wine and liquor free. Though in $ wretched gatb was P A R T IL n P H l S foldier was,ftgallant blade* And while in pleafare tliere he fiay'd Behold a 'Squire who lived peaty Courted the Bur, ©Ss daughter dear, Now as he kept h«r company, One day the foldier lit tin ? by, Feigning aileep, did overhear Iheir private talk as will appear, Part of their amorous chat was this * Mv dear tweet love and charming btifs Let mo enj«y this felt-lame mght. The dapiei told him that he migH^ If he would to her chamber creep, When all the houfe were fail alleep, About the hour of twelve o'tlock, She vf©uld the door for him unlock. �f + ) The foldier heard the whole defigsi, Thought he, The plea fur e fliall be mm And thereupon he went before, To the young Lady's chamber-door. He knock'd, and ioon The let him in, A pleafant game did theft begin, And ere arl houi's time It was pail. Her love the *Squire did come at all, He knock'd, Who's there I the Lady The foldier lying by her fide* Said, it's ihe ragged fellow furet Who feem?d as if hefiepf iecure* He heard us and is \ojne to have, The pleafure that our live did crave; Eat it s in vain, I Hi all a life And daflt the pife-pot in his eyes. Accordingly, in woful cfcft, He .dalhM it in thr 'Squire's face ; Away he goes, and nothing faid, Ss^pofing it had been the maid* She laughed at the pleafant jeft, And pave him then among the reft. A diamoad ring Vith kiffes fweet, But did not underftand the cheat. Then he arofe and went his vray. Behold on the fucceeding day, Upon his right han& the ring fhe fpy'd, Pray where had you the fame ihe a j % He anfwerM then* and thus hs fa'd, Pray be not in the leaft dife^y'd; For you was loving, kind and free, Left night, and gave the fame to *ie. O blcfs me did 1 ly witti you ? Since it is fo I pray be tr*»e; �A ad do not let the fame be told* So thou (halt never want for gold. He vowd he would conceal the fanvef Soon after this the 'Squire he csune, Saying, Why was you fo unkind? The pifs-pot mace me almyft blind* , 1 he yovaWul datfifel amwer'd thus'Tis good enough if it were v/orfc; Becaufe \ou thought to ruin rae^ My honour and my' ehaftitr F A R ^T III. T N pari; the third we irm(l retirnv ^ Untb & .mighty. greli comexp, Confifting of fooie thought! pounds, Which the poor fodier*s fortune crowns* Behold her we ally father he, Did fend four Weightyfljiip/sto fea* Ltded mith glorious merchandize, Rich filks with other wares like wife, They lied been gone fu)l even years, Ke $#J„e nor tiding they coyld hear^ Of thorn at lerigtk he. gave thet» o'er, Alid never thou ht to fee them m^re. At length there was a letter brought, The ibips frere fafe with riches ir aught Near to the borders of the land r Which newiJ .carae to his daughters kan \ Then having vjew'd ^pi fe^d tfie igjpe? She to the ragged foldier came* Crying, My dear, be true to me, You fhftli a Burgb-taafter be My Father thinks his Slips afe lofi^ Which now are on the Venice cosft ; 1 ere he does the tidings hear, Go buy his rights in them fiy defcn �And when thou hall ths bargain bought Of four large ihips richly fraught; Be what it will of me sou fliall Have money to p ay for it all. Then on her father he did wait, And firuck a bargain with himllt night; For the four ftiips four hundred pound, W i t h e r tbe fame be loll or foundNo fooner the bargain mack, And that fmail C m of money paid; u But he heard the {hips were come, Thtir burden was a mighty fum. Thsn did the Surgo-mailer fret, ?Cnufe he With fceh a'lofs;hadmtt; Butince It could no beitd.Fbe, lie with the foldier did ag ee, To take the daughter for * bride, With all tny heart he then reply'd; Then out of hand theymairHed #ere, Th$ foldief find the lady fair. Ho fooner w'ere they made man and wife., But ilrakht her father loft this life, And when he ffi'fiis rave Vvas laid, The fori was Btirgo.mafter made, He that had travel d uiany rnlWs, Wat n<*w by Fortu e*s fpeWial frniles, Made ntighty, powerful aniigre&t, And knewp A r his eftate. ho end or r iv\ X T O W -wind the iaf> part I pr*.?, IM n > ^-leil'on MX- you'll fay Still as yo\x read theftdry oU^ "Ike things #e re (Iran; brought about* WhiU he was Bslv.-a l i f t e r there, His former Cajptain did repair. �Unto his home, by cnanoe to dine. With other brave commanders fine, The Burgotnafler feeing that, He ftrai/ht put on his CY- wniefs Imt, With all hi3 other ffgged clothes, And fp into the room he goes. The Captain then t>eg*n t* iwear, Lieutenant, pray fee who is there, My ragged Burgo-mafter, who In private from bis colours flew. Straight* from the pufenceol his.gqiOs\ He ftept away, him felt he dreft, In fumptuous robes he dreft amain, And then return d to them again. The Captain (aid, right worthy Sir Here is v, foolifh ragged cur, Endued with /either wit no fenfe, I'll bang him or I go trota j^nce* . He from his colours did..o.efert. The Bur go faid, be not fo turt> r; In pre fence of thefe gentleman > Write bis difeharge,, here V guineas Us. He wrote the fame and tSok the gold, The Burgo*mafter laid, behold, I am the man, nd now at la(L , • What once I faid has come to pafs. The Captain then began to fu!*e,. v f ; And told his gallants in t&e room. If he had known a; much before, It ihould have cois him ten times more. And the;* within a momh and lefs, The Knight who once he did ad: refs1 o lend him five pounds on the road^ C^pat there to ta'ce up his abo$e* • ; �The Burgo rafter as before, Put on his robes both rent and tore; So that the Knight might know hi«i flraight As he did on his ^orftiip wait. He to his coachman turned round, And faid, there's one awes cm fife pound, When do yoti trunk the fame to et ? FJe is not bargewtnafter yet* The coachman f id.' as ] do live, I freely do the fame forgive? ffor to my grief Iftill do fee, Me^et remains in poverty. B or feme fliort time he ijrerit away, And drefs'd himfelf in rich array, la feathers fine and rich perfume, and fo return'd into the room* Hating difcoursM vith them n vlile. He told the c#achm»n with a fiiiilc, Ashe helped him in timaof nted* HE would return it now indeed. He gave hita then fire thoufand pound. Like wife a match for him he found, 4 fweet young lady fair and clear, Daughter to a renowned Peer. he knight was vexed to the heart, That he mull with his fervant part: But let him grieve, it sauft be fo, Whether his Lor4fcip will or no. Thus he who once was mean and poor, At len tk enjoy£ a*h§ppy itore, Which Fortune Unto him did fend, And he prove'd grateful to his friend* F I N I S , � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/18def19c9f28238ff3866d50eb69df52.jpg 02803b8a80a89d128133c1367d5c891e Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3189 Width 1855 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The weather beaten soger; or The burgo-master of Venice. In four parts. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Edinburgh Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1800 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934220863505154">s0585b50</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The burgo-master of Venice. In four parts. Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of couples (8 men and women) in fashionable dress gathered around a dinner table; couple in the foreground is hugging on title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Edinburgh: Printed by J. Merren https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/84207d7147697644729b63de00f16400.pdf 142859cc1f29045a20718dcb509ca9f5 PDF Text Text FIVE SOMEBODY. LASSIE wr THE LINT-WIIITE LOCKS. THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. HEY THE BONNIE B R E A S T KNOTS. JOHN 0 ' BADENYON. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 56, �am S O N G S . THERE'S NAB LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE, There's n&e luck about the bouse, There's nae luck at a ' ; There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa. And are you sure the news, is true ? And are you sure he's weel? Is this a time to think o'wark ? Mak' haste, set by your wheel. Is this a time to think o' wark, When Colin's at the door ? Gi e me my cloak, I'll to the quay, And see him come ashore. * 0 gi'e me down my bigonet, My bishop satin gown, For I maun tell the bailie's wife That Colin's came to town. ^ j^SS&^E*.I': My Sunday's sjioon they maun gae on* My hose o' pearl blue, It's a' to please-my aiii gudeman, For he's baith leal and true. a T m i r l allT H O T u M . �Rise up an' mak' a clean fireside, Put on the muckle pot; Gi'e little Kate lier cotton gown, And Jock liis Sunday's coat. And mak' their shoon as black as slaes, Their hose as white as snaw ; It's a' to please my ain gudeman, For he's been lang awa. There are two hens upon the bank, They've fed this month and mair, Mak' haste and thraw their necks about, That Colin weel may fare ; And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw ; It's a' for love of my gudeman, For he's been lang awa. Sao true his heart, sae smooth his speech. His breath like caller air, His very foot has music i.n't, When he comes up the stair. And will I see his face again j And will I hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the tliocht, In troth I'm like to greet. The cauld blasts o' the winter wind, That thirl'd through my hsart, �They're a' blawn by, I lia'e him safe, Till death we'll never part. But what puts parting in my head ? It may be far awa ; The present moment is our am, The neist we never saw. Since Colin's weel, I'm weel content, I hae nae mair to crave : Could I but live to mak' him blest, I'm blest aboon the lave. And will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the thoclit, In troth, I'm like to greet. HEY THE BONNIE BREAST KNOTS. Hey the bonnie, ho the bonnie, Hey the bonnie breast knots ; Blythe and merry were they a' When they put on their breast-knots. There was a bridal in this town, And till't the lasses a' were boun', Wi' mankie facings on their gown, And some of them had breast-knots. Singing, hey the bonnie, &c. �5 At nine o'clock the lads convene, Some clad in blue, some clad in green, Wi' shinin' buckles in their sheen, And flowers upon their waistcoats. Singing, hey the bonnie, &c. Out cam' the wives a' wi' a phrase, And wish'd the lasses happy days, And muckle thought they o' their claise, Especially the breast-knots. Singing, hey the bonnie, &c. JOHN 0 ' BADENYON. Where now the trees are budding green, And flowers bloom on the lea, The time I us'd to meet my love, Beneath yon spreading tree, My happy days it brings to mind, But, ah! those days are gone ;— Yet still I'll tune the pipe I got Frae John o' Badenyon. For my false love he prov'd untrue, And left me here to mourn ; And often wet wi* ev'ning dew, I've sat beneath this thorn. I've wander'd here, I've wander'd there, But rest I could find none, Until I met beneath this shade, Wi' John o' Badenyon. �6 Why is thy face o'etfcasfj with %oe, He said, or why oppressed ? Should worldly care, or hapless love, E'er rob thy youth of rest J He tun'd his pipe, and play'd sae sweet, He gart my cares stand yon' ; 1 bless the day 1 chanc'd to meet Wi' John o' Badenyon. 'Twas he first taught my youth to sing, And weave the rustic lay, And to his pipe the woods would ring The lee lang summer-day. Nane had sic art to soothe my heart, But now, alas! he's gone, For nane could ever play or sing Like John o' Badenyon. He, dying, gave to me this pipe, On which he us'd to play; Be thou its second lord, he said, And soothe thy care away ; And seize each op'ning bud of joy, That blooms the thorns among ; So, dying said, he left this scene— Dear John o' Badenyon. I laid his head beneath the yird. And dew'd it wi' a tear ; I often wander near the spot, For he to me was dear. �7 Now spring's; green mantle clothes tbe field, Bn£, afr! i I fring alone; For spring's green mantlu clothes the grave Of John o' Ba deny on. ,<yl ^Jool odiriTf^iiil oili *\v oh^'J LASSIE w r THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, Bonny lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks \ Wilt thou be my dearie, 0 ? vfoodotfioa lo ffc&fifi oifi io l Now Nature cleads the flow'ry lea, And a' is young and sweet like thee ; 0 wilt thou share its joy wi' me, And say thou'lt be my dearie, 0 ? Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, &c. And when the welcome simmer show'r Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flow'r, We'll to the breathing woodbine bow'r, At sultry noon, my dearie, 0. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, &c When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray, The weary shearer's hameward way ; Through yellow waving fields we'll stray, And talk o' love, my dearie, 0. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, &e. �8 And when the howling wintry blast Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest; Enclasped to my faithfu' breast, I'll comfort thee, my dearie, 0. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, (fee. SOMEBODY. My heart is sair, I darena tell, My heart is sair for somebody; I could wake a winter night, For the sake of somebody. Och hon, for somebody! Och hey, for somebody! I could range the world around, For the sake of somebody. Ye pow'rs that smile on virtuous love, O, sweetly smile on somebody! Frae ilka danger keep him free, And send me safe my somebody. Och hon, for somebody! Och hey, for somebody! I wad do—what wad I not? For the sake of somebody. I1W eLIoii 'gi. >oI oJuiw-:^;! � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9428edf00751ad067bbd7c309561d54f.jpg 99ea20f1d87725f4a332d706611d5cc6 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3072 Width 1836 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Five Scotch songs. Somebody. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks. There's nae luck about the house. Hey the bonnie breast knots. John o' Badenyon. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks--Scotland--Glasgow Ballads Songs Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830833505154">s0615b34</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Chapbooks--Scotland--Glasgow Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Somebody. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks. There's nae luck about the house. Hey the bonnie breast knots. John o' Badenyon. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut iimage of a seated man in kilt and bonnet, playing the bagpipes on title page '56' is printed at the foot of the title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/614d13327def025b2de85a04ddb5875d.jpg cffb70dc55570399110576b360047b60 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3072 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Illustration on titel-page of a young woman wearing a hat, dress, and shawl standing before a gate. https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/42d7baa1d81c007882f189e674c91130.pdf d1eb23751eb9a896c193f8bbd1ee7a16 PDF Text Text SIX L O V E SONGS JOCKEY TO THE FAIR. W H A ' S AT T H E WINDOW, WHA? FAIREST OF THE FAIR. THE F L O W E R O' D U M B L A N E . THE MAID OF ARUNDEL. F A R EWELL, F A R E W E L L. GLASGOW r PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 34. �SONGS. WHA'S AT THE WINDOW, WHA? O wha's at the window, wha ? wha ? 0 wha's at tli© window, wha ? wha ? Wha but blythe Jamie Glen, He's come sax miles and ten, To tak bonnie Jeanie awa, awa, To tak bonnie Jeanie awa. He has plighted his troth, an' a', an' a\ Leal love to gi'e, an' a', an' a', And sae has she dune, By a' that's aboon ; For he loe's her, she lo'es him 'boon a', 'boon a* He lo'es her, she lo'es him 'boon a'. Bridal maidens are braw, braw, 0 bridal maidens are braw, braw, But the bride's modest e'e, And warm cheek, are to me 'Boon pearl ens and brooches, an* a', an' a\ 'Boon pearlens and brooches, an' a'. There's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha\ There's mirth on the green, in the ha', �There's laughing, there's quaffing, There's jesting, there's daffing, But the bride's father's blythest of a', of a', But the bride's father's blythest of a'. It's no that she's Jamie's ava, ava, It's no that she's. Jamie's ava, ava, That my heart is sae wearie, When a' the lave's cheerie, But it's just that she'll aye be awa, awa, But it's just that she'll aye be awa. THE FLOWER 0 ' DUMBLANE. The sun had gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene ; While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming, To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. 0 sweet is the brier wi' its saft faulding blossom, And sweet is the birk wi' its mantle o' green; Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom, Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. She's modest as ony, and blythe as she's, bonny, For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ; And far be the villain, divested of feeling, Wha'd blight in its blossom the flower o' Dumblane Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, Thou'rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen, Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning, Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. �4 How lost were my days till I met with my Jessie, The sports of the city seem'd foolish and vain ; I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie, Till charm'd wi* sweet Jessie, the flower o* Dumblane, Tho' mine were the station of loftiest grandeur, Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain ; And reckon as naething the height o' its splendour, If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o* Dumblane. T H E M A I D OF A R U N D E L . Thou fairest of the fairest maids, In Arundel's embowering shades, When beauty smiles in all her charms, And love's delighted bosom warms, With thee I woo each sylvan scene, Of fragrant bower and arbour green, While smiling hope our care dispels, We bless the shades of Arundel. When twilight steals along the world, And wandering shepherds leave the fold, To woo the bower, the scented grove, And sigh upon the lips of love ; Again my lovely Rosalie, With bounding heart I fly to thee, Love's dear and fond delights to tell Amid the shades of Arundel. As wandering by the castle mound, Or moving in the festive round, �o I feel the power of love divine, Bright beaming in these eyes of thine. And sweeter is thine artless tale, Than midnight song of nightingale, Soft dying on the breezy swell That fan the shades of Arundel. JOCKEY TO T H E FAIR. 'Twas on the morn of sweet May-day, When Nature painted all things gay, Taught birds to sing, and lambs to play, And gild the meadows fair ; Young Jockey early on the morn Arose, and tript it o'er the lawn, For Jenny vow'd away to run With Jockey to the Fair ; For Jenny vow'd away to run With Jockey to the Fair. The cheerful parish bells had rung, With eager steps he trudg'd along, While garlands round him hung Which shepherds us'd to wear: He tapt the window, 44 Haste my dear," Jenny impatient cried, " Who's there I" " 'Tis I, my love, and no one near, Step gently down, you've nought to fear, With Jockey to the Fair ; Step gently down, &c. �6 " My dad and mammy's fast asleep, My brother's up and with the sheep, And will you still your promise keep Which I have heard you swear ? And will you ever constant prove ? 44 1 will, by all the powers above, And ne'er deceive my charming dove: Dispel those doubts, and haste my love, With Jockey to the Fair Dispel those doubts, &c. " Behold the ring," the shepherd cried, " Will Jenny be my charming bride? Let Cupid be our happy guide, And Hymen meet us there." Then Jockey did his vows renew, He would be constant, would be true, His word was pledg'd, away she flew With Jockey to the Fair ; O'er cowslips tript, &c. In raptures meet the joyful train, Their gay companions, blithe and young, Each join the dance, each join the throng. To hail the happy pair ; In turns there's none so fond as they, They bless the kind propitious day, The smiling morn of blooming May, When lovely Jenny ran away With Jockey to the Fair ; When lovely Jenny, &c. �7 F A I R E S T OJ? T H E FAIR. 0 Nannie, wilt thou gang wi' me, Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town ; Can silent glens have charms for thee, The lowly cot, and russet gown ? Nae langer drest in silk and sheen, Nae langer deck'd wi' jewels rare, Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene, Where thou wert fairest of the fair O Nannie, when thou'rt far away, Wilt thou not cast a look behind ? Say, canst thou face the parching ray, Nor shrink before the wintry wind ? 0 can that saft and gentlest mien Severest hardships learn to bear, Nor sad, regret each courtly scene, Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? O Nannie, canst thou love so true, Thro' perils keen wi' me to gae ? Or when thy swain mishap shall rue, To share with him the pang of wae. And when invading pains befal, Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, Nor wishful those gay scenes recal, Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? And when at last thy love shall die, Wilt thou receive his parting breath ? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh, And cheer with smiles the bed of death �8 And wilt thou o'er his much-lov'd clay Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ; Nor then regret those scenes so gay, Where thou wert fairest of the fair I FAREWELL, FAREWELL. Farewell, farewell, dear Erin's Isle! My native land, adieu! I've seen thy hours of sunshine smile, And mark'd thy sorrows too. The pale moon trembles on the deep, But ere the morning dawn, Th© winds will only hear me weep For thee, my Peggy Bawn. And though I haste beyond the sea, Where sweeter scenes may smile, My heart unchanged will turn to tliee, My own, my native isle. But now a long, a kind farewell, To mountain, grove, and lawn, While tears alone my parting tell, From thee, my Peggy Bawn. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 062: Title-page illustration of a young woman wearing a hat, dress, and shawl standing before a gate. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Six love songs. Jockey to the fair. Wha's at the window, wha? Fairest of the fair. The flower o' Dumblane. The maid of Arundel. Farewell, farewell. Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <span class="EXLResultStatusAvailable"><span class="EXLAvailabilityCallNumber"><a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830973505154">s0615b35</a></span></span> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Jockey to the fair. Wha's at the window, wha? Fairest of the fair. The flower o' Dumblane. The maid of Arundel. Farewell, farewell. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut #62: Illustration on title-page of a young woman wearing a hat, dress, and shawl standing before a gate. '34' is printed at the bottom of the title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012 Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="%20University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs # of Woodcuts: 1 Architecture: gate Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Gender: woman/women Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9737a868ef1b05fa93c0ec9c4c9bf7e6.pdf e80c21b651e7d81a5393a9f75cfd171f PDF Text Text SELECT MISCELLANY A COLLECTION OF PIECES MORAL, HISTORICAL, AND HUMOUROUS; BY CELEBRATED AUTHORS. GLASGOWPRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, �/ < i h J J • J O S ' I '-'•> V - T i • " ('.'*! « v;, l i M.tO > - I |[V : l i 0.1) ,J/Ji< • If I ft • w V: rh • -S.U : : wodhajo 'IO0-: 'TT'I' ;T.. • <[ 'TYJSVI �THE SELECT MISCELLANY. BATTLE OF THE BREEKS. A FBS G A AE FROM THE LIFE OF WILLIAM M ' G E E , WEAVER I N HAMILTON. I often wonder, when I think of the tribulations that men bring upon themsells, through a want of gumption and common independence of speerit. There now, was I for nae less than eighteen years as henpickit a man as ever wrocht at the loom. Maggy and me, after the first week of our marriage, never foregathered weel thegither. There was something unco dour and imperious about her temper, although, I maun say, barring this drawback, she was nae that ill in her way either—that is to say, she had a sort of kindness about her, and behaved in a truly mitherly way to the bairns, gie'in them a' things needfu' in the way of feeding and claithing so far as our means admitted. But, O man, for a' that, she was a dour wife. There was nae pleasing her ae way or anither ; and whenever I heard the bell ringing for the kirk, it put me in mind of her tongue—aye wag, wagging, and abuseing me beyond bounds. In ae word, I was a puir, broken-hearted man, and often wished myself in Abraham's bosom, awa frae the cares and miseries of this sinfu* world. I was just saying that folk often rin their heads �into scrapes for want of a pickle natural spunk. Let nae man tell me tliat guid nature and simpleecity will get on best in this world ; na—faith, no. I had ower muckle experience that way ; and the langer I lived has pruved to me that my auld maist'er, James Currie, (him in the Quarry Loan,) wasna sae far wrang when he alleged, in his droll gude-humoured way, that a man should hae enough of the deil about him to keep the deil frae him. That was, after a', ane of the wisest observes I hae heard o' for a lang time. Little did I opine that I would ever be oblegated to mak' use o't in my ain particklar case :—but, bide awee, and ye shall see how it was brocht about between me and Maggy. It was on a wintry nicht when she set out to pick a quarrel wi* Mrs Todd, the huckster's wife, anent the price of a pickle flour which I had bought some days before, for making batter of, but which didna turn out sae weel as I expeckit, considering what was paid for't. Had I been consulted, I would hae tell't her to bide at hame, and no fash her thumb about the matter, which after a* was only an affair of three-happence farthing, and neither here nor there. But, na ; Maggie was nane o' the kind to let sic an object to stan' by ; so out she sets, wi' her red cloak about her, and her black velvet bonnet—that she had just that day got hame frae Miss Lorimer, the milliner— upon her head. But I maun first tell what passed between her and me on this wonderfu' occasion.* " And now, my dear/' quo' I, looking as couthly and humble as I could, and pulling my Kilmarnock night-cap a wee grain off my brow in a kind of half respectfu' fashion, " whats this ye're ganging to be about ? Odds, woman, I wadna gie a pirn for a' �that has happened. What signifies a pickle flour scrimp worth half a groat!" Faith, I would better hae held my tongue, for nae sooner was the word uttered, than takin' haud of a can, half fu' o* ready made-dressing, which I was preparing to lay on a wab of blue check I was working for Mr Andrew Treddles, the Glasgow manufacturer—I say, takin' haud o' this, she let it fly at my head like a cannon ball. But "Providence was kind, and instead of knocking out my brains, as I had every reason to expeck, it gied bang against our ain looking glass, and shattered it into five hundred pieces. But I didna a'thegither escape skaith, the dressing having flown out as the can gied by me, and plaistered a* my face ower in a manner maist extraordinary to behold. By jingo, my corruption was roused at this deadly attempt, and gin she hadna been my wife, I wad hae thrawn about her neck like a tappit hen's. But, na—I was henpickit, and she had sic a mastery over me as nae persuasions of my ain judgement could overcome. Sae I could dae nathing but stan' glowering at her like a moudiewart, while she poured out as muckle abuse as If I had been her flunky, instead of her natural lord and master. Ance or twice I fand my nieves yeuking to gie her a clour by way of balancing accounts, but such was the power of influence, that she had obtained that I durstna cheep for my very Iieart's bluid. So awa' she gaid on her errand, leaving me sittin' by the fire, to mak' the best of my desperate condition. " 0, Nancy,'' said I to my dochter, as she sat mending her brother's sark, opposite to me, 4 4 Is na your mitlier an awfu' woman ?" " I see naething awfu' about lier," quo' the cratur; " I think she servit yericht; and had I �6 a man, I would just treat him in the very same way, if he claur'd to set his nose against any thing that I wanted." I declare to ye when I heard this, frae my ain flesh and bluid, I was perfectly dumfoundered. The bairn I had brought up on my knee-—that used, when a wee thing, to come and sit beside me at the loom, and who was in the custom of wheeling my pirns wi' her ain h a n d odds, man, it was desperate. I coudna say anither word, but I fand a big tear come hap hap-ping ower my runkled cheeks, the first that had wet them sin* I was a bit laddie running about before the schule door. What was her mither's abusiVeness to 'this ? A man may thole muckle frae his wife,'but 0, the harsh words of the undutifu' bairn gang like arrows to his heart, and he weeps tears of real bitterness. I wasna angry at the lassie— 1 was ower grieved to be angered ; and for the first time I found that my former sufferings were only a single thread to a haill hank of yarn compared to them I suffered at this moment. A'thegither the thing was mair than I could staun, so, rising up, I betaks mysell to my but-anben neighbour, Andrew Brand. Andrew was an uncommon sagacious chiel, and, like mysell, a weaver to his trade. He was beuk-learned, and had read a hantel on different subjects, so that he was naturally looked up to by the folks round about, on account of his great lear. When onything gaed wrang about the Leechlee street, where we lived, we were a7 glad to consult him ; and his advice was reckoned no greatly behint that of Mr Meek, the minister. He was a great counter or 'ritlimetishian, as he ca'd it; and it was thocht by mony guid judges that he could handle a pen as weel as Mr Dick, the writing-master, liimseli. So* 4 4 �7 as I was saying, I stappit ben to Andrew's, to as& his advice, but odds, if ye ever saw a man in sic a desperate passion as he was in, when I tauld him how I had been used by my wife and dochter. 4 4 William M'Ghee," said he, raising his voice— it was a geyan strong ane—" ye're an absolute gomeril. 0, man, but ye're a henpickit sumph! I tell ye ye're a gawpus, and a lauching stock, and no worth the name of a man. Do ye hear that ?" O ay, I hear't very weel," quo' I, no that pleased at being sae spoken to, even by Andrew Brand, who was a man I could stamach a guid deal frae, in the way of reproof—" I ihear't a' weel eneucli, and am muckle obleged to ye, nae doubt, for your consolation." " Hooly and fairly, William," said he in a kinder tone, for he say/ I was a degree hurt by his speech. " Come, I was only joking ye, man, and you maunna tak onything amiss I hae said. But really, William, I speak to ye as a frien', and tell ye that ye are submitting to a tyranny which no man of common understanding ought to submit to. Is this no the land of liberty ? Are we no just as free as the Duke in his grand palace down by ; and has ony body a richt-—tell me that, William M'Gee—to tyranneeze ower anither as your wife does ower you! I'll no tell ye what to do, but I'll just tell you what I would do, if my wife and dochter treated me as yours have treated you— lord, man, I would ding -their harns about, and knock their heads thegitlier like twa curling stanes. I would aye ,be master in my ain house." This was Andrew's advice, and I thocbt it sounded geyan rational, only no very easy to put in practice. Hoosomever, thinks I to mysell, I'll consider about it, and gin I could only bring mysell �8 to mak the experiment, wlia kens but I micht succeed to a miracle ? On stapping back to my ain house, the first thing I did was to tak a thimblefu' of whisky, by way of gi'eing me a pickle spunk, in case of ony fresh rumpus wi' the wife, and also to clear up my ideas—for I hae fand, that after a lang spell at the loom the thochts as weel as the body, are like to get stupid and dozey. So I taks a drappie, and sits down quietly by the fireside, waiting for the return of Maggy frae scoLding Mrs Todd about the flour. In she comes, a' in a flurry. Her face was as red as a peeyny rose, her breathing came fast, and she lookit a'thegither like ane that has had a sail* warsle wi' the tongue. But she was far frae being downcast. On the contrair, she lookit as proud as a Turkey cock ; and I saw wi' the tail o' my e'e that she had gained a grand victory ower puir Mrs Todd, who was a douce, quiet woman, and nae match for the like of her in randying. So she began to stump and mak a great phrase about the way she had outcrawed the puir body ; and was a'thegither as upset about it, as if Duke Hamilton bad made her keeper of his palace. Losh, I was mad to hear't, and twa or three times had a gude mind to put in a word—to sic a degree was my courage raised by the drap spirits—but aye as the words were rising to my mouth, the thocht of the can and the dressing sent them back again, till they stuck like a bane in my throat. Very likely I micht hae said neer a word, and Andrew Brand's advice micht hae gain for naething, had it no been for the cratur Nancy, who was sae lifted up about her mither's dispute, that naething would sair her but to hae the haill affair mentioned cut and dry, �/1 "And did you cast up to Mrs Todd* mither," quo' tlie little cutty,44 that she was fat?" "Ay, that I did," said Maggy. " I tell't her she was like a barn door. I tell't her she was like the side of a house. Ye're a sow, quo' I ; ye get fou every hour of the day wi' your lump of a guideman.' " But this wasna a'—for nae sooner had Maggie answered her dochter's first question, than the cratur was ready wi' anither : "Aud mither, did ye cast up to her that her faither was a meeser ?" "Atweel did I, Nancy," answered the gudewife. " I tell't her a' that. I coost up to he:* that her faither was a meeser, and would ride to Lannon on a louse, and make breeks of its skin, and candels of its tallow." I could thole this nae langer. I fand the haill man working within me, and was moved to a pitch of daring, mair like madness than onything else. jPaitij, the whisky was of gude service now, and so was Andrew Brand's advice. I accordingly steekit my neives wi* desperation, threw awa' my cowl, tucked up my sark sleeves—for my coat happened to be aff at the time—and got up frae the threefooted stool I had been sitting upon in the twinkling of an e'e. I trumbled a' ower, but whether it was wi' fear, or wi' anger, or wi' baith putthegither, it would be difficult to say. I was in awfu' passion, and as fairce as a papish. "And so," said I, " y e coost up sic things to the honest woman, Mrs Todd! 0, Maggy M'Gee, Maggy M'Gee, are ye no ashamed of yoursell ? Odd it would hae dune your heart gude to see how she glowered at me. She was bewildered and lookit as if to see whether I was mysell, and no some ither body. But her evil speerit didna lie lang asleep : it soon broke out �10 that I maun now staun firm., or be a dead man for ever. 44 Has your farther been at the whisky bottle ? said she to her dcehter. " He looks as if he was the waur of drmi." He had a glass just before- ye cam in," an swered the wicked jimpey ; and' scarcely had she Spoken the word, when Maggy flew upon me like a toger, and gie'd me a skelp on the cheek wi' her open, loof, that made me turn round tapwise on the middle of the floor. Seeing that affairs were come to this pass, I saw plainly that I maun go on, n.o forgetting in sae doing my frien' Andrew's advice, as also my auld master, Tainmas Ourrie's observe, ancnt a man having aneuch of the deil in. his temper to keep the deil awa' frae him. So I picked up a' the spunk I had in me, besides what I had frae the drap whisky; and fa'ing to, I gi'ed her sic a leathering, as never wornftfi got in hter born days. In ae word, she met wi' her match, and roared aloud for mercy ; but this I would on nae account grant, till she promised faithfully, that in a' time coming she would acknowledge me as her lord and master—and obey me in everything as a dutiful wife should her husband. As soon as this was settled, in stappit Andrew Brand'. At the sight of my wife greeting, and me sae fairce, he held up his hands wi' astonishment. "William M'Gee," quo' he, " it's no possible that ye're maister in this house !" 44 It's no only possible, but its true, Andrew," was my answer; and. taking me by the hand, he •wished me joy for my speerit and success. Sae far, sae weel: the first grand stroke was madb, but there was something yet to do. I had discharged a' outstanding debts wi' my wife, and had brocht her to terms ; but I had yet to reduce like a squib on the King's birth clay, and I saw �11 % <Y my bairns to tlieir proper senses, and show thorn that I was their lord and maister, as weel as their inMher's. Puir things! my heart was wae for t'hem, for they were sairly miseducated, and held me in nae mair estimation, than if I had been ane of my ain wabster lads. So, just wi' a view to their gucle, J took down a pair of teuch ben-leather taws, weel burnt at the linger ends, and gi'ed Nancy as moUy cracks ower the bare nock, as set her sqeeling be yond a' bounds. It was pitifu' to see the cratuiv how she skipped about the room, and ran awa to her mither, to escape my faitherly rage. But a' assistence frae that quarter was end now; and she was fain to fa' down on her knees and beg my forgeevness—and promise to conduct hersell as became my dochter, in a' time coming. Just at this moment, in conies wee Gordie, greeting for his parritch. He kent nae thing of what had taken place in the house ; and doubtless expeckit to mak' an idiot of me, his father, as he had been accustomed to do, almost frae his yery cradle. I saw that now was the time to thresh the corruption out of him ; and brandishing the taws oy/er my head, I made a stap forrit to lay hand upon him, and treat him like the lave. He looked as if he had an inkling of what was forthcoming, and run whinging and craiking to his mither, who stood wiping her een wi? her striped apron in the corner of the room. The terrified laddie clang to her knees, but she never offered to lend a helping hand ; so great was the salutary terror wi' which I had inspired her. So I puM him awa frae her coats, to which he was clinging ; and laying him ower my knee, I gie'd him hipsy-dipsy in the presence of his mither, his sister, and Andrew Brand, who were looking on. �12 And thus hae I, who for eighteen years was ruled by my wife, got the upper hand ; and ony man who is henpickit, as I hae been, should just take the same plan, and his success will be as sure as mine. Andrew Brand aye said to mo that a man should wear his ain breeks ; and I can mainteen, frae present experience, that a wiser saying is no to be found in the proverbs of Solomon, the son of David. No that Maggie has 11a tried nows and thans to recover her lost power, but I hae on thae occasions conduckit mysell wi' sic firmness, that she has at last gi'en it up as a bad job, and is now as obedient a wife, as ye'11 meet wi' between this and Bothwell. The twa bairns, too, are just wonderfully changed, and are as raisonable as can be expeckit, a' things considered. Let men, therefore, whether gentle or semple, follow my plan, and the word henpickit, as Andrew Brand says, will soon slip out of the dictionar.—A Modem Pythagorean. THE B A R B E R OF DUNSE. A clergyman possessing an uncommon share 0i wit and humour, had occasion to lodge for the night, with some friends, at the inn of a town, which for certain reasons, we shall denominate Dunse. Requiring the services of a barber, he was recommended by the waiter to Walter Dron, who was represented as excellent at cracking a joke, or telling a story. This functionary being forthwith introduced, made such a display of his oral and manual dexterity, as to leave on the mind as well as the body of his customer, a very favourable impression, and induce the latter to invite �13 % him to sit down to a friendly glass. The mutual familiarity which the circulation of the bottle produced, served to show off the barber in his happiest mood; and the facetious clergyman, amid the general hilarity, thus addressed him : " Now Wattie, I engage to give you a guinea, on the following terms,— that you leap backwards and forwards over your chair for the space of half an hour—leisurely, yet regularly—crying out at every leap, ' here goes I, Watty Dron, barber of Dunse —but that, should you utter any thing else during the time, you forfeit the reward." Wattie, though no doubt surprised at the absurdity of the proposal, yet, considering how easily he could earn the guinea, and the improbability that such an opportunity would ever again present itself, agreed to the stipulations. The watch was set, and the barber having stript of lais coat, leaning with one hand on the back of the chair, commenced leaping over the seat, uniformly repeating, in an exulting tone, the words prescribed. After matters had gone on thus smoothly for about live minutes, the clergyman rung the bell, and thus accosted the waiter:—" What is the reason, Sir, you insult me, by sending a mad fellow like that, instead of a proper barber, as you pretended he was ?" Barber—(leaping)—44 Here goes I, Wattie Dron, barber of Dunse." Waiter—" Oh ! Sir, I don't know what is the matter, I never saw him In this way all my life—Mr Dron, Mr Dron, what •do you mean.?" Barber—" Here goes I, Wattie—" Waiter—" Bless me, Mr Dron, recollect these :are gentlemen ; how can you make such a fool «of yourself?" Barber—"Here goes I — , " Landlord—{entering in haste)—" What the Devil, Sir, is all this—the fellow is mad—how dare you, $ir, insult gentlemen in my house by such conduct?" �14 Barber—" Here goes I, Wattie Dron"—Landlord — " I say, Bob, rtin for his wife, for this can't be put up With—gentlemen, the man is evidently deranged, and I hope you will not let my house foe injured in any way by this business." " Here goes—"—(wife pushing i n ) — " O h ! Wattie, Wattie, what's this that's come ower ye ? Do you no ken your ain wife ?" Barber—" Here goes I,"— Wife—(weeping)—" Oh ! Wattie, if ye care na for me, mind your bairns at hame, and come awa' wi' me." Barber—" Here goes I, Wat—" The afflicted wife now clasped her husband round the neck, and hung on him so as effectually to arrest his farther progress. Much did poor Wattie struggle to shake off his loving, yet unwelcome spouse^ but it was now no " go"—his galloping was at an end. " Confound you for an idiot," he bitterly exclaimed, " I never could win a guinea so easily in my life." It is only necessary to add, that the explanation which immediately followed, was much more satisfactory to mine host than to the barber's better half ; and that the clergyman restored Wattie to his usual good humour, by generously rewarding his exertions with the well-earned guinea. SAYINGS OF POOR RICHARD. IT would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service ; but idleness taxes many of as much more : sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. " Sloth like rust, consumes faster than labours wears, while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard says. But, " dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that �is the stuff f j f e is made of," as poor Richard say*. How muc)^ m ore than is necessary do we spend in sleep! forgetting that " the sleeping fox catches no poultry » a nd that 4'there will be sleeping enough in th^ grave," as Poor Richard says. f J time be of all things the most precious, " wastir xg time must be," as Poor Richard says, 41 the greatest prodigality since as he elsewhere tells us " Lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough, always proves little enough. Let us then up and be doing, and doing to tho purpose, so by diligence shall we do more, with less perplexity. Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry, all easy; and " lie that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at n i g h t w h i l e , " laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee ; and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man, healthy, wealthy, and wise," as Poor Richard says. So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. " Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hope, will ba fasting. There are no gains without pains ; then lielp hands, for I have no lands, or if I have, they are smartly taxed. He that hath a trade, hath an estate ; and he that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as Poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, we shall never starve ; for " at the working man's house, hunger looks in but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff, or the constable enter ; for industry pays debts, while despair incrfjaseth them. What though you �IG have found no treasure, nor has any 11 relation left you a legacy, 4 diligence is the mot ^ e r good luck, and God gives all things to industi T- Then plough deep while sluggards sleep, and shall have corn to sell and to keep." Work whilt^ ^ 1S called to-day, for you know not how much you be hindered to-morrow. 44 One to-day is wox^ 1 two to-morrows," as Poor Richard says; aru^ further, 44 Never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day/' If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle ? Are you then your own master ? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your king. NO GRUMBLING.—A TALE. An odd whim once possessed a country 'squire, that he would not hire any servant whatever, until ten pounds should be deposited between the master and servant; and the first that grumbled at any thing, let it be what it might, was to forfeit the money. Being in want of a coachman, not one round the country would venture to go after the place. Now it happened that one Thomas Winterbourn, a coachman of London, who had been discharged from a nobleman's family, was in that part of the country on a visit, and being acquainted with the oddity of the 'squire's whim, resolved to accept of the place, and, on application, was admitted into the family. Thomas was greatly surprised, after living there for two months, that nothing was allowed him for < J �17 "breakfast, dinner, or supper, but bread and cheese and small beer. Being heartily tired of this kind of fare, he applied to the cook: 4 Cookee,' says Thomas, 4 is it the standing rule of this family to keep their servants on nothing but bread and cheese V 4 What!' says the cook, 4 do you grumble V 4 No, no, by no means, cookee,' replied Thomas, being fearful of forfeiting the money. But recollecting his master's park was stocked with fine deer, he took a musket and shot a fawn, skinned it, and brought it ;tO the cook. 4 Here cookee,' said Thomas, 4 take and roast this fawn for me immediately ; for I have an acquaintance or two coming down from London, to pay me a visit.' The cook seemed to object to it, having some meat to dress directly for her master; 4 What,' says Thomas, 4 cookee, do you grumble V 4 No,' replied the cook ; so down to roast went the fawn. The appointed time arrived that the master ordered dinner, and no sign of any coming to his table occasioned him to ring the bell, to know the reason of i t ; the cook acquainted the 'squire with all Thomas's proceedings, who in a great hurry bolted down stairs into the kitchen, where he found Thomas very busy in basting the fawn. 4 How got you that fawn ?' says the 'squire. 4 Shot it,' replied Thomas. 4 Where ?' says the 'squire. 4 In your park,' replied Thomas. 4 By whose orders?' 4 Do you grumble ? says quoth the 'squire. Thomas. 4 No, Thomas,' says the 'squire; and retired to his dining-room, greatly perplexed at Thomas's proceedings. He instantly wrote a letter to a gentleman who lived near six miles from his house, and ordered that Thomas should carry it immediately. Poor Thomas was obliged to comply, though with a sor- �18 rowful heart to leave the fawn. After his departure, the 'squire ordered the fawn, when dressed, to be brought to his table, which was done accordingly. On Thomas's return, he found himself fairly tricked out of the fawn ; and instead of it, to his mortification, bread and cheese, and small beer, his old diet; however, Thomas vowed within himself to revenge it the first opportunity. A little while after, the 'squire, (who was going to pay his addresses to a young lady,) gave orders to Thomas to get the carriage, together with the horses and harness, well cleaned. Thomas obeyed the order, and on the road from the stable to the 'squire's house, he met a man with a small sandcart, drawn by two remarkably fine jack-asses. Thomas insisted upon an exchange, the horses for the asses, which being obtained, he cut all his master's fine harness to pieces, to fit these Arabian ponies, as he styled them. Matters being completed, he drove up boldly to the 'squire's, and knocked at the gate ; the porter perceiving the droll figure his master's equipage cut, burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter! 'C'up, c'up,' says Thomas, 'what's the fool laughing at?—Go and acquaint the 'squire his carriage is ready.' Shortly after the 'squire came, and seeing his carriage so beautifully adorned with cattle, was struck with astonishment. 4 Why, what the devil/ quoth the 'squire, 'have you got harnessed to my carriage?' 4 1 will tell you,'says Thomas. 4 As I was driving from your stable to the gate, I met a fellow driving a sand-cart, drawn by these two fine Arabian ponies, and knowing you to be fond of good cattle, I gave your horses for these two fine creatures ; they draw well, and are ornaments to your carriage ; only observe what fine ears they �19 have got?' ' D—n their ears and ornaments too,' says the 'squire : ' why, the fellow's mad! 4 4 What!' cries Thomas, 4 do you grumble V 4 Grumble,' quoth the 'squire, 'why, I think it is high time to grumble: the next thing, I suppose, my carriage is to be given away for a sand-cart!' On Thomas procuring the horses again, he paid him his wages and forfeit-money, being heartily tired with the oddity of his whims, and declared that Thomas,, the London coachman, was the drollest; dog he ever met with. BROSE AMD BUTTER. During the time of Oliver Cromwell's Protectorship, the principal residence of Charles. II. was at the court of his sister in Holland; the laird of Cockpen, a staunch adherent to the House of Stuart, followed the prince thither, and attached himself to Charles' household. Cockpen, from his skill and proficiency in music, very much contributed to divert his iroyal master, by the impressive manner in which lie played the favourite airs of his native country ;; but none pleased Charles so well as the tune ®f " Brose and Butter." So partial was he to tlais air, that with 44 Brose and Butter" sounding iu his ears he was lulled asleep at night, and with 4C Brose and Butter" awaked from his morning slumber. At the Restoration, Cockpen returned to Scotland, where he found that, in consequence of his attachment to the royal cause, his estate had been attainted. Many were the applications lie made to have it put again in his possession, bui; all to no purpose. He at length went to London* but was coldly received by the �20 courtiers, put off with fair promises, and in all his attempts to gain an audience of the king,, he was baffled and thwarted. Having formed an intimacy as a musician, with the organist of the king's chapel, he solicited, and obtained, as a special favour, permission to perform on the organ before his majesty, at the royal chapel. Cockpen exerted his talents to the utmost, thinking to attract the attention of Charles, but all his efforts were unavailing. On the conclusion of the service, instead of a common voluntary, in a fit of despair he struck up " Brose and Butter," which no sooner caught the ears of the king than he flew to the organgallery. The regular organist, perceiving the vivid flashes of Charles' eye, was seized with such a panic, that he fell on his knees and protested his innocence. " It was not me, please your majesty, it was not me ! " — " Y o u ! y o u ! " exclaimed the enraptured monarch, as he hastily passed him,— 44 You never could play any thing like it in your life." Then addressing his old associate in exile,— 44 Odds fish, Cockpen ! I thought you would have made me dance."— 44 1 could have danced to 4 Brose and Butter,' once with a light heart too," replied the performer,"—but my adherence to your majesty's interest has bereft me of the lands of Cockpen."—44 You shall dance," said Charles,—44 You shall dance, and be the laird of Cockpen y e t . " ~ Accordingly the laird was immediately put in possession of his inheritance. CURE FOR A CRIPPLE. It happened on a Sunday evening, about thirty years ago, that two sheep-stealers had meditated �21 an attempt 011 the flock of a wealthy farmer in the parish of A , in the west neJik of Fife. The sheep were grazing in a park adjoining the village churchyard, and hard by the public road. The eldest and most experienced of the depredators recommended that only one of them should go in among the sheep, as it would not alarm vhem so much as two. Accordingly the younger thie/ was despatched to bring a sheep, while the other into the churchyard, and sat down upon a tlioroughstone to amuse himself till his companion returned. Now it so happened that John, the minister's man, had forgot to take home the Bible from the church, after the service of the day was over, which neglect was not perceived until the minister called for the books to perform the duty of family worship, when John was immediately sent to the church for the Bible, John not being possessed of a very daring spirit, and it being a dark winter night, was not very fond of visiting the abodes of the dead at such an hour ; but when he arrived at the churchyard gate, and got a glimpse of the man sitting on the thorough-stone, his hair stood on end, and his fears soon conjured the thief into a demon. Without more ado he wheeled about, and made the best of his way to the manse, where he related his wonderful story, telling them that he saw the devil sitting on a grave breaking dead bones. An old cripple medicant, who was quartered at the manse during the sabbath, (for the minister, contrary to the general character of liis brethren, was a very charitable man,) hearing John tell his appalling story, laughed at him, saying, " if I was as able to gang as you, I would soon bring the Bible."— " Well," says John, " if you will accompany me, I will carry you on my back, and we'll maybe be able �to bring the Bible atr/een us." The beggar agreed, and mounted Jo\m accordingly, after he had wrapped himself, in his grey plaid. When they came within view of the thief, John would very fain have tuvned, but the beggar spurned him -on, until they came within a very short distance of him, when he, supposing it to be his comrade coming with a sheep on his back, exclaimed, " Is he, -*a fat ane ?" John, whose heart was quaking before; on hearing this question put to him, could do longer resist his inclination to turn ; he threw the old man off his back, saying,44 Be he fat or be he lean, there he is to ye," and run what he was able. The medicant, finding that he was thus left to his own resources to appease the devil as he could, mustered all his strength ; and, strange to tell, his legs that had refused to perform their office for many a long year before, were suddenly strengthened ; he soon went past John, regained the manse before him, and was never lame after. SQTJK MILK WHOLESALE. Some time ago, the frolics of the honourable Mr , made a great noise in the nevfspapers. The following records one of the most whimsical acts of folly :— One morning, after having danced all night at an assembly, he sauntered out with the Marquis ofleaning over his arm ; and in crossing St. Andrew's square, found an old rustic standing before the door of Dumbreck's Hotel, with his cart full of butter-milk barrels. He quickly concerted with the Marquis, a scheme of fun, whereby the �milk of the old man found a very different destiny to what its owner intended. They first jumped up in front of the cart, seized the halter, and galloped, off, leaving the poor man to follow as best lie could—then took out all the spiggots, and in grand style drove along George Street, past the Assembly rooms, to the astonishment of the fashionables whom they had lately left; then down Frederick Street, along Prince's Street, and back again to St. Andrew's Square, all the time followed by the old milk-man, who, in the, agony of his heart, at seeing his valuable property deluging the causeway,, exhausted his whole vocabulary of exclamations, in giving vent to his indignation. With his s&y-blue. top coat flying behind him, and his rough-shod heels striking fire from the pavement, he pursued his ravished cart, shouting as loud as his exhausted lungs would permit.—"0! ye unhanged blackguards !—ye villains!—ye de'ils buckies !—I'll hae the law o' ye, gin there be law in Emburgh, ye vagabonds !—I'll get ye a better house than your father biggit for ye, ye rascals !— I'll get ye clappit up as sure's ye're leevin', ye rampaugin Emburgh hallanshakers ! " As soon as he arrived at the Hotel, the Marquis delivered the reins into his hand; but blue-bonnet vowed he would not quit him, till he had ascertained his name, and that of his companion. Mr — , put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a piece of paper, which he said contained the required address, and while the old man unfolded it, our young heroes took the opportunity to escape. The bit of paper turned out to be a ten pound note ; "Ah, stop, my bonnie lads," cries the appeased milkman, I've something to say t'ye—will ye need ony mair milk the morn ?" �24 INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY. It is reported the whole body of Sextons, or Grave Diggers, throughout the kingdom are preparing a petition to Parliament, praying that Temperance Societies may be put down, as any restriction laid upon the distilling of spirits would be the utter ruin of them and their families ! three parts in four of those that come to their warehouses, being obliged to the distillery for their passports thither ; not to mention, that the more they bury, the fewer there will remain to eat; and of course, that the free toleration and license of making, vending, and distributing strong liquors in every part of Great Britain, is the only remedy that can possibly render provisions cheap. DREADFUL DEED. A man in the last stage of destitution, came before the sitting Magistrate, at Lambeth Street, and stated that having by the operation of the new Poor Laws, been suddenly deprived of parish assistance, he was reduced to such extremity, that if not instantly relieved he must be driven to a deed that his soul abhorred. The worthy Magistrate instantly ordered him five shillings from the poorbox, and after a suitable admonition against giving way to despair, asked him what dreadful deed he would have been impelled to do, but for this seasonable relief ; " To work," said the man, with a dqep sigh, as he left the office. / finis, * ; � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/abd3dc6ff2fb0d828250efa9e62efd13.jpg 7c624b5278774a4fad8b8863f2a33838 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3493 Width 2127 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The select miscellany: a collection of pieces moral, historical and humourous by celebrated authors. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Wit and humor Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943831103505154">s0615b37</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource '82' is printed at the bottom of the title page Woodcut image of a girl in a bonnet picking mushrooms, basket on her arm with a woodcut border on title-page. Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/07cc35f64bc420fb99ae9a8d5609124b.pdf 9218badddc6b364f3e36fbf122ef4a5c PDF Text Text THE TRAGICAL BALLAD OF LORD JOHN'S MURDER; TOGETHER WITJI THE CRUEL BROTHER. £»w<xJ io(f }ui{i GLASGOW ILVHJ P.VA\ e PRINTED FOli THE BOOKSELLERS. 79. �LORD JOHN'S MURDEli. John stands in liis stablo door, Says lie, I will gae ride ; His lady, in her bigly bower, Desired him to bide. How can I bide, how can I bido? IIow shall I bide wi* thee? When I ha'e kill'd your ae brother, You liae liae mair but lie." If ye lia'e kill'd my ae brother, Alas! and wae is me ; If ye be well yoursel\ iny love, Tho less matter will it be! Ye'll do you to yon bigly bower, And take a silent sle<p, And I'll watch in my highest tower, Your fair body to ke«?p." LORD 49 44 44 She has shut her bigly bower, All wi' a silver pin ; And done i er to the highest tower, To watch that nane come in. �3 But as she looked round about, To see what she cou d see, There she saw nine armed knights Coine riding o'er the lea. God make you safe and free, lady, God make you safe and free! Did you see a bludy knight Come riding o'er the lea?" " 0 what like was his hawk, his hawk? And what like was his hound? If liis steed has ridden well, lie's pass'd fair Scotland's strand. " Come in, come in, glide gentlemen, And take white bread and wine ; And aye the better ye'll pursue, The lighter that ye dine." We thank you for your bread, lady, We thank you for your wine ; And I would gi'e my lands sae broad, Your fair body wore mine." She has gane to her bigly bower, Her ain gude lord to meet; A trusty brand he quickly drew, Ga'e her a wound sae deep. " What barm, my lord, provokes thine ire, To wreak itself on nif , When thus i strove to save thy life, Yet served for sic a fee'f" 44 44 4 �4 Ohon, alas! m j lady gay, To come so hastilie ; I thought it was my deadly foe, Ye had trysted into me. " 0 live, 0 live, my gay lady, The space o* ae half hour, And nae a leech in a* the land But l'se bring to your bower." How can I live, how shall I live ? How can I live for thee ? Ye see my blude rins on the ground My heart's blude by your knee! 0 take to flight, and flee, my love, 0 take to flight and flee! I wouldna wish your fair body For to get harm for me." Ae foot I winna flee, lady, Ae foot I winna flee ; I've dune the crime worthy o' death, It's right that I should die. 0 deal ye well at my love's lyke, The beer, but an' the wine ; For, ere the morn, at this same time, Ye'll deal the same at mine. 44 41 44 t4 44 THE CRUEL BROTHER. was three ladies play'd at the ba\ With a heigh-ho J and a lily gay ; THERE �5 There came a knight, and play'd o'er them a', As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The eldest was baith tall and fair, Witlra heigh-ho! and a lily gay; But the youngest was beyond compare, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The midmost had a gracefu* mien, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; But the -youngest look'd like beauty's queen, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The knight bow'd low to a* the three, With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; But to the youngest he bent his knee, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The lady turned her head aside, With a heigh-ho i and a lily gay ; The knight he woo'd her to be his bride, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The lady bluah'd a rosy red, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; And said, Sir knight, I'm o'er young to wod, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 0, lady fair, give me your hand, With a heigh ho! and a lily gay; And I'll mak' you lady of a' my land, As the primrose spreads so sweetly.'' 44 14 �" Sir knight, ere you my favour win, "With a heigh ho! and a lily gay; Ye maun get consent frae a' my kin', As the primrose spreads so sweetly." lie has got consent frae her parents dear, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay; And likewise frae her sisters fair, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. lie has got consent frae her kin' each one, With a heigh ho! and a lily gay : But forgot to spear at her brother John, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. Now, when the wedding-day was come. With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; The knight would take his bonnie bride home, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. And many a lord and many a knight, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; Came to behold that lady bright, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. And there was nae man that did. her see, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; But wished Inmself bridegroom to be, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. Her father dear led her ^own the stair, With a heigh ho! and a lily gay ; And her si>teis twain they kis^djier there As the primrose spreads so sweetly. �7 Her mother dear l«d her through the close, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gny ; And her brother John set her oh the horse, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. She lean'd her o'er the saddle bow, With a heigh ho! and a lily gny ; To give him a kiss ere she did go. As the primrose spreads so sweetly. He has ta'en a knife, baith lang and sharp, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; And stabb'd the botinie bride to the heart As the primrose spreads so sweetly. She hadna ridden half through the town, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay, Until her heart's blood stained her gown, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. "Ride saftly on," said the best young man, • With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; For I think onr bonnie bride looks pale and wan, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. " 0, lead me gently up yon hill, With a l.eigh-ho! and a lily gay ; Ami I'll there sit down, and make my will, As the primrose spreads so sweetly/' " 0, what will you leave to your father dear, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay?" " The silver shod steed that brought ine here. As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 4 0 �8 " What will you leavo to your mother dear, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ?" " My velvet pall and silken gear, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." And what will you leave to your sister Ann, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ? " My silken scarf and my golden fan, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." What will you leave to your sister Grace, With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay?" My bloody cloaths to wash and dress, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." What will you leave to your brother John, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay?" The gallows-tree to hang him on, As the primrose spreads so^ sweetly." What will ye leave to your brother John's wife With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay?" The wilderness to end her life, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." This fair lady in her grave was laid, With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; And a mass was o'er her said, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. But it would have made your heart right sair, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; To see the bridegroom rive his hair, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 44 44 44 44 44 44 44 44 � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ed36db03f066944696f3278fe41973c8.jpg 3fd9b54d2524b4da566c04ed493aecd6 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3129 Width 1878 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The tragical ballad of Lord John's murder; together with The cruel brother. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Ballads Songs Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830993505154">s0615b45</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The cruel brother. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 14 cm Description An account of the resource '79' is printed at the bottom of the title page Woodcut image of two ruffians, one with a dagger in his hand, apparently robbing a gentleman of his money on title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search</a>/ Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9f3769a40cf9e66bb98504a5a0f8fa43.jpg 1bcaa185d936cbc7c3570ff4efdd503d Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3172 Width 1919 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying a young woman (milkmaid?) wearing a hat and carrying two buckets slung over hoops encircling her skirt https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/e4f5e3a27490ddb74496a0cc6c26cb7f.pdf 09d4a0a0e0a394d46e85b2b8ee3240f4 PDF Text Text F I V E SONGS. THE PECK 0' MAUT. 'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. THE HIGHLAND LADDIE. THE CONFESSION. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 64. �J3©fioa srwrt S O N G S , .TTJAM '0 yIOHH d i l l THE PECK 0 ' MAUT. O- WiHte hrew\itif pedc o' ltiatifc'* And Rab and Allan came to pree ; Three btythfef-HeirtV flight, Ye wadna found in Christendie. We are na fo'u, we're no that fou, But just a drapyie in oui;,e'e ; The efrdk'trtny ci-aw, tli'e (lay may daw', But aye we'll taste the barley bree. Here are we met, three merry boys, Three merry boys I trow are we ; And mony a night wcVe merry been, And mony mair we hope to be. We are na fou, &c. ||L . \ It is tt^ TfaooM I ken her horn, Thai • blinking in the lift sae hie; s She shines sae bright to wyb us hame, But by nay sooth she'll wait a wee. We are na fou, &c. Wha ffet sjiall rise to gang awa, A cucKola, coward loon is he ; Wha first beside his chaij* §hall fa', He is the king'iMfthg*m Three! in. wtvm '•% id J - >w �3 ADDITIONAL VERSES. Thus Willie, Ral), and Allan sang, Thus paas'd the night wi' mirth and glee, And aye the oh or tis a' night lang, Was, " As we're now, we hope to be." And ay they tog, " we are hi a fou, But just a drappie in eure'e,; The cock may craw, the day may daw', But aye we ll taste the barley bree. That time for them the cock did craw, The harbinger of morn to be ; That time for them the day did c.aw', Wi' gowden tint o'er tower and tree. And aye they sang, &c. That time for them the moon's pale horn Did wax and wain o'er land and sea, But now has dawn'd tlie hapless morn, That gilds the graves o* a' the three. Nae mair they sing, " We are na fou, Nae mair the drappie's in their e'e, Nor cock does craw, nor day does daw', Nae mair they'll taste the barley bree/? Thus Learning makes for Willie main, For Robin, Poesy wipes her -e'e, And Science wails for Allan gane, Since death's dark house hauds a' the three. �4 Then Britons mourn for genius rare, A' victims o' the barley bree, And ban the bree that cou'dna spare The youthfu' lives o1 a' the three. TIS THE LAST ROSE OF S U M M E R 'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone ; All her lovely companion Are faded and gone ; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes,. Or give sigh for sigh! I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem, Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them ; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow When friendships decay, And from love's shining circle The gems drop away! When true hearts lie wither'd, And fond ones are flown, 0 ! who could inhabit This bleak world alone. �5 TO MARY IN HEAVEN. Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, A.^ain thou usher st in the day My Marv from my soul was torn. 0 mary, dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast That sacred hour can I forgot ! Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past,— Thy image at our last embrace-;— Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, Oerhung with wild woods, thick'ning, green The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sing love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care: Time but the impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. �6 My Mary, dear departed shade! Where is thy pl$u?e, of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? THE HIGHLAND LADDIE. The Lawland lads think they are fine, But 0 ! they're vain and idle gaudy ; tlow much unlike the gracefu' mien, And manly looks of my Highland laddie. 0 my bonriie Highland laddie, My handsome, charming Highland laddie ; May heaven still guard, and love reward, The lawland lass and her Highland laddie. If I were free at will to choose, To be the wealthiest Lawland lady, I'd tak young Donald without trews, With bonnet blue, and belted plaidie. 0 my honnie, &c. The brawest bean in burrows town, In a' his airs, wi' art made ready, Ccmpar'd to him, he's but a clown, He's finer far in's tartan plaidiq. 0 my bonnie,, &€.• O'er benty hill wi' him PM run, And leave my Lawland kin and daddie ; �7 Frae winter's cauld and summer's sun, He'll screen me wi' his tartan plaidie. 0 my bonnie, &c. A painted room, and silken bed, May please a Lawland laird and lady ; But I can kiss, and be as glad, Behind a bush in's tartan plaidie. 0 my bofmie, &c. Few compliments between us pass ; I ca' him my dear Highland laddie, And he ca's me his Lawland lass, Syne rows me in beneath his plaidie. 0 my bonnio, &e. Nae' greater joy I'll e'er pretend, Than th&t his love prove true and steady, Like mine to him, which ne'er shall end, While Heav'n preserves my Highland laddie. 0 my bonnie, &e. THE CONFESSION. With sorrow and repentance true, Father, I trembling Come to you ; I know I've too indulgent been To one, but oh! forgive the sin. To one whom still I love, tho' he Ungrateful proves, and false to me ; Then let me on my knees confess How I've been tempted to transgress. �Oh! rev'rend father, if you knew The charms of him, alas! untrue ; 0 had you heard the false one swear 1 was the fairest of the fair ; You could not, holy Sir, refuse So slight a weakness to excuse ; He swore my eyes were loveliness, Ah! let me then my fault confess. To grief, eternal grief a prey, His name is all my heart can say ; When bath'd in sad repentant tears, Still to my mind his name appears ; Yes, 'tis that name, that name alone, Which bends me now before thy throne Alcander—but I can't express, Oh ! Father, must I then confess ? Ah ! tell him, should he come to you, Should he, like me, for mercy sue ; Of all the crimes by heav'n accurst, Tell him inconstancy's the worst; Tell him that he who's false in love, Can ne'er hope pity from above ; Tell him that I alone can bless, And send him to me to confess. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 038: Title-page illustration of a milkmaid carrying two buckets. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Five songs. The peck o' maut. 'Tis the last rose of summer. To Mary in heaven. The Highland laddie. The confession. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830863505154">s0615b46</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The peck o' maut. 'Tis the last rose of summer. To Mary in heaven. The Highland laddie. The confession. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 14 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut #38: Illustration on title-page of a milkmaid carrying two buckets '64' is printed at the bottom of the title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="%20University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Highlands Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): bonnet Fashion (Clothing): working class Gender: woman/women Object: bucket(s) Occupation: farmer Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a9671def3e099f9e004249e96fdca1da.jpg c7b377b254242f8e3efb4a9913e60463 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3308 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource "Welcome Charlie o'er the Main https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5bae6fe96be47b93b9bbb9b7647d9ed1.pdf e3e1c20212fbe971f22a318eb8a6419a PDF Text Text FIVE Favourite Songs. YE'MARINERS OF ENGLAND. THOU'RT GANE AWA. THE AULD MAN GAUN TO BE MARRIED. T H E W A R N I N G MOAN. THE HEATHER BELL. GLASGOW 5 FHINTEP FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, �SONGS. THE All LI) MAN GAUN TO BE MARRIED. In Beith there liv'd a frail auld man, His age was sixty-five an' ten, "Wha took a break, whan near his en', That he wad gang an' marry: The auld man that liv'd in Beith, The aged man that dwalt in Beith, The deein man that liv'd in Beith, He wad gang try an' marry. He lee'd an' cheated, pinch'd his wame, Grew rich by mony a dirty scheme, But he turned auld, an' stiff, an' lame, Black, crabbit, an' camstrary. < The rich auld man that liv'd in Beith, The worthless man that dwalt in Beith, The crabbit man that dwalt in Beith, Wad fain gae try an' marry. He thought on Meg sae trig an' douce, To wash his claes, an* clean his house, That ne'er a spider nor a louse In his abode might tarrv, �The aged man that liv'd in Beith, The dirty man that liy VI in Beith, The black auld man that wenn'cl in Beith Saw nae relief but many. He promised cash, he'd fetch lier braws, Himsel' an' a' within his wa's, Nae bittin horse nor empty sta's, But brimfu' cups to carry. The loving man that liv'd in Beith, The amorous man that dwalt in Beith, The frank auld man that dwalt in Beith, Wad gie his all an' marry. But ah, the road to her was lang, The man was frail, an* cou'dna gang ; His kin said things war, a' gaun wrang— The auld fool wad them herry. The frail auld man that liv'd in Beith, The cross'd auld chap that liv'd in Beith, The vex'd auld man that dwalt in Beith, They wadna let him marry. They watch'd him closely out and in, Said he was daft—they wad him bin', The frail auld Beith man didna win, To court his winsom deary. The captive man that liv'd in Beith, The daft auld fool that was in Beith, The auld man that liv'd in Beith, He ne'er got leave to marry. �4 Ye youngster a' that lieav my sang, Gif e'er ye marry, do't ere lang, For jtiijie arid care will ding ye wrang, An* ye'11 grow stiff and sairy. + Just like the auld black man in Beit!), The doitet worn out man o' Beith, The single man that liv'd in Beith, Wha coulclna maun to marry. Ye're just as claft's the man o' Beith, Your staunch auld friend that liv'd in Beith ; Ye'11 perish like, the man o' Beith, Wha dee't ere he could marry. When ye are auld, gin ye be poor, Your kin will drive you frae their door; Gin ye be rich they'll use you waur, They'll never let you marry. This fate befel the man o' Beith, The poor rich man that liv'd iji Beith, A warning to the folk o' Beith, To gang in time and marry. THOU'RT GANE AWA. Thou'rt gane awa, thou'rt gane awa, Thou'rt gane awa frae me, Mary, Nor friends nor I could make thee stay, Thou'st cheated them and me, Mary, �u Until this hour I never thought That ought could alter thee, Mary ; Thou'rt still the mistress of my heart, Think what thou wilt of me, Mary. Whate'er he said, or might pretend, Wha stole that heart o' thine, Mary, True love Fm sure was ne'er his end, Nor nae sic love as mine, Mary. I spake sincere, ne'er flatter'd much, Had no unworthy thought, Mary, Ambition, wealth, nor nae thing such— No, I lov'd only thee, Mary. Though you've been false, yet while I live, No other maid I'll woo, Mary ; Let friends forget, as I forgive, Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary, So then farewell, of this be sure, Since you've been false to me, Mary, For all the world I'd not endure, Half what I've done for thee, Mary. THE WARNING MOAN. A maiden fair lay dying, Within her palace hall, And round her couch was sighing, Her bright attendants all ; Her lately coroneted brow Feels many a rending throe, �0 And the hectic spot is spreading now, O'er her wan cheek of woe. Tis night, fond ones bend o'er her, With kind affection's fears ; As though they could restore her By their anguish and their tears ; No hope their hearts need borrow, For the watchdog's doeful cries, Tell the painful tale of sorrow, Ere morning's light she dies. 8he gazes round her wildly, When that sad sound is heard, Then greets her lov'd ones mildly, With a parting soul's regard ; But ere the morning's sun has shone, That fair one breathes no more, And the faithful watchdog's warning moan Is also liusli'd and o'er. THE HEATHER BELL. Oh! deck thy hair wi' the heather bell, The heather bell aloiie ; Leave roses to the Lowland maid, The Lowland maid alone. I've seen thee wi' the gay, gay rose, And wi' the heather bell,— I love you much w ith both, fair maid ; But, wear the heather bell. T �< F 1M For the heather bell, the heather bell, Which, breathes the mountain air, Is far more fit than roses gay To deck thy flowing hair. Away, away, ye roses gay! The heather bell for me ; Fair maiden, let me hear thee say, The heather bell for me, Then twine a wreath o' the heather bell, The heather bell alone ; Nor rose nor lily twine ye there— The heather bell alone, For the heather bell, the heather bell, Which breathes the mountain air, Is far more tit than roses gay To deck thy flowing hair. * 1 § YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. Ye mariners of England, Who guard our native seas. Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again, To match another foe, And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow. \ if While the stormy winds do blow, While the stormy winds do blow, T I flNHflHHHHHHi �While- the battle rages long'and loud, And the stormy tempests blow. The spirits of your fathers Will start from every wave ; The deck it was their field of fame— The ocean was their grave. Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts will glow, As you sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow. While the stormy winds do blow, &6. The, frieteor flag of England Must yet terrific burn, Till the' stormy night of war depart, And the star of peace return. Then to our faithful mariners The social can shall flow, Who swept through the deep While the stormy winds did blow. While the stormy winds did blow, While the stormy winds did blow, . While the battle raged long and loud, x\nd the storms of war did blow. J W HHHHI HHHH � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 081: Title-page illustration of a tall ship at sea. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Five favourite songs. Ye mariners of England. Thou'rt gane awa. The auld man gaun to be married. The warning moan. The heather bell. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830813505154">s0615b53</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Ye mariners of England. Thou'rt gane awa. The auld man gaun to be married. The warning moan. The heather bell. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource '39' is printed at the foot of the title page Woodcut #709: "Welcome Charlie o'er the Main Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Outdoor Scene Transportation: ship/boat(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/45356acbd40106fb34f819e7d093590b.pdf 4452024e165c75bc647d5d18aed08662 Lesson Plan Instructional materials. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Teaching Module - Cinderella