45 10 639 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ccea24808da2b5ecad1d533128254bb4.jpg a158c069b3c2fc1b5c1a6847dc59d73b 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 3604 Width 2127 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ae68989fa45d9e19d552d7e8831496f3.pdf 0f83381353191cd729fcfd2b38532cab 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 History of Duncan Campbell, and his dog Oscar. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923332043505154">s0384b15</a> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Hogg, James, 1770-1835; Ettrick shepherd Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1840-1850?] per National Library of Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 17 cm Description An account of the resource 10 is printed at the bottom of the title-page. Subject The topic of the resource Highlands Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b22b3bfc8548fa9655e09f01d8a934a1.jpg 3d9cf2e4ecfb49da4a70e65e4cd4489d 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 3484 Width 2008 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/e8ff7114e22197e362a05a90b79e3834.pdf 292f8f80f080afa981855bb530e8df51 PDF Text Text m,. I �DUNCAN CAMPBELL D U N C A N C A M P B E L L came from the Highlands, when six years of age, to live with an old maiden aunt in Edinburgh, and attend the school. His mother was dead ; but his father had supplied her place by marrying his house-keeper Duncan did not trouble himself about these matters, nor indeed about any other matters, save a black foal of his father's, and a large sagacious colley, named Oscar, which belonged to one of the shepherds. —With his garter tied round Oscar's neck, and a piece of deal tied to his big bushy tail, Duncan would often lead him about the green, pleased with the idea that he was conducting a horse and a cart. Oscar submitted to all this with gi^at cheerfulness, but whenever Duncan mounted to ride on him, he found means instantly to unhorse him, either by galloping, or rolling himself on the green. When Duncan threatened him, he looked submissive, and licked his face and hands ; when he corrected him with the whip, he cowered at his feet; —matters were soon made up. Oscar would lodge nowhere during the night but at the door of the room where his young friend slept, and woe befel the man or woman who ventured to enter in at untimely hours* ��4 Duncan Campbell. When Duncan left his native home, he thought not of his father, nor of any of the servants. He was fond of the ride, and some supposed that he even scarcely thought of the black foal; but when he saw Oscar standing looking him ruefully in the face, the tears immediately blinded both his eyes. He caught him around the neck, hugged and kissed him. 'Good bye, Oscar,' said he, blubbering, * Good bye, God bless you, my dear Oscar !' Duncan mounted before a servant, and rode away. Oscar still followed at a distance, until he reached the top of a hill; he then sat down and howled. Duncan cried till his little heart was like to burst. c What ails you V said the servant. ' I will never see my poor honest Oscar again,' said Duncan, ' an* my heart canna bide it.' Duncan staid a year in Edinburgh, but he did not make great progress in learning. He did not approve highly of attending at the school, and his aunt was too indulgent to compel his attendance. She grew extremely ill one day—the maids kept constantly by her, and never regarded Duncan. He was an additional charge to them, and they never loved him, but used him harshly. It was now with great difficulty that he could obtain either meat or drink. Jn a few days after, his aunt was taken ill, and died. All was in confusion, and poor Duncan was like to perish with hunger :—he could find no person in the house ; but hearing a noise in his aunt's chamber, he went in, and beheld them dressing the corpse of his kind relation : it was enough: Duncan was horrified beyond what mortal breast was able to endure :—he hasted down the stairs, and ran along the High-Street and SouthBridge, as fast as his feet would carry him, crying incessantly all the way. He would not have entered that house again if the world had been offered him as a reward. Some peo*>le stopped him in �5 Duncan Campbell. order to ask what was the matter, but he could only answer them by exclaiming, Oh dear ! Oh dear!' and struggling till he got free, held on his course, careless whither he went, provided he got far enough from the horrid scene he had so lately witnessed. Some have supposed, and I believe Duncan has been heard to confess, that he then imagined he ^was running for the Highlands, but mistook the direction. However that was, he continued his course until he came to a place where two roads met, a little south of Grange Toll. Here he sat down, and his frenzied passion subsided into a soft melancholy —he cried no more, but sobbing excessively, fixed his eyes on the ground, and made some strokes in the dust with his finger. A sight just then appeared, which somewhat cheered, or at least interested his heavy and forlorn heart—-it was a large^ drove of Highland cattle. They were the only creatures like acquaintances that Duncan had seen for a twelvemonth, and a tender feeling of joy, mixed with regret, thrilled his heart at the sight of their white horns and broad dew-laps. As the van passed him, he thought their looks were particularly gruff and sullen; he soon perceived the cause, they were all in the hands of Englishmen ; poor exiles like himself; going far away to be killed and eaten, and would never see the Highland hills again. When they were all gone by, Duncan looked after them, and wept anew ; but his attention was suddenly called away to something that softly touched his feet; he looked hastily about—it was a poor hungry lame dog, squatted on the ground, licking his feet and manifesting the most extravagant joy. Gracious Heaven! it was his own beloved and faithful Oscar! starved, emaciated, and so crippled, that he was scarcely able to walk ! He was now doomed to be the slave of a Yorkshire peasant, (who, �6 Duncan Campbell. it seems, had either bought or stolen him at Falkirk,) the generosity and benevolence of whose feelings were as inferior to those of Oscar, as Oscar was inferior to him in strength and power. It is impossible to conceive a more tender meeting than this was ; but Duncan soon observed that hunger and misery were painted in his friend's looks, which again pierced his heart with feelings unfelt before. — c I have not a crumb to give you, my poor Oscar!' said he, tf I have not a crumb to eat myself, but I am not so ill as you are.' The peasant whistled aloud. Oscar well knew the sound, and clinging to the boy's bosom, leaned his head upon his thigh, and looked in his face, as if saying, ' O Duncan, protect me from yon ruffian.' The whistle was repeated, accompanied by a loud and surly call. Oscar-trembled, but fearing to disobey, he limped away reluctantly after his unfeeling master, who observing him to linger and look back, imagined he wanted to effect his escape, and came running back to meet him. Oscar cowered to the earth in the most submissive and imploring manner, but the peasant laid hold of him by the ear, and uttering many imprecations, struck him with a thick staff till he lay senseless at his feet. Every possible circumstance seemed combined to wound the feelings of poor Duncan, but this unmerited barbarity shocked him most of all. He hasted to the scene of action, weeping bitterly, and telling the man that he was a cruel brute, and that if ever he himself grew a big man he would certainly kill him. He held up his favourite's head that he might recover his breath, and the man, knowing that he could do little without his dog, waited patiently to see what would be the issue. The animal recovered, and staggered away at the heels of his tyrant, without daring to look behind him. Duncan stood still, but kept his eyes fixed �7 Duncan Campbell. eagerly upon Oscar, and the farther he went from him, the more strong his desire grew to follow him. He looked the other way, but all there was to him a blank—he had no desire to stand where he was, so he followed Oscar and the drove of cattle. The cattle were weary, and went slowly; and Duncan, getting a little rod in his hand, assisted the man greatly in driving them. One of the drivers gave him a penny, and another gave him twopence ; and the lad who had the charge of the drove, observing how active and pliable he was, and how far he had accompanied him on the way, gave him sixpence : this was a treasure to Duncan, who, being extremely hungry, bought three penny rolls, as he passed through a town; one of these he ate himself, another he gave to Oscar, and the third he carried below his arm, in casp of farther necessity. He drove all the day, and at night the cattle rested upon a height, which, by his description, seems to have been that between Gala Water and Middleton. Duncan went off at side in company with Oscar, to eat his roll; and taking shelter behind an old earthen wall, they shared their dry meat most lovingly between them. Ere it was quite finished, Duncan, being fatigued, dropped into a profound slumber, out of which he did not awake until the next morning was far advanced. Englishmen, cattle, and Oscar, all were gone. Duncan found himself alone on a wild height, in what country or kingdom he knew not. He sat for some time in a callous stupor, rubbing his eyes and scratching his head, but quite irresolute what was further necessary for him to do, until he was agreeably surprised by the arrival of Oscar, who (though he had gone at his master's call in the morning) had found means to escape and seek the retreat of his young friend and benefactor. Duncan, without reflecting on the consequence, rejoiced in the event, and thought of �8 Duncan Campbell. nothing less than furthering his escape from the ruthless tyrant who now claimed him. For this purpose he thought it would be best to leave the road, and accordingly he crossed it, in order to go over a waste moor to the westward. He had not got forty paces from the road, until he beheld the enraged Englishman running towards him without his coat, and having his staff heaved over his shoulder. Duncan's heart fainted within him, knowing it wa^all over with Oscar, and most likely with himself. The peasant seemed not to have observed then^ as he was running, and rather looked the other way; and as Duncan quickly lost sight of him in a hollow place that lay between them, he crept into a bush of heath and took Oscar in his bosom. The man had observed from whence the dog had started in the morning, and hasted to the place, expecting to find him sleeping beyond the old earthen dyke ; he found the nest, but the birds were flown: he called aloud; Oscar trembled and clung to Duncan's breast; Duncan peeped through his purple covert like a heath-cock on his native waste, and again beheld the ruffian coming straight towards them, with his staff still heaved, and fury in his looks ;—when he came within a few yards he bellowed out, ' Oscar, yho, yho !' Oscar quaked, and still clung closer to Duncan's breast; Duncan almost sunk in the earth ; ( D n him,' said the Englishman, 'If I had hold of him I should make both him and the little thievish rascal dear at a small price ; they cannot be far gone—I think I hear them ; ' he then stood listening, but at that instant a farmer came up on horseback, and having heard him call, asked him if he had lost his dog. The peasant answered in the affirmative, and added that a blackguard boy had stolen him. The farmer said that he met a boy with a dog about a mile forward. During this dialogue, the farmer's dog came d �V,- Duncan Campbell. 9 »p to Duncan's den, smelled upon him, then upon Oscar,—cocked his tail, walked round them growling, and then behaved in a very improper and uncivil manner to Duncan, who took all patiently, uncertain whether he was yet discovered. But so intent was the fellow upon the farmer's intelligence, that he took no notice of the discovery made by the dog, but ran off without looking over his shoulder. Duncan felt this a deliverance so great that all his other distresses vanished; and as soon as the man was out of his sight, he arose from his covert and ran over the moor, and ere it was long, came to a shepherd's house, where he got some whey and bread for his breakfast, which he thought the best meat he had ever tasted, yet shared it with Oscar. Though I had his history from his own mouth, yet there is a space here which it is impossible to relate with any degree of distinctness or interest, He was a vagaband boy, without any fixed habitation, and wandered about Heriot Moor, from one farm-house to another, for the space of a year ; staying from one to twenty nights in each house, according as he found the people kind to him. H e seldom resented any indignity offered to himself, but whoever insulted Oscar, or offered any obser-* vations on the impropriety of their friendship, lost Duncan's company next morning. He staid several months at a place called Dewar, which he said was haunted by the ghost of a piper. The piper had been murdered there many years before, in a manner somewhat mysterious, or at least unaccountable ; and there was scarcely a night in which he was tfiot supposed either to be seen or heard about the house. Duncan slept in the cow-house, and was terribly harassed by the piper, often hearing hi? scratching about the rafters, and sometimes groanm g �10 Duncan Campbell. like a man dying, or a cow that was choTked in the band; but at length he saw him at his side one night, which so discomposed him that he was obliged to leave the place, after being ill for many days. I shall give this story in Duncan's own words, which I have often heard him repeat without any variation. ' I had been driving some young cattle to the heights of Willensfie—it grew late before I got home. I was thinking, and thinking, how cruel it was to kill the poor piper ! to cut out his tongue, and stab him in the back. I thought it was no wonder that his ghost took it extremely ill; when, all on a sudden, I perceived a light before me :— I thought the wand in my hand was all on fire, and threw it away, but I perceived the light glide slowly by my right foot, and burn behind me; I was nothing afraid, and turned about to look at the light, and there I saw the piper, who was standing hard at my back, and when I turned round, he looked me in the face.' What was he like, Duncan V ' H e was like a dead body; but I got a short view of him ; for that moment all around me grew dark as a pit! I tried to run, but sunk powerless to the earth, and lay in a kind of dream, I do not know how long; when I came to myself, I got up and endeavoured to run, but fell to the ground every two steps. I was not a hundred yards from the house, and 1 am sure I fell upwards of a hundred times. Next day I was in a high fever : the servants made me a little bed in the kitchen, to which I was confined by illness many days, during which time I suffered the most dreadful agonies by night, always imagining the piper to be standing over me on the one side or the other. As soon as I was able to walk, I left Dewar, and for along time durst neither sleep alone during the night, nor stay by myself ia the day-time.' �11 Duncan Campbell. The superstitious ideas impressed upon Duncan's mind by this unfortunate encounter with the ghost of the piper, seem never to have been eradicated; a strong instance of the power of early impressions, and a warning how much caution is necessary m modelling the conceptions of the young and tender mind; for of all men I ever knew, he is the most afraid of meeting with apparitions. So deeply is his imagination minted with this startling illusion, that even the calm disquisitions of reason have proved quite inadequate to the task of dispelling it. Whenever it wears late, he is always on the look out for these ideal beings, keeping a jealous eye upon every bush and brake, in case they should be lurking behind them, ready to fly out and surprise him every moment; and the approach of a person in the dark, or any sudden noise, always deprives him of the power of speech for some time. After leaving Dewar, he went wandering about for a few weeks; and it appears that his youth, beauty, and peculiarly destitute situation, together with his friendship for his faithful Oscar, had interested the most part of the country people in his behalf, for he was generally treated with kindness. He knew his father's name, and the name of his house : but as none of the people he visited had ever before , heard of either the one or the other, they gave themselves no trouble about the matter. He staid nearly two years in a place he called Cowhaur, till a wretch, with whom he slept, struck and abused him one day. Duncan, in a rage, flew to the loft, and cut all his Sunday hat, shoes, and coat, in pieces ; and not daring to abide the consequences, decamped that night. He wandered about for some time longer among the farmers of Tweed and Yarrow ; but this life was now become exceedingly disagreeable to him. �12 Duncan Campbell. He durst not sleep by himself, and the servants did not always choose that a vagrant boy and his great dog should sleep with them. It was on a rainy night, at the close of harvest, that Duncan came to my father's house. I remember all the circumstances as well as the transactions of yesterday. The whole of his clothing consisted of one black coat only, which having been made for a full-grown man, hung fairly to his heels ; the hair of his head was rough, curled and weatherbeaten; but his face was ruddy and beautiful, bespeaking a healthy body, and a sensible feeling heart. Oscar was nearly as large as himself, had the colour of a fox, with a white stripe down his face, and a ring of the same colour round his neck, and was the most beautiful colley I have ever seen. My heart was knit to Duncan at the first sight, and I wept for joy when I saw my parents so kind to him. My mother, in particular, could scarcely do any thing else than converse with Duncan for several days. I was always of the party, and listened with wonder and admiration; but often have these adventures been repeated to me. My parents, who soon seemed to feel the same concern for him as if he had been their own son, clothed him in blue drugget, and bought him a smart little Highland bonnet; in which dress he looked so charming that I would not let them have peace until I got one of the same. Indeed, all that Duncan said or did was to me a pattern, for I loved him as my own ]ife. I was, at my own request, which he persuaded me to urge, permitted to be his bed-fellow, and many a happy night and day did I spend with Duncan and Oscar. As far as I remember, we felt no privation of any kind, and would have been completely happy, if it had ^Lot been for the fear of spirits. When the conversation chanced to turn upon the Piper of �13 Duncan Campbell. Dewar, the Maid of Plora, or the Pedlar of Thirlestane Mill,, often have we lain with the bed-clothes drawn over our heads until nearly suffocated. We loved the fairies and the brownies, and even felt a • little partiality for the mermaids, on account of their beauty and charming songs; we were a little jealous of the water-kelpies, and always kept aloof from the frightsome pools. We hated the devil most heartily, but we were not much afraid of him ; but a ghost! oh dreadful! the name ghost, spirit, or apparition, sounded in our ears like the knell of destruction, and our hearts sunk within us as if pierced by the cold icy shaft of death. Duncan nerded my father's cows all the summer—so did I— we could not live asunder. We grew fishers so expert, that the speckled trout, with all his art, could uiot ©lude our machinations ; we forced him from bis watery cove, admired the beautiful shades and purple drops that were painted on his sleeky sides, % d forthwith added him to our number, without m r&luefcance. We assailed the habitation of the wild bee, and rifled all her accumulated sweets, though not without encountering the most determined resistance. My father's meadows abounded with hiYes; they were almost in every swath-—in every hillock. When the swarm was large, they would beat us off, day after day. In all these desperate engagements, Oscar came to our assistance, and prorided that none of the enemy made a lodgment in his lower defiles, he was always the last combatant of our party on the field. I do not remember of ever being so much diverted by any scene I ever witnessed, or laughing so immoderately as I have done, at seeing Oscar involved in a moving cloud of wild bees, wheeling, snapping on all sides, and shaking his ears incessantly. The sagacity which this animal possessed is almost incredible, while his undaunted spirit and gen- �14 Duncan Campbell. erosity it would do honour to every servant of our own species to copy. Twice did he save his master's life : at one time when attacked by a furious bulj, and at another time when he fell from behind Oscar N my father, off a horse into a flooded river. had just swimmed across, but instantly plunged in a second time to his master's rescue. He first got hold of his bonnet, but that coming off, he quitted it, and again catching him by the coat, brought him to the side, where my father reached him. He waked Duncan at a certain hour every morning, and would frequently turn the cows of his own will, when he observed them wrong. If Duncan dropped his knife, or any other small article, he would fetch it along in his mouth, and if sent back for a lost thing, would infallibly find it. When sixteen years of age, after being unwell for several days, he died one night below his master's bed. On the evening before, when Duncan came in from the plough, he came from his hiding-place, wagged his tail, licked Duncan's hand, and returned to his death-bed. Duncan and I lamented him with unfeigned sorrow, buried him below the old rowan tree at the back of my father's garden, placing a square stone at his head, which was still standing the last time I was there. With great labour we composed an epitaph between us, which was once carved on that stone : the metre was good, but the stone was so hard, and the engraving so faint, that the characters, like those of our early joys, are long ago defaced and extinct. Often have I heard my mother relate with enthusiasm, the manner in which she and my father first discovered the dawnings of goodness and facility of conception in Duncan's mind, though, I confess, dearly as I loved him, these circumstances escaped my ob servation. It was my father's invariable custom to pray with the family every night before they retired to rest, to thank the Almighty for his kind- �15 Duncan Campbell. ness to them during the bygone day, and to beg his protection through the dark and silent watches of the night. I need not inform any of my readers that that amiable duty consisted in singing a few stanzas of a psalm, in which all the family joined their voices with my father's, so that the aouble octaves of the various ages and sexes swelled to the simple concert. He then read a chapter from the Bible, going straight on from beginning to end of the Scriptures. The prayer concluded the devotions of each evening, in which the downfall of Antichrist was always strenuously urged, the ministers of the gospel remembered, nor was any friend or neighbour in distress forgot. At one time, the year following, my father, in the course of his evening devotions, had reached the 19th chapter of the book of Judges; when he began reading it, Duncan was seated on the other side of the house, but ere it was half done, he had stolen up close to my father's elbow. Consider of it, take advice, speak your mind, said my father, and closed the book. Go on, go on, if you please, Sir, said Duncan, go on, and let us hear what they said about it. My father looked sternly at Duncan's face, but seeing him abashed on account of his hasty breach of decency, without uttering a word, he again opened the Bible, and read the 20th chapter throughout, notwithstanding of its great length. Next day Duncan was walking about with the Bible below his arm, begging of every body to read it to him again and again. This incident produced a conversation between my parents on the expenses and utility of education ; the consequence of which was, that, the week following, Duncan and I were sent to the parish school, and began at the same instant to the study of that most important and fundamental branch of literature, the A, B, C ; but my �16 Duncan Campbell. sister Mary, who was, older than I, was already an accurate and elegant reader. This reminds me of another anecdote of Duncan, with a regard to family worship, which I have often heard related, and which I myself may well remember. My father happened to be absent overnight at a fair; when the usual time of worship arrived, my mother desired a lad, one of the servants, to act as chaplain that night; the lad declined it, and slunk away to his bed. My mother testified her regret that we should be obliged to go prayerless to our beds for that night, observing that she did not remember the time when it so happened before. Duncan said he thought we might contrive to manage it amongst us, and instantly proposed to sing the psalm and pray, if Mary would read the chapter. To this my mother, with some hesitation, agreed, remarking, that if he prayed as he could, with a pure heart, his prayer had as good a chance of being accepted as some others that were better worded. Duncan could not then read, but having learned several psalms from Mary by rote, h« caused her to seek out the place, and sung the 23rd Psalm from end to end with great sweetness and decency. Mary read a chapter in the New Testament, and then (my mother having a child on her knee) we three kneeled in a row, while Duncan prayed thus: e O Lord, be thou our God, our guide and our guard unto death, and through death!' that was a sentence my father often used in prayer ; Duncan had laid hold of it, and my mother began to think that he had often prayed previous to that time.— ' O Lord, thou—' continued Duncan, but his matter was exhausted ; a long pause ensued, which I at length broke, by bursting into a loud fit of laughter. Duncan rose hastily, and without once lifting up his head, went crying to his bed; and as I continued to indulge in laughter, my mother, for my �17 Duncan Campbell. irreverent behaviour, struck me across the shoulders with the tongs•:; our evening devotions terminated exceedingly ill, I went crying to my bed after Duncan, even louder than he, and abusing him for his useless prayer, for which I had been nearly felled. By the time that we were recalled from school to herd the cows next summer, we could both read the Bible with considerable facility. But Duncan far excelled me in perspicacity ; and so fond was he of reading Bible history, that the reading of it was now our constant amusement. Often have Mary, and he, and I, lain under the same plaid, by the side of the corn or meadow, and read chapter about in the Bible for hours together, weeping over the failings and fall of good men, and wondering at the inconceivable might of the heroes of antiquity. Never was man so delighted as Duncan was when he came to the history of Sampson, and afterwards of David and Goliahj he could not be satisfied until he had read it with every individual with whom he wis acquainted, judging it to be as new and as interesting to every one as it was to himself. I have seen him steading by the girls as they were milking the cows, reading to them the feats of Sampson; and, in short, harassing every man and woman about the hamlet for audience; .On Sundays, my parents accompanied us to the fields, and joined in our delightful exercise. Time passed away, and so also did our youthful delights ! but other cares and other pleasures awaited us. As we advanced in years and strength, we quitted £he herding, and bore a hand in the labours of the farm. Mary, too, was often our assistant. She and Duncan were nearly of an age— he was tall, comely, and affable ; and if Mary was not the prettiest girl in the parish, at least Duncan and I believed her to be so, which with us �18 Duncan Campbell. amounted to the same thing. We often compared the other girls in the parish with one another, as to their beauty and accomplishments, but to think of comparing any of them with Mary, was entirely out of the question. She was, indeed, the emblem of truth, simplicity, and innocence, and if there were few more beautiful, there were still fewer so good and amiable; but still, as she advanced in years, she grew fonder and fonder of being near Duncan ; and by the time she was nineteen* was so deeply in love, that it affected her manner, her spirits, and her health. At one time she was gay and frisky as a kitten: she would dance, sing, and laugh violently at the most trivial incidents. At other times she was silent and sad, while a languishing softness overspread her features, and added greatly to her charms. The passion was undoubtedly mutual between them ; but Duncan, either from a sense of honour, or some other cause, never declared himself farther on the subject, than by the most respectful attention, and tender assiduities. About forty years ago the flocks of southern sheep, which have since that period inundated the Highlands, had not found their way over the Grampian mountains, and the native flocks of that sequestrated country were so scanty, that it was found necessary to transport small quantities of wool annually to the north, to furnish materials for clothing the inhabitants. During two months of each summer, the hilly countries of the Lowlands were inundated by hundreds of women from the Highlands, who gartered small articles of dress, and of domestic import, for wool; these were known by the appellation of norlart nettles ; and few nights passed, during the wool season, that some of them were not lodged at my father's house. It was from tw.o of these that Duncan learned one day that he was the laird of Glen©llich's only son and heir, and that a large sum had �19 Duncan Campbell. been offered to any person that could discover him. My parents certainly rejoiced in Duncan's good fortune, yet they were disconsolate at parting with him, for he had long ago become as a son of their own ; and I seriously believe, that from the day they first met, to that on which the two norlan' nettles came to our house, they never once entertained the idea of parting. For my part, I wished that the nettles had never been born, or that they had staid at their own home; for the thoughts of being separated from my dear friend made me sick at heart. All our feelings were, however, nothing, when compared with those of my sister Mary. One day, at dinner time, after a long and sullen pause, my father s a i d — h o p e you do not intend to leave us soon, Duncan V 61 am thinking of going away to-morrow, Sir,' said Duncan. The knife fell from my mother's hand : she looked him steadily in the face for the space of a minute.—6 Duncan,' said she, her voice faltering, and the tears dropping from her eyes, eDuncan, I never durst ask you before, but I hope you will not leave us altogether V Duncan thrust the plate from before him into the middle of the table—took up a book that lay on the window, and looked over the pages—Mary left the room. No answer was returned, nor any further inquiry made, and our little party broke up in silence. When we met again in the evening, we were still all sullen. My father said, ' You will soon forget us, Duncan ; but there are some among us who will not so soon forget you.' Mary again left the room, and silence ensued until the family were called to gether for evening worship. The next morning, after a restless night, Duncan rose early, put on his best suit, and packed up some little articles to carry with him. I lay panting and trembling, but pretended to be fast asleep. When he was ready to depart, he took his bundle below �20 Duncan Campbell. his arm, came up to the side of the bed, and listened if I were sleeping. He then stood long hesitating, looking wistfully at the door, and then to me alternately ; and I saw hint three or four times wipe his eyes. At length Re shook me gently by the shoulder, and asked if I were awake. I feigned to start, and answered as if half asleep. ' I must bid you farewell,' said he, groping to get hold of my hand. 'Will you not breakfast with us, Duncan,' said I. ' No,' said he, ' I am thinking that it is best to steal away, for it will break my heart to take leave of your parents and—'. 'And who, Duncan?' said I. 'And you,' said he: 'indeed but it is best, Duncan !' said I, we will all breakfast together for the last time, and then take a formal and kind leave of each other.' We did breakfast together, and as the conversation turned on former days, it became highly interesting to us all.—When my father had returned thanks to Heaven for our meal, we knew what was coming, and began to look at each other* Duncan rose, and after we had all loaded him with our blessings and warmest wishes, he embraced my parents and me. He turned about. His eyes said plainly there was somebody still wanting, but his heart was so full he could not speak. ' What is become of Mary V said my father :—Mary was gone. We searched the house, the garden, and the houses of all the eottagers, but Mary was nowhere to be found. Poor lovelorn, forsaken Mary ! She had hid herself in the ancient yew that grows in front of the old ruin, that she might see her lover depart, without Ijerself being seen, and might indulge in all the luxury of woe. I must pass over Duncan's journey to the north Highlands, for want of room ; but on the evening of the sixth day after leaving my father's house, he reached the mansion-house of Glenellich, which stands in a little beautiful woody strath, command- �21 Duncan Campbell. ing a view of the Deu, Caledonian Sea, and part of the Hebrides ; every avenue, tree, and rock, was yet familiar to Duncan's recollection. He had, without discovering himself, learned from a peasant that his father was still alive, but that he had never overcome the loss of his son, for whom he lamented every day. Duncan could not think of ought to detain him; and, being desirous of seeing how matters went on about the house, thought it best to remain some days incog. He went into the kitchen, conversed freely with the servants, and soon saw his step-mother and sister appear. The former had all the insolence and ignorant pride of vulgarity raised to wealth and eminence; the other seemed naturally of an amiable disposition, but was entirely ruled by her mother, who taught her to disdain her father, all his relations, and whomsoever he loved. On the same evening he came into the kitchen, where she then was chatting with Duncan, to whom she seemed attached at first sight. Lexy, my dear, said he, did you see my spectacles? Yes, said she, I think I saw them on your nose to-day, at breakfast. Well, but I have lost them since, said he. You may take up the next you find then, sir, said she.—The servants laughed. " I might well have known what information I would get of you," said he, regretfully. " How can you speak in such a style to your father, my dear lady ?" said Duncan. " It ill becomes so pretty a young lady to address an old father thus." " He," said she, " is a dotard, an old complaining, superannuated being, worse than a child." " But consider his years," said Duncan, "and besides he might have met with crosses and losses sufficient to sour the temper of a younger man. You should, at all events, pity and reverence, but never despise your father." The old lady now joined them. " You have yet heard nothing, *Toung man," said the old l a i r d i f �32 Duncan Campb elk you saw how my heart is sometimes wrung! Yes, I have had losses indeed." " You, losses!" said his spouse, " No ; you never had any losses that did not in the end turn out a vast profit." " Do you then count the loss of a loving wife and a son nothing?" said he. " B u t have you not got a loving wife and daughter in their room ? " returned she ; "the one will not waste your fortune as a prodigal son would have done, and the other will take care of both you and that, when you can do neither —the loss of your son, indeed! it was the greatest blessing you could have." " Unfeeling woman ! " said he, " but Heaven may yet restore that son to protect the grey hairs of his old father, and lay his head in an honoured grave."—The old man cried like a child : his lady mimicked him—and, at this, his daughter and servants raised a laugh. " Inhuman wretches ! " said Duncan, starting up, and pushing them aside, " thus to mock the feelings ot an old man, even although he were not the lord and master of you all: but take notice, the individual among you all that dares to offer such another insult to him, I'll roast on that fire ! " The old man elung to him, and looked him ruefully in the face. " You impudent beggarly vagabond!" said the lady, " do you know to whom you speak ?—Servants, turn that wretch out of the house, and hunt him with all the dogs in the kennel." " Softly, good lady," said Duncan, " take care that I do not turn you out of the house." u Alas! good youth," said the old laird, " you little know what you are about; you are brewing vengeance both for yourself and me." " Fear not," said Duncan, " I will protect you with my life." " Pray, may I ask you what is your name ? " said the old man. " That you may," replied Duncan, " no man has so good a right to ask any thing of me as you have—I am Duncan Campbell, your own son !" " M-m-m-my �23 Duncan Campbell. son!" exclaimed the old man, and sunk back on a seat with a convulsive moan. Duncan held him in his arms—he soon recovered, and asked many incoherent questions-—looking at the two moles on his right leg—kissed him,9 and then wept on his bosom for joy. " O God of heaven !" said he, " I thank thee heartily, for I have found my son ! my dear and only son ! " Every thing was committed to the management of Duncan, and he soon discovered, that besides a good clear estate, his father had personal funds to a great amount. The halls and cottages of Glenellich were filled with feasting, joy and gladness. It was not so at my father's house. Scarcely had our feelings overcome the shock, which they received by the loss of Duncan, when a more terrible misfortune overtook us. My father, by the monstrous ingratitude of a friend, whom we trusted, lost at once the greater part of his hard-earned fortune. We were all sitting in our little room one day, consulting what was best to be done, when two men came riding sharply up by the back of the old school house. " Yonder are the officers of justice now," said my mother, " what shall we do ? " We hurried to the window, and soon-discerned that they were no other than some attorney accompanied by a sheriff's officer. * My mother entreated my father to hide himself until this first storm was overblown, but he would in nowise consent; so finding all our entreaties vain, we could do nothing but sit down and weep. At length we heard the noise of their horses at the door. The qfficer, afraid lest his debtor should make his escape, jumped lightly from his horse, and hasted into the house. When we heard his footsteps approaching along the entry, our hearts fainted within us—he opened the door and stepped into the room—it was �24 Duncan Campbell. Duncan ! our own dearly beloved Duncan ! My father ran and got hold of one hand, and I of the other—my mother too, soon had him in her arms, but our embrace was short; for his eyes were fixed on Mary, who stood trembling with joy and wonder in a corner of the room, changing her colour every moment—he snatched her up in his arms and kissed her lips, and, ere she was aware, her arms had encircled his neck. " O my dear Mary!" said he, " my heart has been ill at ease since I left you; but, you little elusive rogue, you owe me another, for the one you cheated me out of then." Duncan then recounted his adventures to us, with every circumstance of his good fortune—our hearts were uplifted almost past bearing—all our cares and sorrows were now forgotten, and we were once more the happiest little group that ever perhaps sat together. Before the cloth was laid for dinner, Mary ran out to put on her white gown, and* comb her yellow hair, but was surprised at meeting with a smart young gentleman in the kitchen, with a scarlet neck on his coat, and a gold-laced hat. Mary having never seen so fine a gentleman, made him a low courtesy, and offered to conduct him to the room ; but he smiled, and told her he was the squire's servant. Duncan and Mary walked for two hours in the garden that evening; we do riot know what passed between them, but the next day he asked her in marriage of my parents. I need not tell my readers that my father's affairs were soon retrieved, or that I accompanied my dear Mary a bride to the Highlands, and had the satisfaction of saluting her as Mrs. Campbell, and lady of Glenellich. William Walker, Printer, Otley. \ �i srt q ; m qorqm 'os aq o; xaq paAarpq j puts UT30TIIIQ ;SBAJ ; B 'qsixmi atp NI {XTB ;sai;;axd aq; ;on SUM £XBJ\[ J! • P™- 'IP* AI L iiB jo' u axa* UBOUHQ puB aqg *;UB;SIS -SB xno ua;jo SBAV <00$ 'UIXBJ aq; jo sxnoq -BJ aq; ui puBij B axoq puB 'Bmpxaq aqf pa;;mb a f Ac ' q;Buax;s puB sxBaX ui paauBApB aM. s y *sn pa;iBAYB samsBajd xaq;o puB sax«a xaq;o ;nq j s;qBipp jnjq;no£ mo pip osp2 os pu« <J£BAVB passed aun£ •aspxaxa inj;q8tpp mo ui pamof puB 'sppij aq; 0} sn paiuBdinooo* s;uaiBd £ra <s£epung u q :9ouaipi\B xoj ;apn«q aifl ;noqB ubuio^ puB UBUI A.I8A8 BuissBXBq <;xoip m 'ptre f uosduiBg jo s;Baj aq; uiaq; o; BuipBax 'SAVOO aij; Sra^iui axaM. £aq; sb SJXTB aq; £q Snipn^s miq uaas aABq j 'jpsunq o; sbA ;I S auo ii8A9 o; j5m;saxa;ui S puB ^an B B S aq o; ;i BuiBpnf <pa;uT«nboB sw* aq uioqM q;ii\ B |BnpiAipiii IxaAa q;iA ;i p*ax pBq aq jpuii paijsi;BS aq ;ou ppioa aq 5 tfBiX°0 PU18 PTABG spxBAVxa;jB puB 'uosduiBg jo £xo;sTq aq; o; auiBa aq uaqAV SBAV iiBouiiQ SB pa;qBipp os treui S M jaAa^j -jC;mb B . -i;UB jo saoxaq aq; jo ;qBiui ajqvAiaanoom aq; ;B BuixapuoAY puB fuara pooB jo JJBJ puB SBUIJIBJ aq; XOAO SnidaaAV <xaq;aBo; smoq xoj ajqig aq; ui ;noqB ja^dBqo pBai puB ^opBarn xo uxoa aq; jo apis aq; i(q 'piBjd auiBS aq; xapun puB 'aq puB <jCxbj\[ aABq ua;jQ ^uauiasiittiB ;UB;SUOO xno AYOU sbm ;I jo BmpBax aq; ;Bq; cXio;siq a^qig SuipBai jo aq SB/A pnoj os puB A;ioBaidsiad ni a«i pa^aaxa JLBJ uBouTiQ ;ng a^qBiapisuoo q;u\ ajqig aq; pBax q;oq ppoa aV ^auirnns ;xau smoo aq; piaq o; poqos nioij pa^Boai aiaAv aM ;Bq; auii; aq; Xg T8II9J ^I uaaq pBq J qoiqAV IOJ 'ddfivM.ssdjdsn siq J J rniq O SuisnqB puB <aq uBq; lapiKq uaAa c UBOUHQ xa;jB paq Am o; StmCio ;uaAv j ^{i l|Suipaaoxa pa;Bu -imia; suoi;oAap SuiuaAa ITIO i sSuo; aq; siap -jnoqs aq; SSOIOB am ^an.i;s 'xnoiABqaq ;uaiaAani —OBB l\ 'ijaqdtunj upownq 24 Bop s{iamiBj aq; f a n S o ^ B I P siq; B U I I H Q -piBAV -IOJ ajim B ;noqB Bop B q ; m £oq B ;aui aq ;Bq; piBS lauiiBj aqj^ -inrq uap;s pBq Xoq piBiiB5[aB|q B ;Bq; pappB pnB faAi;Biuiijg:B aq; ni paiaj&suB ;xiBSBad aq •Bop siq ;so{ pBq aq JI iniq paT[SB miq piBaq SuiABq puBtf^aBqasioquo dn araBO lauixej B ;nB;sni ;Bq; ;B ;nq fBuina;si^ poo;s uaq; aq c f inaq; jBaq j 3piiq; j—anoB IBJ aq ;OUUBO ^aq; f aoiid ^BUIS B ; B JBap ^BOSBJ qsiAaiq; ap;i{ aq; pnB iniq q;oq aifBin ppoqs J rniq jo pjoq pBq J JJ, 'uBUiqsijBug; aq; piBS /miq n ( j , i q;iBa aq; ui 5[Tiris ;soui uBouiiQ f ;sBaiq SCUBOUUQ O ; lasop Buup JJI;S puB ^PA^BUB IBOSQ cj oql foqX ^IBOSQ ^ 'V*O PAMOJ* - p q aq spiB^ Avaj B uiq;m auiBO aq uaqAV—i si{oo^ siq ui &mj puB fpaABaq sTq q;iAV fuiaq; spJBAVo; ;qBTBi;s Buiuioo u b ^ J U I aq; ppqaq UTBBB puB 'a;sBAV aAi;BU siq uo 5[ooo-t[;Baq B a^ij ;iaAoa a^DIUD STQ qBnoiq; padaad IIBOUNQ F ;§Baiq S4UBO - U U Q o; Buup puB pa^quiai; JBDSQ - pno^B p a ^ B A aq : ajaAV spiiq aq; ;uq tf;sau aq; puuoj aq f a^^p uaq;iBa p p aq; puoXaq Buidaap raxq puq: o; BM;oadxa f aoB^D aq; o; pa;sBq puB 'BUIUJOUI aq; ui p a ; I B ^ s pBq Bop aq; aouaqAV inoij paAiasqo pBq UBUT aqjL -rnosoq siq ui IBOSQ ^OO; puB q;Baq jo qsuq B O;UI ;daia aq fuiaq; uaaAv;aq JCBJ ;Bq; aoB|D Avo^pq B UI unq jo ;qBys ;so{ I ^ O M B UBOUUQ SB puB i IBJA. jatpo aq; pa^oo] i a q ; B I puB 'BUIUUUI SBAV aq m C M A Q ; paAiasqo aABq o; ;ou parnaas ;uBSBad a q j 'jps •UIBO -unq q ; m ; s o m p u B ^ B O S Q m ] ^ X^AO {{B WBAV ;T Bumou^ fuiiq TiTq;m pa;uiBj ;iBaq SCUBOUUQ *iap -poqs siqxaAo paABaq JJB;S siq BuiABq puB <;BOO siq ;noq;iAV miq spiBAVo; Buiuuui uBuiqsi^Bug paBBiua aq; ppqaq aq |T;UU fpBOi aq; UIOIJ saoBd JC;IOJ ; O B ;ou pBq a j j -piBAv;SAAV aq; o; xooui O;SBAV B XAAO oB o; iap.ro T f ;i passoxa aq X^BuipxoaoB puB fpBox I T aq; aABaj o; ;saq aq pjnoAi ;i ;qBuoq; aq asodxud siq; xoj[ -miq paiuiBp AVOU oqAV ;TIBX^; ssa[q;nx aq; rnoxj adBosa STq BuT.iaq;xnj UBq; ssa^ Bmq;ou 7pqdiuvQ uvoungr Duncan Campbell. Duncan ! our own dearly beloved Duncan ! My father ran and got hold of one hand, and I of the other—my mother too, soon had him in her arms, but our embrace was short; for his eyes were fixed on Mary, who stood trembling with joy and wonder in a corner of the room, changing her colour every moment—he snatched her up in his arms and kissed her lips, and, ere she was aware, her arms had encircled his neck. " O my dear Mary !" said he, "my heart has been ill at ease since I left you; but, you little elusive rogue, you owe me another, for the one you cheated me out of then." Duncan then recounted his adventures to us, with every circumstance of his good fortune—our hearts were uplifted almost past bearing—all our cares and sorrows were now forgotten, and we were once more the happiest little group that ever perhaps sat together. Before the cloth was laid for dinner, Mary ran out to put on her white gown, and* comb her yellow hair, but was surprised at meeting with a smart young gentleman in the kitchen, with a scarlet neck on his coat, and a gold-laced hat. Mary having never seen so fine a gentleman, made him a low courtesy, and offered to conduct him to the room ; but he smiled, and told her he was the squire's servant. Duncan and Mary walked for two hours in the garden that evening , we do not know what passed * between them, but the next day he asked her in marriage of my parents. I need not tell my readers that my father's affairs were soon retrieved, or that I accompanied my dear Mary a bride to the Highlands, and had the satisfaction of saluting her as Mrs. Campbell, and lady of Glenellich. William Walker, Printer, Otley. THE HISTORY AND HIS AND T H E AN INTERESTING S C O T T I S H TALE, OTLEY P i l l N T E D BY W I L L I A M W A L K E R . s �W-16 Duncan Campbell. sister Mary, who was. older than I, was already an accurate and elegant reader. This reminds me of another anecdote of Duncan, with a regard to family worship, which I have often heard related, and which I myself may well remember. My father happened to be absent overnight at a fair; when the usual time of worship arrived, my mother desired a lad, one of the servants, to act as chaplain that night; the lad declined it, and slunk away to his bed. My mother testified her regret that we should be obliged to go prayerless to our beds for that night, observing that she did not remember the time when it so happened before. Duncan said he thought we might contrive to manage it amongst us, and instantly proposed to sing the psalm and pray, if Mary would read the chapter. To this my mother, with some hesitation, agreed, remarking, that if he prayed as he could, with a pure heart, his prayer had as good a chance of being accepted as some others that were better worded. Duncan could not then read, but having learned several psalms from Mary by rote, h« caused her to seek out the place, and sung the 23rd Psalm from end to end with great sweetness and decency. Mary read a chapter in the New Testament, and then (my mother having a child on her knee) we three kneeled in a row, while Duncan prayed thus: ' O Lord, be thou our God, our guide and our guard unto death, and through deatk!' that was a sentence my father often used in prayer; Duncan had laid hold of it, and my mother began to think that he had often prayed previous to that time.— < O Lord, thou—' continued Duncan, but his matter was exhausted ; a long pause ensued, which I at length broke, by bursting into a loud fit of laughter. . Duncan rose hastily, and without once lifting up his head, went crying to his bed; and as I continued to indulge in laughter, my mother, for my sn q ; m qoiqAS. <os ®q o; iaq paAarpq j pus UBOUUQ ;sBaj <qsii«d aq; ui \i\2 ;sai;;aid aq; ;ou SBAV ji puB 5 a{q«gB P ^ B 'Xpraoo SBM. aq —aSB UB jo'^iBau aia* UBOUUQ put? aqg -;UB;SIS -SB .mo u9}jo SUM. 'UIIUJ aq; jo sjnoq -M] aq; ui puBq - aioq ptra 'Suipiaq aqf pa;;mb a V B A ' q;Suai;s puB sxeaX ui paou^ApB a^ s y -sn pa;IBAVB samsBajd iaq;o pire sai«o iaq;o ;nq j s;qSipp jnjqinoiC mo pip OSJB os pu« 'XimB passed aunj, •asioiaxa pij;q2ipp mo in pauiof puB f sppg aq; oj sn'paiuBdinoao* s;uajBd Xxn 'sitepung UQ :aouaipnB IOJ ;apn«q aq; ;noq« UBUIOAV puB UBUI a.iaAa Suiss-Biuq <;ioqs tn <pu« f uosduiBg jo s;Baj aq; raaq; o; SurpBai 'SAVOO aq; Supjjiui aiaM. £aq; S s|iiB aq; £q Suipu^js uiiq uaas aABq j -jpsraiq B o; sBA ;i S auo B o; 8m;saia;ui puB Avan su aq o ; ;t SuiSpnf <pa;ui«nboB swm aq uioqAi q;i jBnpiAipui LW'AQ q;iA ;i p*ai p«q aq ji;im paqsijBs aq ;ou ppioo aq f qBipr) puis piABQ jo spiBAua;jB puB 'uosduiBg jo £io;siq aq; o; auiBO aq uaqAV SBAV. UBOUUQ si2 pa;qSipp os treui laAa^j *i£;rab -i;uB jo saoiaq aq) jo ;qSiui ajq«Apouooui aq; ;B SuiiapuoAV puB 'uara poo# jo JB puB sSuqiBj aq; {J iaAO SuidaaA tfiaq;aSo; sinoq I J ajqig aq; ui \x\o(\u O ia;duqa puai pu-e ^opuam J uioa aq; jo apis aq; O Iq 'piujd auius aq; lapun um\ e j puu faq puu aA-eq ua;jQ ^uauiasnui-B ;UB;SUOD JUO AVOII sbai ;I jo Suip-eaj aq; ^ q ; ^io;siq a^qtg Suip^ai jo aq SB/A puoj os puis i ^lo-BDidsjad ui a«u pa[poxa J J B UBOUUQ ;ng •X;qto,Bj ajqEiapisuoo q ; m a^qig aq; puai q;oq p|noo a^v f jauirans ;xau SMOO aq; pjaq o; poqos IUO.IJ pa^-eoai aiarn a \ ^ q ; auii; aq; A *pa||aj ipuau uaaq puq J qoiqAV xoj 'udfimd ssdjdm siq I J niiq O Suisnqu puu caq uuq; xapnoj uaAa fu^ounQ xd^p paq £ui o; SuiXia ;uaAv j ^{i ^{Suipaaoxa pa;uu -luna; suoi;oAap ^uiuaAa mo f sSuo; aq; q^m siap -jnoqs aq; ssoiou aui 5joni;s 'inoiA^qaq ;ua.iaAa.ui L\ 24 •HdqdmvQ unomifj Duncan Campbell. Duncan ! our own dearly beloved Duncan ! My father ran and got hold of one hand, and I of the other—my mother too, soon had him in her arms, but our embrace was short; for his eyes were fixed on Mary, who stood trembling with joy and wonder in a corner of the room, changing her colour every moment—he snatched her up in his arms and kissed her lips, and, ere she was aware, her arms had encircled his neck. " O my dear Mary!" said he, "my heart has been ill at ease since I left you; but, you little elusive rogue, you owe me another, for the one you cheated me out of then." Duncan then recounted his adventures to us, with every circumstance of his good fortune—our hearts were uplifted almost past bearing—all our cares and sorrows were now forgotten, and we were once more the happiest little group that ever perhaps sat together. Before the cloth was laid for dinner, Mary ran out to put on her white gown, and* comb her yellow hair, but was surprised at meeting with a smart young gentleman in the kitchen, with a f Duncan Campbell. IS mp to Duncan's den, smelled upon him, then upon Oscar,—cocked his tail, walked round them growling, and then behaved in a very improper and uncivil manner to Duncan, who took all patiently, uncertain whether he was yet discovered. But so intent was the fellow upon the farmer's intelligence, that he took no notice of the discovery made by the dog, but ran off without looking over his shoulder. Duncan felt this a deliverance so great that all his other distresses vanished; and as soon as the man was out of his sight, he arose from his covert and ran over the moor, and ere it was long, came to a shepherd's house, where he got some whey and bread for his breakfast, which he thought the best meat he had ever tasted, yet shared it with Oscar. Though I had his history from his own mouth, yet there is a space here which it is impossible to relate with any degree of distinctness or interest. He was a vagaband boy, without any fixed habitation, and wandered about Heriot Moor, from one farm-house to another, for the space of a year ; staying from one to twenty nights in each house, according as he found the people kind to him. He seldom resented any indignity offered to himself, but whoever insulted Oscar, or offered any obser* vations on the impropriety of their friendship, lost Duncan's company next morning. He staid several months at a place called Dewar, which he said was haunted by the ghost of a piper. The piper had been murdered there many years before, in a manner somewhat mysterious, or at least unaccountable ; and there was scarcely a night in which he was *iot supposed either to be seen or heard about the house. 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C1TOOI pUB f99I^ f9UU9AB il9A9 f S9piiq9JJ 9q^ BS J04XBQ pUB *B9g UBlU0p9^BQ fU9Q 9q|J0 AV9IA B Sill I Z> 20 'iidqdiuvQ ai tmq peddo^g 9fti09a 9iuog piBAi9i B S umj B P9I90O U99q pBq ppOAi 91^ JL UIBSB 9Sll0q p9I9^ -119 9ABq ^ U ppOAV 9JJ '^bA 9q^ O ipiIBSS90Ul SuiLio cuiiq ^IIBO PJUOAV ^99J siq SB ^SBJ SB ^ S P U G € -Q^NOG puB ; 9 9 ^ G - Q § I J J GQ^ Suoya UBI puB siiv\s 9Q^ UAvop p 9 } S B Q O Q — : 9JNPU9 O? 9JQB SBAV. ^ 9 I Q {B;IOUI }BQAV PUOXGQ p9giuoq SBAI UBOUUQ; : QSNOUA SBAV : uoi^Bpi pui^i siq j o osdioo aq; Suiss9ip ui9q^ p{9qgq puB ( ui oq tfi9quiBqo S^UUB 'siq ui ©siou ^ SniiBoq ^uq f osnoq 9q; ui uosjgd ou'pu^ P I N O ° S Q — : J9^IMQ iq§noq; 9q f9uioq uvjun(j siq OAI^U 'Hdqdmvj his arm, came up to the side of the bed, and listened if I were sleeping. He then stood long hesitating, looking wistfully at the door, and then to me alternately ; and I saw hint three or four times wipe his eyes. At length he shook me gently by the shoulder, and asked if I were awake. I feigned to start, and answered as if half asleep. ' I must bid you farewell,' said he, groping to get hold of my hand. ' W i l l you not breakfast with us, Duncan,' said I. ' No,' said he, 51 am thinking that it is best to steal away, for it will break my heart to take leave of your parents and—'. 'And who, Duncan?' said I. 'And you,' said he: 'indeed but it is best, Duncan !' said I, we will all breakfast together for the last time, and then take a formal and kind leave of each other.' W e did breakfast together, and as the conversation turned on former days, it became highly interesting to us all.—When my father had returned thanks to Heaven for our meal, we knew what was coming, and began to look at each other* Duncan rose, and after we had all loaded him with our blessings and warmest wishes, he embraced my parents and me. H e turned about. His eyes said plainly there was somebody still wanting, but his heart was so full he could not speak. ' What is become of Mary V said my father :—Mary was gone. W e searched the house, the garden, and the houses of all the cottagers, but Mary was nowhere to be found. Poor lovelorn, forsaken Mary ! She had hid herself in the ancient yew that grows in front of the old ruin, that she might see her lover depart, without ^erself being seen, and might indulge in all the luxury of woe. I must pass over Duncan's journey to the north Highlands, for want of room; but on the evening of the sixth day after leaving my father's house, he reached the mansion-house of Glenellich, which stands in a little beautiful woody strath, command- -ua£ puB ;uids po^uu-gpun siq 9jiqi& ^jqipaioin ;soua -[B si p9ss9ssod {BunuB siq; qoiqk X^IOBSBS a q ^ •£J;UBSSOOUI SXB9 siq £ui3i«QS pUB 'S9piS jp2 U SuiddBUS ^Sui|891|A\. *S99Q PJIA1 JO O puop SuiAOra B ui p9A]OAUl IB9S() 8ui99S <8U0p 9ABq J SB XP;B.I9pOUIUIl OS SUIQ#NBJ 10 'P9SS9U;IAL I9A9 J 9U90S XUB XQ p9^I9Aip qOUUI OS $Ul9q I 9 A 9 JO I9qui9ui9i ;ou op J *PPIJ oq; tro I ; I B D mo jo ; U B -;Bquioo ;SB| 9q; SIbavjb SBAi9q 'sojipp j9A\oj siqui ;u9uiSpo[,B 9pBiu Xui9u9 9q; j o 9U0U ;Bq; popiAoxd puB f9ouB;sissB jno o; 91UBD IBOSQ F S;U9LU9&SLI0 9)B.i9ds9p 9S9q; {{B u j *^BP I 9 ; J B XBp 'JJO sn ; ^ 9 Q NOQ^ ^I9A9 UI—q;BAVS ^I9A9 UI jSOUipS 9I9A^ Xoq; f 89Aiq q;iAv pgpunoqB sA\.opB9ui s^ioq^Bj ij\[ UBOUUQ uaq^ uvounq f Duncan Campbell. Duncan Campbell• P[UOA\ X o q ; ' 9 B I B { SBAI IUIBAVS 9 Q ; QSUGD O ; ASJIJ SBAI UBOUUQ lood puB 'uotsnjuoo UI'SBAI N Y *P9IPPUB <I\I U O ^ SBAi ;UUB siq ^9^JB S^Bp *Ai9J 1 Uf '^UUp 10 ^B9UI 3 I9q^i9 niB^qopjuoo 9q ;Bq; ^pi0|gip4B9ig q^iM AVOU SB^^j - % s i B q uiiq p9sn ^nq ; miq p9Aofi9A9u l 9 q ; puB <ui9q; o; 9^JBqo [BuopippB UB SBA3l 9JJ •UBDUUQ p9piB^9I I9A9U pUH Xq XpUB^SU03 %doy[ spiBui 9q;—^Bp 9UO \\i Apui91^x9 Ai9iS 9qg •90UBpU9^B Siq pduiOD 0} }U9SpipUl 00; SBM ^UUB siq PUB 'jooqos 9q^ ^B Suipu9^B j o iCjqSiq 9AOiddB ^ U pip 9JJ '^UIUIB9I UF SS9lSoxd ^918 91[BUI *ou O pip 9q ^nq 'qSinqutpg in IB9IC B PIB^S UBOUUQ t"\i Opiq *BUUBO ^ ! 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Oh dear!' and struggling till he got free, held on his course, careless whither he went, provided he got far enough from the horrid scene he had so lately witnessed. Some have supposed, and I believe Duncan has been heard to confess, that he then imagined he^was running for the Highlands, but mistook the direction . However that was, he continued his course until he came to a place where two roads met, a little south of Grange Toll. Here he sat down, and his frenzied passion subsided into a soft melancholy ;—he cried no more, but sobbing excessively, fixed his eyes on the ground, and made some strokes in the dust with his finger. A sight just then appeared, which somewhat cheered, or at least interested his heavy and forlorn heart—it was a large^ drove of Highland cattle. They were the only creatures like acquaintances that Duncan had Seen for a twelvemonth, and a tender feeling of joy, mixed with regret, thrilled his heart at the sight of their white horns and broad dew-laps. As the van passed him, he thought their l o o k s were particularly gruff and sullen; he s o o n perCeiVedthe cause, they were all in the hands of Englishmen; poor exiles like himself; going far away to be killed and eaten, and would never see the Highland hills again. When they were all gone by, Duncan looked after them, and wept anew ; but his attention was suddenly called away to something that softly touched his feet; he looked hastily about—it was a poor hungry lame dog, squatted on the ground, licking his feet and manifesting the most extravagant joy. Gracious Heaven! it was his own beloved and faithful Oscar ! starved, emaciated, and so crippled, that he was scarcely able to walk ! 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He then stood long hesitating, looking wistfully at the door, and then to me alternately ; and I saw hint three or four times wipe his eyes. At length he shook me gently by the shoulder, and asked if I were awake. I feigned to start, and answered as if half asleep. ' I must bid you farewell,' said he, groping to get hold of my hand. 'Will you not breakfast with us, Duncan,' said I. ' No,' said he, ' I am thinking that it is best to steal away, for it will break my heart to take leave of your parents and—'. 'And who, Duncan?' said I. 'And you,' said he: 'indeed but it is best, Duncan !' said I, we will all breakfast together for the last time, and then take a formal and kind leave of each other.' We did breakfast together, and as the conversation turned on former days, it became highly interesting to us all.—When my father had returned thanks to Heaven for our meal, we knew what was coming, and began to look at each other. Duncan rose, and after we had all loaded him with our blessings and warmest wishes, he embraced my parents and me. He turned about. His eyes said plainly there was somebody still wanting, but his heart was so fullhe could not speak. ' Whatis become of Mary?' said my father :—Mary was gone. We searched the house, the garden, and the houses of all the cottagers, but Mary was nowhere to be found. Poor lovelorn, forsaken Mary ! She had hid herself in the ancient yew that grows in front of the old ruin, that she might see her lover depart, without Ijerself being seen, and might indulge in all the luxury of woe. I must pass over Duncan's journey to the north Highlands, for want of room; but on the evening of the sixth day after leaving my father's house, he reached the mansion-house of Glenellich, which stands in a little beautiful woody strath, command- order to ask what was t he matter, but he could only answer them by exclaiming, ' Oh dear ! Oh dear!' and struggling till he got free, held on his course, careless whither he went, provided he got far enough from the horrid scene he had so lately witnessed. Some have supposed, and I believe Duncan has been heard to confess, that he then imagined he ^was running for the Highlands, but mistook the direction. However that was, he continued his course until he came to a place where two roads met, a little south of Grange Toll. Here he sat down, and his frenzied passion subsided into a soft melancholy ;—he cried no more, but sobbing excessively, fixed his eyes on the ground, and made some strokes in the dust with his finger. A sight just then appeared, which somewhat cheered, or at least interested his heavy and forlorn heart-^-it was a large^ drove of Highland cattle. They were the only creatures like acquaintances that Duncan had seen for a twelvemonth, and a tender feeling of joy, mixed with regret, thrilled his heart at the sight of their white horns and broad dew-laps. As the van passed him, he thought their looks were particularly gruff and sullen; he soon perceived the cause, they were all in the hands of Englishmen; poor exiles like himself; going far away to be killed and eaten, and would never see the Highland hills again. When they were all gone by, Duncan looked after them, and wept anew ; but his attention was suddenly called away to something that softly touched his feet; he looked hastily about—it was a poor hungry lame dog, squatted on the ground, licking his feet and manifesting the most extravagant joy. Gracious Heaven! it was his own beloved and faithful Oscar ! starved, emaciated, and so crippled, that he was scarcely able to walk ! He was now doomed to be the slave of a Yorkshire peasant, (who, - uaS puts ;uids pa^n-gpun siq ajiqAV 'ajqipaiom ;soua -pa si passassod p u i i u ^ siq; qoiq^ ^io-bSbs aqj^ jo j a d i j aq; uodn um; o; paoiraqo u0i;issiaAii0D aq; u a q ^ *s;uids jo iBaj aq; I J uaaq ;6u O ;i ji 'XddBq Ip;afduioa uaaq aA^q pynoAS. pun 'piii^ Xub J uoi;BAud ou ; p j a v 'laqraaiuai j sre J J s y O A B •XpuBssaom sjrea s i q Sui3[«qs puts 'sapis 110 S m d d B u s ' S u i p a ^ A i ' s a a q pjiAi j o p n o p SUIAOUI - u i PAAJOAUI x'sasQ S u i a a s B 'auop aA-eq j S-B Aja^.iapouirai os Buiq^nraj 1 0 ' p a s s a u ; m iaAa j auaos £1112 I q p a ; i a A i p q o n m os 3 u i a q i a A a j o .iaquiama.1 ; o u op j -pjaig: a q ; uo i ; i « d m o j o ; u « -;Bquioo ;giq a q ; S&JAVJB s^Avaq ' s a j g a p jaA\.oj s i q u i ; u a u i § p o j « ap-BUi jCuiaua a q ; j o auou ; « q ; p a p i A o i d puB 'aouB;siss« mo o ; ara-BO I B D S Q 'sJuamaMkia a^.iadsap asaq; uj -iC-Bp i a ; j « Xtsp 'JJO sn P[UOA\ X a q ; 'aSi-BJ S A UIXBAVS a q ; n a q ^ BV XiaAa ui——q;i3A\.s i i a A a ui ^ s o m ^ aiaja X a q ; f 89Aiq q;iAv p a p u n o q e sAVopBaui s ^ i a q ^ j aautrnsys -a.i p a u i u u a ; a p ; s o u i a q ; Suiia^unooua ; n o q ; m ; o n q S n o q ; 's;aaAvs p a ^ n u m o o B l a q {['B p a p u p u * 'daq PJIAV a q ; j o u o i ^ i q - B Q a q ; pajress-B a ^ -aou^oupj ; n o q ; m f jaqiiinu m o o ; u i i q p a p p B q ; i A v q ; i o j pnts 'sapis iC^aap siq uo p a ; u i ^ d aiaAi sdoip p u « s a p ^ q s piji;w3aq a q ; paiiuip'B 'aAOO X i a ; m ® i q UIOJJ uiiq p a o i o j aAV suoi; , Buiqo'Bin m o a p n p %ou p p o o ';IB siq [ye q;IAV ';no.i; pa^OADS a q ; ; « q ; '^ISKI - x a os s i a q s y AvaiS a ^ •japuns'B aAi^ ; o u p[noc» oik — j pip os—lauiums aq; s^oo sfiiaq;^j Urn papiaq ireounQ -q^ap jo ;j^qs Koi ppo aq; Xq paoiaid ji S sn uiq;m 5juns s;maq mo puB 'uoi;oxu;sap B jo |[au3( aq; aijij sma mo ui papunos 'uoi;ii«dd« 10 ';uids ';soqS aui-Bu aq; j pjp'Baip qo j ;soqS « ;nq uiiq jo piBij'B qonui ;ou aja^. a V ;nq 'ifp[;i«aq A ;soui iiAap aq; pa;i2q a ^ *S|ood auios;qSiij aq; UIOJJ joope ;da^[ siC-BMp puB 'saidp^-ia;^ aq; jo snoi-Baf ap;ij 1 aiaAv a V i sSuos Suiuirnqo pu'B i;n^aq 2 A Jiaq; jo ;unoooi2 uo 'spi-Buiiaui aq; iojiC;QBI;md ap;i| • * ; p j uaAa pu^ 'saiuAvoiq aq; pu'B saiii^j aq; paAOj B 'ps^oojjus Xjmau [i;un sp-Baq mo iaAO u ^ i p saq;op-paq aq; q;iAV UIBJ OAV aA^q ua;jo 'niW ou^s -apiqX jo J^ipaj aq; 10 'Bioy; jo pi«j\[ aq; 'a^AvaQ 81 'Hdqdiuwd IWDUUQ •I-BOSQ UB3 -uiiq q ; m puads j pip X^p pu-B ;qSiu M d i q v Xu^ui puis 'Avo^aj-paq siq aq o; pa;;iraiad 'aSm o; aui papBnsiad aq qoiq^v ';sanbai uavo iCui ;b 's^av J -aji[ uAio Am s^ uiiq paAOj j ioj ' u i a ; ; ^ 13 aiu o; s«a\ pip 10 piBS imounQ ;-Bq; 'paapuj *ara^s aq; jo auo ;oS j |i;un ao^ad aA'Bq uiaq; ;a{;ou ppum j ;^q; Suiuimqp os pa^ooj aq ssajp qoiqA\ ui i ;atiuoq puB^qSifj a^;;if ;muis -e unq ;qSnoq pu^ ';a^Sn.ip an(q ui ruiq paq;op 'uos imo itaq; uaaq p^q aq ji sb uiiq .ioj uiaouoa aui'BS aq; paj o; "pauiaas uoos oqAv 's;ua.it2d -aui o; pa;«adai tiaaq sam;uaAp« asaq; aA'Bq ua;jo ;nq < uoi;«iirapB puu .xapuoAi q;iAV paua;sq pu« 'l;md aq; jo s&mps j ^la -Aas ioj ubpuuq q;iAV asiaAuoo uisq; asp Suiq; Jim op XpaiBOs pjnoo 'm^noprnd ui fiaq;otu 'uiiq o; pui5[ os s;uamd £ui avbs j xiaiqAi Aot ioj ;daAv j puB ';qSis ;sig aq; ;i2 ubouuq o; ;in5[ s^At ;ieaq •uaas .iaAa aA'Bq j ^aypo pjt;n«aq;sotu aq; s-bai puB '^oau siq punoj mopo aui'BS aq; jo Sua ^ pu'B 'ao^j siq UAVop adn;s a;iqAV -b q;iAv 'xoj B jo mopo aq; ' pBq 'jpsuiiq s^ a&TB{ jCp^au s m mosQ *;*Baq Suipaj a^qisuas -b pu'B 'Xpoq iCq^aq 'B Sui^ads -aq/(nji;nBaq pue £ppm s a ao-Bj siq ;nq f ua;«aq -iaq;^aAi puB papna 'qSnoi s^av p^aq siq jo iiBq aq; i spaq siq o; Sunq cubui tmoiS-^nj b ioj apBtu uaaq SuiA-Bq qoiqA^ 'Xjuo ;bo0 ouo jo pa;sisuoo Suiq;op siq jo apqAV aqj^ ^Bp.ia;saiC jo suoip^sum; aq; s'B ^pAV s^ saou^;suinoip aq; j p iaq -uiamai j *asnoq s^iaqpj iCui o; auiBo ubouuq ;«q; ';saAiBq jo asop aq; ';qSiu Xurei -b uo s^av ; j •maq; q;m daap ppoqs Sop ' siq puis ^oq ;u«iBba -b ;Bq; asooqp sit2A\p ;ou pip s;uBAias aq; puis 'jpsuiiq iCq daap ;ou ;smp a j j "IpqdwoQ uvounQ �years 01 age, aner uemg uiiwen iscvwai uajo, he died one night below his master's bed. On the evening before, when Duncan came in from the plough, he came from his hiding-place, wagged his tail, licked Duncan's hand, and returned to his death-bed. Duncan and I lamented him with unfeigned sorrow, buried him below the old rowan tree at the back of my father's garden, placing a square stone at his head, which was still standing the last time I was there. With great labour we composed an epitaph between us, which was once carved on that stone : the metre was good, but the stone was so hard, and the engraving so faint, that the characters, like those of our early joys, are long ago defaced and extinct. Often have I heard my mother relate with enthusiasm, the manner in which she and my father first discovered the dawnings of goodness and facility of conception in Duncan's mind, though, I confess, dearly as I loved him, these circumstances escaped my observation. It was my father's invariable custom to pray with the family every night before they retired to rest, to thank the Almighty for his kind- Avopq ajpunq siq spo; aq <;:redap o; APBai sba aq 'daajSB ;SBJ aq o; papua;aid ;nq 'Suqquiai; puB 3ui;uBd £bj j -unq q ; m Aimo o; sapi;iB aj;;q auios du pa^oBd puB <;ras ;saq siq uo ;nd ^iBa asoi UBOUUQ f ;q£iu ssapsai B ia;JB 'Suiuiora ;xau aqj, •diqsioAV SuiuaAa J J iaq;a8 O o; payjBO aiaAV ^ j i u i b j aq; fi;un pansua aouaps puB 'UIOOI aq; ;ja[ UIBSB £IBJ\[ (-t\oA ;aSioj uoos os ;ou IJIAV OQAV sn SUOUIB auios aiB aiaq; ;nq i UBOUUQ fsn P S J O J uoos \\ija uo^, <piBS iaq;BJ Af^ -ua^us jp2 [H;s aiaAV a v fSuiuaAa aq; ui UIBSB ;am a V uaq^A A A •aouaps ui dn a^ojq £;iBd aj;;i[ .mo puB 'apBui Aimbui iaq;mj XUB IOU <pau.m;ai SBAV jaAvsuB OJSJ -uiooi —sa^Bd aq; jaAO paipoj puB fAvopuiA\ aq; uo £ J ;Bq; :spoq B dn }po;—AJQB; aq; jo ajppiui B aq; o;ui uiiq aiojaq raoij a;Bjd aq; ;smq; u b o u u q u .iaq;aSo;[B su aABaj ;ou JJIAV uoi adoq j ;uq tfa.iqj -aq no A 5[SB ;smp laAau j "UBOUUQ, 'saXa iaq uio.ij Suiddoip sxBa; aq; puB 'Suuajpj aoioA .iaq <aqs piBS / U B O U U Q y—-a;uuim B JO aoBds aq; JOJ aoBj aq; ui jCppBa;s unq paspoj aqs : puBq sc.iaq;ora £ra KXOJJ IPJ 9q,L 'UBOUUQ piBS / l l g fA\0II0Ul-0) fvVAW SuioS JO Sui^uiq; UIB J , J UBOUUQ "UOOS SU aABaj o; pua;ui ;ou op no A adoq j,—piBS jaq;BjiCm ' a s n B c I uajps puB 2uo\ B ja;jB caun; iauuip ;B ^BP axiQ •£rej\[ ia;sis Am jo asoq; ipiA\ paiBduioo uaqAV <£uiq;ou "iaAaA\oq faiaAv sSuiiaaj J O \iy U -;iBaq ;B 3pis ara apBui puauj .iBap Aui rao.ij pa;BiBdas Suiaq jo s;qSuoq; aq; .ioj atuoq ua\o iiaq; ;B piB;s pBq iaq; ;Bq; 10 "uioq uaaq .laAau pi?q $dijjdu aq; ;Bq; paqsm j <;iBd Jim 1 0 ^ •Sui;JBCI j o ^api aq; pauiB;.ia;ua aouo jaAau Xaq; "asuoq juo o; aiuBO sdindu ^uvjdou O V aq; qoiqAV uo ;Bq; o; tf;aui A; ;SIIJ i a q ; iBp aq; moij ;Bq; "aAaqaq ipuouas j piiB f UAVO iiaq; jo uos B SB auiooaq OSb Suo\ pBq aq" JOJ "uiiq q;iAV Sui;iBd ;B a;B{osuoosip aiaAV iaq; ;ai "aim; -jojpooS S 4 UBOUUQ UI paoiofai i^uiB;j:ao s;uaiBd i p j •uiiq jaAoosip ppioo ;Bq; uosiad A B O; paiaj|o uaaq U U81tA\ 61 J2 'ipqdwvj uvoiinQ in the dark, or any sudden noise, always deprives him of the power of speech for some time. After leaving Dewar, he went wandering about for a few weeks; and it appears that his youth, beauty, and peculiarly destitute situation, together with his friendship for his faithful Oscar, had interested the most part of the country people in his behalf, for he was generally treated with kindness. He knew his father's name, and the name of his house : but as none of the people he visited had ever before , heard of either the one or the other, they gave themselves no trouble about the matter. He staid nearly two years in a place he called Cowhaur, till a wretch, with whom he slept, struck and abused him one day. Duncan, in a rage, flew to the loft, and cut all his Sunday hat, shoes, and coat, in pieces ; and not daring to abide the consequences, decamped that night. He wandered about for some time longer among the farmers of Tweed and Yarrow ; but this life was now become exceedingly disagreeable to him. siq ; d a ^ ;uq (\\i%s poo;s i i b o u u q -uiiq o; SuixBp ;noq;m f ; u B i i ; siq jo s p a q a q ; ; b jCbavb pa.ia§&B;s puB 'paiaAooai j e l u i u b aqj^ •aussi aq; aq ppoAV ;i3qAV aas o; i[;uai;Bd pa;iBAV "Sop siq ;uoq;iA\. aj;;i| op ppoo aq ;Bq; S u m o i q 'iiBui aq; puB "q;Baiq siq laAooai ;q8iui aq ;Bq; pi2aq s(,a;ijnoA'Bj siq dn p p q a j j -uiiq ipiiB; ~.iao ppioAY aq u b u i Siq 12 AvaiS j p s r a i q aq iaAa ji ;Bq; puB *a;niq pnio « s b j a aq ;Bq; u b u i aq; S u q p ; f c p u B ipa;;iq SuidaaAV uoi;oB jo auaos aq; o; pa;sBq a | l j q p jo ;soui uiiq pa^ooqs i;iJBqiBq pa;iiaui -uu siq; ;uq ^ u b o u u q iood j o sifrnpaj aq; punoAS. o; pauiquioo pamaas aou«;sranoip a^qissod iiaAg •;aaj siq ; b ssapsuas aq f ^ b ; s ^oiq; -b q;m miq 5[om;s suoi;Boaidmi jCubui paxtj saia puiqaq ijooj S u u a ; ; n puB c iBa a q ; i q miq j o p p q ppq ;uBSBad aq; ;uq ^auu«ui Suuo^dmi puB aAissimqus ;sora aq; in q ; i B a aq; o; paiaiwoo j b o s q 'mi\{ ;aaui o; spBq Suiuuui amBo pu-B ^adBosa siq ;oajp o; pa;uBM aq paui^Buii c^OBq 5[oo^ puB iaSui^ o; raiq SuiAiasqo oq^ <ria;sBui Suipajun siq ia;jB ipuB;onpi Xbavb paduiq aq ^iaqosipo; Suii-Baj ; u q fpa^qmaiqriBOSQ qpo ipns puB pnoj - i q p^iuBduioooB tfpa;Bad b ~ai s b a v apsiqAV aqjQ /uBqjni u o i i u o j j am ;oa;oid ^ U B O U U Q O ^ 'SuiiBS Ji SB ^aoBj siq U I pa>[00^ puB f q S i q ; siq uodn pBaq siq pauBay ^mosoq s 6 ioq aq; o ; S u i S u i p puB 'punos a q ; Avau^; ibosq •pnops p a p s i q A V ;uBSBad aqj^ os ;ou u i b e*aiB u o i s b j ; u q c j p s i m ;Ba o; quinio -b ;ou aABq j , f a q piBS j,— 4 j . i b o s q -iood Am 'noA o a i S o; qmmo « ;ou aABq •aiojaq ; p j u n s S u i p a j q ; m ;iBaq siq paoiaid u i b S b qoiqAV ^s^oo]; s € puaiij siq ui pa;uiBd aiaA^ iiasira puB .laSunq ;Bq; paAiasqo uoos u b o u u q ;uq f s b a v slip uiiq; Supaara japua; aiora b aApouoo o; ajqissodini si ; j -jaAVod puB q;Suai;s ui uiiq o; loiiajui s b a v . i b o s q s b ^ i b o s q jo asoq; o; joiiajui s b aiaAV sSui -paj asoqAVjo aouapAauaq puB i;tsoiauaS aq; -jB^j ;b miq uap;s 10 ;qSnoq iaq;p pBq 'suiaas ;i *Hdqdhuvj w o y m q 9 Duncan Vampb elL you saw how my heart is sometimes wrung! Yes, I have had losses indeed." " You, losses!" said his spouse, " No ; you never had any losses that did not in the end turn out a vast profit." " Do you then count the loss of a loving wife and a son nothing ?" said he. " But have you not got a loving wife and daughter in their room ? " returned she ; "the one will not waste your fortune as a prodigal son would have done, and the other will take care of both you and that, when you can do neither —the loss of your son, indeed! it was the greatest blessing you could have." " Unfeeling woman ! " said he, " but Heaven may yet restore that son to protect the grey hairs of his old father, and lay his head in an honoured grave."—The old man cried like a child : his lady mimicked him—and, at this, his daughter and servants raised a laugh. " Inhuman wretches ! " said Duncan, starting up, and pushing them aside, " thus to mock the feelings ot an old man, even although he were not the lord and master of you all: but take notice, the individual among you all that dares to offer such another insult to him, I'll roast on that fire ! " The old man elung to him, and looked him ruefully in the face. " You impudent beggarly vagabond!" said the lady, " do you know to whom you speak ?—Servants, turn that wretch out of the house, and hunt him with all the dogs in the kennel." " Softly, good lady," said Duncan, " take care that I do not turn you out of the house." u Alas! good youth," said the old laird, " you little know what you are about; you are brewing vengeance both for yourself and me." " Fear not," said Duncan, " I will protect you with my life." " Pray, may I ask you what is your name ? " said the old man. " That you may," replied Duncan, " no man has so good a right to ask any thing of me as you have—I am Duncan Campbell, your own son !" " M«m-m-my DUNCAN CAMPBELL. ——^^o€xxg>og>o<i:i ! « • D u n c a n C a m p b e l l came from the Highlands, when six years of age, to live with an old maiden aunt in Edinburgh, and attend the school. His mother was dead ; but his father had supplied her place by marrying his house-keeper Duncan did not trouble himself about these matters, nor indeed about any other matters, save a black foal of his father's, and a large sagacious colley, named Oscar, which belonged to one of the shepherds. —With his garter tied round Oscar's neck, and a piece of deal tied to his big bushy tail, Duncan would often lead him about the green, pleased with the idea that he was conducting a horse and a cart. Oscar submitted to all this with gi^at cheerfulness, but whenever Duncan mounted to ride on him, he found means instantly to unhorse him, either by galloping, or rolling himself on the green. When Duncan threatened him, he looked submissive, and licked his face and hands ; when he corrected him with the whip, he cowered at his feet; —matters were soon made up. Oscar would lodge nowhere during the night but at the door of the room where his young friend slept, and woe befel the man or woman who ventured to enter in at untimely hours* �14 N Duncan Campbell. 5 a i erosity it would do honour to every servant of our own species to copy. Twice did he save his master's life : at one time when attacked by a furious bulj, and at another time when he fell from behind my father, off a horse into a flooded river. Oscar had just swimmed across, but instantly plunged in a second time to his master's rescue. He first got hold of his bonnet, but that coming off, he quitted it, and again catching him by the coat, brought him to the side, where my father reached him. He waked Duncan at a certain hour every morning, and would frequently turn the cows of his own will, when he observed them wrong. If Duncan dropped his knife, or any other small article, he would fetch it along in his mouth, and if sent back for a lost thing, would infallibly find it. When sixteen years of age, after being unwell for several days, he died one night below his master's bed. On the evening before, when Duncan came in from the plough, he came from his hiding-place, wagged his tail, licked Duncan's hand, and returned to his death-bed. Duncan and I lamented him with unfeigned sorrow, buried him below the old rowan tree at the back of my father's garden, placing a square stone at his head, which was still standing the last time I was there. With great labour we composed an epitaph between us, which was once carved on that stone : the metre was good, but the stone was so hard, and the engraving so faint, that the characters, like those of our early joys, are long ago defaced and extinct. Often have I heard my mother relate with enthusiasm, the manner in which she and my father first discovered the dawnings of goodness and facility of conception in Duncan's mind, though, I confess, dearly as I loved him, these circumstances escaped my observation. It was my father's invariable custom to pray with the family every night before they retired to rest, to thank the Almighty for his kind- Avopq ajpunq siq spo; aq <;iBdap o; XpBai SBAS. aq u a q ^ 'daajsB ;SBJ aq o; papua;aid ;nq 'Suqqiuai; puB Sui;uBd XBJ j -unq q;IAY £ U B O o; sapi;IB ap;q auios dn paspBd puB ^ras ;saq siq uo ;nd 'ipea asoi UBOUUQ c;q£iu ssapsai B ia;JB 'Suiuioui ;xau aqj, •diqsiOAY BuraaAa J J iaq;aS O o; pajpaa aiaAV XJIUIBJ aq; p;un pansua aauaps puB 'raooi aq; ;ja[ UIBSB JCIBJ\[ e-no£ ;aSioj uoos os ;ou jjm oqjw sn SUOUIB auios aIB aiaq; ;nq f uBaunQ csn pSioj uoos JJIAV no^, 'piBS iaq;Bj *ua{ps jp2 [ji;s aiaAv a v ^uiuaAa aq; ui UIBSB ;am a v uaq M A A •aauajis ui dn a^ojq £;.red ap;i[ ino puB 'apBui Xiinbui iaq;mj XUB JOU tfpaum;ai SBAY jaAVsuB OJSJ -uiooi aq; ;jaj —saB^d aq; iaAO pa^ooj puB fAVopuiA\ aq; uo X J ;Bq; ^ooq B dn ^00;—ajqB; aq; jo ajppiui B 9q; o;ui raiq aiojaq raoij a;Bjd aq; ;sniq; iiBaunQ d *iaq;ago;jB sn aABaj ;ou noi adoq j ;nq 'a.ioj -aq no£ ^SB ;sjnp laAau J 'uBamiQ, <sa£a iaq TIIO.IJ Buiddojp siBa; aq; pire <Sui.ia;p3j aoxoA .iaq <aqs piBS /UBOUUQ.,—*a;nuiui B J aa^'ds aq; I J aaBj aq; ui O O £ppBa;s raiq paspoj aqs : puBq sc.iaq;ora lux moij j p j ajimj aq£ *UBDUUQ pres / i i g fMonoui-o; £BA\B SUIOS jo Sui^uiq; UIB J , ^ UBOUUQ 'uoos sn ZAVM{ o; pua;ui ;ou op noX adoq j,—piBS iaq;BJ Xra 'astvBd uajps puB Suoj B ia;jB carai; lauuip ;B ^ p aiiQ •LIUJFT ia;sis Xra jo asoq; q;TAV, paiBdraoa uaqAV <£uiq;ou <iaAaA\oq faiaAV sBuiiaej jno \\y -;iBaq ^ais aui ap^ui puaiij .reap lui rao.ij pa;BiBdas Bupq jo s;qBnoq; aq; IOJ f amoq ua\O Jiaq; YJIB;S p^q ^aq; ;^q; JO f moq uaaq jaAan pt?q $9t)jdu aq; ;^q; paqsm j Xui 10^ -Bui;.rad jo Bapi aq; paure;ia;ua aauo jaAau iCaq; fasnoq jtio o; aiu^a sdindu 6uvpou O V aq; qaiqm uo ;i2q; o; c;aus A; ;SIT^ Xaq; X^p aq; moij ;^q; 'aAaipq ijsnouas j pue F UMO i p q ; jo uos B S auioaaq OSU Buo{ p^q aq ioj B 'unq q;iAV Bui;iBd ;B a;Bpsuoasip aiaAV jCaq; ;aI 'aim; -lojpooS S 4 UBOUUQ UI paoiofai i|uiB;.[aa s;ua.red XT^ •uiiq jaAoasip ppioa ;«q; uosiad A B O; paiayo uaaq U 61 11 The superstitious ideas impressed upon Duncan's mind by this unfortunate encounter with the ghost of the piper, seem never to have been eradicated,* a strong instance of the power of early impressions, and a warning how much caution is necessary in modelling the conceptions of the young and tender mind ; for of all men I ever knew, he is the most afraid of meeting with apparitions. So deeply is his imagination minted with this startling illusion, that even the calm disquisitions of reason have proved quite inadequate to the task of dispelling it. Whenever it wears late, he is always on the look out for these ideal beings, keeping a jealous eye upon every bush and brake, in case they should be lurking behind them, ready to fly out and surprise him every moment; and the approach of a person in the dark, or any sudden noise, always deprives him of the power of speech for some time. After leaving Dewar, he went wandering about for a few weeks; and it appears that his youth, beauty, and peculiarly destitute situation, together with his friendship for his faithful Oscar, had interested the most part of the country people in his behalf, for he was generally treated with kindness. He knew his father's name, and the name of his house : but as none of the people he visited had ever before , heard of either the one or the other, they gave themselves no trouble about the matter. He staid nearly two years in a place he called Cowhaur, till a wretch, with whom he slept, struck and abused him one day. Duncan, in a rage, flew to the loft, and cut all his Sunday hat, shoes, and coat, in pieces ; and not daring to abide the consequences, decamped that night. He wandered about for some time longer among the farmers of Tweed and Yarrow ; but this life was now become exceedingly disagreeable to him. paxij saXa siq ;da^ ;nq poo;s uBoun(j *unq puiqaq ^ooj o; BuiiBp ;noq;m f;uBiiC; siq jo spaq AQ^ ; B JCBAYB paia£BB;s puB cpaiaAoaai JBUIIUB aqj^ •anssi aq; aq ppoAV ;BqAi aas o; £[;uai;Bd pa;iBAV '.§op siq ;noq;m aj;;i| op ppoo aq ;Bq; SUIAYOU^ 'UBUI aq; puB 'q;Baiq siq laAoaai ;qSiui aq ;Bq; pi?aq s4a;unoABj siq dn p p q a j j -unq jjpi XpiiB; ~.iaa ppoAY aq UBUI Siq B AvaiS jpsuiiq aq iaAa ji ;Bq; puB 'a;niq p-nia B SBAI aq ;Bq; UBUI aq; Suijp; puB cXpa;;iq BuidaaAV tfuoi;aBjo auaas aq; o; pa;sBq Q¥l 'IF J° isora unq pa^poqs i;iiBq.iBq pa;iiaui -un siq; ;nq 'UBDUUQ iood jo sBuipaj aq; punoA\. o; pauiqmoa pamaas aouB;sumaip a^qissod IiaAg JTB}S •;aaj siq ;B ssapsuas XBJ aq 5{aiq; B q;iA\. miq 5pm;s f suoi;Baaidrai XUBIH Buiia;;n puB <iBa aq; Xq raiq jo p p q piBj ;uBSBad aq; ;nq fjauuBui SuTiojdrai puB aAissimqns ;soui aq; ui q;iBa aq; o; paiaAVoa JBOSQ 'tutq ;9Qui o; ^aBq Buiuuni amBO puB ^adBasa siq ; a a j p o; pa;uBiW aq paui^Biui f5[0Bq puB i a S u i | o; miq SuiAiasqo oqAV fja;sBm S u i p a j u n siq ia;jB Xy;uB;anpi XBAYB padraq aq 'Xaqosipo; SuiiBaj ;nq ^pa^qmaJt^iBasQ qp3a R\m& puB pno]; B Xq p^iuBduioaaB cpa;Bad -ao: S A apsiqAV aqjQ c *uBignj uoX uioij am ; a a ; o i d BV uBaunQ O * 'SUIXBS JI SB ^aaBj siq ui pa^oo^ puB f q S i q ; siq uodn pBaq siq pauBa^ 'raosoq s4iCoq aq; o; SuiSuqa puB 'punos a q ; Avau^[ {PAV IBOSQ -pnop PAPSIQAN. ;uBSBad aqj^ c*aiB noX SB \\I os ;ou UIB J ;nq tfjpsiui ;Ba o; qmnia B ;OU aABq J, f aq PIBS 6\ .IBASQ lood Xm 'r\ol 9AiS O ; qmnia B ;OU aABq j , — -aiojaq ; p j u n s S u i p a j q ; m ;iBaq siq paaiaid UIBSB qoiqAV 's^oo^ s c p u a u j siq ui pa;uiBd aiaA\ Xiasirn puB .laSunq ;Bq; paAiasqo uoos uBaunQ ;nq f S A siq; BV uuq; Supaam lapua; aiora B aApauoa o; a[qissoduii si ; j -jaAiod puB q;Suaj;s ui unq o; l o u a j u i SBAI s .i^asQ SB 'IBOSO jo asoq; o; loiiajui SB aiaAV sSui -paj asoqAV jo aauapAauaq puB l;tsoiauaS aq; ( ^ i i ^ ;B miq uap;s 10 ;qSnoq jaq;p P Q 'suiaas ;I B *Hdqdmvj WDdunQ 'Hdqduivj umun(j J2 Duncan Campbell. 9 Duncan Vampfr elL you saw how my heart is sometimes wrung! Yes, I have had losses indeed." " You, losses!" said his spouse, " N o ; you never had any losses that did not in the end turn out a vast profit." " Do you then count the loss of a loving wife and a son nothing ?" said he. " But have you not got a loving wife and daughter in their room ? " returned she ; "the one will not waste your fortune as a prodigal son would have done, and the other will take care of both you and that, when you can do neither —the loss of your son, indeed! it was the greatest blessing you could have." " Unfeeling woman ! " said he, " but Heaven may yet restore that son to protect the grey hairs of his old father, and lay his head in an honoured grave."—The old man cried like a child : his lady mimicked him—and, at this, his daughter and servants raised a laugh. " Inhuman wretches ! " said Duncan, starting up, and pushing them aside, " thus to mock the feelings ot an old man, even although he were not the lord and master of vou all: but take notice, the individual DUNCAN CAMPBELL. • wg o> > ><K <I •• w g^€ < ( o £ > Ii • 5 D U N C A N C A M P B E L L came from the Highlands, when six years of age, to live with an old maiden aunt in Edinburgh, and attend the school. His mother was dead ; but his father had supplied her place by marrying his house-keeper Duncan did not trouble himself about these matters, nor indeed about any other matters, save a black foal of his father's, and a large sagacious colley, named V • I. J _/» - �sbav '41—raooi aq; o;tit padda;s pue loop aq; pauado aq—sn uiq;iAY pa;uii2j s;maq mo 'Xi;ua aq; Suop 8uiqoi2oiddi2 sda;s;ooj siq pmaq a Y u a q ^ -asnoq ^ aq; o;ui pa;si2q puB 'asioq siq UIOJJ % q % padranf 'adBosa siq a^pra ppoqs io;qap siq ;saj piBijE 'laoqjb aqj, loop aq; ;i2 sasioq i p q ; j o asioa aq; pmaq a V q;£uaj ; y A -daaAY pui2 UAvop ;is ;nq $uiq;ou op ppoo aAv 'UI-ba sai^a^ua m o Suipuij os : ;uasuoo asiAVou ui ppoAY aq ;uq 'uAY0jqiaA0 ;SIIJ siq; ji;un jpsuiiq apiq o; jaq;^j Am pa;^ai;ua iaq;oui ... Maoqjo sfiJJiiaqs « Xq paiu^duioooB £auio;;e auios u-Bq; iaq;o ou aiaAv Xaq; ;eq; pauiaosip-uoos puB 'AYopum aq; o; paiimq « i °P eAV ll^s ;BqA\. „ 'iaq;ora A in p p s Jiaou aoi;snf j o siaoigo aq; am lapuoj^ „ -asnoq poqos SBja raiojs p p aq; j o sp-Bq aq; £ q dn ^qdrnqs Suipii auiB'j uara oAY; uaqAVtfauopaq o; ;saq SBAY ;BqA\. £ u i ; p s u o o '^Bp auo uiooi aj;;q mo ui £ui;;is |p aiaAY a ^ •aunjioj pauma-piBq siq j o ; m d ia;BaiS aq; aouo ; b ;so| 'paqsm; aAV uioqAV ' p u a i i j B JO apn;i;BiSui snoi;s -uoui aq; A(\ 'iaq;BJ <sn ipo;iaAO aun;iojsira a j q i n a ; aiora 12 uaqAY 'UBOUUQ JO S O a q ; I q paAiao S J - a i £ a q ; qoiqAY 'spoqs a q ; auiooiaAo s S u i p a j m o p«q X p o m o g 'asnoq s 4 iaq;«j Aui ;B OS ;OU SB S ; J - A. •ssaupBjS pu-B Ao[ 'Sui^s-Baj q ; m pajnj ~ n 8 I O J ° saS«;;oo p u B s j p q a q ^ ^unouro ;BaiS B o; spunj p u o s i a d p'Bq iaq;Bj siq 'a;B;sa m a p pooS B sapisaq ;Bq; 'paiaAoosip uoos aq puB 'UBOUUQ j o }iiauia#BUBui a q ; o; pa;;iraraoa S A S u i q ; <CiaAg[ BY cc j uos £[uo puB map Am | uos Aui punoj aA'Bq J IOJ 'I|t;iBaq aaq; ^u-Bq; 'aq piBS (6] uaA-Baq j o po£) q » -T0J uiosoq siq uo ;daAV u a q ; pu« ctfunq p a s s i ^ — ; q S u siq uo s a p u i OAV; a q ; Sui^oo|—-suopsanb ;uaiaqooui IXIBUI paifs-B pu'B 'paiaAooai uoos aq—SIUIB siq ui uiiq p p q uBOunQ -UBOUI aAispAuoo « q;iAV 12 uo ^OBq ipms pu« <ubui p p aq; pauirepxa w j uos £Z 'ipqdiavj uvjun(j 18 Duncan Campbell> amounted to the same thing. W e often compared the other girls in the parish with one another, as to their beauty and accomplishments, but to think of comparing any of them with Mary, was entirely out of the question. She was, indeed, the emblem of truth, simplicity, and innocence, and if there were few more beautiful, there were still fewer so good and amiable; but still, as she advanced in years, she grew fonder and fonder of being near Duncan ; and by the time she was nineteen* was so deeply in love, that it affected her manner, her spirits, and her health. At one time she was gay and frisky as a kitten: she would dance, sing, and laugh violently at the most trivial incidents. At other times she was silent and sad, while a languishing softness overspread her features, and added greatly to her charms. The passion was undoubtedly mutual between them ; but Duncan, either from a sense of honour, or some other cause, never declared himself farther on the subject, than by the most respectful attention, and tender assiduities. About forty years ago the flocks of southern sheep, which have since that period inundated the Highlands, had not found their way over the Grampian mountains, and the native flocks of that sequestrated country were so scanty, that it was found necessary to transport small quantities of wool annually to the north, to furnish materials for clothing the inhabitants. During two months of each summer, the hilly countries of the Lowlands were inundated by hundreds of women from the Highlands, who gartered small articles of dress, and of domestic import, for wool; these were known by the appellation oinorlari' nettles ; and few nights passed, during the wool season, that some of them were not lodged at my father's house. It was from tw.o of these that Duncan learned one day that he was the laird of Glenellich's only son and heir, and that a large sum had ey aq; f am;^ia;i{ j o qou^iq ^n^uiBp Ira ;nq f 3 -unj puB ;uB;ioduii ;soui;Bq; jo ipn;s aq; O ; ; U B ; S U I ara-Bs aq; ;i2 ireSaq pu'B 'poqos qsimd aq; o; ;uas J puB UBOUUQ 4SuiAuqpj ^aaAV aq; ';i2q; 'SEAV qoiqAV jo 9ouanbasuoo aq; i uoi;Bonpa jo £;qi;n pui2 sasuadxa aq; uo s;ua.n2d ^ui uaaAv;aq uoi^siaAuoo is paonpoid ;uappui siqj, -UIBSB P U « UIB8I2 unq o; ;i pBai o; Xpoq ^iaAa j o SuiSSaq 'mm siq A\opq ajqig aq; q ; m ;noqB Sui^pAV svm U^OUUQ jfep ;xa^j •q;Sua{ ;BaiS s;i j o Suipu«;sq;m;ou ';noqSnoiq; ia;di2qo q;og aqi p^a-i puB 'a^qig aq; pauado UIBSB aq 'pioAi ^ Suua;;n ;noq;iAV 'Xouaoap jo qa^aiq i;s^q siq jo ;UUOOOB uo paqsBq-B miq Supas ;nq 'aot?j S c U^OUUQ X|uia;s pa^oo^ iaq;Bj Ajfo ;;i ;noq-B pi^s jCaq; ;^qAv maq sn ;aj pu^ 'uo 08 'UBOUUQ piBS 'iig 'as-Ba^d x\oA JI 'uo 08 'uo o g -5{ooq aq; pasop puB 'iaq;Bj Aui pii2s 'puiui moA ^isads 'aoiAp-B a ';i j o .iapisuo3 -Aioqp s ^ a q ^ j Xui o; asop dn uap;s pBq aq 'auop j p q S'BAV ; I aia ;nq 'asnoq aq; j o apis iaq;o aq; uo pa;^as SBAV UBOUUQ ' ; I Suip'Bai mB§aq aq uaqAV f saSpn£ j o :spoq aq; j o ia;dBqo q;gx Duncan Campbell. 7 eagerly upon Oscar, and the farther he went from him, the more strong his desire grew to follow him. He looked the other way, but all there was to him a blank—he had no desire to stand where he was, so he followed Oscar and the drove of cattle. The cattle were weary, and went slowly; and Duncan, getting a little rod in his hand, assisted the man greatly in driving them. One of the drivers gave him a penny, and another gave him * twopence ; and the lad who had the charge of the drove, observing how active and pliable he was, and how far he had accompanied him on the way, gave him sixpence : this was a treasure to Duncan, who, being extremely hungry, bought three penny rolls, as he passed through a town , one of these he ate * himself, another he gave to Oscar, and the third he carried below his arm, in casp of farther necessity. He drove all the day, and at night the cattle rested upon a height, which, by his description, seems to have been that between Gala Water and Middleton. Duncan went off at side in company with Oscar, to eat his roll; and taking shelter behind an old earthen wall, they shared their dry meat most lovingly between them. Ere it was quite finished, Duncan, being fatigued, dropped into a profound slumber, out of which he did not awake until the next morning was far advanced. Englishnten, cattle, and Oscar, all were gone. Duncan found himself alone on a wild height, in what country or kingdom he knew not. He sat for some time in a callous stupor, rubbing his eyes and scratching his head, but quite irresolute what was further necessary for him to do, until he was agreeably surprised by the arrival of Oscar, who (though he had gone at his master's call in the morning) had found means to escape and seek the retreat of his young friend and benefactor. Duncan, without reflecting on the consequence, rejoiced in the event, and thought of c*auii;-£i2p aq; m jpsXui IOU ';qSiu aq; Suimp auop daapt iaq;pu ;smp ami; SuofB lojpire 'mAvaQ ;jaj j O ; ajqB S-BAV J S12 uoos s y 'iaq;o aq; 10 apis auo aq; uo ara IAAO SuipuB;s aq o; ladid aq; SUIUIS-BUII B^BAvp ';q8iu£q saiuo£I2 pjpBaip ;sora aq; paiajpis I ami; qoiqAV Suimp 's&gp AuBUI ssaujji I q pauij -uoa SBAV j qoiqAV o; 'uaqo;pj aq; ui paq aj;;q B aui apBUi s;uBAias aq; : iaAaj qSiq « ui SBAY J jfep ;xajsj •sarai; paipunq 1 j o spmAvdn j p j j ams UB \ pu'B 2 I 'asnoq aq; raoij spm£ paipunq « ;ou SBAV J 'sda;s OAI; £iaAa punoiS aq; o ; j p j ;nq 'uni o; pamoA-Bap -ua puB dn ;o8 j 'jps^ui o; aurBD j uaqAV i Suoj Aioq AVOU^ ;ou op j 'uiBaip j o pui^ 12 ui Au\ puB 'q;ma aq; o; ssajiaAiod 5[uns ;nq 'uni o; paii; J ; ;id - S B B ^mp AvaiS aui punoiB j p ;uaraora ;^q; IOJ f uiiq jo i\aiA ; i o q s tj ;oS J ;nq f £poq p^ap e aijq s^Ai a p j , 8 M UBOunQ 'a^q aq SBAV > pa5[oo| aq 'punoi paum; j uaqAV puB 'sp-Bq Am piBq Suipu«;s SBAY oqAY 'iadid aq; AYBS J a i a q ; pu« ';qSq aq; ;B t\oo\ O; ;noqB paum; puB 'piBij'B Suiq;ou SBAY J F ara puiqaq umq puB ';ooj ;qSii Am Xq �10 Duncan Campbell. Duncan Campbell. like a man dying, or a cow that was chocked in the band; but at length he saw him at his side one night, which so discomposed him that he was obliged to leave the place, after being ill for many days. I shall give this story in Duncan's own words, which I have often heard him repeat without any variation. ' I had been driving some young cattle to the heights of Willensfie—it grew late before I got home. I was thinking, and thinking, how cruel it was to kill the poor piper ! to cut out his tongue, and stab him in the back. I thought it was no wonder that his ghost took it extremely ill; when, all on a sudden, I perceived a light before me :— I thought the wand in my hand was all on fire, and threw it away, but I perceived the light glide slowly by my right foot, and burn behind me; I was nothing afraid, and turned about to look at the light, and there I saw the piper, who was standing hard at my back, and when I turned round, he looked me in the face.' ' What was he like, Duncan V 4 He was like a dead body; but I got a short view of him ; for that moment all around me grew dark as a pit! I tried to run, but sunk powerless to the earth, and lay in a kind of dream, I do not know how long; when I came to myself, I got up and endeavoured to run, but fell to the ground every two steps. I was not a hundred yards from the house, and 1 am sure I fell upwards of a hundred times. Next day I was in a high fever : the servants made me a little bed in the kitchen, to which I was coilfined by illness many days, during which time I suffered the most dreadful agonies by night, always imagining the piper to be standing over me on the one side or the other. As soon as I was able to walk, I left Dewar, and for along time durst neither ileep alone during the night, nor stay by myself m the day-time.' ness to them during the bygone day, and to beg his protection through the dark and silent watches of the night. I need not inform any of my readers that that amiable duty consisted in singing a few stanzas of a psalm, in which all the family joined their voices with my father's, so that the double octaves of the various ages and sexes swelled to the simple concert. He then read a chapter from the Bible, going straight on from beginning to end of the Scriptures. The prayer concluded the devotions of each evening, in which the downfall of Antichrist was always strenuously urged, the ministers of the gospel remembered, nor was any friend or neighbour in distress forgot. At one time, the year following, my father, in th@ course of his evening devotions, had reached the 19th chapter of the book of Judges; when he began reading it, Duncan was seated on the other side of the house, but ere it was half done, he had stolen up close to my father's elbow. Consider of it, take advice, speak your mind, said my father, and closed the book. Go on, go on, if you please, Sir, said Duncan, go on, and let us hear what they said about it. My father looked sternly at Duncan's face, but seeing him abashed on account of his hasty breach of decency, without uttering a word, he again opened the Bible, and read the 20th chapter throughout, notwithstanding of its great length. Next day Duncan was walking about with the Bible below his arm, begging of every body to read it to him again and again. This incident produced a conversation between my parents on the expenses and utility of education; the consequent of which was, that, the week following, Duncan and I were sent to the parish school, and began at the same instant to the study of that most important and fundamental branch of literature, the A, B, C ; but my jo ;qSuoq; puB ';UOAO oq; ui poopfoi 'oououbosuoD oq; uo Sui;oo]joi ;noq;iAV 'UBOUUQ • io;oBjouoq put? puoiij SUUOIC siq jo ;i30i;0i oq; >pos puB odBoso o; SUB9UI puuoj pBq (SUIUIOUI oq; ui {JBO SCIO;SBUI siq ; B auoS pBq 9q qSnoq;) oqAV 'IBOSQ JO JBAIIIB oq; £q posiidms ICJQBQBISB SBAV oq ji;un 'op o; uiiq IOJ XIBS -SOOOU i9q;iuj SBAV ;BqAv 9;npsoni o;mb ;uq -pBoq siq Suiqo;Bios puB so£o siq Suiqqm 'iodn;s SUOJJBO B ui oun; ouios IOJ ;BS OJJ -;OU AVOU^ 9q uiopSupi IO XI;uuoo ;BqA\ ui ';q£pq pjiAv B UO OUOJB jpsunq puuoj UBOUUQ *OUOS 910AS. 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SB I^siij puB JCBS SBAV 9qs 9uii; 9uo ; y -q;[B9q i9q puB 's;iiids i9q 'I9UUBUI i9q p9;o9jfB ;i ;Bq; '9A0| III X[d99p OS SBAV *U99;9UIU SBAV 9qs 9uii; 9q; Iq puB F UBOUUQ IB9U S U P Q JO I9pUOJ puB I9pUOJ AV9iS 9qS 'SIB9JC ui poouBApB 9qs SB '^i;S ;nq i 9|QBIUIB puB pooS OS I9AV9J j[i;s 9I9AV 9I9q; '^UJi;UB9q 9 I 0 U I AV9J 9I9AV 9i9q; JI puB ' 9 0 U 9 0 0 U U { puB '^;pi"[drais 'q;ui; jo rao^quio 9q; 'p99pui 'SBAV 9qg *uoi;s9nb 9q; jo ;uo Xpii;u9 SBAV '^IBJ\[ q;iAV ui9q; jo ^UB SuiiBdraoo jo >[uiq; o; ;uq 's;u9iuqsi]:duioooB puB iC;uBoq i p q ; o; SB 'iaq;ouB ouo q;iAV qsiiBd oq; ui SJIIS ioq;o oq; poiBduioo uo;jo o ^ -Suiq; OUIBS oq; o; po;uuouiB I 'jpqdwvQ uvdunq IS •HdqdiuvQ ui)dun(j Duncan Campbell. 81 23 son!" exclaimed the old man, and sunk back on a seat with a convulsive moan. Duncan held him in his arms—he soon recovered, and asked many incoherent questions-—looking at the two moles on his right leg—kissed him* and then wept on his bosom for joy. " O God of heaven !" said he, " I thank thee heartily, for I have found my son ! my dear and only son ! " Every thing was committed to the management of Duncan, and he soon discovered, that besides a good clear estate, his father had personal funds to a great amount. The halls and cottages of Glenellich were filled with feasting, joy and gladness. It was not so at my father's house. Scarcely had our feelings overcome the shock, which they received by the loss of Duncan, when a more terrible misfortune overtook us. My father, by the monstrous ingratitude of a friend, whom we trusted, lost, at once the greater part of his hard-earned fortune. We were all sittiner in our little room one dav. � 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 History of Duncan Campbell, and his dog Oscar, and the Courtship of Duncan and Mary; An interesting Scottish Tale. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923332033505154">s0384b17</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Courtship of Duncan and Mary; An interesting Scottish Tale. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Hogg, James, 1770-1835; Ettrick shepherd Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [ca. 1840] per National Library of Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 17 cm Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Oatley Highlands Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/bc2a52e8a42650c37e1fe9b0981eaf76.jpg 4bf14319f26250169945e81e9bffbc4c 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 1939 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ad617c6c0c8da7e360905ea96933a911.pdf aa0e565c106c0fb8fb2cc915f5e4dc29 PDF Text Text HIGHLAND HARRY ; T o which are ad Jed9 T l i © B r a e s o G l e n i f f e r , 5 The If gh land J e a n i e ' s Widow, B l a c k e'e, My Wife's a I Tin some Wee TRing THE ROSY BRI-ER. •' •fcL/i&GuV*; • " Frinted .for ithe Booksellcisi, ^ 828. �HIGHLAND HARRY. ' Marry was a gallant gay, I V stately strode he on the plain. But now he's banished Far away, 111 never see him back again. O for lihji back again ! 0 for him back again ! 1 wad gie a* Knockaspie's land, For Highland Harry back again. W h e n a9 the lave gae to their bed, I wander dowie up the glen, I sit me down and greet my fill, And aye I wish him back again, O for him back, &c. © were some villains haiigit high, And ilka body had their ain, Then I might see the joyfu' sight, M y Highland Harry back again* O for him back, &g. Sad was the day, and-sad the hour, H e left me in his native plain, And rush d his much wrang'd prince to jois ? But, oh ! he ne'er cam back agai®, O for him back, &c. �Strong was my . H a r r i s arm in W a r ; Uopiatcfied b n a' Culloden's plain ; " " But vengetoce marked him for her ain, r i l never see him back again. O for him b a c V & c . . f j -'t T H E B R A E S 0* G L E N I F F E R , Keen blaws the wind ower the braes o' Gfehnvffer, The auld castle's turrets are covered w? soaw ; How changed frae time when I met; wi* my lover Amaog the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw* The wild flowers o* simmer were spread a sae bpnny, The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree; But Far to the camp 1 they hae marched my dear T Johnnie, And now it is winter wi' Nature and me. Ttsen ilk thing around us was blythsome,and bonny, Then ilk fbing around us was bonny and braw ; Now naething is heard but the win* whistlin* dreary, A n d naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw ; The trees are a' bare, and'the birds mute and dowie, They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they Hee, [Johnnie; A n d chirp out their plaints seeming wae for my *Tis winter wi* them and 'tis winter wi* me. Y o a cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountains, A n d shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky br?e, While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flo^ded fountain, That murmured sae sweet to my laddie an' me : �Jt'g no its loud roar on tire wintry m o d s>well( It's no tiie cauld blest.brings the jtWr to my e For O gin f saw my. bonny Scotch c^lUn, The dark days o 9 winter were simmer,tof K>c, THE HIGHLAND WIDOW, O h ! I am come to the low country* Ochori, ochon, o c h r i H W i t h o u t a penny in my parse. T o buy a meal to me. i I t wasna sae in the Hijjhlam* hilfe, Ochoni, ochon, ochrie ! \ Nae woman in the country wide Sae happy was as nie.'t^V F o r then 1 had a score o' kye, Ochon, achon, ochrie ! 1 Feeding on yon h i 1 sae high, 1 And bringing milk to me. A n d there I had threescore o$ ewe^ Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! Skipping on yoii bonny knowes, A n d casting woo to me. I was the happ est o' the clan, Sai r, sai r, m ay I rep in e, F o r Donald was the bravest man, A n d Donald he was mine. Till Charlie he came o y e r at iast, Sae far to set us free ; M y Donald's arm wis wanted thea For Scotland and for me. �Their ivaefV fate what need I tell. Right to the wrang did yield, M y Donald and his country fell Upon Culloden field 1 Ochon, ochon, oh, Donald, oh ! Ocho^, ochon, ochrie[' Nae woman in this world wide, Sae wretched now as me ! JEANIE>3 B L A C K EfZ. fun raise sae rosy? the grey hills adorning, Light sprung the kvrock and mourned fae hit. When true to the tryst V blyth May's detvy mornin% My Jeanie cam linking out ower the green lea. T o mark her impatience, I crap 'mong the brakei*^ A ft 5 aft to the kend gate she turn'd her black Then lying down dowylie, sighed by the willow tr*e, u Ha me mohatel na dousku me. ' * l a f t thro* the green birks I sta* to my jewel, Streik'd on Spring's carpet aneath the saugh trc# — Think na, dear lassie, thy Willie's been cruel— Ha me mohatel na dousku roe* Wi* love's warra sensations I've marked yom impatience, L a n g hid'mang the brakens I've watched ydmr black e e ~ You're B sleeping, p^wkie Jean, open thy lovdf O e*en, u Ha me mojtajel na dousku me.99 * I am asleep do not waken me. �Bright is the whin's bloom, ilk green k no we adorma% Sweet is the primrofe bespangled wi' dew, Yonder comes Peggy to welcome May morning, Dark wave her haffet-locks ower her white brate*. light, light she's dancing keen on the smooth gowany green, Barefoot ind kilted half up to the knee, While Jeanie is sleeping still I'll rin and fport my fill, " { was asleep and ye've wakened me." I! 11 rin and whirl Ijer round,'Jeanie is sleeping found, Kiss her and clasp her fast, nae aae can see ; Sweet, sweet's her hinnymou !-— " Will,' I'm no sleeping now; I W S asleep, but ye wakened me,** H Laughing till like to drap swith to my Jean I lap, Kissed ber ripe roses and blest her black ee,. [is sweet, Arid aye since, whene'er we met, sing, for the sound 44 Ha me mohatel pa dousku me " J A M I E O' T H E G L E N . Auld R o b the laird o' muckle land T o woo me was na very blate, $ u t spite o' a' his gear, he fand H e came to woo a day ower late. A lad sae blythe, sae fa' o' glee, M y heart did never, never ken, A n d nane can gie sic j o y to me, A s Jamie o' the glen. M y minry grat like daft, and raved, f I o gar me wi' her will comply, But still I waana hae the laird, W i ' a' his ousen, sheep, and kye* A lad sa'e blythe, &c. �Ah, what are*silks and satins braw ? What's a' his waridly gear to me ? They're daft that cast themselves awa, W h a r nae content nor love can be. A lad sae blythe, &c. I cou!dna*bide the silly clash Came hourly frae the gawkie laird, And sae, to stop his gab and fash, With Jamie to the kirk repaired. A lad sae blythe, &c. Now ilk simftier's day sae lang, And winter's clad wi' frost and snaw, tunefu' lilt and bonny sang, Aye keep dull care and strife awa. A lad sae blythe, &c. MY WIFE'S A WINSOME W E E T H I N © . ^ She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonny wee thing, This sweet wee wife o ' m i n e . I never saw a fairer, I never loed a dearer, A n d niest my heart I'll wear For fear my jewel tine. She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing. She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine. �8 The The Wi* And war Id's wrack we sharp o % warstle and the care o't* her I'll blithly bear it. think in lot divine, T H E ROSY BRIER, © bonny was yon rosy brier, That blooms sae far frae haunt o s m m , And bonriie she, and ah how dear, It shaded frae the e'etiing sun. Y o n rose-buds in the morning devr? H o w pure amang the leaves sae But purer was the lover's vow, They witnessed in their shade yestreen* All in its rude and prickly bower, That crimson rose how sweet and f^itf f But love is still a sweeter flower. Amid life's thorny of care. Tfie pathless wild, and wimpling burn, W i ' Chloris in my arms be mine, And I the world nor wish nor scorn, Its joys and grids ?alike resign. FINI& � 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 Highland Harry; To which are added, The Braes o'Gleniffer, The Highland Widow, Jeanie's Black e'e, Jamie o' the Glen, My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing. The Rosy Brier. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1828 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923328603505154">s0385b07</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Braes o'Gleniffer, The Highland Widow, Jeanie's Black e'e, Jamie o' the Glen, My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing. The Rosy Brier. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a rural scene with two chickens and a cottage on the title-page. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/45c6551bb7114a15b209ca1b0fa61482.pdf 732e22420e0acb99858edb592f1bc0f4 PDF Text Text T H E H e n - p e c k ' d H u s b a n d ; OR, EASY JOHN. TO WHICHAREADDED, CUPID'S P A S T I M E . The S A I L O R ' S JOURNAL. The L O V E R ' S SUMMONS The S A I L O R ' S D E P A R T U R E . GLASGOW, Printed by J. & M.ROBERTSON, Saltmarket, 1802. �2 The H E N - P E C K E D H U S B A N D . Y O U N G men and wives I pray attend, while I relste my ditty, A wife I have, I do declare, (witty* {he's- neither handforne, good-natur'd, nor For better for worfe I took my wife, ail joys of life with me mifcarry'd, I eft-times wiih'd, but wifh'd in vain, that to her I had ne'er been marryM* O n Mondy morning, ere it is light, like a horfe then I do labour And when that I come home at nighr, madam's goffiping with each neighbour. The fire is oat* the bed ? s unmade, on her coming home I'm chfig'd to tarry* And when Ihe dotes, thefe words (he fays, I'll make you rue you e'er did marry* I am your wife, your lawful wife, to maintain me you muft endeavour. 1 call her jewel dear and wife, but all thefe loving worfls won't p t &fe'er# Then with a ftdol fiie combs my ears, my coat to the pawnbroker carries* J oft-times and mfh in vain, that I had ne'er been marry M. �C 3 ) On Sunday morning (he dots begin, , as foon as e'er her eyes a*e open, Come rife up John, and fetch feme gih-, dear me, I think you're quite provoking:, Your fhitten clouts I waPn and dry% rock the cradle, and tend the fire, The chamber-pot then at me does fly, crying. You dog, then take your hire* Fve got the cholia fetch more gin in, w hi I ft Vm gone then comes young Harry j My horns to complete is the next thing, 11 this is wedlock, then who would marry I T h e n I hurry'd back with the gin, thinking to gain my dear wife's favour* She calls me her contented buck and bids me drink to my neighbour. Then, from my fight* fhe fays, begone ; the Devil take both her and Harry, It would be well for EASY JOHN, believe me, I never more would marry* I C U P I D ' S P A S T H M E* T chanc'd of late a (hepherd fwain, that went to feek his itraying iheep 5 Within a thicket on a plain, efpy'd a dainty maid aftcep. Her golden hair o'erfpread her face ; her carelels arais abroad were caft % �, . _ ( 4 ) Her quiver Lad her pillage; place; her breaft lay bare to ev'ry blaft* The fliepherd.ftoqd and gazM his fill ; nought dnrft he do, nought dnrft he fay, WliiJft chance, or die perhaps his will5 did guide the god of love.ihat ~ The crafty boy thus fees hsr- fieep mhom if llie wak*ti he darft not fee ; Behind her defely ieeks to creep, Before her nap could ended be. / I b e f e come, he ileah her fhafts away, " and puts his own, into their place j t^ov dares he any longer fby, hut ere file wak.es> lie's "hence away, Scarce was he gone, bat line n^akefr, .. ZTLW fpies the fli^pherd jtauding by ; Her bended how in h:ule Hie takes, and at the fixnple fwain lets fly. Forth flew the flVafe., and pkrcV! his hearty that to the ground he fell With pain j Tet up a^ain forthwith he fltarts. tivA tU^he nyn^ph he ran amain. Amaz'd-to fee fo ftrange a fight, .{he (hot, and ihot but all in Vam : T h e moie his wounds, the more his mighty love yielded ftrength amidft his pain, Her'angry eyes were-great with tears, fee b h n r a her bands, flie blam'd her /kill, �C 5 ) The blantnefs of her fhafts (he fears, and try them on herfeff fhe will, •Take heed fweet try not thy (hafts, each little touch will1 pierce thy heart $ Alas! thou knew*it not Cupid's craft } revenge Is joy ; the end is 'fin-art. Yet try fhe will and pierce forae bare : * her hands were gloVd* but nevt hand, Was that fair.breafl, that breaft fo rare, that made the fhepherd fenfdels (land. That bread "Sie picrc'd, and thro' that breaft* love found an entry to her heart At feeling of this new come gueft* oh! how this gentle nyrapii did flart She runs not now; ihe fhoots no more; away ilis throws both feaft and b o w ; She feeks for what flie IhunM before, flic thinks the fhepherdVhafte too flow. Though mountains meet not, lovers may { what other lovers do, did they j •fl'he God of love fat on a tree, and laughM' that pleafant fight to fee. THE S A I L O R * S J O U R N A L 5 l p W A 3 ..poft meridian half paft four* by fignat ! from Nancy parted, At fix (lie lingered on the ihoie, wifcli uplift hands, and broken hearted j �f 6 ) At feven, while tautning the fore-ftay^ { faw her faint, or effe 'twas fancy. At eight we all got under weigh, and bid a long adieu to Nancy* Night came, and now eight'"bells had ruog, where carelefs failors ever cheerly. On the mid»watch, fo jovial lung, with tempers* labour cannot weary j I little to their mirth iodin'd, while tender thoughts rufh'd on ray fancy, And my warm fighs increa^d the wind, looked on the moon, & thought on Nancy* And now arrivM that jovial night. when ev*ry true-bred tar carcufes, When o'er the g r c g y i hands delight, to tofs their Sweethearts and their fpoufcs» Round went the cup, the jWt, the glee, while tender withes filFd rach fancy, And when in turn it came to me, I heaVd a figh and toafted Nancy* Next morn a florm came, on- at four, at fix* the elements in motion, PiungM me, and three poor failors more, headlong within the foaming ocean ; Poor wretches they foon found their graves^ for me it may be only fancy, But Love feetnM to forbid the waves, to fuatch me from the arms of Nancy. ' Scarce the foul hurricane was ctear'd, faarcc winds and waves had ceas'd to rattle, �( 7 ) When a hold enemy appetir'd, and dauntlefs we prepared for battle ; And now, while fame lov'd friend or wifci like lightening ru(Vd on every fancy. T o Providence I trafted life, put up a prayer, put up a .prayer, and thought on Nancy« At lait, *tw%% in the month of May, the crew, it being lovely weather, At three A. M. difcoverVl day, and England's chalky cliffs together. At fevciu up caannei bow we bore, while hopes and fears rnfh*d on my fancy, At twelve, I gaily jump'd aftiore, and to my throbbing heart preftM Nancy, THE LOVER'S SURCMONS, A R I S E thou miflrefs of my heart, and do not me difdain ; Come now and quickly take the part # of me, your conquerM fwain. T o you alone I am a flave, there's none on earth can cure, The flame that in my bread f have, for you | do endure. Com- now dear nymph and eafe my fmart^ of me your daHing fwain, My love for you within my heart, does coaliaiuly remain® �8 Now we m Hymen's bands will wed, -out hearts united he therefore, In love live without any dread, in joys for evermore. - The S A I L O R ' S D E P A R T U R E * F S E E, yiavj 9 the fails are all full, now I tvmft away to the fea, Let danger come when, how it will, I' 11 heave a fvgh only for thee, ' - AIL hardfhips 1'H boldly endure, if you Mary only prove true, When of riches I've gain'd a good fiore, I'll bring them all home lore to you. The heat of the Esft and the Weft, the cold of the North too I'll bear, Should war, Mary, pierce my firm bread, 111, dying* ev*n think on my dear* Think thou on thy Edward a^ray, a h ! have him for ever in The fhip ftiis, and I cannot rfayf one kifs mors, and now love adieu. ,» He's gone! njny Fete loeed his career, while I for Bis abfcnce do mourn, Day and night will 1 figh for my dear,, snd weep till mf Edward return. G L A S G O W, Printed by J.&M, ROBERTSON,Saltmarket, I Boa. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/2dcfc564946438d5786aaeea9dac454c.jpg 72ca6266e0930a07f505298cf788c74f 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 3254 Width 1891 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 Hen-peck'd Husband; or, Easy John. To which are added, Cupid's Pastime. The Sailor's Journal. The Lover's Summons. The Sailor's Departure. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1802 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923327873505154">s0389b04</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Easy John. Cupid's Pastime. The Sailor's Journal. The Lover's Summons. The Sailor's Departure. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource woodcut image ofwomen (2) chasing a man away with a broom on t.p. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed by J. & M. Robertson https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4de5af890f906c85307bdbb2f88d36e7.pdf c07634a0a806e4b2faaee38c93557bde https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5963f3f3485bfaeecf668e3ed9cce9b1.jpg 940e96c8f8b72a6c7090a87533f632be https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/7c699efffe73de517e27cb1701c2bab4.jpg 69f34cb03e8c60a6b5db84cde3463e2b https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d59f998fc2061a786a996be846aa05b8.jpg 2df05b3e1b9e3c96873e42be54b8aa49 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/520e281a49f1bc0964a09a09cf2e9f5c.jpg ab25a40eb706697df73d7ef0588360d0 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/2e436040bc50c3303f09e8f41abdfcff.jpg 26624ffbdf63ba48981ec0468184b5ac https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/2f385bb7336524ac9d2267236da32eeb.jpg 6ed140be33f72ef685a3941fb307c094 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0fd17eb1df1833367eb0ec6bb64725ec.jpg e8f7960e65ffd259d288011d634cfa05 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/8c79fe8789654a2298b648649164ae09.jpg d16d411b411f4a3a81003fe861900645 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 He comes from the Wars. Love's Young Dream, A Soldiers Gratitude. Father Paul. My Fond shepherds. King David was a Soldier. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133973505154">s0042b27</a> <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923327293505154">s0389b20</a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. bound collection of chapbooks (s0042b27); Chapbook #8 Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Love's Young Dream A Soldiers Gratitude. Father Paul. My Fond shepherds. King David was a Soldier 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 Description An account of the resource woodcut image of a soldier on title-page Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks--Scotland--Glasgow David, King of Israel--Songs and music. Songs Ballads Religion War Courtship Marriage Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1825? per National Library of Scotland Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> Abstract A summary of the resource. <p dir="ltr"><span>A collection of songs and ballads. &nbsp;The first is descriptive song of a warrior who escapes the field of battle to take refuge in a cottage and dreams of his lover’s embrace. The second ballad reminisces of the joys of young love’s passion, while in the next song a soldier recalls the beauty and love he has for his home. In another song, the life of a friar is described as a merry time, full of wine and nuns and other perks, while rather lacking in religious principles. Similarly, in the next song, a shepherds’ life is described as carefree, but the economy—and indeed everything—suffers when they fail to keep track of their sheep. In the last song, a soldier is rejected by a young woman due to his profession, to which he responds with a defense of all soldiers, citing King David as a role model. </span></p> <div><span>&nbsp;</span></div> Type The nature or genre of the resource ballad 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/65c00a9cd3d8776c5c967942920c3f1f.jpg 1ce4227104fc4086fde0282462588493 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 3120 Width 1832 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 two men dueling wearing hats and long coats https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b0a51037db2e30e567f74ca505a930ba.pdf 32bd63bf8fd02e92073893f50675b9cc PDF Text Text THE Haughs of Crumdel; Giving a full account of that Memorable Battle fought by the Great Montrose and the Clans, against Oliver Cronvwell; To wiiicb' are added, The Broom of Cowdenknowes, The Highland Plaid, STIRLING t Printed and Sold, Wholesale and Mtlail, b y W . MAGNUS, B o o k s e l l e r �T H E HAUGHS OF CRUMDEL, As I came in by Auchendown, A little wee bit frae the town, Uuto the Highlands I was bound, T o view the Haughs of CrumdeL Sing tanderadel, tanteradel, tanderadel* Unto the Highlands 1 was bound, To view the Haughs of CrumdeL I met a man in tartan trews, I spicr'd at him what was the news ? Says he, the Highland army rues, That ere they came to CrumdeL Sing, kc. Lord Livingston irode from Invernessj Our Highland lads for to distress, And has brought us a* into disgrace^ Upon the Harighs of CrumdeL Sing, &e. T h e English General he did say, - W e ' l l give the Highland lads fair play. We'll sound our trumpets, and give huzzaj And waken them at CrumdeL Sing �Says Livingstone I hold it best, T© catch them lurking in their nest, The Highland lads we will distress, And hough them down at Crumdel* - Sing, &c. So they were in bed, Sir, ev*ry one, When the English army on them came. And a bloody battle soon began* Upon the H a ugh of CrumdeU Sing, &c. The English horse they were so rude, They bath'd their hoves in Highland blood, Our noble clans most firmly stood, Up on the Hangh of Cromdel. Sing, &c. But our noble clans they could not stay, Out o'er the hill they ran away, And sore they do lament the day, That e'er they came to CrumdeL Sing, &c. Says great Montrose I must not stay, | Wilt thou direct the nearest may, For o'er the hills I'll go this day, And see the haughs of CrumdeL ng, &c. �4 Alas 1 my Lord you are not strong, You've scarcely got two thousand There's twenty thousand on the plain. Lies rank and file at CrUmdel, Sing, &c. Bays great Montrose I will not stayf So dkect to me the nearest way, F o r o'er the hill I'll go this day, And see the Haugli of CrumdeL Sing, & c . They were at dinner ev'ry man, When great Montrose upon them came. And a second battle soon began Uptrn the haughs of GrumdeL *Sing, &c» The Grants, .M'Kenaies, .and M'Kays, As soon's Montrose they did espy, They staod and fought M l manfully? Upon the haughs of CrumdeL * ' SiDgj The McDonalds they return'd again,| The Cameron8 did their standards join, M^Intoshes play'd a bonny game, Upon the Iiaughs of Cru^deL Sing? &<?*. �" 5 : The M'Phersons fougkt like lions bold, McGregors' none could them c o n t r o l , M'Lachlan's fought with valiant SQUU, Upon the haughs of Crumdel. Sing, &c, M'Cleans* Ml>O0g«!% and M N i e . % So boldly as they took the field.,: , And made their enemies 1® yield, Upon the haughs of Crumdel. Sing, &c. • The Gardens feoldy .did advance, The leasers fought with sword and lance, The Grahams they made their heads to danee? Upon the haughs of CraradeL Sing, &g. The Royal Stewarts and Monroes, So boldly as they fae'd their foes, And brought them down with handy .blowfr, Upon the haughs of Crumdel. |' Silfog, &c. Out of twenty thousand Englishman, F i v e hundred lied to Aberdeen, The rest of them they were all alain, Upon the haughs of Crumdel.j Sing, &c» A �€ THE HIGHLAND PLAID. Lowland lassie, wilt thou go, Where the hills are clad wi* snoW| Where, beneath the icy steep, The hardy shepherd tends his sheep ? Ill nor wae sh&ll thee betide, When row'd within my Highland Plaid. Soon the voice of cheerie spring, Will gar a* our plantins ring 5 Soon our bonnie heather braes, Will put on their summer claes ; On the mountain's sunnie side, We'll lean us on my Highland Plaid. When the summer spreads the flowers, Busks the glens in leafy bowers, Then we'll seek the cauler shed, &ean us on the primrose bedy While the hurning hours preside, I'll screen thee wi* my Highland Plaid. Then we'll leave the sheep and goat, I will launch the bonnie boat, Skim the loch in cantie glee, Rest the oars to pleasure thee) �- * ; <t ' When chilly breezes sweep the tide, I'll hap thee wi' my Highland P M d . : . Lowland lads may dress mair fine, Woo in words mair saft th&a mine^ Lowland lads hae mair o' art, A ' my boast's an honest heart, Whiik shall ever be my pride,— To row thee in my Highland Plaids Bonnie lad yeVe been sae leal f My heart wad break at our fare well £ L a n g your love has made me fain, Tak me—-tak me for your am? 'Cross the Frith, away they glide, Young Donald and his Lowland bride, T H E BUGOM O F C O W D E N K N Q W E & How blythe was I \ k morn to see, \ My swain come o'er the hill; He leap'd the brook, and flew to me, I met him w? gude.will. 0 the broom the bonny, bonny broom* The broom of Cowden kcowes, 1 wish I was with my dear swain, Wi* his pipe and my ewes. �v "' s I neither wanted ewe nor Iamb, # While his fipck round me lay, H e gathered in my sheep at night, And eheer'4 me all the day* O the broom, ^ e . He tun'd his pipe and reed sae sweet. The birds stood listening by 5 The fleecy flock stood still .and gafc'dL Charm4d \vf his melody. O the brotn% . ' While thug wife,spent' ottr time, % turns Betwixt O T flocks and play, U I envy'd not the fairest dame9 , Though ej'er m rich and gay. • @ the broQUI, H e did oblige me eteryiitnjT, • Could I m feithfu He-Male my ^ould I-refuse, Wbat'er Iw ask'd of me, 8 th# hxi'C'Ot lhv& hie. tba- I mssr hAtnt.ki .Gang heavily w^'rmmrgf. 3 m m m l lmtA th* kmimt mrntt^ that w«.born* ' ^ Tims. „ �• <01$ 'Suig 'ppsourjj jo sqBaigq 3q$ irodf| f'ppmtia^ jo sqSnsq sip uodQ S£?!!3[£ 3I3M i s t p Uiaip j o 31 ^m-uS Auuoq v. p ^ [ d saqso^uj.^ ? ' a a a p j a q y 0) p9|| psjptinq ^g&qsijgti^I puBsnoqf ( uw£ I 'ppusn/o jo sqSriBq aqj "O^Jl f«MO|q iCpu^q qjut n^op ®S80J pun s^B^aas 3l Qqx •ppumJQ josq^mnj qijj uod/j ^qSnoiq puy *X(jnju«ai p#0Bj iCaqi ss iCfp(Oq og es80ju0|^[ spjtvpuvjs j p q j pip guojam^Q aqj^ f'ujE&J ptUM1M jo iqSnoj $ w povjs -ibiqr 'Xdsa pip Xaiji QSOJ$UOJ\[ ** ' ' - -ppmsuQ jo sqBn^q O; iiod{| •ppumip jo sqSosq ©qj uodj^ .ipq} spurn iCaqj suiEqtuj) 9 '33UBJ ptn? piOiUS uoos opysq puooas * p a y ^qlilOJ SJOSV.JjJ QUJ, iH3qi uodo 6mm pip iCpjoq suapjoQ gqjk 'Sing usq^ £I4A3 Joinnp 3J3M, Xaqj, •l^piarLTQ, jo q f n B j j sq* oss p a y •ppmn.13 j o sqScmj 8 i 0 0 ^ 0 <PPPC (Avp S3LL*9U3 SLDIP OPT&UL P O ^ siq; o3 n j Iliq 9lP ? S 3 1 B 3 U 3QJ 3 0 1 0 ? aqj 3f003 iCaqj sv, i j p p q og 50A *||U1 | •pptuiuQ jo sqSnnq f quds uodjy auou HUM paubfioq- OM^ ^OU . # While his flpek round ma lay, H e gathered m my sheep at night, And ch^er'4 Me all the day. O the hrootn, l i e tun'd his pips and reed sae sweety The birds stood lis tiling by \ T h e fieecv flock stood still and gazU]t Charm 4 d wd his melody. O the broom^ if" _ While thua , • s ws spent our time, by ' *' timv\ S3I^J 'tj!«?!<! oq] uo puusnoq; i^asMi s^jaqj^ «pp>q suoij q^ii ^qgnoj suosjtaqj,^ a q x I neither wanted ewe nor lamb, OG SFEG •ppmn.13 ^ 3]tJ pUB 3UBTjt5A q^TAi iq&noj s^usqqoB'j, ^uojjuoo maq* scuqos s y li Apa^os 3A.no^ UO^F P I O ' J ; SS|Y THE -'Haughs o f C r u m d e l ; Giving a full account of that Memorable Battle fought by the Great Montrose and the Clans, against Oliver •Cromwell; T o wli'.cb are adfled, The Broom of Cowdenknowes, The Highland Plaid, Betwixt OUT flocks and play, J envy4d not the fairest dame? Though e^or so rich and gay. - © the broum, He did oblige m&'^mtf hvvv9 Coald I W i f4t]vfuiM 1 , He $ioh my • c?ould I Tefost, What 4 ?? he of me, • © th« broc'iv&o* HfU'd fate that I mast Wfiteh^ heavily and fh.ar evor yet bor?;V • STIRLING; , Printed and Bold, Wholesale and Mdail, nsw, fey W . MAGKIB, B o o k s e l l e r �Sn!g •S9AV9 £ui puu 9(Iid Siq tpiii 8BM J IjSIM J •[spmiuj) ^ tuaq* U^EAI p a y fiTZ2nq 9atH puir 'sp^uinaj mo punos [{^Al 6 i«id arej spt?[ pu«|qf i j i sq> 9aiS ^ 'Xtrs p;p sq pjjftto*) 9q;£ uspMOf) jo ttiod.iq oqg, <KK>Qjq /Cuuoq 'iuuoq 9q* uioojq 9qj q •j]m-apriS ,uv uirq j «9tti o* M9g p.HB ^ooiq oq* ajl T TJIQ S Q ] J 9 , O 8 U I 0 0 UIBMS <3 as 05 tuotu 1 •pptunJEj) jo sq^jiBjj 9qj uodQ -'j3&i$stp-o),gi. so ?qStiojq s^q puy i s»aj;sip oj JOJ sptq put?[qSi|^[ atiQ 'SS91U9AUJ IUOJJ 9poar uojsSotai'j paorj[ XJ^ eq;iC{q MOjf • s m o N m a a A v o o J O MOOMS H I L L VPITFJ PTMJMORJ s i q P « B *9PR[S * OQI SSOJQ>4 . .. . i anoi aoj oai sra *am{ 9iu opwca s^q 9AOJ inoi SuBrj f (pA&nsj irio ^ 9 j q p*At _ *|T59{ 9B9 U99q 9At9iC OTUUOg; /M.l . / : SM9U 9qi St?Ai !)T?qAi Uliq *SA49JJ Ut^JB^ p439]ds I UBKI ^ •ppuitu^ j o sq^n«jj 9qy msia oj^ *paao<i s m j spa«[qSjjj 9qVo^«j[l 'aAiopuoqony Aq 01 'Yiawmo j o siionvH j sy j h x H^Ai A THE HIGHLAND Says Livingstone I hold it best, T© catch them lurking in their nest, The Highland lads we will distress, And hough them down at Crumdel* - Sing, &c. PLAID, Lowland lassie, wilt thou go, Where the hills are clad wi* snow Where, beneath the icy steep, e 7 So they were in bed, Sir, ev*ry one, When the English army on them came, And a bloody battle soon began* Upon the Haugh of Crumdel. Sing, &c. The hardy shepherd tends his sheep ? Ill nor wae sh&ll thee betide, When row'd within my Highland Plaid. Soon the voice of cheerie spring, Will gar a* our plantins ring 5 Soon our bonnie heather braes, Will put on their summer claes; On the mountain's sunnie side, We'll lean us on my Highland Plaid. J fpanoq s«ak J spu«(q§ijj 9ip oqiii£\ lppT8J9paB) pprana^ j o sqSaBg oqy M9TA oj^ •prgjj pu^q^rfj Km ui 93ip MOI o j ; — ^ p u u iCio oq X9A9 ^IHAi 'psaq ^sgtfoq s^sBoq, iCtu 4 y t o amu 9uq spu{ pu^iMorj f 9UUU }JTJS JIBOl SpJOAX UI 0 % >. i m » s & 9 j p i e u i sp^i pinqMorj 'opij9q; dggAvs s9Z99jq : •ppui013 0} 9U1B9 9J9 JtUf *3anj iuut? puiqq5ftj| oqj fiaq sAt}g PPSUC(J FOXW ' $ •ml The English horse they were so rude, They bath'd their hoves in Highland blood, Our noble clans most firrmly stood, U^on the Haugh of Cromdel. Sing, &c. When the summer spreads £he flowers, Busks the glens in leafy bowers, Then we'll seek the cauler shed, iLean us on the primrose bed j While the hurning hours preside, I'll screen thee wi* my Highland Plaid. But our noble clans they could not stay, Out o'er the bill they ran away, And sore they do lament the day, That e'er they came to Crumdel. Sing, &c. Then we 'll leave the sheep and goat, I will launch the bonnie boat. Skim the loch in eantie glee, Best the oars to pleasure theej Says great Montrose I must not stay, j: W i l t thou direct the nearest may, For o'er the hills I'll go this day, And see the haughs of Crumdel. ng, &c. <n � 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 059: Title-page illustration in a single ruled rectangular border of two men dressed in long coats and hats engaged in a duel. 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 Haughs of Crumdel; Giving a full account of that Memorable Battle fought by the Great Montrose and the Clans, against Oliver Cromwell; To which are added, The Broom of Cowdenknowes, The Highland Plaid. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923327183505154">s0390b05</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Broom of Cowdenknowes The Highland Plaid Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1820-1830?] per National Library of Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of two men sparring with swords on the title-page. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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. # of Woodcuts: 1 Activity: dueling/fighting Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1821-1830 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Fashion (Clothing): upper class Gender: man/men Nature: tree(s) Weapon: sword(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/73e392d57e889cf2bbb3ec4037d8cc03.jpg 05763b6f31a38588c49e5d634b658339 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 3250 Width 1891 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/25d65981af10e6fefa65f51958813b4a.pdf 16d0c45f8b8f372c941786636c1dff30 PDF Text Text Glafgowj Printed by J, & IVL Salt market, 1802. �THE HANDSOME COBLER, O U that delight In fcierriment, conte liften to my fcng, f f i s very new and certain true* you will not tarry long, Before you laugh y o t r belly full, then pray be pleagM to ftay, And I hope you f Il be well ple&fed, before you go away* ^ Y There was a Knight in Derby (hire, that had a handfome fon, He kept a handfome chancer maid, the which feis favour won ; They dearly levM each other, and oft would fport and play, T i l l he had got her belly up, pray mifed now what 1 fayIn tears to him fee told the fiory,, my deareft love, faiJ ihc, I am no lefs than twenty weeks, now gone with child to thee ; lit faid, Love, be contented, there all that can be faid, And do not let my Father know, next Sunday we'll be wed* But mind how cruel fortune, their ruin? ftrove to force, �T h e old man ftood in a corner, and heard their whole difcourfe ; Next morn he call'd the chambermaid^ likewife the youth his fon, And with a faiiling leering look. The tale he thus begun, And faid, I wills you both much joy, you're to be wed on Sunday ; But prithee now be ruPd by me, and put it off till Monday: It will be but one day longer, with that he laughM outright} But ah! faid he, Fit part you both, left it fhould be to night. B e paid the girl her wages, and home the girl was fent, And he confined to his chamber, in tears for to lament; Nest morning away to London, along with a fturdy guide, T o his uncle Vhoufe in Cheap-fide^ , and there for to abide. And as they rode along the road, he faid unto the guide, I'll give thee full twenty guineas* let me but Hep aftde, Becaufe this very morning; one word my Father faid9 The which I will remember, and keep it in my head. �( 4 ) The guide he then gave confent; # be went to his fweetheart Sue, And told her the whole itory, what he defign'd to d o : Difguifed like an old Cobler, with (ham old mufty beard, In a leathern old coat not worth a groat, to his Father's houfe he rode. He knocked at the door right hard/ his father thither came. He faid, Sir, Are you fuch a one ? he aniwer'd, Yes I am ; He faid, I underftand your Son, a wanton trick has play'd, Unknown unto your worfhip, and with your chambermaid* I understand fome money, Sir, with her you're free to give, T o help to keep the child and flie* as long as they {hall live ; And I'm an honeft Cobler, that liveth here hard by. For fifty pounds I'll marry her, if that will fatisfy* T h e old man faid, before then the money I do pay, I'll fee her fairly married* and I'll give her away : With all my heart, the Cobler unto the old man laid 5 J �With that he fetch'd the fifty pounds! the bargain it was made. When he came into the church, as we do underiiand, The old man ftrutted boldly up, and took her by the hand, And cry'd out, Heavens blifs ye, and lend you long to live, For, as a token of my love, thefe fifty pounds i give. And Co they parted friendly ; the old man home he went, T h e bride and bridegroom rode away to London with content; Where Ihe was fairly brought to bed, with joy and much content: A letter into the country he to his Father lent. ; Sir, I think it is my duty, that you acquainted be, There is a Lady in this city, that's fallen in love with m e j Five hundred pounds a year £he*s go!, all in good boufe and land And if you're willing to the match, come up Sir out of hand., The old man got h h coach, Sir, and up to London came, For to fee this fair Lady, of noble birth and fame j �( 6 ) But coming to his brother's h®ufe f this beauty for to view, He little thought this bonny bride s had been his fervant S u e ; With gold and filver fpangles, Sue was drefsM all around, The noife of ber portion fpread, of fo many thoufand pound : The old man calPd his fan afide, and thus to him did fay, Take my advice and marry her, my child this very day. That morning they were married, and dinner being done, •Jhe old man being mellow, the ftory thus begun ; Says he, Dear Son, I'll tell to you, nothing but what is true, A poor blinking one ey'd Cobler, has married your fweetheart Sue* t The young man ftept afide, Sir, as I (hall here confefs, 'And in a very little time, put on the Cobler's drefs, And taking Sufan by the hand, he fell upon his knees; Saying, Pa*don honoured Father, Sir, pardon if you pleafe* Sir, I am John the Cobler, and this is honeft Sue* �( 7 ) O h ! pardon us dear Father, becaufe I tell you true, „ If thou be the Cobler, faid the old man, that had the blinking eye, You've cobled me out of fifty pounds, a pox on your policy. The Uncle has perfuaded him, and fo did all the guefts; The old man fell a laughing, and cty'd, I do confcfs* That I cannot be angry, and ftraight thefe words did fay, Come, do, call in the fidlcrs, and let's be merry to-day. Thus we fee the old and rich, are bit by policy; For beauty, wit, and manners, beyond all riches be. Then drink a health to the Cobier, another to honeO: Sue, See every one take off his glafs, fo I bid you all adieu* C A N N O F G R O G . H E N up the fhrostds the failor goes, and ventures on the yard, The landman he who better knows, believes his lot is hard; Bold Jack with fmiles each danger meets, •weighs anchor, heaves the log, W �< 8 ) Trims all the fails, belays the (beets, and drinks his cann of grog Bold Jack,etp« If to engage they give the word, to qiiarters he'll repair. Now linking in the difmal flood, now quivering in the air: Bold jack with fmiies each danger meets, weighs anchor, heaves the log^ Trims al! his fails, belays the (heets, and drinks his cinn of grog. Bold Jack,etc. When waves 'gainfi rocks & quick fands roar, you ne'er hear him repine. Though he's on Greenland's icy fhore, or burning on the line : Bold Jack with frniles each danger meets, weighs anchor, heaves the log, Trims all the fail?, belays the fheetsu and drinks his cann of gro#* Bold Jack,eta T Y 8 U R N T R E E , I N C E laws were made fq* ev*ry degree. T o curb vice in others, as well as me, I wonder we han't better company Upon Tyburn Tree! But gold O om Law can take out the Sting, And if rich men like us were to fwing, * f would thin the land, fuch numbers to firing Upon Tyburiv Tree. Cl&fgow, Printed by J . & M . Roberfcfon, Saltmarket^ 1803. � 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 Handsome Cobler; or, The Father Outwitted. To which are added, A cann of Grog, and Tyburn Tree. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1802 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923326693505154">s0396b06</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Father Outwitted. A cann of Grog. Tyburn Tree. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a well-dressed young couple with another woman and a church in the background, on the title-page. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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. https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/021a757d183d922eceb1d8696f6d9507.pdf 41f2e4d79674108021d886ae97b152eb PDF Text Text GROG Row, Brothers, Row. ON A BANK OF FLOWERS. Here's to the Soger wha bled Glasgow—printed for the Booksellers. �GROG. A plague on these musty old lubbers, W h o tell us to fast and to think, And with patience fall in with life's rubbers, With nothing but water to drink; A cann of good stuff had they twigg'd it. Would have set them with pleasure a gog, In spite of the rules Of the schools, The old fools Would all of them swigg'd it, And swore there was nothing like grog. M y father, when last I from Guinea, Returned with abundance of wealth, Cried Jack, never be such a ninny As to drink...says I, Father your health; So I shew'd him the stuff, and he twigg'd it, And it set the old cadger agog, And he swigg'd, and mother And sister, and brother, And I swigg'd, and all of us swigged it, And swore there was nothing like grog. �3 'Tother day as the chaplain was preaching, Behind him I curiously slunk, And while he our duty was teaching, How we should never get drunk, I shew'd him the stuff and he twigg'd it, And it soon set his reverence agog, And he swigged and Nick swigg'd And Ben swigg'd and Dick swigg'd And I swigg'd, all of us swigged it, And swore there was nothing like grog. Then trust me there's nothing like drinking. So pleasant on this side the grave ; It keeps the unhappy from thinking, And makes e'en more valiant the brave, As for me the moment I twigg'd it, The good stuff has so set me agog Sick or well, late and early, Wind fouly or fairly, Helm a-lee or a wether, Four hours together. I've constantly swigg'd it, And damme, there's nothing like grog. ROW, BROTHERS, ROW. Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time, Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at Saint Ann's our parting hymn. �4 Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the day-light's past Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl. But when the wind blows off the shore, speedy, we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, &c. Utawa tide, this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon : Saint of this green isle, hear our prayer, Grant us cool heavens and favouring air, B l o w , breezes blow, &c. ON A BANK O F FLOWERS. On a bank of flowers in a summer's day, Inviting and undress'd In her bloom of years, bright Celia lay; With love and sleep oppress 'd; When a youthful swain, with admiring eyes Wished he durst the fair maid surprise, With a fa, la, la, &c. But he fear'd approaching spies. As he gazed, a gentle breeze arose, That fann'd her robes aside; �5 And the sleeping nymph did charms disclose Which, waking, she would hide. Then his breath grew short, and his pulse beat high, He long'd to touch what he chanc'd to spy, With a fa, la, la, &c. But durst not yet draw nigh. All amazed he stood, with her beauties fir'd, And bless'd the courteous wind; Then in whispers sigh'd, and the gods desir'd, That Celia might be kind. Then, with hope grown bold, he advanc'd amain: But she laugh'd aloud in a dream, and again, With a fa, la, la, &c. Repelled the tim'rous swain. Yet, when once desire has enflamed the soul, All modest doubts withdraw, And the god of love does each fear controul That would the lover awe. Shall a prize like this, says the vent'rous boy, Escape, and I not the means employ, With a fa, la, la, &c. To seize proffer'd joy ? Here the glowing youth, to relieve his pain, The slumb'ring maid caress'd, �6 And with tremb'ling hands (oh, the simple swain,) Her glowing bosom press'd Then the virgin wak'd and affrighted flew, Yet look'd as wishing he would pursue, With a fa, la, la, &c. But Damon miss'd his cue, Now repenting that he had let her fly, Himself he thus accus'd: What a dull and stupid thing was I, That such a chance abus'd ! T o my shame 'twill now on the plains be said, Damon a virgin asleep betray'd, With a fa, la, la, &c. Yet let her go a maid. H E R E S ' TO THE SODGER WHA BLED. Here's to the year that's awa, W e will drink it strong and in sma'; An' here's to ilk bonny young lassie we lo'e ; While swift flew the year that's awa. An' here's to ilk, &c. Here's to the soger wha bled, An' the sailor wha bravely did fa': Though their fame is alive, yet their spirits are fled, On the wings of the year that's awa. Though their fame is alive, &c. �7 Here's to the friend we can trust, While the storms of adversity blaw; May they live in our song, and be nearest our hearts, Nor depart like the year that's awa. May they live, &c. LOVELY JEAN, Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lass that I loo best; Tho' wild woods grow, and rivers row, W i ' monie a hill between, Baith day and night, my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flow'r, Sae lovely, sweet and fair ; I hear her voice, in ilka bird, W i ' music charm the air : There's not a bonnie flower that springs, By fountain, shaw, or green, Nor yet a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o' my Jean, Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde The lasses busk them braw ; But when their best they hae put My Jeanie sings them a ' ; �8 In hamely weeds she far exceeds The fairest o' the town ; Baith sage and gay confess it sae, Tho' drest in russet gown. The gamesome lamb, that sucks its dam, Mair harmless canna be; She has nae faut, (if sie ye ca't) Except her love for me : The sparkling dew, o'clearest hue, Is like her shining een ; In shape and air, wha can compare Wi' my sweet lovelv Jean ? O blaw, ye westlin winds, blaw saft Amang the leafy trees; Wi' gentle gale, frae muir and dale, Bring hame the laden bees, And bring the lassie back to me That's aye sae neat and clean ; Ae blink o' her wad banish care, Saelovelyis my Jean. What sighs and vows, amang the Hae past atween as twa, How fain to meet, how wae to part That day she gaed awa ! The powers aboon can only ken, T o whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me, As my sweet lovely Jean. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5d14f14bc93bdd347d695e60e8ce690e.jpg bbd206e2f6b3d9e3bf1d5d5d28294ca4 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 2902 Width 1773 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1342ba14f9a9a61e7213ff457964db4d.jpg d1c468a258bd3b34dd7733622c1dd549 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/90a1f6f921e0abf0d1db0edb751f4910.jpg 4653f49124cb0abfb57a54e166df559d 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 Grog. Row, Brothers, Row. On a Bank of Flowers. Here's to the Soger wha bled. Lovely Jean. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133973505154">s0042b27</a> <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923325443505154">s0401b28</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1825?] per National Library of Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of an emblem on the title-page Subject The topic of the resource Alcohol Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow 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 Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a><a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><br /></a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #4 in a bound collection of 37 chapbooks (s0042b27) 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9534a2cbcdd8547b73af8c7412e46365.jpg 738fb2c2f4282daa77b1820d185c2c7c 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 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c5e18c3dc742b3af97cab0981003f06e.pdf 29e7446270940f1c15c1d33e2d97d0cc PDF Text Text �T h e EWJE'wP the C R O O K E D H O R $ . Were I zbh to refeearfe, My ewie's pratfe In proper ?erfe j ' F-d Icnni it ant ES fond and fierce? ' As" ever pipers drone could biaw« , C H 0 R U S» The ewie the crooked horn* Wha .had kent her, eouM ha iwo:n f Sic a ewie ne'er was bom, Hereabout aor far awa% - She never needed t$r nor keiS, T o mark her upo hip or heel, Her crooked horn did as weeL So ken her by zmof them a*. the, cte. Sue never threatened f o b nor rot, -But keepit ay her am jogtrot*,, Both to the fan! J and to the cot. Was atver fweer t > lead or ca*. dHCauld nor hunger never dang her, 7 Wind nor ram could utvtr wrung her, Anes ihe lay an otvk arid langer Forth anesfth a wreath of fnaw. etc. When ither ewieS lap the dyke, And eat the kail for a* the tyke, .My ewie never play'd the like, ..But tces'd about the barn wa\ &c# �V o * A better nor a thriftier beafc, Nae hoacft man con'A wed hae mfts For filly thingfl^tenever mift. To hae ilk year a faub cr twa. the*. etcf The firft fhe had I gas to jock, To he to him a kind o f ftock, And now tht laddie has a fl?ck, Of tiiair than thirty head and t*a s &c» I looked ay at een for her, Left mifhanter ihouM come o'er her, Or the fomart might devour her* if the bcafty bade awaV the/etc* The ewie wi* the croaked horn, Well dcfervcd baiih garfe and corn, Sic a ewie ne'er was bora, Hereabout nor far awa\ the, &c® Yet iaft owk for a* my keeping, Wha cart fpeak it without weeping f A villain came t?hen t was fleeping, And iiaw my ewie, horn and a\ etc« ' 1 fought her fair upo* the morn, And down btnesth a bufhy thorn, ' I goLmy crooked horn, But n:y ewie was awa*. • t|ie, But an I had the lawn that, did ir, J have {worn as we!! as- faid it, Though a* the world had forbid it* \ I fiiou'3 gi*e his-neck a tUraw. the* etc,' I nfver met As fV?% (inzt fic £ turn • ! was'boyu* �, • C 4 ) , My ewie wi* the crooked horn, • Silly ewie ftowri aw a*. the, etc* O had {he die*! of q o a k or cauld ^ ' As ewits die jfhen they grow a\i!J, . It wadna beeri by mony f&rl^ , Sue fair a heart to natic a\ th^, tie* N >j For a' the claith'ihr.t we ha V worn, Fitac* her and her's foe aflep iliora . 'The lofs of her we cou'd ha* bore,. ' -Had fair lirae death ta'ea her a\va% L - But this poor thing to hie her life, > 'Aneath. a greedy viiiamVknife, i\n rral y fcarM that our guidwife. Sail never wia a' oan't ava» the, etc® t : OVii ye bards terv-'th Kipghorn, . Ca* af your onvfcs up and mourn, ' Our ewie m ' th£ eropked horn, ^ Is fiawji frae us and. feiPd ai-rd a f &c* ' • 3 v V t V AND. $ M R; X\ • c If • '# O heal a can d a bee had made, upon my' Kitty's face* Epjicy i*pen the pi «ce fee hid, and bade me kifs the -friacc. T B^aVcT'f oJicy'd, aadfrom the wound, iaibifahd bp.Ui i'ieerarill fnrart j •The horxyon, my lips I found, • -\the iU-g within j y k&tf. / if i �m THE > AJ L O R > 5 IN t|s W £ 3 T. \ he vhs neither rich nor poor, W^enafl his gold were g^ae nM fpc.dt, he 9 J coldly J go to fca lor more* His father being Safely ttefd* he lovM his mother as his Vth9 He did maimamjier gallantly^ this lovely -youth ho had no v>ife» 0 he was neither rich nor poor,* but ftiii kept company of t f e befl, * A briik young widow hom the ..more*-; theft words to him {he did txpref^ Young man I am in love with you, I never was the like before, An i if you let my love pais by, V*n lure that i for you malt die® 1 have fi^e (hips upon the Tea*, and they dre .loaded to the brim, I am fo deep in love mih you, 1 care not.whether they link or fwha. God bled you %pA your i'hips, he fai !, • and'all the men that *rt on board, May God in heaven be their guide, ' whether they fiii by wind or tide® A eiiain of gold Jove I give thee, ana round your acck pray let it he* �{ 6 ) And. every time yen; look an tfyat, think how you Hole away my heart. T H £ P I G E O m H Y tarries my love ? W Ah! whoitf does he rove My love is long abferit from ibe Come hither my dove* I'll write to my Jove* And fend him a letter by thee. T o hiin fwiftly fly, The letter mi tie' Secure to thy leg with a filing $ Ah not to my leg, Fair •'Lady, 1 beg, BtU fallen it under my wing* Her dove flic did deck, She drew o'er his neck* A bell and a collar"fo gay, She ty'd to his wing The fcroll with a fliing, Then kifs'd him and lent him av/ay. It blew and it ratn'd* T h e pigeon difdaiaM To fsek fhelter, undaunted he fbw, Till wet was his wing, , * • And painful the firings . So lieavy the letter it �( 7 ) ' He flew all round •Till CJoftn he found, Then ifercb/d on his hand with the prize, Whofe heart while hn reads. With tendernefs bleeds* For the Pigeon that flutters and dies. THE B I R D . A M E W - S O N G . ^ p H £ bird that hears her nettling feng, A and fiiee J road for food* Returns impatient through the Iky, to nurfc her called brooch The tender mother knows no joy, but bodes a thoufand harms, And fickens for the darling boy, while abfcnt fr.ra her arms. Such fondoefs with impatience join'd, my faithful bofom fire, Nor forc'd to 'feave my fair behind, the Q^ieen of my defires. The powers of verfe too languid prov*^ v'b fimiles are vain, To iljew how ardently I Ioves or to relieve my pain* The faint with ardent -zeal infpir'J^ for heaven and joys divine, The faint is not with rapture fh:\L more- pure, more warm than mins.,I take what liberty I d:ire% ^ 'twere impious to fay mere ; �x 8 v - ; Cctivlcy.iTry4orpii?jrs to ,*he fair, , tfc* Gojjdeis f -adore. THE \ t Z L 0"V K R ' S CHAIN, fa;r of ev^ry'chsrm, ' to r?*}i;vafe w!1!. *. \Yho1> ftrrJes can rz^t itfdf tjifarm, w».ofr frowns itMf can kHi : Say. \yi!t.vou dan the vcr/'^to hear, - v^en* * beaVs'no p^rt, An honed verfe that flows fiticcrt, and c?;:cIour from my'hqart. Or.eat is thy r a w r h^t greater yet, trarkmd it vmh fct en^rr?, If. a? all can roake'? m*>5 ' yeval! could, mike a rage : Each n W f h a th^iifand hearts might gain, for to beauty blind-? But to what end a prifoner roaae, uintk ye have ft*vngth to bind Attend the ccun'cV! of*en to!d,«. • > % loo often tokl m vaia ; Learn tbc be ft art, \}ya hrart to bold, and lorli th<* loves chain, 'Gar:/flers to little purpofe vwff., ;vdio lofo again as (aft *Tk beauty inalcfs the charms e^fnare, and fwertnefs. Makes it laft ,,. n . • • i m j B • i ^ t i . m m ««• Glasgow, Fruited by, j• & IC Rcbertfon, Saltmarkec. ffcoa- � 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 Goodman's Grief for the Ewie wi the Crooked Horn. To which are added, Sweet and Smart. The Sailor in the West. The Pigeon on an errand. The Bird. A New Song. The Lover's Chain. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1802 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923324093505154">s0407b30</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Sweet and Smart. The Sailor in the West. The Pigeon on an errand. The Bird. A New Song. The Lover's Chain. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a herder with two sheep and a cow on the title-page. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a> 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. https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ed958f19637504fd8fc9c6d730028faf.jpg 740be210470119a2512fc15c407939ba 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 3174 Width 2009 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 man wearing hat. He is standing in a field sharpening a scythe https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/3679c19386c207afd22cde7b97966360.pdf e193e19c55ebac1e0fb230eaeddda48d PDF Text Text FOUR Popular Songs. R O G E R AND N E L L Y . G A B TAR* Y O U R A U L D CLOAK ABOUT Y E . A LASSIE L I V E S B Y Y O N D E R BURN. LOW DOWN IN T H E BROOM. GLASGOW: , PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. i l �fl'IO1® M. B . v f r r r r • SONGS — — — — - 1 TAK* YOUR A^TLtt CLOAK ABOUT YE, In winter when the rain rain'd caulcl, And frost and snaw on ilka Kill, And Boreas, with his blast sae baulcj. Was threatening a' our kyrto kill. Then Bell, my wife, wha lo'es nae strife, She said to me right hastily, Get up, goodman, save Crummie's life. And tak' your auid cloak about ye. My Cruminie is a useful cow, And she is come of a good kin'. Aft has she wet the bairns' mou\ And I am laith that she should tyne ; Get up, goodlnan, it is fu* time, The sun shines frae the lift sae hie, Sloth never made a gracious end, Go tak* your auld cloak about ye. My cloak was ance a guid grey cloak, And fitting for my wear ; But now it's scantlv worth a groat, For I've worn't this thretty year, s m a L u a a a o e a -J^T Twai n �3 Let's spend the gear that we hae won* We little ken the day we'll die : Then I'll be proud, since I hae sworn* To bae a new cloak about, me. Jsrf^d aHwmow tiuiww >d oJ j fguoV! in days when our King Robert rang, His trews they cost but lialf-a-ci;own ; He said they were a groat too dear, And ca'd the tailor thief and loon. He was the king that wore a crown, And thou a man of laigh degree ; Tis pride puts a' the country down, Sae tak your auld cloak about ye. Every land has its ain burgh, Ilka kind o' corn has its ain liool; I think the world has a' gane daft, When ilka wife her man wad rule. Do you not see Bab, Jock, and Hab, How they are girded galiantlie, While I sit hurklen in the ase ; I'll hae a new cloak about me. Goodman, I wat it's thretty year Since we did ane anither ken; And we hae had between us twa, Of lads and bonny lasses ten. Now they are women grown and men, I wish and pray weel may they be; And why wilt thou myseV misken? E'en tak your auld cloak about ye. �, & j jC M i M M I Mj *^ M M gM \ 4 Bel! my wife, she lo'es nae strife. But she wad guide me if sli6 can ; And to maintain an easy life, I oft maun yield, tho' T m goodman. Nought's to be won at woman's hand, Unless ye gi'e her a' the plea; .Safe I'll leave aff where I began, And tak my auld cloak about me. LOW DOWN IN THE BROOM. My daddie is a canker'd carle, He'll no twin wi' his gear, My mither she's a scolding wife, Hands a' the house a steer. But let them say, or let them do, It's a' ane to me, For he's low down, he's in the broom That's waiting on me ; Waiting on me, my love, He's waiting on me ; For he's low down, he's in the broom That's waiting on me. My auntie Kate sits at her wheel, And sair she lightlies me, But weel I ken it's a' envy, For ne'er a joe has she. But let them say, &c. • �My cousin Kate was sair beguil'd With Johnnie in the gleii ; And aye since syne she cries, beware Q* false, deluding men. But let them say, &e. Gleed Sandy he cam wast ae night, And spier'd when I saw Pate ? And aye since syne the neighbours round They jeer me ear' and late. But let them say, or let them do, It's a' tine to me, For I'll gae to the bonny lad That's waiting on me ; Waiting on me, my love, He's waiting on me ; For he's low down, he's in the broom That's waiting on me. ROGER AND NELLY. 'Twas in the prime of summer time, Quite pleasing was the weather, Young Roger would a wooing go, By the consent of his mother ; So he was drest all in his best. Quite smart without a wrinkle, A rusty sword down by his side, Tied on with beggars inkle. �6 Then Roger call'd to his man John, Go fetch me out odd Dobbin, Comb out his mane, cock up his tail, That it may not hang bobbing. With a saddle-tree bound down with hay, Which is a thing so proper, And a patten ring, tied in a string Of linsey-wolsey cropper * Then Roger to his chest would go Straightway to unlock it, Three halfpence of old Irish coin He put into his pocket. With the bridle best, pick'd from the rest, Which he had for a,stirrup ; A besom stick he had for a whip, With half a yard of cart-rope. Then Roger rose and took the road, They took him for a 'torney, With his pistol long, it was well load, For fear he should be robbed ; And every little while he said, Come mend your pace, old Dobbin; Should night o'ercast we'll lose our road, Then let us both keep joggin'. Then Roger to the town did go, For his doxy to inquire ; Making a rout he found hereout, JSText door to the town-crier. �7 Then he s^id to his dear Nell, Let us in wedlock join,; But first tell me thy fortune. And then I'll tell thee mine. * I have a box without a top, A spade without a handle, A pepper box, an old cart rope, And half a farthing candle; A washing tub, a pewther dish., A pestle and a mortar, A leathern bucket old and good, 'Twill serve us years in future. ' . M erit * too cpb miU VI Besides, says she, it is well known I have great store of linen, Full forty yards of hemp and yarn, And all "of my own spinning. 0 then, says Roger, it's well known I've Dobbin in the stable* A pig, a calf, a crown and half, And a rare old kitchen table. '.oibfiifu ' mi T»f ffo'i haA Besides, says he, I have a house, Fetches fifteen-pence a quarter, An old bedstead without a head, And a pot to catch your water. Come, said he, my dear sweet Nell, Let us to church be jogging ; With all my heart, I'll say my part. Go fetch me out old Dobbin. �8 So then to church they did repair, And in wedlock's bands were joined ; When all was o'er, to bed they went, And now their toils are ended. A LASSIE LIVES BY YONDER BURN. A lassie lives by yonder burn That jinks about the seggins, There aft she gi'es her sheep a turn, To feed amang the brakens. Could I believe she'd woo wi' me, In spite of mam or daddie, I'd aften slip out owre the lea, An' row her in my plaidie. Her breast to busk I'd violets pu? That blaw aboon the boggie, And blue bells hingin' wat wi' dew Frae yonder glen sae foggie. Could I believe she'd woo wi* mef An' tak me for her laddie, I'd aften slip out owre the lea, And row her in my plaidie. I maun awa, I canna stay, Should a* gang tapsalteerie ; Should bogles meet me in the way, This night I'll see my dearie. I'll ben the spence and dress a-wee, Wi' knots and buglits fu' gaudy, For I canna rest until I see Gin she'll come in my plaidie. � 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 001: Title-page illustration of a young farmer sharpening a scythe in a field. 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 Four Popular Songs. Roger and Nelly. Goe tak' Your Auld Cloak About Ye. A Lassie Lives By Yonder Burn. Low Down in the Broom. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923317123505154">s0424b22</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Roger and Nelly. Goe tak' Your Auld Cloak About Ye. A Lassie Lives By Yonder Burn. Low Down in the Broom. 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 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource 44 is printed at the bottom of the title-page. Woodcut #01: Illustration on title-page of a young farmer sharpening a scythe in a field. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Wit and Humor Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Genre: wit & humor Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): bonnet Fashion (Clothing): jacket Fashion (Clothing): pants Fashion (Clothing): working class Gender: man/men Occupation: farmer Outdoor Scene Tools: scythe(s)