55 10 639 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ed91ec008af4e3104028ba42a7fafe3b.pdf cc5d74c53e9559330e21bb4be115a37e https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d4d9ab6c90c3fdd2a78527f534a43869.jpg 8f628cb398dc96f95a603a519521a3db 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 3549 Width 2186 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 Scotch haggis; a selection of choice bon mots, Irish blunders, repartees, anecdotes, &amp;c. Subject The topic of the resource Highlands Jacobites Religion and Ethics Wit and Humor Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland 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 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133913505154">s0221b12</a> '37' is printed at the foot of the title page Abstract A summary of the resource. A collection of humorous anecdotes, jokes, stories, epitaphs, prayers, and more, many of which feature disparaging remarks against Highlanders, Irishmen, women, children, the lower classes, and others. This chapbook is part of a collection that has been bound together in a single volume, most of which focus on the lives and history of notable Scottish figures. Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #12 in a bound collection of 22 chapbooks Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 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/40387bc5bf213d5ebedc536a0d24ab4b.jpg 1ca14166501778e5eecbba51d94c9e3d 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 1953 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/50c5af17bbdac9f0cba252c7e238744f.pdf 32ba359b598f50c426389b36209643e8 PDF Text Text CONTAINING AS SUNG BY WILSON, T E M P L E T O N , 8cC, GLASGOW PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. �A Highland laddie heard of war, And sae will we yet, Argyle is my name, * Bonnie Jean, Bonnie Lesley, Caledonians, brave and bold, Caller herriu', Ca' the ewes to the knowes, Connel and Flora, Donald 0'Dundee, Happy Frien'ship, How early I woo'd thee, I hae a wife o' my ain, I'll aye ca' in by yon town, My only jo and dearie O, My wife has ta'en the gee, Oh open the door, some pity to show, O poortith cauld, O Tibbie I hae seen the day............. Tarn Glen, The bonnie Scotch lassie, The broom 0' the Cowdenknowes, The bumper, The ewie wi' the crooked horn,.... The fair maid 0' Perth, The gallant weaver, The spinning-wheel, The widow sae young...... Tho' we ne'er should meet, Tullochgorum, Will ye go to the ewe-bughts, Marion, Wilt thou be my dearie, Young Jessie, PAGE ....••• • .i H3 123 H7 113 131 114 130 122 132 120 129 132 127 125 126 125 118 121 116 128 113 115 122 124 121 - 129 132 H* 131 133 127 119 120 �113 A HIGHLAND LADDIE HEARD OF WAR. Air—" Merrily danced the Quaker's wife Key-note G. A HIGHLAND laddie heard of war, Which set his heart in motion ; He heard the distant cannon roar— He saw the smiling ocean. Come weel, come woe, to sea he'd go, And left, one morning early, Lochlomond Ben and the willow glen, And Jenny that loved him dearly. He wandered east, he wandered south, But joy he could not find it, But he found out this wholesome truth, And had the sense to mind it: Of a' the earth, the bonnie North, To cherish late and early ; Lochlomond Ben and the willow glen, And Jenny that loved him dearly. -o®o— THE BONNIE SCOTCH LASSIE. Words hy A . RODGER. Music by W . I I . LITHGOW. LET them boast of their maids on Italia's fair strand, Or the green Isles of Greece, once so free, O dearer by far, in my own native land, Is my bonnie Scotch lassie to me. Though England may vaunt of her daughters as fair, Tho' bland Erin's beauties may be, Give me the soft blush, and the heart-winning air, That won me, dear Jessy, to thee. Let them boast of their maids, &c. In bright sunny climes many beauties I've seen, Of high and of humble degree, But in form or in feature, in mind or in mien, I've ne'er met with maiden like thee. Let them boast of their maids, &c. Tho* the mild blushing red from thv soft cheek had fled, Tho' grief had bedimmed thy bright e'e, Yet thy heart and thy mind, by each virtue refined, Would endear thee more fondly to me. Let them boast of their rnaids, &c. Tho* they boast of their maids in Italia's gay glades, Or the green Isles of Greece, once so free, Yet no more will I roam, after beauty, from home, But remain, my dear Jessy, with thee. Let them boast of their maids, &c. �114 CALEDONIANS, BRAVE AND BOLD. H ords by GEORGE MTARREIT. Music by T . COOK. Air—" Whistle o'er the lave (ft." Key-note F. brave and bold, Heroes, never bought or sold, Sons of sires who died of old, To gild a martial story ! Beauty claims the warrior's shield, In her cause the death-sword wield, Draw, and join the battle-field, On, on to death or glory ! Who would shun the glorious strife ? Where's the slave would cling to life. When father, husband, daughter, wife, For prompt relief implore ye ? Who would yield soft woman's charms, To bless a ruffian foeman's arms ? Perish the thought! sound your alarms! On, on to death or glory ! Here's the path to sluggard peace, Here's the haunt of dastard ease, That sinks to death by slow degrees, Unhonoured, weak, and hoary; But ye, who court a brighter name, This way lies the road to fame ! Follow, then, through flood and flame, And shout for death or glory ! THE WIDOW SAE YOUNG. Words by CAPTAIN CHARLES GRAY. Music by G . F . GRAHAM. MAY blessings yet fa' on the widow sae young, May blessings yet fa' on the widow sae young; Her hopes ha'e been wither'd, her heart sairly wrung— Ah ! 'tis waesome to look on a widow sae young ! Wi' a glance o' the e'e her misfortune we trace, In the cap that encircles her bonnie sweet face, That ance glow'd wi' gladness—how meek and resign'd, Though the shadows of sorrow aft brood o'er her mind. A few fleeting months saw her blythsome and gay, But death reft her loved one for ever away; O think 011 the anguish—the agony keen— When her grief and his grave-turf were baith alike green. Wer't no for her darling the widow wad dee, The bonnie wee bairnie that sits on her knee, That smiles in her pale face, and pu's at her hair,— But it's sae like its daddy, she canna despair. CALEDONIANS, �115 THE BROOM 0* CO WDENKN0WE8. Very old. Key-note D. How blythe was I ilk morn to see My swain come o'er the hill! He leap't the burn, and flew to me, I met him wi' good will. O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom, The broom o' the Cowdenknowes; I wish I were wi' my dear swain Wi' his pipe and my ewes. I neither wanted ewe nor lamb, While his flock near me lay; lie gather'd in my sheep at night, And cheer'd me a' the day. 0, the broom, &c. lie tun'd his pipe and reed sae sweet, The birds stood list'ning by ; E'en the dull cattle stood and gaz'd, Charm'd with his melody. 0, the broom, &c. While thus we spent our time, by turns, Betwixt our flocks and play, I envied not the fairest dame, Tho' ne'er sae rich and gay. O, the broom, &c. Hard fate ! that I should banish'd be, Gang heavily and mourn, Because I lo'ed the kindest swain That ever yet was born. O, the broom, &c. He did oblige me every hour: Could I but faithful be? He staw my heart: could I refuse Whate'er he ask'd of me ? 0, the broom, die. My doggie, and my little kit, That held my wee soup whey, My plaidy, brooch, and crooked stick, May now lie useless by. O, the broom, &c. Adieu, ye Cowdenknowes, adieu I Fareweel a' pleasures there ; Ye gods ! restore to me my swain, Is a' I crave or care. O, the broom, &c. �6 O, TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY. Words by BURNS. Air— InvercaulcCs Reel" Key-note Q. 11 I hae seen the day Ye wadna been sae shy ; For lack o' gear ye lightly me, But troth I carena by. Yestreen I met you on the moor, Ye spak' na, but gaed by like stoure, Ye geek at me because I'm poor, But feint a hair care I. 0, Tibbie, &c. I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, Because ye hae the name o' clink, That ye can please me at a wink, Whene'er ye like to try. O, Tibbie, &c. But sorrow tak* him that's sae mean. Although his pouch o> coin were clean, Wha follows ony saucy queen, That looks sae proud and high. O, Tibbie, &c. Although a lad were e'er sae smart. If that he want the yellow dirt, Ye'll cast your head anither airfc, And answer him fu' dry. O, Tibbie, &c. But if he hae the name o* gear, Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear, Be better than the kye. O, Tibbie, <fec. But, Tibbie, lass, tak' my advice,— Your daddie's gear makes you sae nice, The deil a ane wad speir your price, Were ye as poor as I. O, Tibbie, &c. There lives a lass in yonder park, I wadna gie her in her sark, For thee, wi- a* thy thousand mark— Ye need na look sae high. 0, Tibbie, &c. O , TIBBIE, �117 ARGYLE IS MY NAME. Words ly JOHN, Duke of Argyle. Air—" Bannocks d larley mealP Key-note G. is my name, and you may think it strange, To live at a court, yet never to change ; A' falsehood and flattery I do disdain, In my secret thoughts nae guile does remain. My king and my country's faes I have fac'd, In city or battle I ne'er was disgrac'd; I do every thing for my country's weal. And I'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal. I will quickly lay down my sword and my gun, An' put my blue bonnet an' my plaidie on, Wi' my silk tartan hose, an' leather-heeled shoon, An' then I shall look like a sprightly loon. An* when I'm sae dress'd, frae tap to tae, To meet my dear Maggie I vow I will gae, Wi' target an' hanger hung down to my heel, An' I'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal. I'll buy a rich present to gi'e to my dear, A ribbon o' green for my Maggie to wear, An' mony thing brawer than that, I declare, Gin' she will gang wi' me to Paisley fair. An' when we are married I'll keep her a cow, An' Maggie will milk when I gang at the plou', We'll live a' the winter on beef and lang kail, And we'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal. Gin Maggie should chance to bring me a son, He's fight for his king as his daddy has done ; We'll hie him to Flanders some breeding to learn, An' then hame to Scotland and get him a farm. An' there we will live by our ain industrie, An' wha'll be sae happy's my Maggie and me ? We'll a' grow as fat as a Noraway seal, Wi' our feasting on bannocks o' barley meal. Then, fare ye weel, citizens, noisy men, Wha jolt 10 your coaches to Drury-lane ; Ye bucks o' Bear-garden, I bid ye adieu, For drinking and swearing I leave them to you. I'm fairly resolved for a country life, An' nae langer will live in hurry or strife ; I'll aff to the Highlands as hard's I can reel, An' I'll whang at the bannocks o' barley meal. ARGYLE �118 OH ! OPEN THE DOOR. Words by BURKS. Key-note D. OH, open the door, some pity to show, Oh, open the door to me, oh ! Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true ; Oh, open the door to me, oh ! Oh ! cauld isfcheblast upon my pale cheek, But caulder thy love for me, oh ; The frost that freezes the life at my heart, Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh ! The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, And time is setting with me, oh ; False friends, false love, farewell! for mair I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, oh! She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide, She sees liis pale corse on the plain, oh ! My true love! she cried, and sunk down by his side, Never to rise again, oh ! BONN! E°JE AN. Words by BURNS. Air—" Willie was a wanton wag" Key-note, B fiaL T H E R E was a lass, and she was fair, At kirk and market to be seen ; When a' the fairest maids were met, The fairest maid was bonnie Jean. And aye she wrought her mammy's wark, And aye she sang sae merrilie; The blythest bird upon the bush, Had ne'er a lighter heart than she. But hawks will rob the tender joys That bless the little lintwhite's nest, And frost will blight the fairest flower, And love will break the soundest rest. Young Robie was the brawest lad, The flower and pride of a' the glen ; And he had owsen, sheep, and kye, And wanton naggies nine or ten. He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryst, He danced wi' Jeanie on the down, And lang ere witless Jeanie wist, Her heart was tint, her peace was stown. As in the bosom of the stream The moonbeam dwells at dewy e'en, So trembling, pure, was tender love Within the breast o' bonnie Jean. �And now she works her mammy's wark, And aye she sighs wi' care and pain ; Yet wistna what her ail might be, Or what wad make her weel again. But didna Jeanie's heart loup light, And didna joy blink in her e'e, As Robie tauld a tale o' love, Ae e'ening on the lily lea? The sun was sinking in the west, The birds sang sweet in ilka grove, His cheek to hers he fondly prest, And whisper'd thus his tale o' love : 0, Jeanie fair, I love thee dear ! 0, canst thou think to fancy me ? Or wilt thou leave thy mammy's cot, And learn to tent the farms wi' me ? " At barn nor byre thou shalt na drudge, Or naething" else to trouble thee, But stray amang the heather-bells, And tent che waving corn wi' me." Now what could artless Jeanie do ? She hadna will to say him na ; At length she blush'd a sweet consent, And love was — between them twa. aye WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE? Words by BURNS. Air—" The Souter's Dochter." Key-note Q, W J L T thou be my dearie ? When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O, wilt thou let me cheer thee ? By the treasure of my soul, And that's the love I bear thee, I swear and vow, that only thou Shall ever be my dearie: Only thou, I swear and vow, Shali ever be my dearie. Lassie, say thou lo'es me ; Or, if thou wiltna be my ain Savna thou'lt refuse me. If it winna, canna be, Thou for thine may choose me ; Let me, lassie, quickly die, Trusting that thou lo'es me. r �120 YOUNG JESSIE. Words by BURNS. Air— Bonnie DundeeKey-note E minor. T R U E hearted was he, the sad swain O' the Yarrow, And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr ; But by the sweet side o* the Nith's winding river, Are lovers as faithfu' and maidens as fair. To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over, To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain ; Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover, And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. Oh ! fresh is the rose in the gay dewy morning, And sweet is the lily at evening close, But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie, Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. Love sits in her smile a wizard ensnaring, Enthroned in her e'en he delivers his law ; And still to her charms she alone is a stranger, Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'. DONALD 0' DUNDEE. Key-note G. YOUNG Donald is the blithest lad That e'er made love to me ; Whene'er he's by, my heart is glad, He seems so gay and free. Then on his pipe he plays so sweet, And in his plaid he looks so neat, It cheers my heart at eve to meet Young Donald o' Dundee. Whene'er I gang to yonder grove, Young Sandy follows me, And lain he wants to be my love, But, ah ! it canna be. Though mither frets both air and late For me to w ed this youth I hate, There's none need hope to gain young Kate But Donald o* Dundee. When last we ranged the banks of Tay, The ring he showed to me ; And bade me name the bridal day, Then happy would he be. I ken the youth will aye prove kind ; Nae mair my mither will I mind ; Mess John to me shall quickly bind Young Donald o' Dundee. 11 7 �221 O POORTITH CAUI/D. Words by BURNS. Key-note C minor. 0 , POORTITH cauld a n d restless l o v e , Ye wreck my peace between ye; Yet poortith a' I could forgie, An't werena for my Jeanie. O, why should fate sic pleasures have> Life's dearest bands untwining; Or why sae sweet a flow'r as love Depend on fortune's shining ? This warld's wealth, when I think on Its pride, and a' the lave o't; Fie, fie on silly coward man, That he should be the slave o't. O, why, &c. Her e'en, sae bonnie blue, betray How she repays my passion ; But prudence is her o'erword aye— She talks of rank and fashion. O, why, &c. 0, wha can prudence think upon, And sic a lassie by him ? O, wha can prudence think upon, And sae in love as I am ? O, why, &c How blest the humble cotter's fate . He woos his simple dearie ; The silly bogles, wealth and state, Can never make him eerie. O, why, &c. —=o®oTHE FAIR MAID OF PERTH. Key-note B flat. Fern Perth, as I wander'd the meadows among. I siw a young lassie trip blithely along ; lie] figure was graceful, and in her light waist {* ortte dew-dropping roses were carelessly placed, the pluck'd off a rose from the stem of its birth, A d cried," Take this rose from the fair maid of Perth." n She pluck'd off a rose, &c. I told her I loved her sincerely; and then i promised at moonlight to meet her again; And we met where the burnies all silently glide, And I told her I'd make her my ain bonnie bride : Andjmy vow I will keep, for beauty and worth Arehiine, if I marry the fair maid of Perth. �122 CA' THE EWES TO THE KNOWES, Author tmknown. Key-note B minor. CA* the ewes to the knowes, Ca* them whare the heather grows, Ca' them whare the burnie rows, My bonnie dearie. As I gaed down the water side, There I met my shepherd lad, He row'd me sweetly in his plaid, And ca'd me his dearie. Will ye gang down the waterside, And see the waves sae gently glide, Beneath the hazels spreading wide ? The moon it shines fu' clearly. Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet, Cauf leather shoon to thy white feet, And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep ; And ye shall be my dearie. If ye'll but stand to what ye've said, I'll gang wi' you, my shepherd lad ; And ye may rowe me in your plaid, And I shall be your dearie. While waters wimple to the sea, W»hile day blinks in the lift sae hie, Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e, Ye shall be my dearie. — —=D@C=— THE BUMPER. Words by J O H N DONALD CARRICE:. S O M E rail against drinking, and say 'tis a sin To tipple the juice of the vine ; But as 'tis allow'd that we all have our faults, 1 wish no other fault may be mine. But mark me, good fellows, I don't mean to say, That always to tipple is right; But 'tis wisdom to drown the dull cares of the day, In a bowl with old cronies at night. How soothing it is when we bumper it up, To a friend on a far distant shore, Or how sweetly it tastes, when we flavour the cup, With the name of the maid we adore ! Then here's to the maid, and here's to the friend, May they always prove true to their plight; May their days glide as smooth and as merrily rouni, As the bumpers we pledge them to-night. �123 AND SAE WILL WE YET, Words by W A L T E R WATSON. SIT ye down here, my cronies, and gie me your crack, Let the win' tak* the care o' this life on its back ; Our hearts to despondency we never will submit, For we've aye been provided for, and sae will we yet. And sae will we yet, &c. Let the miser delight in the hoarding of pelf, Since he has not the soul to enjoy it himself: Since the bounty of providence is new ev'ry day, As we journey through life, let us live by the way. Let us live by the way, &c. Then bring us a tankard o' nappy good ale, To comfort our hearts and enliven the tale ; We'll aye be the merrier the langer that we sit, [yet. For we ve drank thegither mony a time, and sae will we And sae will we yet, &c. Success to the farmer, and prosper his plough, Rewarding his eident toils a' the year through : Our seedtime and harvest we ever will get, [yet. For we've lippen'd aye to providence, and sae will we And sae will we yet, &c. Long live the Queen, and happy may she be, And success to her forces by land and by sea: Her enemies to triumph we never will permit, Britons aye have been victorious, and sae will they yet. And sae will they yet, &c. Let the glass keep its course, and go merrily roun', For the sun has to rise, tho' the moon it goes down. Till the house be rinnin' roun' about, 'tis time enough to flit, When we fell, we aye got up again, and sae will we yet. And sae will we yet, &c. THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKED HORN. Words by the REV. JOHN SKINNER. Key-note O. OH, were I able to rehearse My ewie's praise in prose or verse, I'd sound it out as lang an' fierce, As ever piper's drone could blaw. My ewie wi' the crooked horn, A' that kend her could hae sworn, Sic a ewie ne'er was born, Here about or far awa. �I2i I neither needed tar nor keel To mark her upon hip or heel, Her crooked horn it did as weel To ken her by amang them a'. The ewie, &c. Cauld or hunger never dang her, Wind or rain could never wrang her ; Ance she lay a week and langer, Out aneath a wreath o' snaw. The ewie, &c. I looked aye at even for her, For fear the foumart might devour her, Or some mishanter had come o'er her, Gin the beastie bade awa. The ewie, <fcc. Yet, Monday last, for a' my keeping, I canna speak it without greeting, A villain came when I was sleeping, And stow my ewie, liorn an' a'. The ewie, I sought her sair upon the morn ; And down beneath a buss o' thorn I got my ewie's crooked horn ; But, ah ! my ewie was awa. The ewie, &c. But an' I had the loon that did it, I hae sw orn as weel as said it, Though a' the warld should forbid it, I wad gie his neck a thraw. The ewie, <fce For a' the claith that we hae worn, Frae her and hers sae aften shorn, The loss o' her we could hae borne, Had fair strae death ta'en her awa. The ewie, &c. But, silly thing, to loose her life Aneath a greedy villain's knife, I'm really fear'd that our gudewife Sail never win aboon't ava. The ewie, &c. Oh, a' ye bards about Kinghorn, Call up your muses, let them mourn— Our ewie wi' the crooked horn Is stown frae us, and fell'd an' a'. The ewie, <fec. r �125 MY VYIFE HAS TA'EN THE GEE. Author unknown. Key-note D minor. A F R I E N D o' mine came here yestreen, And he wad hae me down, To drink a pot of ale wi' him, In the neist borough town. But oh ! alake ! it was the waur, And sair the waur for me ; For lang or e'er that I came hame, My wife had ta'en the gee. We sat sae late, and drank sae stout,— The truth I'll tell to you,— That lang or ever midnight came, We were a' roaring fu\ My wife sits by the fireside, And the tear blinds aye her e'e ; The ne'er a bed will she gae to, But sit and tak' the gee. In the morning soon when I came doun, The ne'er a word she spak'; But mony a sad and sour look And aye her head she'd shake. " My dear," quo' I, " what aileth thee, To look sae sour at me ? I'll never do the like again, If ye'll ne'er tak' the gee." When that she heard, she ran, she flang Her arms about my neck, And twenty kisses in a crack ; And poor wee thing she grat. " If you'll ne'er do the like again, But stay at hame wi' me, I'll lay my life l'se be the wife That's never tak' the gee." I'LL AYE CA' IN BY YON TOWN. Words by BURNS. Tune—"Tilgang nae mair to yon town." Key I'LL aye ca' in by yon town, And by yon garden green again ; I'll aye ca' in by yon town, And see my bonnie Jean again. There's nane sail ken, there's nane sail guess, What brings me back the gate again, But she my fairest faithfu' lass, And stownlins we shall meet again. J*. note F �126 She'll wander by the aiken-tree, When trysting time draws near again ; And when her lovely form I see, O haith, she's doubly dear again ! I'll aye ca' in by yon town, And by yon garden green again ; I'll aye ca' in by yon town, And see my bonnie Jean again. MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE, O. IVords by RICHARD GALL. Key-note D mitwr* THY cheek is o* the rose's hue, My only jo and dearie, 0 ; Thy neck is like the siller dew, Upon the bank sae briery, 0 ; Thy teeth are o' the ivory, 0 sweet's the twinkle o' thine e'e, Nae joy, nae pleasure blinks on mo, My only jo and dearie, O. The birdie sings upon the thorn Its sang o* joy fu' cheery, O, Rejoicing in the simmer morn, Nae care to make it eerie, O. Ah, little kens the sangster sweet Aught o' the care I hae to meet, That gars my restless bosom beat, My only jo and dearie, O. When we were bairnies on yon brae, And youth was blinkin' bonnie, O, Aft we would daff the lee lang day, Our joys fu' sweet and monie, O ; Aft I would chase thee ower the lea, And round about the thorny tree, Or pu' the wild flowers a' for thee, My only jo and dearie, O. 1 hae a wish I canna tine, 'Mang a' the cares that grieve me, 0 A wish that thou wert ever mine, And never mair to leave me, O ; Then I would dawt thee nicht and day, Nae ither warldly care I'd hae, 'Till life's warm stream forgat to play, My only jo and dearie, O. �17 I H A E A W I F E 0> M Y AIN. Words by BURNS. Tune—" NaebodyKey-note I HAE a wife o' my ain, I'll partake wi' naebody ; I'll tak' cuckold frae nane, I'll gie cuckold to naebody. I hae a penny to spend, There—thanks to naebody ; I hae naething to lend— I'll borrow frae naebody. I am naebody's lord— I'll be slave to naebody ; I hae a gude broad sword, I'll tak' dunts frae naebody. I'll be merry and free, I'll be sad for naebody; If naebody care for me, I'll care for naebody. -OSCsTHE EWE-BUGIITS. D minor. Author unknown. Words and Air very old. Key-note D minor, ye go to the ewe-bughts, Marion, And wear in the sheep wi' me ? The sun shines sweet, my Marion, But nae half sae sweet as thee? The sun shines sweet, my Marion, But nae half sae sweet as thee. There's gowd in your garters, Marion, And silk on your white hause-bane; Fu' fain wad I kiss my Marion, At e'en when I come hame. There's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion, Wha gape, and glow'r with their e'e, At kirk, when they see my Marion ; But nane of them lo'es like me. I've nine milk ewes, my Marion, A cow and a brawney quey; I'll gie them a' to my Marion, Just on her bridal-day. And ye'se get a green sey apron, And waistcoat of the London brown, And wow but ye will be vap'ring, Whene'er ye gang to the town, WILL �128 I'm young and stout, my Marion, Nane dances like me on the green; And gin ye forsake me, Marion, I'll e'en gae draw up wi' Jean. Sae put on your parlins, Marion, And kyrtle o' the cramasie ; And soon as my chin has nae hair on, I shall come west and see ye. TAM GLEN. Words by BURNS. Air—" Tam Glen." Key-note E minor. MY heart is a breaking, dear tittie, Some counsel unto me come len'; To anger them a' is a pity, But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fallow, In poortith I might mak' a fen'; What care I in riches to wallow, If I maunna marry Tam Glen ? There's Lowrie the laird o' Drumeller, Gude day to you, brute, he comes ben ; lie brags and he blaws o' his siller, But whan will he dance like Tam Glen? My minnie does constantly deave me, And bids me beware o' young men ; They flatter, she says, to deceive me— But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen ? My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him, He'll gie me gude hunder merks ten ; But if it's ordained I maun tak' him, O wha will I get but Tam Glen ? Yestreen at the valentines dealin', My heart to my mou' gied a sten ; For thrice I drew ane without failin', And thrice it was written—Tam Glen. The last Hallowe'en I was waukin* My drookit sark-sleeve, as ye ken ; His likeness cam up the house staukin', And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen. Come, counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry ; I'll gie you my bonnie black hen, Gif ye will advise me to marry The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen. �129 THE GALLANT WEAVER. Words by BURNS. Air—" The Weaver's March" W H E R E Cart rins rowin' to the sea, By mony a flow'r and spreading tree, There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant weaver. Oh, I had wooers eight or nine, They gied me rings and ribbons fine ; And I was fear'd my heart would tine, And I gied it to the weaver. My daddie sign'd my tocher-band, To gie the lad that has the land ; But to my heart I'll add my hand, And gie it to the weaver While birds rejoice in leafy bowers, While bees delight in op'ning flow'rs, While corn grows green in summer showers, I'll love my gallant weaver. HAPPY FRIEN'SIIIP. Words by BURNS. Air—" Willie was a wanton icagr around the ingle bleezing, Wha sae happy and sae free ? Tho' the northern wind blaws freezing, Frien'ship warms baith you and me. Happy we are a' thegither, Happy we'll be yin an' a', Time shall see us a' the blyther, Ere we rise to gang awa'. See the miser o'er his treasure Gloating wi' a greedy e'e ; Can he feel the glow o' pleasure That around us here we see ? Happy we are a' thegither, &c. Can the peer in silk and ermine, Ca' his conscience half his own ? His claes are spun and edged wi' vermin, Tho' he stan' afore a throne ! Happy we are a' thegither, &c. Thus then let us a' be tossing Aff our stoups o' gen'rous Same ; An*, while roun' the board 'tis passing, Raise a sang in frien'ship's name. Happy we are a' thegither, dtc. HERE �130 Frien'ship mak's us a' mair liappy, Frien'ship gies us a' delight; Frien'ship consecrates the drappie, Frien'ship brings us here to-night. I-Iappy we've been a' thegither, Happy we've been yin an' a', Time shall find us a' the blyther, When we rise to gang awa'. -o®c=CALLER HERRIN'. W A T T . Music by NATHANIEL Gow. buy caller herrin' ? They're ane a penny, twa a penny ; Wha'll buy caller herrin' ? They're just come frae Lochfine. Come, friends, support the fisher's trade, Wha still in peril earns his bread, While round our coast, aft tempest toss'd, He drags for caller herrin'. Then come buy my caller herrin*, They're ane a penny, twa a penny; Buy my caller herrin', They're new come frae Loclifine. Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? They're bonnie fish an' dainty fairin'; Buy my caller herrin', They're new come frae Lochfine. Wha'il buy my caller herrin ? There's nought wi' them will stand comparin Een they hae like diamonds, Their sides like silver shine. Wha'll buy caller herrin' ? They're ane a penny, twa a penny ; Wha'll buy caller herrin' ? They're new come frae Lochfine. The rich, the poor, the auld, the young, The wise and simple, weak and strong, Rejoice to hear of halesome cheer, Like fine caller herrin'. Then come buy my caller herrin', They're ane a penny, twa a penny; Buy my caller herrin', They're just come frae Lochfine. Wha'll buy my caller herrin' ? They're bonnie fish an' dainty fairin', <fcc. Words by W M . WHA'LL f �131 BONNIE LESLEY. Words by BURNS. Air—" The Collier's bonnie lassie " 0 SAW ye bonnie Lesley, As she gaed o'er the border ? She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever ; For nature made her what she is, And never made anither ! Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, Thy subjects we before thee: Thou art divine, fair Lesley; The hearts o' men adore thee. The de'il he couldna scaith thee, Or aught that wad belang thee; Ile'd look into thy bonnie face, And say, I canna wrang thee ! The powers aboon will tent thee, Misfortune shanna steer thee ; Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely ! That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. Return again, fair Lesley; Return to Caledonie ! That we may brag we hae a lass There's nane again sae bonnie. THO' WE NE'ER SHOULD MEET Words by DUGALD MOORE. YES, though we ne'er again should meet By summer bower, or sunny sea ; This brain shall burn, this bosom beat, For ever, and alone, for thee ! For who would bid oblivion roll, Athwart the sunshine of those hours, In which we mingled soul with soul, As the winds mix congenial flowers? Then, though the hand of distance flings Long shadows 'twixt thy hearth and mine, He cannot clip the lightning wings Which bear my spirit back to thine ! Though seas their waves between us cast, And though the star of hope has set, Yet there's a soul within the past, A glory I can ne'er forget I �132 HOW EARLY I WOO'D THEE. Words by THOMAS DICK. Air—" Humours of Glen How early I woo'd thee—how dearly I lo'ed thee— How sweet was thy voice, and how lovely thy smile The joy 'twas to see thee—the bliss to be wi' thee— I now maun remember, and sigh all the while. I gazed on thy beauty, and a' things about ye Seem'd too fair for earth, as I bent at thy shrine; But fortune and fashion, mair powerfu' than passion, Could alter the bosom that seem'd so divine. Anither may praise thee, may fondle and fraize thee, And win thee wi* words when his heart's far awa'; But oh ! when sincerest—when warmest and dearest His vows, will my truth be forgot by thee a' ? 'Mid pleasures and splendour thy fancy may wander, But moments o' solitude ilk ane maun dree ; Then feeling will find thee, and mem'ry remind thee 0' him wha through life gaes heart-broken for thee. THE SPINNING-WHEEL. Key-note F. As I sat at my spinning-wheel, A bonnie laddie he pass'd by ; I turned me round and viewed him weel, For oh ! he had a glancing e'e. My panting heart began to feel, But aye I turned my spinning-wheel. My snow-white hands he did extol, He praised my fingers neat and small, He said there was nae lady fair, That ance wi' me he could compare. His words into my heart did steal, But aye I turned my spinning-wheel. He said, Lay bye your rock, your reel, Your windings,"and your spinning-wheel He bade me lay them a' aside, And come and be his bonnie bride. And oh ! I liked his words sae weel, I laid aside my spinning-wheel. CONNEL AND FLORA. Words by ALEX. WILSON. Music arranged by J . ROBERTSON lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main, Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again ; Alas ! morn returns to revisit the shore, But Connel returns to his Flora no more. DARK �133 For see, on yon mountain, the dark cloud of death, O'er Connel's lone cottage, lies low on the heath; While bloody and pale, on a far distant shore, He lies to return to his Flora no more. Ye light fleeting spirits that glide o'er the steep, O would you but waft me across the wild deep ! There fearless I'd mix in the battle's loud roar, I'd die with my Connel, and leave him no more. TULLOCIIGORUM. Words by the REV. JOHN " The reel d Tullochgorum Key-note D. SKINNER. C O M E gi'e's a sang, Montgomery cried, And lay your disputes all aside, What nonsense 'tis for folks to chide, For what's been done before them ! Let Whig and Tory all agree, Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory all agree, To drop their whig-meg-morum ; Let Whig and Tory all agree, And spend this night with mirth and glee, And cheerful sing along wi' me The reel o' Tullochgorum. Tullochgorum's my delight. It gars us a' in ane unite, And ony sumph that keeps up spite, In conscience I abhor him. Blythe and merry we's be a', Biythe and merry, blythe and merry, Blythe and merry we's be a', And make a cheerful quorum. Blythe and merry we's be a', As lang as we hae breath to draw, And dance, till we be like to fa', The reel of Tullochgorum. There needs na be sae great a pliraise, Wi' dringing dull Italian lays ; 1 wadna gie our aiu strathspeys For liauf a hunder score o' em. They're douff and dowie at the best, Douff and dowie, douff and dowie, They're douff and dowie at the best, Wi' a' their variorum. r �134 They're douff and dowie at the best. Their allegros, and a' the rest: They canna please a Highland taste, Compared wi' Tullochgorum. Let warldly minds themselves oppress, Wi' fear of want and double cess, And silly sauls themselves distress, Wi' keeping up decorum. Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Sour and sulky, sour and sulky, Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Like auld Philosophorum ? Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit, And canna rise to shake a fit To the reel of Tullochgorum ? May choicest blessings still attend Each open-hearted, honest friend, And calm and quiet be his end, And a' that's good watch o'er him. May peace and plenty be his lot, Peace and plenty, peace and plenty, May peace and plenty be his lot, And dainties a great store o' em; May peace and plenty be his lot, Unstain'd by any vicious blot, And may he never want a groat, That's fond of Tullochgorum I But for the discontented fool, Who wants to be oppression's tool, May envy gnaw his rotten soul, And discontent devour him ! May dool and sorrow be his chance, Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow, May dool and sorrow be his chance, * And honest souls abhor him: May dool and sorrow be his chance, And a' the ills that come frae France, Whae'er he be that winna dance The reel of Tullochgorum ! � 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 Scottish minstrel containing a selection of the most popular songs of Scotland. <span>as sung by Wilson, Templeton, &amp;c.&nbsp;</span>Sixth Series Table Of Contents A list of subunits of the resource. A highland laddie head of war And Sae will we yer Argyle is my name Bonnie Jean Bonnie Lesley Caledonians, brave and bold Caller herrin' Ca' the ewes to the knowes Connel and Flora Donald o'Dundee Happy Frien'ship How early I woo'd thee I hae a wife o'my ain I'll aye ca' in by you town My only jo and dearie O My wife has ta'en the gee Oh open the door, some pity to show O poortith cauld O Tibbie I hae seen the day Tam Glen The bonnie Scotch lassie The broom o' the Cowdenknowes The bumper The ewie wi 'the crooked horn The fair maid o' Perth The gallant weaver The spinning-wheel The widow sae young Tho' we ne'er should meet Tullochgorum Will ye go to the ewe-bughts, Marion Wilt thou be my dearie Young Jessie Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Burns, Robert, 1759-1796 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1850 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923410143505154">s0136b09</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 12 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource Price one penny printed at bottom of title-page Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. A Highland laddie heard of war And sae will we yet Argyle is my name Bonnie Jean Bonnie Lesley Caledonians brave and bold Caller herrin' Connel and Flora Donald o' Dundee Happy Frien'ship How early I woo'd thee I have a wife o' my ain I'll aye ca' in by 'yon town My only Jo and dearie O My wife has ta'en the gee Oh open the door, some pity to show O poortith cauld O Tibble I hae seen the day Tan Glen The bonnie Scotch lassie The broom o' the cowdenknowes The bumper The ewe wi' the crooked horn The fair maid o' Perth The gallant weaver The spinning -wheel The widow sae young Tho' we ne'er should meet Tullochgorum Will ye go to the ewe-bights, Marion Will thou be my dearie Young Jessie Abstract A summary of the resource. Sixth part in a series of chapbooks on Scottish ballads. Author, tune, and composer are noted where known. Includes a total of thirty-three ballads on a variety of topics, including songs of war, the Highlands, death and mourning, humour, drinking, sheep, and, most frequently, love and courtship. Subject The topic of the resource Ballads and songs Courtship and Marriage War Wit and Humor Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Highlands Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. National Library of Scotland <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">http://www.nls.uk/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers 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/170d1c1d81b57d9718c801555ffcd207.pdf 87612f2f3d8482fceb4dfe44421620f6 PDF Text Text THE SCRAP-BOOK: A SELECTION OF THE BEST JOKES, PUNS, COMIC SAYINGS, JONATHANISMS, &c., &c. GLASGOW? PRINTED FOr THE BOOKSELLERS. Price One Penny. 2 ��THE SCRAP-BOOK. A gentleman, complaining to his bootmaker that a pate of boots recently sent were too short, and that he wanted a pair to cover the whole calf, had the following jeu sent to him :— d'esprit These boots were never made for me, They are too short by half; I want them long enough, d'ye see, To cover all the calf. Why, sir, said Last, with stifled smile, To alter them I'll try; But if they cover all the calf \ They must be;five feet high. A gentleman, who had gained a handsome fortune by unremitted industry, was once accosted with, ' I say, John, why don't you have a coat of arms on your arms ; when I first came into L I wore a coat carriage without An elderly lady, telling her age, remarked that she was born on the 22d of April. Her husband, who was present, observed, * I always thought you were born on the first of April.' ' People might well judge so,' responded A gentleman remarking that he had lost his watch through the carelessness of a servant, in leaving the house concluded by saying—' However, it was a poor one. Miss B. replied, ' Why, sir, a gentleman like you should have kept a better watch: Unguarded, A gentleman looking at his watch, just after midnight, it is to-morrow morning ! i must bid you goodnight arms.' ?' ' Oh !' said th the matron, ' in the �4 * That's what I call a repetition,' exclaimed a friend the other day. 4 What's that, Tom ?' said we. 4 Why, look at that sign across the way—J. E. Weller, jeweller.' lAm I not a little pale inquired a lady, who was rather short and corpulent, of a crusty old bachelor. 4 You look more like a big tub,' was the blunt reply. An Irishman fights before he reasons; a Scotchman reasons before he fights ; an Englishman is not accommodate his customers, particular A recent philosopher discovered a method to avoid being dunned ! 4 How—how—how?' we hear everybody asking. Never run in debt. 4 How beautiful,' said a lady, 4 the face of nature looks after undergoing a shower !' 4 Yes, madam, and so would yours"; after undergoing a similar process.' Dr. Samuel Johnson, when travelling in Invernessshire think we have been deviating the last half hour.' 4 Like 4 but I've been divoting here eneuch,' replied the man, sin' six o'clock this morning.' w A pretty girl was lately complaining to a friend that she had a cold, and was sadly plagued in her lips by chaps (cracks or clefts.) 4 Friend,' said Obadiah, 4 thee should never suffer the chaps to come near thy lips.' An American physician announces that he has changed his residence to the neighbourhood of the churchyard, which he hopes may prove a convenience to his numerous pa When Bishop Aylmer observed his congregation inattentive, he used t Bible, at which the people naturally stared with astonishment. listening to what concerned them not, while they were inattentive to matters in which their best interests were deeply involved. If wisdom's ways you'd wisely seek, Five things observe with care: Of whom you speak—to whom you speak—• And how—and when—and where. �5 4 What is light ? asked a schoolmaster of the booby of a class. 1 A sovereign that isn't full weight is light,' was the prompt reply. If your sister, while tenderly engaged in a tender conversation a glass of water from an ad joining room, you can start on the errand, but you need not return. You will not be missed, that's certain—we've seen it tried. Don't forget this, little boys. Lord Campbell tells of a judge who wound up a one-pound note, in this horribly facetious manner:—4 And I trust that, through the merits and mediation of our blessed Redeemer, you may there experience that mercy which a due regard to the credit of the paper currency of the country forbids you to hope for here.' with her tender sweetheart, as sentence of death, at because you can catc 4 Illustrated with cuts,' said a young urchin, as he drew his jack-knife across the leaves of his spelling-book. "Which travels fastest, heat or cold ? Heat does ; Why is an infant like a diamond ? Because it is a dear little thing. A correspondent asks, 4 Whom do the papers mean by Our Foreign Relations?' Why, our Cousins-German, of course. Dr. Franklin, talking of a friend of his who had been a Manchester dealer, said, 4 That he never sold a piece of tape narrower than his own mind/ There is a man at Gravesend so mean, that he wishes his landlord to reduce the price of his board, because he has had two of his teeth extracted. A fop, just returned to England from a continental tour, was asked how he liked the ruins of Pompeii. ' Not very well,' was the reply ; 4 they are so dreadfully out of repair!' During a consultation of physicians on the character of a Bacchanalian patient, how to cure his fever, and abate his thirst, the sick man observed, ' Gentlemen, if you will cure the fever, I will take half the trouble off your hands, and abate the thirst myself.' �6 A glass of soda water was offered the other day to an Irishman, who rejected it with the greatest indignation. 4 Do you think I am a salamander,' said he, 4 to drink water boiling hot V By Mac and 0 , you'll always know True Irishmen, they say; For if they lack both '0 and Mac, No Irishmen are they. Law and logic are like a piece of india-rubber, easily pulled into any shape. An amorous swain told the story of his heart's affections with a microscope. Fatal gift! she viewed his imperfections thr An authoress speaks of boys of eighteen or twenty as having arrived at an 4 age of detestability.' In a certain benighted part of the country may be seen, on the outside of a humble cottage, the following inscription in 4 A Seminary for Young Ladies This was, perhaps, too abstruse for the villagers, as immediately und 4 Notey Beny—Allso, a Gals skool.' An Irishman some time ago was committed to the House of Correction for a misdemeanour, and sentenced to work on the tread-wheel for the space of a month. He observed, at the expiration of his task,—4 What a grate dale of fatigue and botheration it would have saved us poor crathers, if they had but invinted it to go by stheeme, like all other water-mills; for burn me if I have not been afther going up stairs for this four weeks, but could not reach the chamber-door at all, at all.' A Dutch householder, bragging of his worldly gear, writes:— I've got a pig cat and I've got a pig tog, I've got a pig calf and I've got a pig hog, I've got a pig baby so pig and so tall, And I've got a pig vife dat's pigger as all. 4 Class in spelling, come up and recite.' * yeth, thir. spell effects; 4 F-X.' ' r i g h t , Next, spell seedy, 4C-D: 4 right again.' 4 John, �7 Why are young ladies like arrows ? all in a quiver when the beaus come. BecauSe they are Why is a talkative young man like a young pig ? An Irishman being informed that it was the intention of the government to call out the militia, made the where I'm quartered.' Because, following if he lives, he reply:—' I'm hanged if I care Why is a good sermon like a kiss ? Do you give it up ? Because it only requires two heads and an application I ' I do declare, Sal, you look pretty enough to eat. ' Well, Solomon, ain't 1 eating as fast as I can ? replied Sal, with her mouth full. ' Barber, I think this towel has been in use long enough !' 'It has been used more than six weeks, and no one has ever found fault with it before.' A romantic youth promenading in a fashionable street of New York, picked up a thimble. He stood awhile, meditating upon the probable beauty of the owner, when he pressed it to his lips, saying, 4 Oh that it were the fair cheek of the wearer !' Just as he had finished, a stout elderly negress looked out of an upper window, and said, 4 Massa, jist please to bring dat fimble of mine in de entry—I jist drapt it.' Two Irishmen meeting one day, one of them inquired of the other if he had seen his friend Pat Murphy lately: 1 For,' said he, ' he has grown so thin that you would not know him at all. You are thin, and I am thin, but, by the powers, he is thinner than both of us put together.' 1 Sambo, whar you get dat watch you wear to meetin' lass Sunday ? 4 how you know hab watch ? 4 Bekase I seed de chain hang out de pocket in front.' ' Go 'way, nigger ! ' Spose you see halter round my neck, you tink dar is horse inside ob me ? ^ A person in want of an occupation, and advertising for the same in the Times, informs the world, that 4 The advertiser being highly respectable, suit.' ^ This gentleman seems to be somewhat less consequential logically than he is personally. Hi given as K.—Should it not have been'S.N.O.B. ? �8 * Colonel W is a fine-looking man, isn't he ? said a friend the other day. ' Yes,' replied another ; 4 1 was taken for him once.' 4 You ! why you're as ugly as sin.' ' I don't care for that, I was taken for him once—I A witness in an Irish Court of Justice stated that he was suddenly roused from his slumbers by a blow on his head. ' And how did you find yourself ? asked the endorsed coun 4 If you are a cingle man, Pik, taik my advice, and stay so ; or, if you will marry—if you mus have a wyf— never permit yourself to be overcum by a widder ? Thems the sentiments of one who has tried and noes.' 4 It is a curious fact,' says the Medical Times, 4 that the most carnivorous quadrupeds are more averse to devouring tender sex. A witty rogue, brought before a Parisian tribunal for a drunken riot, on one occasion, assured the bench that he was not a drunkard, but in his childhood he was bitten by a mad dog, and he had ever since a horror of water. 4 1 don't like to play forfeits,' said Jemima, 4 and have all the fellows kissing me—it makes me commonprop responded Bemus. The local American papers state that a teacher in Virginia, giving lessons in geography, asked a boy, ' What state do you live in ? The urchin hit the fact when he bawled out, 4 A state of sin and misery.' Dr. Wing, being asked where a young lady's waist began, replied, 4 At the altar. The moment they have you trapped, they come down on your pocket-book like a hawk upon a May bug. After they are married they are all waste.'' What a libellous fellow ! The principal of an academy, in his advertisement, mentioned his female assistant, and the 4 reputation for teaching which she bears;' but the printer—carelessfellow forth commending the lady's reputation for 4 teaching she bears /' �9 Mrs. Partington came into the room in a state of great excitement. 4 Do you know,' said she, 1 they have formed another of those coalitions? Well, 1 declare it is too bad. The price of coals will be up to I don't know what.' ' Bill, you young scamp, if you had your due, you'd get a good whipping.' 4 1 know it, daddy, but bills are not always paid when due.' The agonised father trembled lest his hopeful son should be suddenly snatched from him. A young man being cured of a martial predilection by being present in a skirmish, it was said of him that he had an itch for military distinction, but the smell of sulphur cured it. A man by the name of Philo, who was married to a lady named Sophy, observed, that uniting his name with the lady's, put him in possession of philosophy. A captain of a vessel loading coals, went into amerchant'scounting-ho The merchant, looking towards his clerks, replied—41 have a number of them, but none, I believe, wish to be hauled over the coals.' An old farmer, whose son had died lately, was visited by a neighbour, who began to condole with him on his loss. ' My loss!' exclaimed the father, 1 no such thing— his own loss—he was of age.' A vagrant called at a house on a Sunday, and begged for some cider. The lady refused to give him any, and he reminded her of the oft-quoted remark, that she 4 might entertain an angel unawares.' 4 Yes,' said she, 4 but angels don't go about drinking cider on Sundays.' Time to me this truth has taught, 'Tis a truth that's worth revealingMore offend for want of thought Than from any want of feeling. If advice we would convey, There's a, time we should convey i t ; If we've but a word to say, There's a time in which to say it. A Yankee editor remarked, in a polemical article, that though he would not call his opponent a liar, he must that if the gentleman had intended to state what was utterly false, he had been remarkably successful in his attempt, ' Say, �10 A celebrated divine, who had prided himself upon his originality, and who would reject his best thought if he imagined it was traceable to any previous author, was startled one day by a friend coolly telling him that every word of his favourite discourse was stolen from a book he had at home. The astonished writer, staggered by his friend's earnestness, begged for a sight of this volume. He was, however, released from his misery by the other smilingly announcing the work in question to be 4 Johnson's undertake to find every word of your discourse.' D After listening to Bushfield Ferrand's fervid appeal at New Malton, a shrewd Yorkshire farmer was asked what he thought of the speech ? His reply was, simply, 4 Why, I don't know, but I think six hours' rain would nae done us a deal mair good !' A n American, formerly master of a vessel, who recently returned from California, where he has been operating for about a couple of years, was thus accosted :—' Well, Captain H., I suppose you have made enough this trip to stay at home, and lay off the rest of your days ?'— 4 Well, yes, I have made something.' Pursuinghis'interroga stuff did you bring home ?'—4 Well, sir, about as much as a good donkey could haul down-hill upon ice.' During the late session at N — — , a man was brought up by a farmer, and accused of stealing some ducks. The farmer said, he should know them anywhere, and went on to describe their peculiarity. 4 Why,*' said the counsel for the prisoner, 4 they can't be such a very rare breed— I have some like them in my yard.' 4 That's very likely, sir,' said the farmer: 4 these are not the only ducks of the sort I have had stolen lately.' There is one disease that a miser is pretty sure never to die of—-and that is, 4 enlargement of the heart.' Medicine has killed as many people as war. Powder and pills are as fatal as powder and ball. Be careful, therefore, how you allow people to shoot them into you. 4 Och, an' what's yer honor agoin' to give me, seeing as it's myself that saved yer honor's house from turnin' to ashes intirely?' 4 How, so, Pat?'— 4 An sure, when it cotched afire, wasn't I the second one that hollered fire first?' �11 Come, Doctor,' said a sinner to a clerical saint, ' 1 can give you a treat—a bottle of claret forty years old.' The doctor was in raptures, and eagerly accepted the only to be a pint bottle. ' Waes me,' said he, taking it up in his hand, 4 but it's unco wee of its age !' 44 invitation When Nelson said to his men at Trafalgar, 4 England expects every man to do his duty,' three Scotchmen who were standing at their guns exclaimed, 4 He never mentioned himself, rejoined, 4 His Lordship is just coaxing the English ; he knows Sandy will do his work when wanted, without coaxing.' A short time since, an invalid sent for a physician; and, after detaining him for some time with a description of his pains, said, ' Now, doctor, you have humbugged me long enough with your good-for-nothing pills and worthless you would strike the cause of my ailment, if it'is in your 4 It shall be done,' said the doctor, at power to reach it.' the same time lifting his cane, and demolishing a decanter of spirits that stood upon the sideboard. A man with one eye laid a wager with another man, that he (the one-eyed person) saw more than the other. The wager was accepted. 4 You have lost,' says the first; 4 1 can see the two eyes in your face, and you can see only one in mine.' An old clergyman was in the habit, as soon as he got into the pulpit, of placing his sermon in a crevice under the cushion, where he left it during the singing of the accustomed psalm. One Sunday he pushed the sermonbook too far into the crevice, and lost it. When the psalm was concluded, he called the clerk to bring him a Bible. The clerk, somewhat astonished at this unusual request, brought him a Bible as he was desired. The clergyman opened it, and thus addressed his congregation—4 My brethren, I have LOST MYSERMON; but I will read you a, chapter in JobWORTHTEN OF IT.' Mrs. Wagner having presented her husband daughter, He 'put it in the Times,' which was well; but we are not satisfied that he was called add, 'her eleventh child,' unless he intended warning to bachelors. with a all very upon to it as a ; when, to his poor Scotia;' but one of the syrups; they don't touch the re �12 An old gentleman of eighty years having taken to the altar a young damsel of sixteen, the clergyman said to him, 4 The font is at the other end of the church.'4 Whatdo beg your pardon,' said the clerical wit, 1 1 thought you had brought this child to be christened.' In a club, the other day, sat two gentlemen, one of whom has attained fame upon canvas, the other upon paper. He of the pencil was remarkably complimentary to him of the pen—so much so indeed, that the latter at length, with a good-natured laugh, exclaimed, 4 Why, my good fellow, you really show the versatility of your genius in the most striking light: you prove that you can paint not only in oil, but—in butter!' Horne Tooke, being asked by George III. whether he played at cards, replied, 4 1 cannot, your majesty, tell a king from a knave.' A sign in front of a shop in a village near Exeter, has the following :—4 Kakes and bear, sold her.' An addition in width has been added, to inform the public, that 4 1 make my sign a little vider, to let the people know that I sell sider.' A fire-eating Irishman, covered with wounds received in duels, challenged a barrister* who gratified him by an acceptance. The duellist, unable to stand without support, requeste said he, * I lean against this milestone ?' 4 With pleasure,' r against the next.' The challenger burst into a roar of laughter at the joke, and swore he would not fight so good-humoured a gentleman. A Glasgow youth walking with his sweetheart along Queen-street of that city, stopped at the door of a pastry cook's shop, and addressing his lady-love, said, ' Now, my dear, what will you take ? She, expecting to be treated to some of the good things of the shop, modestly replied, 4 1 will take anything you like.' 4 Then,' sayS he, 4 we will take a walk,' and marched past the shop. A gentleman one day observed to Henry E r s k i n e , who was a great punster, that punning was the lowest of wit* 4 It is so,' answered Erskine, 4 and therefore the foundation of all wit' �13 Maximilian being requested to grant an individual a patent of nobility for a certain sum—4 I can make you richer,' said Maximilian,4 but none can ennoble you "but your own virtue? The late Lord Jeffrey, when pleading one day before old Lord Newton, the judge stopped him, and asked him in broad Scotch, ' Whaur were ve educat, Mr. Jeffrey ?' 'Oxford, my lord.' ' Then I doubt ye maun gang back there agin, for we can mak nocht o' ye here.' On another occasion, the advocate, in stating his case before the same judge, happened to speak of an itinerant 4 Vulgarly * so called, my lord,' answered the spirited advocate. violinist. 4 D'ye mean a blin' fiddler The only kind of mistakes we are in favour of is when an old bachelor gets married. Such miss-stakes are popular among the ladies. Lord Braxfield (a Scotch judge) once said to an mon, but I'm thinking ye wad be nane the waur o' a hanginV Why should Joseph Ady be a leading man in the decided passion for the universal diffusion of letters. eloquent education culprit at the bar, 4 Yo movement ?—Because he has all We notice the marriage of Mr. Day to Miss Field, which presents this singular anomaly, that although he won the Field, she gained the Day. Some things come by odd names. The most uncommon half a mile long is a 4 brief;' and a melancholy ditty, devoid of sense or meaning, is a 4 glee.' quality in nature is called ' common The following bull appears in the AmericanPresident'smessage rece with all the world, and we seek to maintain our cherished relations with the rest of mankind.' When James Beresford, author of 4 The Miseries of •Human Life,' was at the Charterhouse School, he was a Remarkably gay and noisy fellow ; and one day, having Played truant to attend a concert, the school (says southey) was so quiet without him, that his absence WaS atoncedetected, and brought upon him a flogging. �A gentleman while skating fell into the water, and ran imminent risk of his life. A man with some difficulty preserver with a sixpence. The bystanders expressed some surprise respecting the insufficiency of the sum ; but the man coolly observed, that the gentleman knew 'best what his own life was worth, and walked off. The following anecdote is told in illustration of the Scotch veneration for the Sabbath :—A geologist, while in the country, and having his pocket hammer with him, took it out and was chipping the rock by the wayside for examination. His proceedings did not escape the quick eye and ready tongue of an old Scotch woman. 4 What are you doing there, man ? 1 Don't you see ? I'm breaking a stone.' 4 Y'are doing mair than that; y'are breaking the Sabbath.' An old bachelor, in counselling a young friend, hast a house (and a fire) to put her in.' cautioned A young gentleman was recently asked to 'take something.' sixpence, which he accordingly" pocketed and marched off. It is considered a great compliment in the east, to say to a young girl, 4 Your skin is as clear and beautiful as the fresh peel of an onion just drawn out from between its flakes!' A Bremen journal contains the following advertisement :—4 A young married, is desirous of meeting a man of experience who will dissuade him from such a step. Address,' &c. It is not always a mark of kindness to possess an open countenance* A n alligator is a deceitful creature, and yet he presents an open countenance when in the very act of taking you in. When Prince Gonzago was in England, he dined in company with Dr. Johnson, and thinking it was a polite thing to drink the doctor's health with some p r o o f that he had read his works, called out from the top of the table to the bottom—that table filled with company— 4 At your good health, Mr. Vagabond!' instead of Mr. Rambler/ �15 ' I say, Henry Charles, you have been to hong-Kong, haven't you?'—'Yes.' 'Well, can you speak China? 4 y-e-s, a little: that is, I speak broken china? 41 shall soon die, Cuffy—I must soon set out upon a long journey.' 4 Berry well (replied Cuffy), I guess hab good going, because it's all the way down hill.' Mr. Hunt, in a lecture on Common Law, has remarked, * That a lady, when she married, lost her personalidentity—herdistinctive swallowed by a sunbeam.' To such an extent is veneration for the fair sex carried in San Francisco, that a party of Oregonians stopped to have a dance round an old cast-off bonnet. ' Will the galvanic rings cure depression ?' asked a lady. 4 What has caused the complaint, ma'am V asked the doctor. 4 The loss of my husband,' mournfully replied the lady. 4 Then you had better get a wedding ring,' answered the doctor. A gentleman sat down to write a deed, and began with 4 Know all women by these presents.' 4 You are wrong,' said a bystander' it ought to be "know all men,'" 'Very well,' answered the other, 4 if all women know it, all men will, of course.' Conductor (very loud).—4Go on, Bill; here's that ugly old cove wot always kicks up such a row, and makes hisself so disagreeable, jus , Driver.—' Oh, as he ? Hi've a deuced good mind to pitch im hover, hand break his stupid old 'ed !' What news to-day ? said a merchant to his friend lately.^ 4 What news ?' responded the other, 4 nothing, only times are growing better ; people are getting on their legs again.' 4 On their legs !' said the first.' 4 1 don't see how you can make that out.' 4 Why, yes,' walk now; is not that getting on their legs again'?' ' What are you going to give me for a Christmas man, who meekly replied, that he had nothing to offer but his humble self. 4 The smallest favours gratefully received,' was the cheerful response. replied present the other, 4 folks ?' asked a merry damsel o �16 A gent, was asked what kind o f ' gal' he preferred for his wife. 4 One,' he said, 4 that wasn't prodi-gal, but frugal—a Buggins {at breakfast table).— 'Mary Anne, bring me a egg.' Finished Daughter4 An egg, if you please, father; an egg, not a egg—pray speak correctly.' Buggins4 A negg is it, my dear—a negg, eh ? Well, Mary Anne, instead of one, you may bring two neggs!' A N IRISHMAN'S DESCRIPTION OF MAKING A CANNON.— Take a long hole and pour brass round it. The Dublin Commercial Journal has the following: " One of the habitues of the theatre the other evening, talking of female authors, said that, though they have tact, grace, and finesse, they have no creative genius, and seldom produce any perfect work. i It is easy to see,' said Mrs. L., the actress,4 that it was a woman who gave you birth.' w A gentleman dining at a fashionable hotel, whose servants them for a cut of beef After a long time the lad returned, and placing it before the faint and hungry gentleman, was asked, 4 Are you the lad who took away my plate for this beef ?'—4 Yes, sir.'—4 Bless me,' resumed the hungry wit, 6 how you have grown !' 'Father,' said a juvenile apothecary, to his learned 'dad,' 4 what's the reason they don't use pestles in battle?' 4 Pestles, my son, what should they do with pestles in battle?' 4 Why, the Wellington dispatches say the mortars did great execution, and I can't see how, without pestles?' 4 Pound away, my son, and don't puzzle me with your questions. Mortars and pestles do a great deal of damage, without being used on the field of battle.' A clergyman, coming to a poor woman's cabin, amongst other questions asked her how many commandments there were? 4 Truly, sir,' said she, 4 1 cannot tell'— 4 Why, ten,' said he.— 1 A fine company,' replied she, 4 God bless you and them together.'—4 Well, but neighbour,' says he, * do you keep these commandments ?'—' Ah, the Lord in heaven bless you, sir, I am a poor woman, and can hardly keep myself; so how can I bear the charge of keeping so many commandments ? were 4 f �(17 The following notice appeared on the west end of a church in Watling Street: 4 Any person sticking bills against this church, will be prosecuted according 'to law, or ANY OTHER NUISANCE.' A horse-dealer, selling a nag, frequently observed, with much earnestness, that he was an honest horse. After the purchase, the gentleman asked him what he meant by an honest horse. 4 Why, I'll tell you,' replied the Jockey. 4 Whenever I rode him, he always threatened to throw me ; and hang me if he ever deceived me.' An Englishman and a Welshman disputing in whose country was the best living, the Welshman said, 4 There is such noble housekeeping in Wales, that I have known about a dozen cooks employed at one wedding dinner.' 4 Ah,' answered the Englishman, 4 that was because every man toasted his own cheese.' An Irishman having accidentally broken a pane of glass in a window, was making the best of his way out of sight; but, unfortunately for Pat, the proprietor"stole a march on him ; and having seized him by the collar, ' To be sure I did,' said Pat; 4 and didn't you see me exclaimed, running 4 You broke my wi home for money to p 4 1 should just like to pay you off,' as John Bull said to the National Debt. -1 wish I could get things into the right train,' as the unprotected female said to herself, when she saw her luggage going away from her in all directions. 4 ^ Why is a hen walking, like a conspiracy ?—Because it's a foul proceeding. What is the difference between a chicken with a wing and one without a wing?—There is a difference of a pinion (opinion). We may set it down as an axiom, that young ladies cannot know everybody's name, when it is utterly twelvemonth hence! A Yankee student being asked how many genders there were, said 'three—masculine, feminine, and neutral;' and defined them as follows:—' Masculine, men.; feminine, women ; and neutral, old bachelors.' impossible for them to know what �18 'Shon,' Said a Dutchman, 'you may say what you please pout pad neighbours ; I have had te vorst neighbours wit dere ears split, and todder day two of them come home missing Soon after Dr. Johnson's return from Scotland to London, a Scottish lady, at whose house he was, as a compliment ordered some hotch-potch for his dinner. After the Doctor had tasted it, she asked him if-it was good ? To which he replied, * Very good for hogs /' 4 Then pray,' said the lady, 'allow me to help you to a little more of it.' An Irish doctor advertises, that the deaf may hear of him at a house in Liffey Street, where his blind patients may see him from 10 till 3. 4 Pat,' said a gent, to his servant, 'what's all that noise in the street ?' 4 Oh, nothing, sir; they're only forcing a man to turn volunteer.' When you are in at a neighbour's in the evening, and a man asks his wife how long before she is going to bed, you may safely conclude that you had better leave. The following advertisement appeared lately in an Irish newspaper: 4 This is to notify Patrick 0'Flaherty, who lately left his lodgings, that if he does not return soon, and pay for the same, he shall be advertised.'' Some days ago, a pretty, bright little juvenile friend, some five years of age, named Rosa, was teased a good deal by a gentleman who visits the family; he finally wound up by saying: 4 Rosa, I don't love you.' 4 Ah, but you've got to love me,' said the child. 4 How so ? asked her tormentor. 4 Why,' said Rosa, 4 the Bible says you must love them that hate you, and I am sure I hate you!' At an infant-school examination a few days ago, the examiner asked, 4 What fish eat the little ones ? * The big 'uns,' shouted a little urchin. 4 Don't you understand me, Jim ?' thundered the old man. 4 Why, you must be quite a fool.' 4 True, I am very near one, meekly replied Jim. A constant frequenter of city feasts having grown enormously fat, it was proposed to write on his back, Widened at the expense of the Corporation.' �19 • * Well, Alick, how's your brother Ike getting along these times V ' Oh, first rate—got a good start in the world ; married a widow with nine children.' A little girl inquired of her friend, who had passed her eighth year, ' What causes the rain V to which the the tears shed by angels over the sins of the world.' following beautiful reply was given: ' T . A gentleman, inquiring of a naval officer why sailors generally take off their shirts when going into* action, was answered, ' that they may not nave any check to fightin'.' An American editor states that a friend of his carries his sense of honour so far, as to spend all his time in advantage of time. perfect idleness, because he do A poor Irishman offered an old saucepan for sale. His children gathered around him, and inquired why he parted with it. ' Ah, my honeys,' answered he, 4 1 would not be a f t e r parting with it, but for a little money to buy something to put in it.' A gentleman calling for some beer at another gentleman's again without drinking. 4 'What!' said the master of the house, ' don't you like the beer ?' ' It is not to be found fault with,' answered the other, 4 for we should never speak ill of the dead: table, finding it very bad, gave it to At an excellent hotel, not a hundred miles from Liverpool, they were one day short of a Wived Hibernian was hastily made to supply the place or a more expert hand. ' ' Now, Barney,' said mine host, mind you serve every man with soup, anyhow.' ' Bedad. I'll do the s a m e >' the alert Barney. °n the start, and Barney, after helping all but one guest, c a m e upon the last one. ' Soup, sir ?' said Barney." 4 No S0?P for me,' said the gent. 4 But you must have it,' l m -Barney; 'it is the rules of the house.' ' D—n the house, exclaimed the guest, highly exasperated ; 'when 'i don't want soup I won't eat it—get along with you.' well said barney, with solemnity, 'all I can say is jist the regulations of the house, and the divi'l a drop else ye'll get till ye finish the soup!' The traveller n gave in, and the soup was gobbled. �20 Lately in the Court of Exchequer, a builder'sscaff and does nothing, and orders everybody else to work.' Some time ago, a provision merchant's shop in Leith had on its signboard, 4 Butter sold here for smearing sheep and bakers.' 4 Well, John,' said a doctor to a lad, whose mother he had been attending during her illness, 'how is your mother V 4 She's dead, I thank you, sir,' was the reply. A gentleman well acquainted with a certain alderman, being asked what sort of a Lord Mayor he thought he would make, answered, ' An unaccountable one.' Horace Walpole tells a story of a Lord Mayor of small-pox twice, and died of it, asked if he died the first time or the second. Lon A servant girl said the other day, that she gave but twelve pence for the cap she had on her head ; a gentleman 4 A steam-boat (Jonathan says) has got a saw-mill on one side, and a grist-mill on t'other, and a blacksmith's shop in the middle, and down cellar there's a tarnation great pot boiling all the time.' "Why is twice eleven like twice ten ? Because twice eleven is twenty-two, and twice ten is twenty too. A letter passed through the Shields Post-office a short time ago, * For BetsyROBINSON,a Scotch Woman with One Eye, Carey Bank, North Shields.' A woman offering to sign a deed, the judge asked her whether her husband compelled her to sign. 4 He ' How is your son to-day V asked a friend of a to compose his agitated features: 4 Very bad, indeed! i would not give ten per cent, for his chance of life.' ^J 6 You had better ask for manners than money,' said a finely-dressed gentleman to a beggar boy who had asked for alms. 4 1 asked for what I thought you had the most of,' was the boy's reply. compe stockbrot �21 Pat. Murphy, residing in Raymond Street, was lately fined twenty shillings and costs, for keeping six full* grown pigs in his front 'parlour ! 4 1 wonder how they make lucifer matches?' said a young lady to her husband, with whom she was always quarrelling. 4 The process is very simple—I once made one,' he answered. 'How did you manage it?'—'By leading you to church.' W e are authorised to say that Mr. John Macdonald of Mansfield Wood House, who attained his hundredth year last November, will run any man in England, his own weight and age, for any sum. N.B.—No hurdles. A gentleman passing through one of the public offices was affronted by some clerks, and was advised to abused here by some of the rascals in this place, and have come to acquaint you of it, as I understand you are the principal.' complain to the principal A young lady, a native of Sydney, being asked if she should like to go to Britain, answered that she should like to see it, but not to live in it. On being pressed for her reason, she replied, 4 That from the large number of bad people sent out from thence, it must surely be a very wicked place to live in !' Did our readers ever remark that the gentlemen who * carry round the plate, and who are always on a cold scent after a penny, are not themselves very liberal in their contributions ? 4 Why don't you put in something?' asked a contributor, of oneof'these Sunday sub-treasurers, on one occasion. 4 That's my business,' was the reply : * what I give is nothing to nobody /' 'What are you writing there, my boy?' asked a fond parent the other day of his hopeful son and heir, a shaver of ten years.—4 My'composition, thir.' 4 What is thesubject?'—'Internationallaw, thir,' replied the Grotius ; ' but really I shall be unable to conthentrate my ideas, and give them a logical relation, if I am conthantly interrupted in thith manner by irrelevant inquiries.' A widow said once to her daughter, 4 When you are of age, you will be dreaming of a husband.' 4 Yes, mamma,' replied the thoughtless little hussy,6 for a second time, �22 * What are you about, my dear V said his grandmother to a little boy who was sliding along the room, and casting furtive glances at a gentleman who was paying a visit. 41 am trying, grandmamma, to steal papa's hat out of the room, without letting that one see it,' said he, pointing to the gentleman, 4 for papa wants him to think that he . is out.'" O'Connell, in one of his speeches in Conciliation Hall, told his followers, that if measures injurious to Ireland were brought into Parliament, he would go over to opposition to them;' and when he came back he would say, * Are you for Repeal now ?' England, A few days since, a person threw the head of a goose on to the stage of the Belleville Theatre. Cotru advancing you has lost his head, do not be uneasy, for I will restore it on the conclusion of the performance.' A Liverpool furrier informs those ladies 4 who wish to have a really genuine article,' that he will be happy to make them muffs, boas, &c., of 4THEIR OWN SKINS!' A provincial contemporary is ungallant enough to say that the ladies—Heaven bless 'em !—are never in time except on the wedding-day, and then they wait up all night to prevent being too late in the morning. An advertisement of cheap shoes and fancy articles, inserted in a certain newspaper, has the following nota bene:—4N.B. Ladies wishing those cheap shoes will do well to call soon, as they will not last long' A retired son of St. Crispin, who had amassed considerable wealth, used to put the letters F.R.S. and C. after his name. He translated them thus:—4 First Rate Shoemaker and Cobbler.' 4 What are you engaged in ?' said the head printer of a newspaper establishment to one of the compositors. 4 In an elopement.' 4 Stop,' said his interrogator, 4 1 want you to share in a murder.' 4 Make way here,' said a member of a republican deputation, 4 we are the representatives of the people.' 4 Make way yourself,' shouted a sturdy fellow from the throng, 4 we are the people themselves!' �23 The following advertisement was recently inserted in a New York paper:—6 "Wanted—An experienced nurse to take charge of a young child, between 30 and 35 years old, of unexceptionable character and good reference. None need apply who cannot produce the best testimonials.' A simple Highland girl, on her way home for the north, called, as she passed by Crieff upon an old master with whom she had formerly served. Being kindly ceremony of asking a blessing having been gone through, the poor girl, anxious to compliment, as she conceived, her ancient host, exclaimed, 4 Ah, master, ye maun hae a grand memory, for that's the grace ye had when I was wi' you seven years ago.' invited by him to share in t A countryman busy sowing his ground, two smart fellows riding that way, one of them called to him with an insolent air, 4 Well, honest fellow,' said he, 4 'tis your business to sow, but we reap the fruits of your labour.' To which the countryman replied, 4 'Tis very like you may, for I am sowing hemp.' A wit being asked what the word genius meant, replied, 4 If you had it in yo means.' A person, who was famous for arriving just at dinnertime, visitor), was asked by a lady of the house if he would do as they did. On his*replying he should be happy to have the pleasure, she replied, 4 Dine at home, then.' He, of course, had received his quietus for some time, at least. upon going to a friend's ( Two gentlemen, a few days since, took a boat at Blackfriar's-bridge to go to the Tower. One of them asked the other who sat beside him, if he could tell him what countryman the waterman was. He replied he could not. ' Then,' said his friend, ' I can ; he is a Ro-man.' A Cockney being told the above, said 4 the pun was wherry good.' During a late crowded night at Covent Garden Theatre, a pretty woman, on wh powerful sudorific, attracted general attention. Agentlemanafterviewingherfor a few minutes, exclaimed A charming painting in oil: �24 The inhabitants of Mount Street, Southampton, were alarmed one morning at three o'clock by a drunken fellow it?' exclaimed a hundred voices at once. 4 That's exactly 4 for my pipe's what I want to know,' replied the fellow, gone out.' For the gout, says one, toast and water; for bile, and patience; for toothache, pluck it out. c exercise; A venerable Scotch minister used to say to any of his flock who were labouring under affliction, 4 Time is short, and if your cross is heavy, you have not far to carry it.' La Motte, who had lost his eyesight, being one day in a crowd, accidently trod upon the foot of a young man, who instantly struck him on the face. * Sir,' said La Motte, 4 you will be sorry for what you have done, when 1 tell you that I am blind.' Coward is a feudal expression, implying cow-herd, for which employment a man void of courage was deemed only fit for. Mr. Wilmot, an infidel, when dying, laid his trembling emaciated hand upon the sacred volume, and exclaimed solemnly, and with unwonted energy, 4 The only objection Franklin, one of the greatest philosophers and the Scotch mathematician, and author of many learned works, was at first a poor weaver. Herschel, one of the most eminent astronomers, rose from the low station of a fifer boy in the army. These examples show us the happy effects of assiduity and perseverance. statesmen There are boys who think themselves men, and who goto barbers' shops to be, as they say, 4 bared.' We eard of a juvenile who went to be scraped, and the barber skin, left him and went lounging about his door. As soon as the young 4 gent.' saw him sauntering, he impatiently scre all this time here for ?' The witty barber replied, 4 I'm waiting until your beard grows!' T o FIND 4 MEAN' TIME.—Learn of Molly the maid the time of dinner, and always drop in at the exact moment. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/71978326b518834a84ad8e57e9ab3ea3.jpg a55484d0ed6487f8d14f9fd3e65215cf Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Illustration on title-page of a young girl standing in a drawing room gesturing towards book on a table. 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 004: Title-page illustration a girl standing in a drawing room gesturing towards a book on a table. 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 Scrap-Book: A Selection of the Best Jokes, Puns, Comic Sayings, Jonathanisms, &amp;c., &amp;c Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1856 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133963505154">s0098b48</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages Abstract A summary of the resource. This chapbook contains 24 pages of jokes, anecdotes, and interesting stories. While many of the selections in this chapbook are of the humorous variety the topics have a great deal of range and also contain general interest stories. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <p dir="ltr"><span>University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</span><a href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a></p> <div>&nbsp;</div> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #20 in a bound collection of 34 chapbooks Description An account of the resource "2" printed at the bottom of title-page Woodcut #04: Illustration on title-page of a girl standing in a drawing room gesturing towards a book on a table. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph ca.519-824-4120, Ext 53413 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 Type The nature or genre of the resource wit & humor # of Woodcuts: 1 Architecture: window(s) Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1851-1860 Chapbook Genre: wit & humor Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): bloomers Fashion (Clothing): children's clothes Fashion (Clothing): dress Fashion (Clothing): stockings Fashion (Clothing): upper class Furniture: table(s) Gender: girl(s) Indoor Scene Object: book(s) Object: curtain(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9737a868ef1b05fa93c0ec9c4c9bf7e6.pdf e80c21b651e7d81a5393a9f75cfd171f PDF Text Text SELECT MISCELLANY A COLLECTION OF PIECES MORAL, HISTORICAL, AND HUMOUROUS; BY CELEBRATED AUTHORS. GLASGOWPRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, �/ < i h J J • J O S ' I '-'•> V - T i • " ('.'*! « v;, l i M.tO > - I |[V : l i 0.1) ,J/Ji< • If I ft • w V: rh • -S.U : : wodhajo 'IO0-: 'TT'I' ;T.. • <[ 'TYJSVI �THE SELECT MISCELLANY. BATTLE OF THE BREEKS. A FBS G A AE FROM THE LIFE OF WILLIAM M ' G E E , WEAVER I N HAMILTON. I often wonder, when I think of the tribulations that men bring upon themsells, through a want of gumption and common independence of speerit. There now, was I for nae less than eighteen years as henpickit a man as ever wrocht at the loom. Maggy and me, after the first week of our marriage, never foregathered weel thegither. There was something unco dour and imperious about her temper, although, I maun say, barring this drawback, she was nae that ill in her way either—that is to say, she had a sort of kindness about her, and behaved in a truly mitherly way to the bairns, gie'in them a' things needfu' in the way of feeding and claithing so far as our means admitted. But, O man, for a' that, she was a dour wife. There was nae pleasing her ae way or anither ; and whenever I heard the bell ringing for the kirk, it put me in mind of her tongue—aye wag, wagging, and abuseing me beyond bounds. In ae word, I was a puir, broken-hearted man, and often wished myself in Abraham's bosom, awa frae the cares and miseries of this sinfu* world. I was just saying that folk often rin their heads �into scrapes for want of a pickle natural spunk. Let nae man tell me tliat guid nature and simpleecity will get on best in this world ; na—faith, no. I had ower muckle experience that way ; and the langer I lived has pruved to me that my auld maist'er, James Currie, (him in the Quarry Loan,) wasna sae far wrang when he alleged, in his droll gude-humoured way, that a man should hae enough of the deil about him to keep the deil frae him. That was, after a', ane of the wisest observes I hae heard o' for a lang time. Little did I opine that I would ever be oblegated to mak' use o't in my ain particklar case :—but, bide awee, and ye shall see how it was brocht about between me and Maggy. It was on a wintry nicht when she set out to pick a quarrel wi* Mrs Todd, the huckster's wife, anent the price of a pickle flour which I had bought some days before, for making batter of, but which didna turn out sae weel as I expeckit, considering what was paid for't. Had I been consulted, I would hae tell't her to bide at hame, and no fash her thumb about the matter, which after a* was only an affair of three-happence farthing, and neither here nor there. But, na ; Maggie was nane o' the kind to let sic an object to stan' by ; so out she sets, wi' her red cloak about her, and her black velvet bonnet—that she had just that day got hame frae Miss Lorimer, the milliner— upon her head. But I maun first tell what passed between her and me on this wonderfu' occasion.* " And now, my dear/' quo' I, looking as couthly and humble as I could, and pulling my Kilmarnock night-cap a wee grain off my brow in a kind of half respectfu' fashion, " whats this ye're ganging to be about ? Odds, woman, I wadna gie a pirn for a' �that has happened. What signifies a pickle flour scrimp worth half a groat!" Faith, I would better hae held my tongue, for nae sooner was the word uttered, than takin' haud of a can, half fu' o* ready made-dressing, which I was preparing to lay on a wab of blue check I was working for Mr Andrew Treddles, the Glasgow manufacturer—I say, takin' haud o' this, she let it fly at my head like a cannon ball. But "Providence was kind, and instead of knocking out my brains, as I had every reason to expeck, it gied bang against our ain looking glass, and shattered it into five hundred pieces. But I didna a'thegither escape skaith, the dressing having flown out as the can gied by me, and plaistered a* my face ower in a manner maist extraordinary to behold. By jingo, my corruption was roused at this deadly attempt, and gin she hadna been my wife, I wad hae thrawn about her neck like a tappit hen's. But, na—I was henpickit, and she had sic a mastery over me as nae persuasions of my ain judgement could overcome. Sae I could dae nathing but stan' glowering at her like a moudiewart, while she poured out as muckle abuse as If I had been her flunky, instead of her natural lord and master. Ance or twice I fand my nieves yeuking to gie her a clour by way of balancing accounts, but such was the power of influence, that she had obtained that I durstna cheep for my very Iieart's bluid. So awa' she gaid on her errand, leaving me sittin' by the fire, to mak' the best of my desperate condition. " 0, Nancy,'' said I to my dochter, as she sat mending her brother's sark, opposite to me, 4 4 Is na your mitlier an awfu' woman ?" " I see naething awfu' about lier," quo' the cratur; " I think she servit yericht; and had I �6 a man, I would just treat him in the very same way, if he claur'd to set his nose against any thing that I wanted." I declare to ye when I heard this, frae my ain flesh and bluid, I was perfectly dumfoundered. The bairn I had brought up on my knee-—that used, when a wee thing, to come and sit beside me at the loom, and who was in the custom of wheeling my pirns wi' her ain h a n d odds, man, it was desperate. I coudna say anither word, but I fand a big tear come hap hap-ping ower my runkled cheeks, the first that had wet them sin* I was a bit laddie running about before the schule door. What was her mither's abusiVeness to 'this ? A man may thole muckle frae his wife,'but 0, the harsh words of the undutifu' bairn gang like arrows to his heart, and he weeps tears of real bitterness. I wasna angry at the lassie— 1 was ower grieved to be angered ; and for the first time I found that my former sufferings were only a single thread to a haill hank of yarn compared to them I suffered at this moment. A'thegither the thing was mair than I could staun, so, rising up, I betaks mysell to my but-anben neighbour, Andrew Brand. Andrew was an uncommon sagacious chiel, and, like mysell, a weaver to his trade. He was beuk-learned, and had read a hantel on different subjects, so that he was naturally looked up to by the folks round about, on account of his great lear. When onything gaed wrang about the Leechlee street, where we lived, we were a7 glad to consult him ; and his advice was reckoned no greatly behint that of Mr Meek, the minister. He was a great counter or 'ritlimetishian, as he ca'd it; and it was thocht by mony guid judges that he could handle a pen as weel as Mr Dick, the writing-master, liimseli. So* 4 4 �7 as I was saying, I stappit ben to Andrew's, to as& his advice, but odds, if ye ever saw a man in sic a desperate passion as he was in, when I tauld him how I had been used by my wife and dochter. 4 4 William M'Ghee," said he, raising his voice— it was a geyan strong ane—" ye're an absolute gomeril. 0, man, but ye're a henpickit sumph! I tell ye ye're a gawpus, and a lauching stock, and no worth the name of a man. Do ye hear that ?" O ay, I hear't very weel," quo' I, no that pleased at being sae spoken to, even by Andrew Brand, who was a man I could stamach a guid deal frae, in the way of reproof—" I ihear't a' weel eneucli, and am muckle obleged to ye, nae doubt, for your consolation." " Hooly and fairly, William," said he in a kinder tone, for he say/ I was a degree hurt by his speech. " Come, I was only joking ye, man, and you maunna tak onything amiss I hae said. But really, William, I speak to ye as a frien', and tell ye that ye are submitting to a tyranny which no man of common understanding ought to submit to. Is this no the land of liberty ? Are we no just as free as the Duke in his grand palace down by ; and has ony body a richt-—tell me that, William M'Gee—to tyranneeze ower anither as your wife does ower you! I'll no tell ye what to do, but I'll just tell you what I would do, if my wife and dochter treated me as yours have treated you— lord, man, I would ding -their harns about, and knock their heads thegitlier like twa curling stanes. I would aye ,be master in my ain house." This was Andrew's advice, and I thocbt it sounded geyan rational, only no very easy to put in practice. Hoosomever, thinks I to mysell, I'll consider about it, and gin I could only bring mysell �8 to mak the experiment, wlia kens but I micht succeed to a miracle ? On stapping back to my ain house, the first thing I did was to tak a thimblefu' of whisky, by way of gi'eing me a pickle spunk, in case of ony fresh rumpus wi' the wife, and also to clear up my ideas—for I hae fand, that after a lang spell at the loom the thochts as weel as the body, are like to get stupid and dozey. So I taks a drappie, and sits down quietly by the fireside, waiting for the return of Maggy frae scoLding Mrs Todd about the flour. In she comes, a' in a flurry. Her face was as red as a peeyny rose, her breathing came fast, and she lookit a'thegither like ane that has had a sail* warsle wi' the tongue. But she was far frae being downcast. On the contrair, she lookit as proud as a Turkey cock ; and I saw wi' the tail o' my e'e that she had gained a grand victory ower puir Mrs Todd, who was a douce, quiet woman, and nae match for the like of her in randying. So she began to stump and mak a great phrase about the way she had outcrawed the puir body ; and was a'thegither as upset about it, as if Duke Hamilton bad made her keeper of his palace. Losh, I was mad to hear't, and twa or three times had a gude mind to put in a word—to sic a degree was my courage raised by the drap spirits—but aye as the words were rising to my mouth, the thocht of the can and the dressing sent them back again, till they stuck like a bane in my throat. Very likely I micht hae said neer a word, and Andrew Brand's advice micht hae gain for naething, had it no been for the cratur Nancy, who was sae lifted up about her mither's dispute, that naething would sair her but to hae the haill affair mentioned cut and dry, �/1 "And did you cast up to Mrs Todd* mither," quo' tlie little cutty,44 that she was fat?" "Ay, that I did," said Maggy. " I tell't her she was like a barn door. I tell't her she was like the side of a house. Ye're a sow, quo' I ; ye get fou every hour of the day wi' your lump of a guideman.' " But this wasna a'—for nae sooner had Maggie answered her dochter's first question, than the cratur was ready wi' anither : "Aud mither, did ye cast up to her that her faither was a meeser ?" "Atweel did I, Nancy," answered the gudewife. " I tell't her a' that. I coost up to he:* that her faither was a meeser, and would ride to Lannon on a louse, and make breeks of its skin, and candels of its tallow." I could thole this nae langer. I fand the haill man working within me, and was moved to a pitch of daring, mair like madness than onything else. jPaitij, the whisky was of gude service now, and so was Andrew Brand's advice. I accordingly steekit my neives wi* desperation, threw awa' my cowl, tucked up my sark sleeves—for my coat happened to be aff at the time—and got up frae the threefooted stool I had been sitting upon in the twinkling of an e'e. I trumbled a' ower, but whether it was wi' fear, or wi' anger, or wi' baith putthegither, it would be difficult to say. I was in awfu' passion, and as fairce as a papish. "And so," said I, " y e coost up sic things to the honest woman, Mrs Todd! 0, Maggy M'Gee, Maggy M'Gee, are ye no ashamed of yoursell ? Odd it would hae dune your heart gude to see how she glowered at me. She was bewildered and lookit as if to see whether I was mysell, and no some ither body. But her evil speerit didna lie lang asleep : it soon broke out �10 that I maun now staun firm., or be a dead man for ever. 44 Has your farther been at the whisky bottle ? said she to her dcehter. " He looks as if he was the waur of drmi." He had a glass just before- ye cam in," an swered the wicked jimpey ; and' scarcely had she Spoken the word, when Maggy flew upon me like a toger, and gie'd me a skelp on the cheek wi' her open, loof, that made me turn round tapwise on the middle of the floor. Seeing that affairs were come to this pass, I saw plainly that I maun go on, n.o forgetting in sae doing my frien' Andrew's advice, as also my auld master, Tainmas Ourrie's observe, ancnt a man having aneuch of the deil in. his temper to keep the deil awa' frae him. So I picked up a' the spunk I had in me, besides what I had frae the drap whisky; and fa'ing to, I gi'ed her sic a leathering, as never wornftfi got in hter born days. In ae word, she met wi' her match, and roared aloud for mercy ; but this I would on nae account grant, till she promised faithfully, that in a' time coming she would acknowledge me as her lord and master—and obey me in everything as a dutiful wife should her husband. As soon as this was settled, in stappit Andrew Brand'. At the sight of my wife greeting, and me sae fairce, he held up his hands wi' astonishment. "William M'Gee," quo' he, " it's no possible that ye're maister in this house !" 44 It's no only possible, but its true, Andrew," was my answer; and. taking me by the hand, he •wished me joy for my speerit and success. Sae far, sae weel: the first grand stroke was madb, but there was something yet to do. I had discharged a' outstanding debts wi' my wife, and had brocht her to terms ; but I had yet to reduce like a squib on the King's birth clay, and I saw �11 % <Y my bairns to tlieir proper senses, and show thorn that I was their lord and maister, as weel as their inMher's. Puir things! my heart was wae for t'hem, for they were sairly miseducated, and held me in nae mair estimation, than if I had been ane of my ain wabster lads. So, just wi' a view to their gucle, J took down a pair of teuch ben-leather taws, weel burnt at the linger ends, and gi'ed Nancy as moUy cracks ower the bare nock, as set her sqeeling be yond a' bounds. It was pitifu' to see the cratuiv how she skipped about the room, and ran awa to her mither, to escape my faitherly rage. But a' assistence frae that quarter was end now; and she was fain to fa' down on her knees and beg my forgeevness—and promise to conduct hersell as became my dochter, in a' time coming. Just at this moment, in conies wee Gordie, greeting for his parritch. He kent nae thing of what had taken place in the house ; and doubtless expeckit to mak' an idiot of me, his father, as he had been accustomed to do, almost frae his yery cradle. I saw that now was the time to thresh the corruption out of him ; and brandishing the taws oy/er my head, I made a stap forrit to lay hand upon him, and treat him like the lave. He looked as if he had an inkling of what was forthcoming, and run whinging and craiking to his mither, who stood wiping her een wi? her striped apron in the corner of the room. The terrified laddie clang to her knees, but she never offered to lend a helping hand ; so great was the salutary terror wi' which I had inspired her. So I puM him awa frae her coats, to which he was clinging ; and laying him ower my knee, I gie'd him hipsy-dipsy in the presence of his mither, his sister, and Andrew Brand, who were looking on. �12 And thus hae I, who for eighteen years was ruled by my wife, got the upper hand ; and ony man who is henpickit, as I hae been, should just take the same plan, and his success will be as sure as mine. Andrew Brand aye said to mo that a man should wear his ain breeks ; and I can mainteen, frae present experience, that a wiser saying is no to be found in the proverbs of Solomon, the son of David. No that Maggie has 11a tried nows and thans to recover her lost power, but I hae on thae occasions conduckit mysell wi' sic firmness, that she has at last gi'en it up as a bad job, and is now as obedient a wife, as ye'11 meet wi' between this and Bothwell. The twa bairns, too, are just wonderfully changed, and are as raisonable as can be expeckit, a' things considered. Let men, therefore, whether gentle or semple, follow my plan, and the word henpickit, as Andrew Brand says, will soon slip out of the dictionar.—A Modem Pythagorean. THE B A R B E R OF DUNSE. A clergyman possessing an uncommon share 0i wit and humour, had occasion to lodge for the night, with some friends, at the inn of a town, which for certain reasons, we shall denominate Dunse. Requiring the services of a barber, he was recommended by the waiter to Walter Dron, who was represented as excellent at cracking a joke, or telling a story. This functionary being forthwith introduced, made such a display of his oral and manual dexterity, as to leave on the mind as well as the body of his customer, a very favourable impression, and induce the latter to invite �13 % him to sit down to a friendly glass. The mutual familiarity which the circulation of the bottle produced, served to show off the barber in his happiest mood; and the facetious clergyman, amid the general hilarity, thus addressed him : " Now Wattie, I engage to give you a guinea, on the following terms,— that you leap backwards and forwards over your chair for the space of half an hour—leisurely, yet regularly—crying out at every leap, ' here goes I, Watty Dron, barber of Dunse —but that, should you utter any thing else during the time, you forfeit the reward." Wattie, though no doubt surprised at the absurdity of the proposal, yet, considering how easily he could earn the guinea, and the improbability that such an opportunity would ever again present itself, agreed to the stipulations. The watch was set, and the barber having stript of lais coat, leaning with one hand on the back of the chair, commenced leaping over the seat, uniformly repeating, in an exulting tone, the words prescribed. After matters had gone on thus smoothly for about live minutes, the clergyman rung the bell, and thus accosted the waiter:—" What is the reason, Sir, you insult me, by sending a mad fellow like that, instead of a proper barber, as you pretended he was ?" Barber—(leaping)—44 Here goes I, Wattie Dron, barber of Dunse." Waiter—" Oh ! Sir, I don't know what is the matter, I never saw him In this way all my life—Mr Dron, Mr Dron, what •do you mean.?" Barber—" Here goes I, Wattie—" Waiter—" Bless me, Mr Dron, recollect these :are gentlemen ; how can you make such a fool «of yourself?" Barber—"Here goes I — , " Landlord—{entering in haste)—" What the Devil, Sir, is all this—the fellow is mad—how dare you, $ir, insult gentlemen in my house by such conduct?" �14 Barber—" Here goes I, Wattie Dron"—Landlord — " I say, Bob, rtin for his wife, for this can't be put up With—gentlemen, the man is evidently deranged, and I hope you will not let my house foe injured in any way by this business." " Here goes—"—(wife pushing i n ) — " O h ! Wattie, Wattie, what's this that's come ower ye ? Do you no ken your ain wife ?" Barber—" Here goes I,"— Wife—(weeping)—" Oh ! Wattie, if ye care na for me, mind your bairns at hame, and come awa' wi' me." Barber—" Here goes I, Wat—" The afflicted wife now clasped her husband round the neck, and hung on him so as effectually to arrest his farther progress. Much did poor Wattie struggle to shake off his loving, yet unwelcome spouse^ but it was now no " go"—his galloping was at an end. " Confound you for an idiot," he bitterly exclaimed, " I never could win a guinea so easily in my life." It is only necessary to add, that the explanation which immediately followed, was much more satisfactory to mine host than to the barber's better half ; and that the clergyman restored Wattie to his usual good humour, by generously rewarding his exertions with the well-earned guinea. SAYINGS OF POOR RICHARD. IT would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service ; but idleness taxes many of as much more : sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. " Sloth like rust, consumes faster than labours wears, while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard says. But, " dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that �is the stuff f j f e is made of," as poor Richard say*. How muc)^ m ore than is necessary do we spend in sleep! forgetting that " the sleeping fox catches no poultry » a nd that 4'there will be sleeping enough in th^ grave," as Poor Richard says. f J time be of all things the most precious, " wastir xg time must be," as Poor Richard says, 41 the greatest prodigality since as he elsewhere tells us " Lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough, always proves little enough. Let us then up and be doing, and doing to tho purpose, so by diligence shall we do more, with less perplexity. Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry, all easy; and " lie that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at n i g h t w h i l e , " laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee ; and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man, healthy, wealthy, and wise," as Poor Richard says. So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. " Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hope, will ba fasting. There are no gains without pains ; then lielp hands, for I have no lands, or if I have, they are smartly taxed. He that hath a trade, hath an estate ; and he that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as Poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, we shall never starve ; for " at the working man's house, hunger looks in but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff, or the constable enter ; for industry pays debts, while despair incrfjaseth them. What though you �IG have found no treasure, nor has any 11 relation left you a legacy, 4 diligence is the mot ^ e r good luck, and God gives all things to industi T- Then plough deep while sluggards sleep, and shall have corn to sell and to keep." Work whilt^ ^ 1S called to-day, for you know not how much you be hindered to-morrow. 44 One to-day is wox^ 1 two to-morrows," as Poor Richard says; aru^ further, 44 Never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day/' If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle ? Are you then your own master ? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your king. NO GRUMBLING.—A TALE. An odd whim once possessed a country 'squire, that he would not hire any servant whatever, until ten pounds should be deposited between the master and servant; and the first that grumbled at any thing, let it be what it might, was to forfeit the money. Being in want of a coachman, not one round the country would venture to go after the place. Now it happened that one Thomas Winterbourn, a coachman of London, who had been discharged from a nobleman's family, was in that part of the country on a visit, and being acquainted with the oddity of the 'squire's whim, resolved to accept of the place, and, on application, was admitted into the family. Thomas was greatly surprised, after living there for two months, that nothing was allowed him for < J �17 "breakfast, dinner, or supper, but bread and cheese and small beer. Being heartily tired of this kind of fare, he applied to the cook: 4 Cookee,' says Thomas, 4 is it the standing rule of this family to keep their servants on nothing but bread and cheese V 4 What!' says the cook, 4 do you grumble V 4 No, no, by no means, cookee,' replied Thomas, being fearful of forfeiting the money. But recollecting his master's park was stocked with fine deer, he took a musket and shot a fawn, skinned it, and brought it ;tO the cook. 4 Here cookee,' said Thomas, 4 take and roast this fawn for me immediately ; for I have an acquaintance or two coming down from London, to pay me a visit.' The cook seemed to object to it, having some meat to dress directly for her master; 4 What,' says Thomas, 4 cookee, do you grumble V 4 No,' replied the cook ; so down to roast went the fawn. The appointed time arrived that the master ordered dinner, and no sign of any coming to his table occasioned him to ring the bell, to know the reason of i t ; the cook acquainted the 'squire with all Thomas's proceedings, who in a great hurry bolted down stairs into the kitchen, where he found Thomas very busy in basting the fawn. 4 How got you that fawn ?' says the 'squire. 4 Shot it,' replied Thomas. 4 Where ?' says the 'squire. 4 In your park,' replied Thomas. 4 By whose orders?' 4 Do you grumble ? says quoth the 'squire. Thomas. 4 No, Thomas,' says the 'squire; and retired to his dining-room, greatly perplexed at Thomas's proceedings. He instantly wrote a letter to a gentleman who lived near six miles from his house, and ordered that Thomas should carry it immediately. Poor Thomas was obliged to comply, though with a sor- �18 rowful heart to leave the fawn. After his departure, the 'squire ordered the fawn, when dressed, to be brought to his table, which was done accordingly. On Thomas's return, he found himself fairly tricked out of the fawn ; and instead of it, to his mortification, bread and cheese, and small beer, his old diet; however, Thomas vowed within himself to revenge it the first opportunity. A little while after, the 'squire, (who was going to pay his addresses to a young lady,) gave orders to Thomas to get the carriage, together with the horses and harness, well cleaned. Thomas obeyed the order, and on the road from the stable to the 'squire's house, he met a man with a small sandcart, drawn by two remarkably fine jack-asses. Thomas insisted upon an exchange, the horses for the asses, which being obtained, he cut all his master's fine harness to pieces, to fit these Arabian ponies, as he styled them. Matters being completed, he drove up boldly to the 'squire's, and knocked at the gate ; the porter perceiving the droll figure his master's equipage cut, burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter! 'C'up, c'up,' says Thomas, 'what's the fool laughing at?—Go and acquaint the 'squire his carriage is ready.' Shortly after the 'squire came, and seeing his carriage so beautifully adorned with cattle, was struck with astonishment. 4 Why, what the devil/ quoth the 'squire, 'have you got harnessed to my carriage?' 4 1 will tell you,'says Thomas. 4 As I was driving from your stable to the gate, I met a fellow driving a sand-cart, drawn by these two fine Arabian ponies, and knowing you to be fond of good cattle, I gave your horses for these two fine creatures ; they draw well, and are ornaments to your carriage ; only observe what fine ears they �19 have got?' ' D—n their ears and ornaments too,' says the 'squire : ' why, the fellow's mad! 4 4 What!' cries Thomas, 4 do you grumble V 4 Grumble,' quoth the 'squire, 'why, I think it is high time to grumble: the next thing, I suppose, my carriage is to be given away for a sand-cart!' On Thomas procuring the horses again, he paid him his wages and forfeit-money, being heartily tired with the oddity of his whims, and declared that Thomas,, the London coachman, was the drollest; dog he ever met with. BROSE AMD BUTTER. During the time of Oliver Cromwell's Protectorship, the principal residence of Charles. II. was at the court of his sister in Holland; the laird of Cockpen, a staunch adherent to the House of Stuart, followed the prince thither, and attached himself to Charles' household. Cockpen, from his skill and proficiency in music, very much contributed to divert his iroyal master, by the impressive manner in which lie played the favourite airs of his native country ;; but none pleased Charles so well as the tune ®f " Brose and Butter." So partial was he to tlais air, that with 44 Brose and Butter" sounding iu his ears he was lulled asleep at night, and with 4C Brose and Butter" awaked from his morning slumber. At the Restoration, Cockpen returned to Scotland, where he found that, in consequence of his attachment to the royal cause, his estate had been attainted. Many were the applications lie made to have it put again in his possession, bui; all to no purpose. He at length went to London* but was coldly received by the �20 courtiers, put off with fair promises, and in all his attempts to gain an audience of the king,, he was baffled and thwarted. Having formed an intimacy as a musician, with the organist of the king's chapel, he solicited, and obtained, as a special favour, permission to perform on the organ before his majesty, at the royal chapel. Cockpen exerted his talents to the utmost, thinking to attract the attention of Charles, but all his efforts were unavailing. On the conclusion of the service, instead of a common voluntary, in a fit of despair he struck up " Brose and Butter," which no sooner caught the ears of the king than he flew to the organgallery. The regular organist, perceiving the vivid flashes of Charles' eye, was seized with such a panic, that he fell on his knees and protested his innocence. " It was not me, please your majesty, it was not me ! " — " Y o u ! y o u ! " exclaimed the enraptured monarch, as he hastily passed him,— 44 You never could play any thing like it in your life." Then addressing his old associate in exile,— 44 Odds fish, Cockpen ! I thought you would have made me dance."— 44 1 could have danced to 4 Brose and Butter,' once with a light heart too," replied the performer,"—but my adherence to your majesty's interest has bereft me of the lands of Cockpen."—44 You shall dance," said Charles,—44 You shall dance, and be the laird of Cockpen y e t . " ~ Accordingly the laird was immediately put in possession of his inheritance. CURE FOR A CRIPPLE. It happened on a Sunday evening, about thirty years ago, that two sheep-stealers had meditated �21 an attempt 011 the flock of a wealthy farmer in the parish of A , in the west neJik of Fife. The sheep were grazing in a park adjoining the village churchyard, and hard by the public road. The eldest and most experienced of the depredators recommended that only one of them should go in among the sheep, as it would not alarm vhem so much as two. Accordingly the younger thie/ was despatched to bring a sheep, while the other into the churchyard, and sat down upon a tlioroughstone to amuse himself till his companion returned. Now it so happened that John, the minister's man, had forgot to take home the Bible from the church, after the service of the day was over, which neglect was not perceived until the minister called for the books to perform the duty of family worship, when John was immediately sent to the church for the Bible, John not being possessed of a very daring spirit, and it being a dark winter night, was not very fond of visiting the abodes of the dead at such an hour ; but when he arrived at the churchyard gate, and got a glimpse of the man sitting on the thorough-stone, his hair stood on end, and his fears soon conjured the thief into a demon. Without more ado he wheeled about, and made the best of his way to the manse, where he related his wonderful story, telling them that he saw the devil sitting on a grave breaking dead bones. An old cripple medicant, who was quartered at the manse during the sabbath, (for the minister, contrary to the general character of liis brethren, was a very charitable man,) hearing John tell his appalling story, laughed at him, saying, " if I was as able to gang as you, I would soon bring the Bible."— " Well," says John, " if you will accompany me, I will carry you on my back, and we'll maybe be able �to bring the Bible atr/een us." The beggar agreed, and mounted Jo\m accordingly, after he had wrapped himself, in his grey plaid. When they came within view of the thief, John would very fain have tuvned, but the beggar spurned him -on, until they came within a very short distance of him, when he, supposing it to be his comrade coming with a sheep on his back, exclaimed, " Is he, -*a fat ane ?" John, whose heart was quaking before; on hearing this question put to him, could do longer resist his inclination to turn ; he threw the old man off his back, saying,44 Be he fat or be he lean, there he is to ye," and run what he was able. The medicant, finding that he was thus left to his own resources to appease the devil as he could, mustered all his strength ; and, strange to tell, his legs that had refused to perform their office for many a long year before, were suddenly strengthened ; he soon went past John, regained the manse before him, and was never lame after. SQTJK MILK WHOLESALE. Some time ago, the frolics of the honourable Mr , made a great noise in the nevfspapers. The following records one of the most whimsical acts of folly :— One morning, after having danced all night at an assembly, he sauntered out with the Marquis ofleaning over his arm ; and in crossing St. Andrew's square, found an old rustic standing before the door of Dumbreck's Hotel, with his cart full of butter-milk barrels. He quickly concerted with the Marquis, a scheme of fun, whereby the �milk of the old man found a very different destiny to what its owner intended. They first jumped up in front of the cart, seized the halter, and galloped, off, leaving the poor man to follow as best lie could—then took out all the spiggots, and in grand style drove along George Street, past the Assembly rooms, to the astonishment of the fashionables whom they had lately left; then down Frederick Street, along Prince's Street, and back again to St. Andrew's Square, all the time followed by the old milk-man, who, in the, agony of his heart, at seeing his valuable property deluging the causeway,, exhausted his whole vocabulary of exclamations, in giving vent to his indignation. With his s&y-blue. top coat flying behind him, and his rough-shod heels striking fire from the pavement, he pursued his ravished cart, shouting as loud as his exhausted lungs would permit.—"0! ye unhanged blackguards !—ye villains!—ye de'ils buckies !—I'll hae the law o' ye, gin there be law in Emburgh, ye vagabonds !—I'll get ye a better house than your father biggit for ye, ye rascals !— I'll get ye clappit up as sure's ye're leevin', ye rampaugin Emburgh hallanshakers ! " As soon as he arrived at the Hotel, the Marquis delivered the reins into his hand; but blue-bonnet vowed he would not quit him, till he had ascertained his name, and that of his companion. Mr — , put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a piece of paper, which he said contained the required address, and while the old man unfolded it, our young heroes took the opportunity to escape. The bit of paper turned out to be a ten pound note ; "Ah, stop, my bonnie lads," cries the appeased milkman, I've something to say t'ye—will ye need ony mair milk the morn ?" �24 INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY. It is reported the whole body of Sextons, or Grave Diggers, throughout the kingdom are preparing a petition to Parliament, praying that Temperance Societies may be put down, as any restriction laid upon the distilling of spirits would be the utter ruin of them and their families ! three parts in four of those that come to their warehouses, being obliged to the distillery for their passports thither ; not to mention, that the more they bury, the fewer there will remain to eat; and of course, that the free toleration and license of making, vending, and distributing strong liquors in every part of Great Britain, is the only remedy that can possibly render provisions cheap. DREADFUL DEED. A man in the last stage of destitution, came before the sitting Magistrate, at Lambeth Street, and stated that having by the operation of the new Poor Laws, been suddenly deprived of parish assistance, he was reduced to such extremity, that if not instantly relieved he must be driven to a deed that his soul abhorred. The worthy Magistrate instantly ordered him five shillings from the poorbox, and after a suitable admonition against giving way to despair, asked him what dreadful deed he would have been impelled to do, but for this seasonable relief ; " To work," said the man, with a dqep sigh, as he left the office. / finis, * ; � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/abd3dc6ff2fb0d828250efa9e62efd13.jpg 7c624b5278774a4fad8b8863f2a33838 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3493 Width 2127 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The select miscellany: a collection of pieces moral, historical and humourous by celebrated authors. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Wit and humor Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943831103505154">s0615b37</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource '82' is printed at the bottom of the title page Woodcut image of a girl in a bonnet picking mushrooms, basket on her arm with a woodcut border on title-page. Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/fd1bc44c501e908fb85043db11855f30.pdf 7bb8aa320c57844e598d111964897d76 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1911f41556ef3b07f8c3b35243033859.jpg 2ad2433096fa8f739e1033afb9761d8d https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/af1549b98135d025494a7ac96fc30119.jpg 1020e27594079bff11fc7f9c4c48df85 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/7fe693f2ab5f43b8a787073fccb40dac.jpg 558703502dad272619f6a09dd027c55c https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/82311b995cc95ae03ee06ff03fa24519.jpg 8ec8bf3f047f827df8533bb2812fb1c6 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d874de8558f8f8d2ce4075fa459cda17.jpg 24a6d273358bab508f771a31b08eca40 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4734b74e0517dd6ed9de65ae81c5dc36.jpg 79c1e781d3e7efec0cc3d5c6240ce966 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c366bde4c20bbc0f114d04a11f90bb7d.jpg 14de667d4f4feec05f899d61cabb9ade https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/2510ff5788d1263da3fab48ddcb2cc26.jpg 04d42dac2f6efe13f763d63c033c3bcd https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/efeb571f01dbe9d8d307f34f721419df.jpg 9e0392a3d3d249068b544df9c7e1476b https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/273199d9266abe4225d962dcc2f026f2.jpg ff361cddfa77aed3eafc1ec3d82ba3ef https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/2d86cb69e0783a64468a79aa037183c8.jpg 4a6b7635caa801b5b1ab403119f46bca https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a23cf3b736b028014a08a35904ce0da0.jpg 39989f10feaefc6f07a5dbaf0005f0c9 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/3fb25f627a6fb9fe93dc3f966601d1d6.jpg 2744ff3e7138bf7e026ec2f4b341023b https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/59a2395e39f4ce0b0732db69fccc07c0.jpg 3fdcda3404f59051a48ec99ef101efd7 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/37f129370c7ce1f70de57ff1dcd94e74.jpg 61ee6819ee4d2bcbc39d2e9a0aaee2e8 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/29c56f861b1aa9a1cade21efc29578bf.jpg 6931fc5aaf1c5c12549a22db9e30be0e https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b693d64e43355c1eca56754df586aec6.jpg 8b6bbb7331614bc6df822c05069cb3fb https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/47a40001bf76d5e9ee6776539e2e1dbe.jpg 379e25612bf74d3575ec7545e891788b https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9d9d7bb825d455c826eeec806d259b4b.jpg 342f9369653eeb437f2e559d072ebefe https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/8ce458d400ce930e1ad834abaec76747.jpg 1af8056ce2c95f5d815788a661eee6b5 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/82605fe977083064dec49dcdda5e9b42.jpg 8e913b62268d316251b660f6dd5c69ee https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b69d34f6e1cbfd22cc370026acbb1e2e.jpg 1d5162fcdcc6f53ba6d1fe0c38b22e3d https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b01080e8844eb731fb0928d3049fe0d6.jpg a5519a20d0d28043102741d5d4b4d32b https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/8a1ca7bb3c74d2c34f245ee53b485efe.jpg 917a23ac8aec845690a4523d52d2f1ce 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 Sentimental Valentine Writer, containing a selection of the best and newest Valentine poetry.&nbsp;New and Improved Series. No. 13 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1850 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923412353505154">s0094b40</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. New and Improved Series. No. 13 The Ladies' Valentine Writer The Gentlemen's Valentine Writer Description An account of the resource Price One Penny at bottom of title-page Abstract A summary of the resource. A collection of Valentine’s Day poems separated into two sections, one for men writing to women, and one for women writing to men. This convenient arrangement probably allowed individual readers to select the appropriate poems for their own use. Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Poetry Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm 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> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. 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/b399e9bce10cd4190ab5b159952c6a69.pdf fcddf01fae5842e7286e0460948646a7 PDF Text Text The Sheffield Prentice: T o which is added, John Highlandman's Remarks on Glasgow. S T I R L I N G : PRINTED AND SOLD BY C . RAnDALl 1806. �THE SHEFFIELD PRENTICE, I Was brought up in Sheffield, got of a high degree, My parents doated on me, they had no more but me, I rolled in such pleasure, just where my fancy led, Till I was bound apprentice, then all my joy W S fled. A I did not love my master, he did not use me well, I took a resolution, not long with him to dwell. Unknown to my poor parents, I steer'd my course to London, O cursed be the dav ! A handsome young lady, from Holland was there, She offered me great wages, to serve her for a year O then with great persuations, with her I did agree T o go to live in Holland, which prov'd my destiny. from �3 I had not been in Holland part years two or three, Before that my young mistress grew very fond of me. She said her gold and silver her houses and her land, If I'd consent to marry her, shouldbe at my command. I said dear honoured lady, I cannot wed you both, For I have lately promised and made a solemn oath, T o wed none but Polly, your pretty chamber maid ; Excuse me, my dear mistress, she has my heart betray'd. Then in an angry humour, away from mee did run, Resolv'd to be reveng'd on me, before that it was long. She being so perplexed, she could not be my wife. That she would seek a project to take away my life. One day as we were walking, ail in a garden gay, The flowers they were springing sodelightful and gay, �4 A gold ring from her finger as I passing by, She slipt into my pocket, and for it I must die. My Mistress swore I robb'd her, and quickly I was brought, Before a grave old justice, to answer for my fault, Long time I pleaded Innocence but it was no avail : She swore so sore against me that I was sent to jail. Its now the last assizes are drawing on apace, And presently the judges will on me sentence pass. From the place of confinement they brought me to the tree, S o woe be to my mistress for she has ruin'd me, All you thats t a n daround me, my wretched fate to see, Don't glory in my downfall, I pray you pity me. Believe me I am quite innocent, I bid the world adieu ; Farewell, my pretty Polly I die for love of you. �JOHN HIGHLANDMAN's Remarks on GLASGOW. H E R nainsel into Glasgow went, an earin tere to s e e ' t ; And she never saw a bonnier town standingon her feet. For a' te houses that pe tere, was thicket wi' plue stanes, An a stane leather to gae up, no sa to preack her panes. I gang upon a stainey road, a street they did him ca', And when me seek the chapman's house, his name pe on the wa'. I gang to buy a snish tamback, and standing at the cross, And tere me saw a dead man, was riding on a horse. And O but he be a poor man, and no hae mony claise, T e progs pe worn aff his feet, an me see a' his taes. �6 The horse had up his muckle fit, for to give me a shap, A n ' gaping wi his great mouth, to grip me by the tap. He had a staff into his hand, to fight me an' he cou'd, But hersel be run away frae him, his horse be unco proud. But I be rin around about, and s t a n d about the guard, Whare me see the deil chap the hours, tan me grow unco fear'd, Ah wow, wow wow! I said, and whare will me go rin, For yonder be the black man, that burns the fock for sin. I'11 no be slav no langer tere, but fast I rin awa', A n see the mans thrawin the rapes, aside the broomy-law. And O she be a lang tedder I speir'd what they'll cu wi't, H e said to hang the Highlandmen, for stealing o' their meat. �Hout hersel's a honest shentleman, I never yet did s t e a l , But when I meet a muckle purse I like it unco weel. T a n fare you well you saucy fallow, I fain your skin wad pay : I came to your town the morn, and I'll gang out yesterday. T a n I go to my quarter house, the door was unco braw For they had a cow's husband was pricked on the wa'. O tere we get a shapin ale, an tan we get a supper, A filthy choud o' chapped meat, boil'd amang a butter. It was a filthy dirty beef, his banes was like te horn She was a calf wanting the before that she was born. skin I gang awa into the kirk, to hear the lawland preach. And mony a bonny sang they s i a g , ter books it did him teach. �8 And tere I saw a bonny mattam, wi' feathers on her wame I wonderan'shebegauntoflee, or what be in her m y n . Another mattams follow her, wase arse was round like cogs And clitter clatter cries her feet she had on iron brogs. And tere I saw another mattam, into a tarry sack. And twa mans be carry her wi rapes about hims neck. She be so fu' o ' vanity as no go on the grun, But twa poor mans be carry her, in a barrow cover'd aboon. Some had a fish tail to her mouth and some be had a bonnet But my Janet and Donald s wife wad rather ha'e a bannock. F I N I S. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/108e10c284a39458f822c2c0b37bf098.jpg eb52ee44fb37090adcd526ebd9e21f07 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 3432 Width 2002 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 Sheffield prentice: To which is added, John Highlandman’s remarks on Glasgow. Subject The topic of the resource Ballads and songs Crime Highlands Poetry Chapbooks - Scotland - Stirling Description An account of the resource No other copies listed in WorldCat Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1806 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 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923415503505154">s0158b30</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Glasgow, Scotland Sheffield, England London, England Netherlands Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. John Highlandman's remarks on Glasgow Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 17 cm Abstract A summary of the resource. The chapbook contains two songs, the first of which tells the story of a spoiled young man who runs away from his apprenticeship in Sheffield to London, where he is convinced to enter into service under a young mistress who takes him to Holland. After a few years in service, his mistress asks him to marry him, but he rejects her saying that he is already promised to Polly, the chambermaid. Upon hearing this, the mistress seeks revenge by planting a ring in her servant’s pocket and accusing him of theft, which lands him in prison with a sentence of death. The song ends in an address to his audience at the gallows, protesting his innocence and declaring his love of Polly and the fault of his mistress. Written in strong Scots, the second ballad is a popular song featured in several chapbooks describing the humorous adventures of a visitor in Glasgow. 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 Stirling: Printed and sold by C. Randall 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/4756246e90b72c03b6a0a66d69806575.pdf 58770a4bed6f0c678f7c569ebac5af5a PDF Text Text T H E Shepherd's Lament FOR T H E Loss of his Sweetheart. T O W H I C H ARE T H E A S A I L O R ' SR E T U R N . S W E E T T H E T H E ADDed, C O U N T R Y S O L D I E R ' S R E T U R N . C O N S T A N T THE C R I P P L E G L A of S L I F E . L A D Y . C O R N W A L L . G O W, Printed by J. & M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1802. �[2] T h e S H E P H E R D ' S L A M E N T for the L O S S of his S W E E T H E A R T . A S I was a walking one morning in May, T h e fields were adorn'd, the meadows were gay, T h e trees in great branches were cover'd with young. And the small birds round me so sweetly did s i n g . There's none in the world so happy as me, A s me and my Flora, my Flora and me : I will go to my Flora and to her I'll say, T o make us both happy, love, it wants but one day. One day says the fair maid, that day is to come, T o wed gentle shepherd, to wed I'm too young; I will first go to service, and when I return, Then we will be married and love serve on. A s fortune would have it to service she went, T o wait on a lady it was her intent, For to wait on a Lady, and a rich Lady gay, W h o clothed fair Flora in codtly array. A week or two after a letter I sent, Juft two o r three lines for to know what she meant, But she wrote that she liv'd such a contented life, Thatsheenever, no never could be a shepherd's wife. These lines unexpected will make me to smart, I will pluck up my spirits, and cheer up my heart, In hopes that my fair one will write so no mere, But her answer confounded me 10,000 times o'er; Y o u fields and green meadows I bid you adieu. My bags and my bottle I leave unto you, My hook, crook, and pipe, I leave them behind, Since Flora, fair Flora, has prov'd so unkind. �[ 3 ] Its I will go wander my fortune to s e e k , And if I s h o u d chance with my Flora to meet, I will ask her the reason why she served me so, For she's been the occasion of my grief and woe. T H E S A I L O R ' S R E T U R N . A F A I R maid walking all in a garden, a brisk young sailor she chanc'd to spy H e s t e p t up to her, thinking to have her, said he, f a i r maid, can you fancy I ? ; Y o u seem to me some man of honour, some man of honour you seem to m e ; How can you impose on a poor young woman, that is not fit your servant to be ? If you are not fit to be my servant, I've got a great regard for thee ; I thought to marry you, make you my lady, for I've got servants to wait on thee. I have got a sweetheart all of my own, S i r , and seven long years since he's gone from me ; And seven more I will wait for him, if he's alive, he'll return to me. I f it be seven yearss i n c eyour love went from you, surely he's either dead or drown'd.— If he is alive, I love him dearly ; and if he's dead, I can wish him rest. B u t when he found that his Sally was faithful, it's a pity that love should be cross'd,— I am your poor and single sailor, that oftentimes the wide ocean cross'd. �If you be my poor and single sailor, shew me the token I gave to thee ; For seven years makes an alteration, since my true love has gone from me. He pull'd his hand out of his bosom, his fingers being long and small ; He shew'd the ring that was broke between them— no sooner she saw it, than down did fall. He took her up into his arms, and gave her kisses, one, two, by three : I am your poor and single sailor, that's just return'd to marry thee. So, hand in hand, they went together unto the church without delay, Where there he marry'd his lovely Sally, and made her his lady gay. A SWEET COUNTRY LIFE. A Sweet country life is both pleafant&charmmg, For to walk abroad in a fine summer's morning, Y o u r houses and cities, and lofty fine towers, Can never compare to the sweet shady bowers. O Your silks, and your scarlets, and other excesses, For my own country clothing's to me more endearing, (wearing. Than your pretty sweet mantle, for my home-spun No fiddle nor flutte, no hautboy, or spinnet, Can ever compare with the lark and the linnet, Down as I lay among the green bushes, (thrushes. I was charmed by the notes of the blackbirds and little do I admire y �A s Johnny the ploughboy was walking along, T o fetch up his cattle so early in the morn, H e spied pretty Nancy among the green rushes, Singing more sweet than the blackbirds & thrushes. On yonder hills and lofty high mountains, A s the sheep were a grazing on each day morning, Bright Phebus did shine, & the hills were adorning, A s Molly sat milking on a fine summer's morning. So now to conclude and end my ditty, T o all country lasses that are sweet and pretty, Never forsake your own country employment, No city can afford so sweet an enjoyment. T H E S O L D I E R ' S RETURN. W H E N rOUS'd by the trumpet's loudclangor to arms, Reluctant I quitted Eliza's bright charms; T h o ' hoqour commanded, yet love fill'd my mind, A h ! how could I leave the dear charmer behind ? Y e t the rage of the battle with courage I try'd, Surviv'd, while the heroes fell fast on each s i d e ; Love flood my protector in all the alarms, While thesilver-ton'dtrumpet still sounded to arms. N o w olive-rob'd Peace kind advances again, And her bleslings dispenses wide over the plain ; Return'd to Eliza, we join in the throng, Where is heard thesoftpipe, or the heart-lifting song. Each rural amusement with rapture we try, While the beams of contentment are found in each Love stood my protector in all the alarms, (eye; While thesilver-ton'dtrumpetss t i l lsoundedto arms. What mortal like me to transcendently blest, When clasp'd by my charmer with joy to her breast ; T h e laurels of conquest I give to the wind, ' T i s nought without love and honour combin'd; �But when thus united, how noble thefame! What envy must wait on so happy a name ! Love stood my protector in all the alarms, While thesilver-ton'dtrumpets t i l lsoundedto arms. T H E C O N S T A N T L A D Y . Y E muses assist me. I'd have you draw near, and guide both my hand and my pen, These lines for to write, and I'll make it appear, how maids are deceiv'd by young men, Young men, how maids are deceiv'd by young men. For once I'd a true love but now I have none, for a true love I cannot say. For he is deceitful, and from me is flown, I lament for him both night and day, Night & day, I lament for him both night and day. T h e thoughts of blind fortune I highly disdain, so will I whilst I have breath, But constant to him I still will remain, whilst I have a being on earth, On earth, whilst I have a being on earth. Some women will change, and shift like the wind, or the swallow that swiftly do fly, But I am resolv'd ne'er to alter my mind, but constant remain till I die, Till I die, but constant remain till I die. T h e frowns of blind fortune I never will fear, altho' it oft will be constant to him, I s t i l l will be true to the man who's my dear, I'll remain so till my last minute is run, Is run, I'll remain so till my last minute is run. �Alexander did prove more constant in love, had he been as constant to me, A s ever young Fressey was unto his dear, when Cupid did set on her knee, Her knee, when Cupid did set on her knee, I'll silently mourn for the loss of my love, As the turtle that mourns for his mate, Altho' at present he is sharp and severe, he'll repent when it will be too late, Too late, he'll repent when it will be too late. Altho' I do love him, he never shall know, that e'er he disturbed my heart. But after my burial, the paper will shew, how Cupid has acted his part, His part, how Cupid has acted his part. Farewel my false love I no longer can write, no longer can I hold my pen, My senses are gone and I cannot indite, so adieu to the falsest of men, of men, so, etc. THE C R I P P L E of C O R N W A L L THERE was a bold cripple, who kept the highway, Who begg'd for his living all times of the day. Night coming on, at the evening went he, This cripple of Cornwall, so nimble was he. But as he was begging at a nobleman's gate, Tidings came to him, his Lordship was late ; What time, and what hour his journey might be Reply'd this bold Beggar, here's a bounty for me. Being clothed with canvas all down to the ground. Drew to him hisstandard,and stood as he found, At last he perceiv'd him, draw nigh to a strand, And in the dark ev'ning he caus'd him to stand. ; �[ 8 Stand and deliver your money with speed, W e are noble brave fellows, and money we need. Then reply'd my Lord Cornwall, I tell unto thee, If money you want, you'll get none from me. Therefore bold fellows, now stand to your chance, So that my Lord Cornwall did stand his defence, Till three of his true men were slain in the fight, And four of the robbers, were put to the flight. Buts t i l lmy Lord Cornwall did hold him in play, Until it was nigh to the break of the day ; Till horsemen and foot came riding so fast, Which made the bold Cripple to yield at the last. There was a river just by the way-side, It was very deep, and full eighteen foot wide ; He put in his pick-staff, and over went he, And shifted himself in an old hollow-tree. Next day this bold Cripple L. Cornwall did meet, Fell down on the ground, and kissed his feet; (ill. Saying, God bless my L. Cornwall, & keep him from A n d out of the hands of his enemies still. O then my L. Cornwall came down to the ground, And out of his pocket threw a good English crown, Five hundred pounds more, this Cripple had got, By begging and thieving as many one thought. Five hundred pounds more will make him full glad, For he was resol'd to leave off the old trade : A t last he was taken fors t e a l i n ga prize, Condemned and hanged at Salisbury Assize. G L A S G O W, P R I N T E D BY J. A N D M. R O B E R T S O N , SALTMARKET, MDCCCII. ] � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f8aaa597a9eb19b513c06f9e15a783b9.jpg 7f747561535be34711b82f00922edbb5 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 2009 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 shepherd's lament for the loss of his sweetheart. To which are added, The sailor's return. A sweet country life. The soldier's return. The constant lady. The cripple of Cornwall. Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Crime War Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow 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/alma9923415563505154">s0159b06</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Salisbury, Wiltshire, England Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The sailor's return. A sweet country life. The soldier's return. The constant lady. The cripple of Cornwall. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Abstract A summary of the resource. A collection of ballads and songs, most of which focus on the themes of love lost and found. The first song is a the lament of a shepherd whose love chooses to go into service before marrying him; when she finds her new life more to her liking, she rejects life as a shepherd’s wife, which causes the shepherd himself to decide to leave the country and seek his fortune elsewhere. In the second song, a sailor returns to his lover after seven years of separation; when she does not recognize him at first, he shows her the broken ring she had given him as a token. The third song expounds on the pleasures of country life over life in the city, and encourages young women to stay in their villages rather than to seek employment in the city. The next song tells of a soldier’s return to his love after years of war and battle, followed by a song on the fickleness of young men in love and the constancy of some women. The final song tells of the Cripple of Cornwall, a beggar and highwayman who attempts to waylay the Lord of Cornwall but is finally defeated and condemned to hang at Salisbury. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks h<a href="http://www.lib.uoguelph.ca/find/find-type-resource/archival-special-collections/scottish-studies">ttp://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/searchb.cfm</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed by J. & M. Robertson 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/267a6fb5694b181ba688f773bd1db6e0.jpg d707665535de78fa10edef34d9b364bf 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 3486 Width 1944 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ed4be61fea828352d5fe4c12853bf845.pdf af4cc4de08b37eaf1285c05d626658aa PDF Text Text SHEPHERDESS A VERY INTERESTING, PATHFTIC AND GLASGOW: [PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, ��THE SHEPHERDESS OF THE ALPS. IN that part of the Alps, amidst the high mountains of Savoy, very near the road that leads from Briancon to Modena, is a lonely valley, whose solitary aspect instils into the minds of all who travel through it a sort of pleasing melancholy. Three hills in the form of an amphitheatre, on which some shepherds' huts are scattered at several distances, interspersed with clumps of lofty trees, streams tumbling down the mountains in cascades, and pastures ever green, compose the beautiful landscape of this natural scene. Count Fonrose and his Lady were returning from France to Italy, when their coach broke down as they were passing through the valley; and as the day was on the decline, they were obliged to look for some place of cover, where to pass the night. Whilst they advanced towards one of the huts, they perceived a flock of sheep drove by a shepherdess, whose walk and air filled them with astonishment, and their hearts with the sweet accent of her melodious voice, which the echoes repeated in plaintive sounds. How beautiful's the setting sun ; Its daily course now almost run, We can behold its charms ; More pleasing are its fainter rays. Than when in full meridan blaze. Thus it will prove, said she, when, after a painful race, the weary soul arrives at the wished-for gaol, and �4 The Shepherdessof•the Alps. calmly drops into eternity, to renew its vigour in the pure source of immortality. But alas ! how distant is the prospect! how slowly it passes away! In saying these words, the shepherdess moved on ; her head declined ; with a supineness in her attitude, which gave ease and dignity to her gait and mein. Struck with amazement at what they saw, and more at what they heard, the Count and Countess redoubled their steps to overtake her. But what was their surprise, when, under the coarse straw hat and mean apparel, they met with every beauty, every grace. Pray, child, said the Countess, (finding she endeavoured to shun them,) be not alarmed, we are travellers, and an accident obliges us to ask for shelter till morning in one of your cabins; be so kind as be our guide. I am very sorry, madam, answered the shepherdess, blushing and casting down her eyes, that you will be but ill accommodated, as these huts belong to very poor people. You live here, I suppose, said the Countess, and surely I may put up with the inconveniences for one night, when you undergo them continually. There is a wide difference, said the modest shepherdess, I am brought up to it. I cannot believe that, interrupted Count Fonrose, not able any longer to hide his emotion; no—you were not formed for such hardships. Fortune is unjust, or how is it possible that so lovely a person should be reduced to live obscurely in so low and ordinary a dress. Fortune, replied Adelaide, (so was the shepherdess named,) is not to be blamed, but when she deprives us of what she has given us before. My condition has its sweets for one that knows no other state in life. Custom and example create wants for the wealthy, which the poor are ignorant of. It may be so with those that are born in this solitude, said the Count; but for you, charming unknown, you are not what you seem to be: your air, your voice, your language, all betray your disguise. These few words you have said, discover a noble soul, and a cultivated education. 0 ! tell us, lovely creature, what cruel turn of fate has brought you to this condition ? A man under misfortune, replied Adelaide, �The Shepherdess of the Alps. 5 has a thousand means to extricate himself; but a woman, in such cases, has no resource but in the honest servitude; and in the choice of one's master, methinks it is best to prefer the good and virtuous. You are going to see mine, and you will be delighted with the innocence of their lives, and the candour and simplicity of their manners. As she was still speaking, they arrived at the hut: it was divided by a partition from the sheepfold, into which the shepherdess turned her flock, counting them over with the most serious attention, heedless of the strangers, who beheld her with admiration. The old folks, such as presented Baucis and Philemon, received their guests with the honest, simple courtesy which recalled the golden age. We have nothing to offer you, said the good woman, but clean straw for your bed, and a hearty welcome to such provisions as heaven affords us, milk, fruit, and oaten bread. On entering the cabin, they were amazed to see the order and neatness that appeared every where in so poor a habitation. Their table was walnut plank, finely polished by frequent rubbing; their earthern dishes and dairy pans shone with the nicest cleanness; every thing presented the image of contented poverty, happy to have wherewith to support the real wants of nature. It is our dear daughter, said the old woman, that manages all our little affairs. At break of day, before she leads her flocks to the hills and dales, whilst they are nipping about our hut the sweet grass surcharged with the morning dew, she employs that time in putting every thing in the neat order and manner you see them placed. What! said the Countess, interrupting her, is the shepherdess indeed your daughter ? Would to heaven she was, replied the good creature ; she is the daughter of my heart, and I have a mother's fondness for her; but 1 am not so happy as to have brought such perfections into the world, nor are we worthy of such honour. Who is she, then? Whence came she? What misfortune has reduced her to so low a station? All that is a secret to us. Three years ago �6 The Shepherdessof•the Alps. she came here in the liabit of a villager, and offered to tend our flock. She would have been welcome to share our little, without taking upon her that painful task; so much the sweetness of her person and behaviour engages our hearts. We could not believe she was bred in a cottage. Our questions made her uneasy. We desisted from farther enquiry, as they seemed to disturb her. As our knowledge of her good qualities increased, so did our respect; but the more we strove to shew her that respect, the more she humbled herself before us. No, never had any child for its parents a more tender regard, a more constant care. She cannot obey, because it is impossible for us to command ; but she dives into our hearts, and prevents our wishes when they are scarcely formed. She is an angel descended from heaven, to be the comfort of our age. What is she doing now in the sheepfold? asked the Countess. She milks the ewes and she-goats, fosters the young kids and lambs, and gives them fresh litter. The cheese she makes is thought delicious: no doubt for having been pressed with her neat hands. I carry it to the market, and have not near enough to supply all those that would be my customers. When the dear child is tending the sheep in the pasture, she employs herself in making works of plaited straw, which are admired by every body. I wish you were to gee with what dexterity she weaves the osier plain twigs, and mats the tender flexible rushes. There is nothing, let it appear ever so perfect, but what she can improve upon. You see, madam, continued the good old dame, in all about you is the image of an easy, contented life; it was she that procured it, it was she, this angelic creature, whose only study is to make us happy. But is she happy ? said the Countess. She does all she can to make us believe so, said the old pastor: but I have made my dame observe, that she ofttim.es returns from the pasture with a dejected look, her eyes still moist with tears; but as soon as she sees us she affects a smile. It is easy to perceive there is some gnawing grief that preys upon her heart, the cause of which we �TU SMpMrdess of the Alps. 7 dare not ask. And then, said the old dame, what concern does she not give me, when, in spite of all our entreaties, the dear creature will, in the severest weather, lead abroad her bleating care. A thousand times have I requested her, in the most earnest manner, to let me now and then relieve her ; but my requests have never been complied with. She rises with the sun, conducts the flock, and does not return till it sets, often shivering ^ith cold. How is it possible, my dear parents, she would say, with all the tenderness of a loving child, how is it possible that I should consent to let you leave your fireside, to be exposed, at your age, to the inclemency of the season, which I, young as I am, can scarce support? At the same time she comes loaded with fagots, which she gathers in the wood; and when she sees I am troubled at the fatigue she must undergo, Don't be uneasy, says she, my dear mother, exercise keeps me warm, and labour is fit for my age. In short, my dear lady, she is as good as she is beautiful. My husband and I never speak of her but with tears of affection. What if you were deprived of her? said the Countess. Why, answered the old shepherd, we should be deprived of all that is dear to us in the world; but if she is to be happier for it, we should die content, and our misfortune would be our comfort. Oh ! may kind heaven heap blessings on her head! There are none so great but what she deserves. I was in hopes her dear hands would have closed my eyes, for I love her much more than I do my life. Adelaide's coming in put an end to the conversation. In one hand she carried a pan of milk, and in the other a basket of fruit; and after courtseying with a grace peculiar to herself, she set about the little household affairs, as if she was not the least taken notice of. My dear child, said the Countess, you give yourself a deal of trouble. Not at all, madam: I endeavour to fulfil the intentions of the best of people, whose servant I am, to treat you in the best manner, with what their little can produce ; but I am afraid, continued whilst she was spreading on a coarse �8 The Shepherdessof•the Alps. table-cloth as white as snow, that you will but make a sorry meal. The bread is brown, but very savoury; the eggs are new laid, the milk fresh drawn, and the fruit fresh gathered, such as the season affords. Diligence, attention, and modest deportment, in every minute duty of hospitality, were conspicious in this wonderful shepherdess. After the frugal repast, Count Eonrose and his amiable lady retired to rest on the bed* though but of straw, which Adelaide had prepared for them. Is not our adventure surprising ? Let us endeavour, said they, to unravel the mystery of this pretended shepherdess, invite her to accompany us, and make her happy if we can. At break of day one of the Count's servants came to let his master know he might proceed on his journey as soon as his honour pleased, for the coach was securely repaired. It was ordered up immediately; but before they left these honest folks, the Countess desired a moment's conversation with the young person who styled herself their servant. Adelaide came to receive her commands. Without desiring to penetrate into the secret of your birth, said the Countess, or into whatever is the cause of your distress, I feel that I am sensibly interested in all that concerns your welfare. It is evident that your courage raises you above your misfortunes, and that you conform your behaviour suitably to your present circumstances. It is true, your charms and your virtues render your condition designed for you. It is in my power, amiable unknown, to alter it, as the Count's intentions are quite agreeble to mine. I waut a bosom friend: and from what I have seen in you, I shall think myself possessed of an inestimable treasure, if you consent to be my friend and companion. Drive from your thoughts the least shadow of dependance. You were not formed for servitude, and should my fond prejudice deceive me, I would rather lift you above your birth than leave you below it. In short, I seek a real friend, one that I can confide in. Be not under any concern about these good people : I shall make up for their loss; at least so far as to �9 The Shepherdess of the Alps. enable tliem to pass the remainder of their days in peace and plenty; and from your hands they shall receive my constant bounty. The poor old folks, who were present, fell on their kness and kissed the Countess' hand, then turning to Adelaide, they conjured her, in the most pressing terms, to accept the lady's generous proposal. We cannot, at our time of day, be far from the grave, and as it has been your constant study to make our lives happy, so must our death leave you comfortless in this solitary place. The shepherdess embracing them, and mixing her tears with theirs, returned a thousand thanks to their noble guests, with a sweetness that increased her charms. I cannot, said she, accept of your favour; heaven has marked my destined lot, and I submit to it: but I shall always with the most grateful heart acknowledge your goodness; and the name of Fonrose will never be absent from my memory. The only thing I request of you is to bury this adventure in eternal silence, and never to reveal the fate of an unknown person, who is determined to live and die in oblivion. The Count and Countess redoubled their solicitations, but all in vain— she was immoveable. The travellers parted from their charming shepherdess, to retirement. During their journey, their conversation was taken up with this strange adventure, which appeared to them like a romance. They arrived at Turin, their imagination full of i t ; and you may be sure their desired silence could not be observed. The charms and virtues of this unknown shepherdess was an inexhaustible source of reflection and conjectures. Young Fonrose, their only son, was often present at their conversation, and never let a single circumstance escape his memory. He was of that age when imagination is most lively, and the heart most susceptible of receiving tender impressions; but was of the character of those who keep the feelings of their sensibility within themselves, and which are so much more violently agitated when they burst from their confinement, as they have never been weakened by any dissipation. All the wonders he heard related of the �10 The Shepherdess of the Alps. valley of Savoy, raised in his soul the most passionate desire of serving her. The object which his imagination has formed, is ever in his mind. He compares it to all he sees, and all he sees is lost in the comparison. The more his impatience increased, the more he took care to disguise it. Turin became insupportable: the valley where the inestimable jewel was hid, was the loadstone that attracted his heart; there he placed all his happiness ; but knew not how to get at it. If his designs are found out, what difficulties to surmount! His parents will never consent to the journey he intends: it will not be looked upon as the mere effects of curiosity, but be deemed a youthful folly, that may have bad consequences ; and the shepherdess may be alarmed at his presence, and shun his addresses; if it is discovered, he loses her for ever. After three months' struggle, he determined to quit all for her alone ; and, under the disguise of a shepherd, find her out in the lonely valley, and there remain till death, if he could not prevail on her to leave it. He disappeared. His father and mother missed him with great consternation, and waited his return with the greatest impatience. Their apprehensions increased more and more ; and his absence continuing, the whole family was plunged into desolation. Their fruitless search and enquiries completed their distress ; till at last these unfortunate parents are reduced to lament the loss of their only child. Whilst the afflicted family of Fonrose was in this dejection, the youth arrived in the valley which had been described, and, in the habit of a peasant, presented himself to some of the neighbouring cottagers, and offered his services. His ambition is satisfied. He is accepted of, and a flock is committed to his care. At first he only followed the sheep wherever they chose to feed, in hopes that chance would direct him to the same pastures where the solitary shepherdess fed her flock. The unhappy, at some times, thought he, may listen to the voice of comfort. It is an aversion to the world, and the desire of a retired, quiet life, that �11 The Shepherdessof•the Alps. detains lier hefe. She will experience some tedious hours, when she will not be displeased to meet with a friendly intercourse, nor avoid a virtuous conversation. If I prove so happy as to make mine agreeable, I shall have great hopes of something more. If I gain her confidence, friendship will follow, of course; and friend* ship in different se&es, is nearly allied to love. Whilst he indulged himself with these pleasing reflections, his eyes wandering on the beautiful scenes of the valley, he heard at some distance, the very voice whose melody he had been so often told of, which raised an emotion in his heart as great as if it had been an accident unexpected. She sung the following words:— Sweet Solitude! to which I fly, Of every bliss bereft; There affliction's cup enjoy, The only boon that's left. These melancholy complaints pierced Fonrose's tender heart. Ah ! whence the grief that consumes her ! what pleasure to afford her comfort! He durst not as yet raise his hopes any higher. It might perhaps alarm her, if he yielded to his impatient longing to behold her; it was sufficient for the first time to have heard the sweetness of her voice. Next morning Fonrose went to the pastures, and having observed which way the lovely shepherdess directed her flock, he sat himself at the foot of the rock, which the day before had echoed with her moving sounds. Fonrose, with all the grace of outward form, possessed every talent, every endowment that the nobility study to attain. He played upon the hautboy as well as Beluzzi, of whom he had learned, and who was at that time the delight of the courts of Europe. Adelaide, absorbed in melancholy, had not yet begun her melodious strains. The echoes were silent; when on a sudden that silence was interrupted by the sweet notes of Fonrose's hautboy. A harmony so uncommon filled her with amazement, mixed with some emotion. �12 The Shepherdess of the Alps. Her ears had never there been struck before but with the shrill squeak and buzzing hum of the rustic bagpipe. Motionless, with deep attention, she cast her eyes around, t o find out from whence proceeded such divine music. » She perceived at some distance, a young shepherd sitting in the cavity of a rock, at the foot of which his sheep were feeding. She drew somewhat nearer, that she might hear him play more distinctly. Behold, said she, the effects of instinct! The ear alone has given this shepherd all the fineness of that charming art I what purity in the notes! variety in the modulations! what fire and neatness in the execution! who then shall say, that taste is not the gift of nature ? Adelaide, for the first time since her retirement, felt her grief in some measure suspended. Fonrose, who saw her approach nearer, and sit down under a willow, to listen more conveniently, had given her no room to think he had perceived her: he took the opportunity, as soon as she retired, to calculate the place of her flock, so as to meet her without affectation, at the bottom of the hill, where the road that led to their different huts crossed each other. He gave her a look in a seemingly careless manner, as if he was wholly taken up with the guidance of the sheep: but ah! what beauties were gazed on in that look! what eyes! what a mouth! what divine features! so moving in their languor! how ravishing would they appear in one animated with love! Affliction had added paleness, and freed, in some degree, the blooming carnation of her cheeks. But of all charms, none struck him with so much admiration, as her elegant shape and air. Her easy motion was that of a young cedar, whose straight and plain stem yielded to the soft impulse of the zephyrs. The charming image which love engraves in his heart, takes up his thoughts, and fills his soul with irresistable passion. How faintly, said he, was she described: the lovely beauty is unknown to the world, whose admiration she deserves. She that would grace a throne, lives under the thatch of a cottage, employed in the low occupation of tending the flocks!—in �The Shepherdess of the Alps. 13 what poor garments does she appear! But she embellishes every thing, and nothing can commend her. What! so delicate a frame made for such a laborious life! homely food! straw her bed! 0 heavens! she has the thorns, for whom do you preserve the roses! Sleep put a stop to those flattering ideas, but did not banish from him her lovely image. Adelaide felt herself somewhat touched with Fonrose's youth and comeliness, nor could she help reflecting on the capricious turns of fortune. For what end, thought she, has nature endowed this young shepherd with such graces! Alas! those gifts, haply useless in his station of life, might prove a source of misery in a higher station. What is outward form! what is beauty! wretched as I am, is it for me to fix their value? This reflection imbittered the little rising pleasure she had indulged. She reproached herself for having yielded to it, and resolved never to give way to it again. Next day, Fonrose imagined that she affected to avoid his coming near her. He was cast down at the very thought. Does she suspect my disguise ? Have I discovered myself? These uncertainties perplexed his mind. His hautboy was neglected. Adelaide was not far distant, but could have heard the sounds, had he played upon it. She could not guess the meaning of its silence, and began to sing, in her old melodious strains,— Ye pretty birds, whose pensive notes My lamentations join; Ah! what avails your warbling throats, Can they soothe woes like mine ? All seem around to share my grief, As if to assuage my pain ; But mine admits of no relief, And comfort speaks in vain. Fonrose, moved to his inmost soul with, lier complaining, so melodiously expressed, could not refrain from taking up his hautboy. She continued, and he accompanied her sweet voice. �14 The Shepherdess of• the Alps. Never was a unison more harmonious. Is this an enchantment! said Adelaide. May I believe my senses! it is no mean shepherd ! it is some supernatural being that I have been listening to! Nature may give a vent, but great masters and constant practice alone can reach to such perfections. As she was thus musing, the valley resounded with a rural or rather divine symphony; Adelaide imagined she saw realized those prodigies which poetry attributes to music, her brilliant sister. Astonished and confused, she could not determine whether to approach or retire. Meanwhile the young shepherd was collecting his flock, to lead it back to the cottage. He is not conscious, said she, of the pleasure he communicates around: he is not the least vain of his perfection; he does not expect the praises I ov^e, which are so justly his due. Such are the sweets of music! it is the only talent that finds enjoyment in itself: all others must have witnesses, or else partakers. Music was a gift from heaven, bestowed upon man in his state of innocence: it is the purest of all pleasures, and the only one that I can yield to. I look upon this as an echo, that comes to repeat my grief. Fonrose, in his turn, affected to avoid her. Adelaide was concerned at it. Alas! said she, I give myself up too easily to the little comfort I felt: I am deprived of it for my punishment. One day they met as if by chance, Shepherd, said she, do you lead your flocks to any great distance ? These words uttered from her sweet lips, caused in Fonrose's heart such an emotion as almost deprived him of his voice. I cannot tell, replied he, with hesitation, it is not I that lead my sheep, it is my sheep that lead me; they are better acquainted than I am with these pastures, and I let them range wherever they please to go. From whence came you ? said Adelaide. I was born 011 the other side the Alps. And were you brought up to a shepherd's life? No doubt, since I am one, I was destined for it. That is what I can scarce believe, she replied, gazing on him with fixed attention; your talents, your language, your air, all con- �15 The Shepherdess of the Alps. vince me to the contrary. You are very good, answered Fonrose; does it become you to tax nature for bestowing her favours with a sparing hand on those of your condition—you, whom she has formed more for a queen than a shepherdess. Adelaide blushed and waved the discourse. The other day, said she, your hautboy accompanied my voice with such a masterly art, as must seem a prodigy in one brought up to feed the flocks. It is to your singing, replied Fonrose, that is so rare in a simple shepherdess. What! were you never instructed ? Like you, I have no other guide than rny heart and my ear. You sung I was moved—what my heart feels, my instrument expresses—I breathe it in my very soul. That is all my secret—nothing is more natural. It is incredible, said Adelaide. t I thought so too, replied he, whilst listening to your voice, and now I am convinced of i t : though sometimes nature and love will frolicsomely bestow their choicest favours on the meanest objects, to shew there is no condition, be it ever so low, but what they can ennoble. Whilst they thus discoursed, advancing in the valley, Fonrose, animated by a small ray of hope, began to make it resound with rapturous notes that pleasure inspires.— A h ! cease, cried Adelaide, spare me the image of a sentiment I never more shall taste. This solitude is consecrated to grief; all here join with my lamentations. I am not without woes, said the young shepherd, fetching a deep sigh, which was followed by a pause of silence. What has caused your afflictions ? of what do you complain ? is it of mankind ? is it of fate ? I really cannot tell. All that I know is, that I am far from being happy—pray inquire no farther into my situation. Hear me, said Adelaide: Heaven has made us acquainted to be a mutual support to each other's woes ; mine are a burden, under which my heart sinks down even to despondency. Whoever you be, if you are unhappy you are compassionate,—I believe you are worthy the confidence I shall repose in you; but you must promise me that the confidence shall be reciprocal. Alas! said Fon- �16 The Shepherdessof•the Alps. rose, my woes are of a nature perhaps never to be relieved. Meet me to-morrow, said Adelaide, at the foot of the hill, under the spreading oak where you heard me moan. I will there reveal what will excite your pity. They parted. Fonrose passed the night with great inquietude; his fate depended on what he was to hear ; he dreaded the discovery of a tender unhappy passion. If she loves, I am undone. He set out to the rendezvous, and the fair shepherdess arrived soon after. The morn was overcast with clouds, as if nature had presaged their sorrowful conversation.— They seated themselves under the oak; when, after a profound sigh, Adelaide thus began T H E S T O R Y OF H E R WOES. " Beneath those stones you see there, almost covered with the creeping grass, lie the remains of a most faithful and virtuous man, whom my love and imprudence brought to the grave. I was born in France, of a wealthy family, and of high distinction ; too wealthy, to my misfortune. Count Oreston conceived for me the most passionate, tender love, to which my heart corresponded with equal warmth. My parents objected to our union, and refused their consent. Hurried on by my passion, I agreed to private marriage, sacred to virtuous souls, but disapproved by laws. Italy then was the seat of war. My husband was ordered to join the corps he was to command ; and I went with him as far as Briancon. There my foolish fondness prevailed on him to stay with me three days, which he passed with extreme reluctance. I sacrifice, said he, my duty for you. But what had I not sacrificed for him! " He afterwards set out with a foreboding that terrified me. I accompanied him to this valley, where we took leave of each other, and I returned to Briancon. In a few days a report of a battle was spread about. I was sure my dear Oreston was there. I wished it for his honour ; I feared it for my love. When I received �17 The Shepherdessof•the Alps. a letter from him, (which afforded me great comfort,) it informed me, that on such a day, such an hour, I should find him in the valley, under the same oak where I had bid him farewell; that he should be alone, and desired to meet me unaccompanied, adding, that he only lived for me. I saw nothing in his letter but his impatience to see me ; and that impatience was to me very flattering. I was exact to the appointment. Mr Oreston received me in the most tender manner. Ah! my dear Adelaide, said he, you would have it so. I have failed in my duty at the most important crisis of my life. What I feared is come to pass. The battle was given, my regiment charged, and performed wonders of valour, and I was not at its head. I ain dishonoured for ever—lost without risk—I have but one sacrifice more to make you, which I am come to consummate. At these words I pressed my dear husband in my arms. I felt my blood congeal in my shivering heart. I fainted dead away. He took that opportunity to perpetrate his design; and I was called to life again by the report of the fatal pistol that gave him his death. How can I paint the cruel situation in which I was left! it cannot be described. These tears, that must for ever flow ; the sighs which suffocate my voice, give but a faint idea of my distress. I passed the night over the bloody corpse, quite stupified with grief. My first thoughts were, as soon as I was able, to bury it and my shame together. These hands dug his grave! I do not mean to move your compassionate heart—But the moment in which the earth was to separate me from that dear remains, was a thousand times more dreadful than can be that which divides the body from the soul. Depressed with grief, deprived of food, my feeble hands were two days employed in performing this last sad duty ; and I then formed a determined resolution, to remain in solitude till death unite us. (Jnawing hunger preyed upon my vitals, and I thought myself criminal in preventing nature from supporting a life more insupportable to me than death. I changed my dress for that of a simple shepherdess; and X look upon this valley as my �1® The Shepherdess of the Alps„ only asylum. Ever since I have had no other comfort, but that of weeping over this grave, which I hope will soon be my own, " You see with what sincerity I open to you my inmost soul.—Henceforth I may weep in your presence without restraint—a relief my overburdened heart stands much in need o f — I expect you will put the same confidence in me, as that I have reposed in you.—Don't imagine that I am imposed upon. I am certain that you are 110 more a shepherd, than I am a shepherdess. You are young, perhaps in love ; for if I guess aright, our misfortunes flow from the same source. The similitude of our conditions will make us feel the more for each other. I look upon you as one whom heaven, moved with my afflictions, has sent into this solitude to save me from despair. I look upon you as a sincere friend, capable of giving, if not satisfactory advice, at least a firm example of true resignation to the Divine will." A h ! madam, said Fonrose, overwhelmed with what he heard, whatever tender sensibility my heart is prone to feel, you are far from imagining with what deep concern the recital of your woes has affected me—-the impression will remain as long as life. What! must I have a secret, nay, even a thought reserved from you— from you, who have a right, after what you have entrusted me with, to scrutinize my very soul ? But as I told you before, and as my foreboding heart apprehended, such is the nature of my woes, that I am doomed to conceal them in eternal silence. Be not offended, charming friend, at a silence which is my greatest torment. You are very unhappy: but I am more unhappy still. I'll be your constant companion: I'll endeavour to mitigate your sorrows, and help to ease you in an employment too laborious for your delicate frame. Let me be a partaker of your grief; and when I behold you weeping over the tomb, I shall mix my tears with yours. You never will have cause to reptfnt having deposited your secret in an unfortunate heart, that feels all the value of its trust. I do repent it already, said Adelaide, �The Shepherdess of the Alps. 19 with some confusion, and retired without further discourse. In her abrupt departure, she saw in Fonrose's countenance all the marks of an affected mind. Alas! said she, I have renewed his sufferings. 0 what sufferings they must be that can give him grounds, to think himself more unhappy than I am ? No more music, no more conversation. They neither seemed to seek nor shun each other. Looks that spoke their thoughts were all their language-*—it was very expressive. When he found her weeping over her husband's grave, he beheld her in mute attention, full of jealousy, grief, and pity, till her groans were echoed by his. A few days were past in this painful conflict, when Adelaide took notice how the young man wasted away, like a blooming flower just blasted by some malignant planet. The grief that consumed him gave her much concern, as not being entrusted with what occasioned his trouble, it was out of her power to administer any comfort. She little knew that she was the cause of his distress. It is an observation founded on nature, that when the soul admits of two passions, they will of course weaken each other. Adelaide's regret for the love of Oreston grew less in proportion as her pity increased for the young shepherd. She was sure that her pity proceeded from no motive, but what the most innocent friendship suggested ; nor did ever it occur not to give way to i t ; for seeing the youth plunged in so settled a melancholy, she thought it incumbent on her, after what she had professed for him, not to leave him any longer to himself. Unhappy youth ! said she, the first time they met after her resolve, you perish daily, and give me the fruitless concern of beholding you consume away, and not be able to afford you any comfort. If the recital of my imprudent conduct has not altered your opinion of me ; if the most sincere friendship is dear unto you ; in short, if it will not make me more unhappy than I was before our acquaintance, tell me, I conjure you? the cause of your afflictions. Was your �20 The Shepherdessof•the Alps. secret yet more important than mine ? You need not apprehend that I will ever divulge it. Oreston's death is an eternal barrier betwixt the world and me. The secret of your woe, which I desired to be acquainted with, and for your sake, not for mine, would have been deposited in my husband's tomb, with his faithful widow, and your sincere friend. I hope, said Fonrose, it will be my fate to die first. A h ! madam, let me end my deplorable life, without leaving you to reproach yourself with having shortened it. 0 heavens ! she cried, what, I ? Can I have contributed to increase the woes under which you perish. Ease my tortured heart, and tell me what I have said, what I have done to aggravate your affliction! Speak, I say, you have revealed too much to hide yourself any longer—I do insist upon knowing who you are. Since you will force from me so peremptorily the fatal secret, know that I am—that I am Fonrose, the son of those you lately filled with admiration and respect. All that I have heard them relate of your virtue and your charms, inspired me with the rash design of seeing you under this disguise. I have seen you, and my fate is fixed. I have left my family in the deepest distress. They think that I am for ever lost: they lament my death. I know what is your attachment here ; and I have no other hope but to die adoring you. Forbear to give me any useless advice : my resolution is as immoveable as your own. If by betraying my confidence you divulge my secret, you will only disturb the last ebbings of my declining life, and will have to impute my death to yourself. Astonished at what she had heard, Adelaide endeavoured to soothe young Fonrose's despair. I will restore him, said she, to his afflicted parents, and save their only hope from death. Heaven has procured me this opportunity to acknowledge their goodness: wherefore she diligently employed every means the most insinuating friend could suggest to calm and comfort him. Sweet angel! cried Fonrose, I see with what reluctance you are forced to make any one wretched ; your �The Shepherdess of the Alps. 21 heart is devoted to him that lies in that tomb, no power on earth can draw it away; I see with what condescension your virtue attempts to veil your unhappiness; I feel your goodness in full extent; I sink under it, and I forgive you. Your duty is never to love me, and mine is to adore you for ever. Adelaide, impatient to put in execution the design she had formed, arrived at the hut. Father, said she, to the old Pastor, do you think yourself able to undertake a journey to Turin ? I want a person that I can rely on, to carry the Count and Countess Fonrose intelligence of what concerns their whole happiness. My zeal, said the old man, to serve them, will give me strength equal to my inclination. Go, then, continued she, you will find them at present lamenting the death of their only child. Inform them that he is living ; and that it is the poor Adelaide that will restore him to their arms. But at the same time tell them, there is an indispensible necessity of their coming in person to fetch him. He set out immediately, and arrived at the Count's house in Turin. He sent in word, that the old man of the valley of Savoy was come to wait on them. A h ! cried the Countess, perhaps some misfortune has befallen our lovely shepherdess! Bid the old man enter, said the Count; who knows but Adelaide consents to come and live with us! It would be, replied the Countess, the only comfort I can taste after the loss of my son. The old man is introduced, he embraced their knees—they raise him to their arms. You weep, said he, for the death of your son, and I am come to inform you, that he is alive. It is our dear child that has discovered him in the valley, and dispatched me to communicate to you this interesting news ; but she says that yourselves, and only you, can bring him back. Whilst he was speaking, the Countess fainted away, overcome with surprise and joy. The Count calls for assistance. She revives. They embrace the old shepherd by turns, and acquaint the whole family with the subject of their transport. How shall we show our �The Shepherdess of theAlps.22 gratitude ? said the Countess. How can we requite a benefaction that restores us to life ? They set out immediately on tlieir journey, and arrived with the greatest expedition. They left their equipage at some distance, and walked to the hut through the valley that contained all that was dear to them. Adelaide was tending the flock, as usual. The old dame conducted them to the place where she was. How great was their surprise, when they beheld their beloved son with the shepherdess, under the habit of a simple pastor! Their hearts discovered him more than their eyes. Ah! cruel child, cried Fonrose's mother, throwing her arms about his neck, what trouble you have given us. What could induce you to leave your affectionate parents ? What is your business here? To adore what you yourself so much admired, said Fonrose. Madam, said Adelaide, whilst Fonrose embraced his father's knees, you would not so long have been a prey to grief, had I discovered sooner your dear son. After the first effusions of nature were over, Fonrose relapsed into his former melancholy. Come, said the Countess, let us go and repose ourselves in the cabin, and forget the woes this young madman has plunged us in. It is very true, said Fonrose, to his father, who led him by the hand; what else but the deprivation of my reason could suspend the emotions of nature, and make me forget the most sacred duties ? What but madness ? You innocently gave rise to it, and I am sincerely punished, for I am in love with the most amiable and accomplished person in the world. You have seen but little of her ; you know but little of this incomparable lady. Honour, virtue, and sensibility! she unites all that is great and good. I dote upon her to idolatry. I cannot be happy without her, and she never can be' mine. Has she trusted you, said the Count, with the secret of her birth ? I have learned enough, replied Fonrose, to assure you it is not inferior to mine. She has renounced a considerable fortune in the world, to remain in this solitude. Do you know what motive has induced her to it? I do ; In; t is a secret which �The Shepherdess of the Alps. she alone can reveal, Is she married ? No ; she is a widow ; but her heart is not the less engaged, nay, it is rather bound with stronger chains. Madam, said the Count to Adelaide, as they had entered the cabin, you see how you turn the heads, as well as captivate all that bear the name of Fonrose. Nothing could have justified my son's extravagant passion, but so virtuous, so loving an object. My wife's utmost wishes were to have you for a friend; my son cannot live without you for a wife; and it would he my greatest happiness to have you for a daughter. Oh! consider how many that love you would be wretched, if you refuse your consent. A h ! sir, replied Adelaide, your goodness perplexes me: lend me awhile your attention, and judge my situation. She then, in the presence of the old folks, related her sad story, adding the name of the family, which the Count was well acquainted with; and she finished ner narration by taking him for a witness of the inviolable fidelity she owed her husband. At these words a consternation appeared in their looks. Young Fonrpse, bursting with grief, threw himself into a corner of the hut, to give vent £p his sorrows. His afflicted father laid himself down by him, casting his eyes on Adelaide. Madam, said he, behold the effect of your resolution. The Countess pressing her in her bosom, A h ! will you, then, said she, give us cause to lament a second time the death of our clear child! Why did you restore him to us! The gpod pld people, penetrated with what they saw and heard, their eyes fixed on Adelaide, waited for her determination. Heaven knows, says she, I would willingly give up my life to acknowledge all this unbounded generosity. I own it would be the height of misery, if I had to upbraid myself of having been the cause of yours. I leave the decision of pur fate to your son—let me have a few minutes' conversation with him. Then retiring by themselves, Fonrose, said she, you know what sacred rites bind me here. If I could cease to lament the loss of him who loved and doted on me even beyond discretion, I §hofj}$ be deservedly despised. �21 The Shepherdess of the Alps. 21 Friendship, gratitude, and esteem, are all I have left to give; and is that a compensation for love ? The more you have conceived for me, the more right you have to expect a suitable return, and what return can I make ? The impossibility of performing that duty is the object that prevents my making myself liable to it; nevertheless, I behold you all in a situation that would soften the most obdurate heart. Mine, alas! is but too sensible, I cannot bear the shocking thought of being the cause of your distress. How can I hear your generous, worthy parents, reproach me with their loss. I will, therefore, forget for a while what I am, and leave you to be the arbitrator of my destiny. It is yours to decide, and choose which is most agreeable to you, either to conqueij/ your passion, and strive to forget me, or take the hanct of one whose heart is possessed by another object)' has nothing to bestow but friendship and esteem—ancfc what are they to satisfy a lover's ardent expectations ? : It is enough, replied he, tenderly, such exalted friend- | ship equals love. I may, perhaps, be jealous of tlieA I tears I shall see you shed for a former husband, but the: ] cause of my jealousy will only make you more estimable in my eyes, and dearer to my soul. She is mine ! cried Fonrose, precipitating himself into his fond parents' arms. It is to the respect and gratitude she has for you' that I owe my happiness, and it is owing to a superior Being. Adelaide could not appeal from the sentence. Did she consent merely through pity and gratitude ? I Jelieve she did—she believed it herself, and I will not cease to admire her. Before she left the valley, she would revisit the tomb,, j which she quitted with regret. 0 my dear Oreston, ; she cried, if from the mansions of the dead thou cam 4 have seen my struggles, and read the bottom of my heart, thy shade will not murmur at the sacrifice I make to comfort a virtuous family. THE END. � 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 027: Title-page illustration of a man in a small boat. A village can be seen in the background. 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 Shepherdess of the Alps, a very interesting, pathetic, and moral history. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953134493505154">s0231b06</a> 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. 24 pages Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #16 in a bound collection of 20 chapbooks Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Briancon, Hautes-Alpes, France Modena, Italy Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource moral tales Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Religion and Morals 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/4bad1cd6b58697c3cb6b37873308bbe0.pdf bb91cbd4edff8ceb8f3f3195da0a2b6b PDF Text Text T H E Siege of Carrick - Fergus: O R , Thurot's Defeat To w h i c h are added, I A N S W E R E D NO, NO. I THANK'D HIM FOR NOTHING. A S S U R E A S A G U N . B I L L B O B S T A Y. A L L O A H O U S E. G L A S G O W, P R I N T E DB Y J. & M. R O B E R T S O N , SA L T MA R K ET, 1801. �(2) THE S I E G E of CARRICK-FERGUS. F R o m D u n k i r k in France in the month of September, fitted out was a fleet, a n d away they did sail, A n d Monsieur T h u r o t being their only commander, they had for their headsman, were sure not t o fail. S o away they did steer, without dread or fear, they robbed and plund'red all ships t h a t they found, U n t i l that they came up by the coast of Ireland, and landed their men upon the Irish ground. I t was at Carrick-Fergus, t h e north of that k i n g d o m , they landed their men, & march'd up to their walls, Then cried out the brave Col'nel Jennings, my boys, let's salute t h e m with powder and balls. S o the battle began, and the guns they did rattle, and bravely they f o u g h t under J e n n i n g ' s c o m m a n d , Says he, Play a w a y , play on my brave boys, the Monsieur's the force of our fire cannot s t a n d . T h e town they did take without any resistance, the castle they thought was as easy like wise : T h e y came marching up in three grand divisions, but guarded it was by the brave Irish boys. T h e y kept constant fire, and made them retire, till their ammunition entirely was done ; T h e n aloud he did s a y , M y boys, l e t ' s away, and we'll sally out upon them sword in hand. B u t then says our General, H o w can we defend it ? for to make a sally, it is but in vain ; A s our ammunition is entirely expended, therefore we'll submit and good terms obtain : F o r plainly you see, for one there is three, therefore it is better to capitulate ; I f they take it by s t o r m , then by the law of arms, death without mercy shall sure be our fate. �( 3) S o t h e Monsieurs obtained possession of C a r r i c k , where they lay a snorting and d r i n k i n g a while ; T h e people they sorely did ransack and plunder, and hoisted it all on board the Beleisle. B u t brave Elliot met them, not away he would let them, but made them yield back their ill g o t t e n s t o r e ; So Monsieur laments in the deepest condition, for now they can b r a g of their Thurot no more. L e t us praise brave Elliot who gained this action, and s i n g t o his praise in t h e joyfulest song, T h a t we of our foes have g o t satisfaction, and T h u r o t lies r o t t i n g near the Isle of M a n . T h e i r general is wounded, their schemes are confounded, T h e bold British T a r s they can never w i t h s t a n d ; T h e fire of the fierce and bold British L i o n , appeared to t h e m under brave C a p t a i n Bland. W h a t cheer cousin T e a d y , y o u ' r e welcome t o D u b l i n , what news have you b r o u g h t f r o m the county Kildare, B y my shoul cousin J o h n n y none strange but w h a t ' s common is there any news about t h e Spanish w a r ? O hon, by m y shoul cous. t h e Dons are for f i g h t i n g , they swear that in Ireland their troops they will land, T h e y ' r e boasting & b r a g g i n g t h e y boldly do t h r e a t e n , t h e tower of L o n d o n t o t a k e sword in h a n d . C o m e down cousin T e a d y t o t h e sign of the D r a p e r , u n t i l I will treat y o u with one p i t c h e r of Booze ; I t s h e a r t y young man come here with the paper, is there ever a packet to day in the news ? Y e s , there's death in one hand, no mercy in the other, bloody news & express just arriv'd from Whitehall ; B y my shoul cousin Johnny I believe they're coming, the man he cries out w e l l be press'd one and all. B y my shoul cousin John if the Spaniards invade us, and near my own rig of potatoes should come, B y my shoul with my flail their bones I'll be thrashing, ev'ry yard from the Corough till I drive them home. �(4) T h e r e is Tullogh & Reaman, with O u r e y & Yeaman, when they hear of the news quite crazey will run ; T h e r e is Darby O'Cullen I'II wager a shilling, be will run quite mad about Mucky Felam his son. Pish, silence you blockhead no more of that language, but drink to us first boys and read what is there, D i d you hear any news about my cousin Donald, last Easter come a twelvemonth he listed in Kildare. A n d you know cousin Johnny he was a stout fellow, give him but a lump of shelaly in's hand, W i t h fifteen gallons of good whisky in's belly, de'il a fifty-five Spaniards before him could stand. So now for to bring my song to conclusion, let us drink a health to our officers all ; T o noble Col'nel Jennings, likewise Bland our Captain, and never forgetting the brave M r . Hall. L e t ' s be blythe and jolly, and drown melancholy, so merrily let us rejoice and sing; Come fill up your bowls all ye loyal souls, and drink a health to great George our King. So let them fight, rangle and riot, myself will be quiet, and I wish every man may get his own right, Success to old Ireland with long peace and plenty, with three meals a day and supper at night. I T A N S W E R E D N O, N O. H a t I might not be plagu'd with the nonsense of I promised my mother again and again, (men, T o say as she bids me wherever I go, A n d to all that they ask, or would have, tell'em N o . I really believe I have frighten'd ascore: T h e y ' l l want to be with me, I warrant no more A n d I own I'm not sorry for serving them so ; Were the same thing to do, I again would say No. ; �(5) For a shepherd I like, with more courage and art, W o n ' t leave me alone, though I bid him depart Such questions he puts since I answer him so, T h a t he makes me mean Yes, t h o ' my words are still No, ; H e ask'd, did I hate Him, or think him too plain; ( L e t me die if he is hot a clever young swain,) If he ventur'd A kiss, if I from him would go, T h e n he press'd my young lips, while I blush'd & said No. H e ask'd If I ' d have If I meant I faulter'd, if my heart to another was gone ; him to leave me, or cease to love on ; my life long to answer him so : and sigh'd, and reply'd to him, No. T h i s morning an end to his courtship he made Will Phillia live longer a virgin ? he said; I f I press you to church, will you seruple to go I n a hearty good humour I answer'd, No, no. I THANK'D ; ? H I M FOR N O T H I N G . O N E morning young Roger accosted me thus, Come here, pretty maiden and give me a buss, O h ! fellow, said I, mind your plough and your cart ; Yes, I thank you for nothing, t h a n k you for nothing, thank you for nothing with all my heart. Well, H e gave me a box with a paper of snuff; I took it, I own, yet had still so much art T o cry, T h a n k you for nothing with all my heart. H e sa id, if so be, he might make me his wife— Indeed I was never so dash'd in my life ; Yet could not help laughing to see the fool start, W h e n I t h a n k ' d him for nothing with all my heart. Soon after, however, he gain'd my consent, A n d with him on Sunday to chapel I went, But said 'twas my goodness more than his desert, N o t to thank him for nothing with all my heart. then, to be sure, h �6 T h e Parson c r y ' d , C h i l d , you must a f t e r me say, A n d then t a l k ' d of h o n o u r , and love, and obey B u t faith, when his Reverence came t o t h a t part, T h e r e I t h a n k ' d him for n o t h i n g with all my h e a r t . A t n i g h t our brisk neighbours thes t o c k i n gwould t h r o w I must not tell tales, b u t I k n o w w h a t I know Y o u n g Roger confesses I cur'd all his smart; A n d I t h a n k ' d him for s o m e t h i n g w i t h all my heart. S AS SURE AS A ; ; : GUN. A Y S Colin t o me, I've a t h o u g h t in my head, I know a y o u n g damsel I ' m g o i n g t o wed, I know a y o u n g damsel I ' m g o i n g to w e d : S o please you, q u o t h I , and whene'er it is done, You'll quarrel and part a g a i n , as sure as a g u n ! A s sure as a g u n , as sure as a g u n , You'll quarrel and p a r t again, as sure as a g u n ! A n d so when y o u ' r e married ( p o o r amorous w i g h t ! ) Y o u ' l l bill it a n d coo it from m o r n i n g till n i g h t ; e t c . B u t trust me, good Colin, you'll find it bad f u n , Instead of which you'll fight & scratch as sure as a g u n ! A s sure as a g u n , as sure as a g u n , Instead of which you'll fight & scratch as sure as a g u n ! B u t shou'd she prove fond of her own dearest love, A n d you be as souple, and soft as her glove ; e t c . Yet Y o u ' r e fasten'd t o her apron string as sure as a g u n ! A s sure as a g u n , as sure as a g u n , Y o u ' r e fasten'd t o her apron string as sure as a gun Suppose it was you, t h e n , said he, with a leer, Y o u wou'd not serve me so, I ' m certain, my dear; e t c . I n t r o t h I r e p l y ' d , I will answer for none — B u t do as other women d o — a s sure as a g u n ! A s sure as a g u n , as sure as a g u n , But do o t h e rwomendo—assureasagun! be she a s ! �7 B I L L B O B S T A Y. T I g h t lads have I sail'd w i t h , but none e'ersos i g h t l y , A s honest Bill Bobslay, so kind and so t r u e : H e ' d sing like a mermaid, and foot it so lightly, T h e forecastle's pride, the d e l i g h t of the crew : B u t poor as a b e g g a r , and often in t a t t e r s H e went, t h o ' his fortune was kind without end. F o r money, c r y ' d Bill, & for them there sort of matters, F o r money, c r y ' d Bill, & for them there sort of matters, W h a t ' s t h e good o n ' t d ' y e see, b u t t o succour a friend? T h e r e ' saNipcheese,the purser,by grinding & squeezing, F i r s t I p l u n d ' r i n g , then leaving t h e ship like a rat ; T h e eddy of F o r t u n e stands on a s t i f f breeze in, A n d mounts, fierce as fire, a d o g vain in his h a t . M y b a r k , tho' hards t o r m son life's ocean should rock her, T h o ' she roll in misfortune, and pitch end for end, N o , never shall Bill keep a shot in the locker, etc. W h e n by h a n d i n g it o u t he can succour a friend. L e t them t h r o w out their wipes, & cry, s p i g h t ofthecrosses, A n d forgetful of toil t h a t so hard'ly they bore, T h a t " S a i l o r s at sea earn their money like horses, "To squader it idly likeassesonshore" Such lubbers their awe would coil up, could they measure B y their feeling, t h e gen'rous delight without end, T h a t gives birth to us tars to that truest of pleasure, T h e h a n d i n g our rhino to succour a friend, (etc. W h y , what's all this nonsense they talk of and pother A l l about 'Rights of men,' what a plague are they at I f they means that each man to's messmate's a brother, W h y , the lubberly s w a b s ! ev'ry fool can tell that. T h e rights of us Britons we know to be loyal, I n our country's defence our last moments to spend, T o fight up to the ears to protect the blood royal, T o fight up to the ears to protect the blood royal, T o be true to our wives—and t o succour a friend. �A L L O A H O U S E T H espringtimereturns,&clothesthegreenplains, A n d Alloa shines more chearful and gay ; T h e lark tunes his t h r o a t , and the neighbouring swains, S i n g merrily round: me whereeverIstray; B u t Sandy no more appears to my view N o spring time me chears, no music can charm, He's gone, and I fear me f o r ever adieu ! A d i e u , every pleasure this bosom can warm ! ! O Alloa house ! how much art thou chang'd ! H o w silent, h o w dull to me is each grove ! A l o n e I here wander where once we both r a n g ' d , A l a s ! where to please me my Sandy once strove ! H e r e S a n d y I heard the tales t h a t you told ; Here listen'd too fond, whenever you sung Am I turn'd less fair, then that you are turn'd cold? O r foolish, believ'd a false, fluttering tongue; : So spoke the fair maid ; when sorrows keen p a i n , A n d shame, her last f a u l t ' r i n g accents supprest : F o r F a t e at that moment brought back her dear swain, W h o heard, and, with rapture, his Nellyaddrest: M y Nelly ! my fair, I come ; O my Love N o power shall thee tear again from my arms, A n d , N e l l y ! no more thy f o n d shepherd reprove, W h o knows all thy worth, and adores all thy charms. She heard ; and new joy shot t h r o ' her soft f r a m e , A n d will y o u , my love ! be true ? she r e p l y ' d , A n d live I to meet my fond shepherd the same O r dream I t h a t Sandy will make me his bride ONelly!Ilivetofindtheestillkind; Still true to thy swain, andlovelyastrue: Then adieu ! t o all sorrow : what soul issoblind As not to live happy for ever with you? G L A S G O W, Printed by J. & M. Robertson, S a l t m a r k e t , 1801. ? ? � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/61492dcc18a637be084ea54d211f83d0.jpg 4c8fdfbd2fad7dd3b9e6a1c44fd34ebe 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 2009 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 Siege of Carrick-Fergus: or, Thurot's Defeat. To which are added, I Answered No, No. I Thank'd Him For Nothing. As Sure As A Gun. Bill Bobstay. Alloa House. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923416303505154">s0154b20</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Thurot's Defeat. I Answered No, No. I Thank'd Him For Nothing. As Sure As A Gun. Bill Bobstay. Alloa House Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1801 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of ships (3) in battle on t.p. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Dunkirk, France Carrickfergus, Northern Ireland Isle of Man Kildare, Ireland City of Westminster, London, England Dublin, Ireland Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Ballads and songs War Ireland Carrickfergus (Northern Ireland) -- History -- Siege, 1760 Thurot, Francois, 1727-1760 Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a title="University of Glagow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource ballad Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed by J. & M. Robertson https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4500197f9e173dc3b5ad5788f840dea9.pdf ba30e00d589a882289f6c3ca2600481b PDF Text Text THE SILLER GUN OR The Dumfries Trades BY JOHN MAYNE designed by ELIZABETH ODLING Saltire Chapbook N° 13 price two shillings ��INTRODUCTION THE following Poem (published in 1777) is founded on an ancient custom in Dumfries, called S h o o t i n g for the Siller Gun. The Gun is a small silver tube, like the barrel of a pistol, but derives great importance from its being the gift of James VI, that Monarch having ordained marksman among the C o r p o r a t i o n s of Dumfries. it as a prize to the best ��THE DUMFRIES TRADES For loyal feats, and trophies won, DUMFRIES shall live till time be done ! Ae Simmer's morning, wi' the sun, The SEV'N TRADES there, Forgather'd for their SILLER GUN To shoot ance mair. For weeks before this fete sae clever, The fowk were in a perfect fever, Scouring gun-barrels i' the river— At marks practizing— Marching wi' drums and fifes, forever— A' sodgerizing ! 3 �And turning coats, and mending breeks, New seating where the sark-tail keeks ; (Nae matter tho' the cloot that eeks Is black or blue ;) And darning, with a thousand steeks, The stockings too. The lift was clear, the morn serene, The sun just glinting owr the scene, When James McNoe began again To beat to arms, Rouzing the heart o' man and wean Wi' War's alarms. Frae far and near, the country lads (Their joes ahint them on their yads,) Flock'd in to see the show in squads ; And, what was dafter, Their pawky mithers and their dads Came trotting after. 4 �Wi' hats as black as ony raven, Fresh as the rose, their beards new-shaven, And a' their Sunday's deeding having Sae trim and gay, Forth came our Trades, some ora saving To wair that day. 5 �Heh, Sirs ! what crouds were gather'd round, To see them marching up and down ! Lasses and lads, sun-burnt and brown— Women and weans, Gentle and semple, mingling, crown The gladsome scenes ! Meanwhile, before ilk Deacon's dwalling, His ain brigade was made to fall in ; And, while the muster-roll was calling, Mull'd ale and wine Were dealt about in mony a gallon, And gardevine : And cheese-and-bread, and bits o' ham, Laid the foundation for a dram O' whisky, gin frae Amsterdam, Or cherry-brandy ; Whilk after, a' was fish that cam To Jock or Sandy. 6 �The muster owr, the different bands File aff in parties to the Sands, Where, midst loud laughs and clapping hands, Gleed Geordy Smith Reviews them, and their line expands Alang the Nith. 7 �And ne'er, for uniform or air, Was sic a groupe review'd elsewhere ! The short, the tall ; fat fowk and spare ; Side coats, and dockit ; Wigs, queus, and clubs, and curly hair ; Round hats, and cockit ! As to their guns—thae fell engines, Borrowed or begg'd, were of a' kinds For bloody war, or bad designs, Or shooting cushies— Lang fowling-pieces, carabines, And blunder-busses ! And then, to show what diff'rence stands 'Tween him that gets, and gi'es commands, Claymores that, erst, at Prestonpans, Gart foes stand 'yon, Were quiv'ring i' the feckless hands O' mony a drone ! 8 �' Ohon ! ' quo' George, and ga'e a graen, ' The age o' chivalry is gane ! ' Syne, having owr and owr again The hale surveyed, Their route, and a' things else, made plain, He snuff'd, and said : 9 �' Now, Gentlemen ! now mind the motion, ' And dinna, this time, make a botion : ' Shouther your arms!—O! had them tosh on, ' Wheel wi' your right hands to the ocean, ' Wi' that, the dinlin drums rebound, Fifes, clarionets, and hautboys sound ! Thro' crouds on crouds, collected round, The Corporations Trudge aff, whilst Echo's self was drown'd With acclamations ! Their steps to martial airs agreeing, And a' the Sev'n Trades Colours fleeing, Bent for the Craigs, O ! weel worth seeing ! They hy'd awa' ; Their bauld Convener proud o' being The chief owr a'. 10 And march awa ! ' �Attended by his body-guard, He stepp'd in gracefu'ness unpair'd! Straight as the poplar on the swaird And strong as Sampson, Nae eie cou'd look without regard On Robin Tamson. 11 �His Craft, the Blacksmiths, first ava, Led the Procession, twa and twa ; The Squaremen follow'd i' the raw, And syne the Weavers, The Taylors, Souters, Skinners a' And Marrow-cleavers. Their journeymen were a' sae gaucy, Th' apprentices sae kir and saucy, That, as they gaed alang the causey, Sae tight and braw, Th' applauding heart o' mony a lassie Was stown awa. Brisk as a bridegroom gawn to wed, Ilk Deacon march'd before his trade : Foggies the zig-zag followers led, But scarce had pow'r To keep some, fitter for their bed, Frae stoit'ring owr. 12 �As thro'' the town their banners fly, Frae windows low, frae windows high, A' that cou'd find a nook to spy, Were leaning o'er ; The streets, stair-heads, and carts, forbye, Were a' uproar ! Frae rank to rank while thousands bustle, In front, like waving corn, they hustle ; Where, deck'd wi' ribbons round its muzzle, The SILLER GUN, A trinket like a penny whustle, Gleam'd i' the sun ! �Stanzas selected by Gordon F. Sleigh Text set in 11 point Scotch Roman Printed by R. and R. Clark, Edinburgh Published by THE SALTIRE SOCIETY Gladstone's Land, Lawnmarket Edinburgh � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4ed0554eb25ed0c54bc8e50dd28f45e0.jpg e9c630b66bf446e374be693a7d4584d6 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 3105 Width 2028 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 Siller Gun or The Dumfries Trades. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923416383505154">s0100b44</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Saltire Chapbook No. 13 The Dumfries trades. Description An account of the resource Color cover illustration and block prints throughout. Part of a 20th century reprint series of chapbooks. Abstract A summary of the resource. A poem written in 1777 that was “founded on an ancient custom in Dumfries, called Shooting for the Siller Gun,” a tradition based around James VI gift of the gun to the best marksman in the Corporation of Dumfries. The poem itself describes the scene of the year’s competition and its carnival-esque air, including the many attendees, the competitors, and judges, as well as the excitement and pride the games inspired. Subject The topic of the resource War Chapbooks - Scotland - Edinburgh Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1958] per National Library of Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 12 pages 13 cm 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. National Library of Scotland <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">http://www.nls.uk/</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 Edinburgh: Saltire Society Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario