Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, Unseen that night. Amang the brackens, on the brae, Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool; Near lav'rock-height she jumpit, But mist a fit, an' in the pool Out-owre the lugs she plumpit, Wi' a plunge that night. In order, on the clean hearth-stane, Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, leave the third empty: blindfold a person and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand: if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys Sin' Mar's year did desire, Because he gat the toom-dish thrice, He heav'd them on the fire In wrath that night. Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, An' unco tales, an' funnie jokes, Their sports were cheap an' cheery; Fu' blythe that night. : The ancient festival of Halloween is now sinking into disuse in my early days it was generally observed by the bulk of the Scottish population. Nor did it remain unsung till the days of Burns. A poem called Halloween, from the muse of my friend John Mayne, appeared in Ruddiman's Magazine for November, 1780;-some of the verses are striking and curious, and seem to have been known to the Poet of Ayrshire :— foretels, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered. *Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween supper. "Of a' the festivals we hear Frae Handsel-Munday till new-year, Or yet can boast o' better cheer, Than Halloween. "Placed at their head the gudewife sits, Where she has been, Bogles hae gart fowk tyne their wits "Grieved she recounts how wi' mischance Upon the green, Or sail wi' witches owre to France On Halloween. "And when they've trimm'd ilk heaped plate, And a' things are laid out gate, To ken their matrimonial mate The youngsters keen Search a' the dark decrees o' fate On Halloween. "A' things prepared in order due, Gosh guides! what fearfu' pranks ensue ! At whilk bedeen Their sweethearts by the far end pu, "Ithers, wi' some uncanny gift, In ane auld barn a riddle lift, Where thrice, pretending corn to sift, Wi' charms between, Their jo appears, as white as drift, At Halloween." : The scene where the Halloween of Burns is laid is on the romantic coast of Ayrshire the cove of Colean, haunted in the days of the Bard by the fairies, gave shelter to Bruce and his intrepid followers when he planned the storming of Turnberry castle. Of the fairies who, on sprightly coursers, rode on Cassillis-Downans, we have from Burns but a brief account; -the tale of Tamlane lets us more into the secret of their midnight doings ;—tradition adds a few particulars. They were not a mischievous race: they loved romantic hills and lonely valleys-they were fond of music and of children -their dress is invariably described as green-their heads bare, and their hair long and of a golden hue. The horses on which they rode were from fairy land, had small bells at their manes, long tails, and were of a cream-colour. The musical instruments of these spiritual people were corn-pipes and bog-reeds—but they could extract divine harmony out of an ordinary whistle. They loved bread baked of new meal: milk, warm from the cow, and honey dropt from the comb. They had the power of blessing or of cursing families and flocks, and never overlooked an ill deed nor forgot a favour. It is generally admitted that they left our land about seventy years ago their mournings and moanings among the hills on the Hallowmass night of their departure-according to the assertion of an old shepherd-were melancholy to hear. MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. A DIRGE. WHEN chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, I spy'd a man whose aged step Seem'd weary, worn with care; His face was furrow'd o'er with years, "Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou ?" Began the rev'rend sage; "Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or youthful pleasure's rage? Or haply, prest with cares and woes, Too soon thou hast began To wander forth, with me, to mourn |