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admired became exalted above humanity by the tith cauld”-“ Bonny was yon rosy brier”—"A prerogatives of his passion and his genius; and man's a man for a' that"-" The bonny lad that's her nominal rank in life had no power over those far awa'”-“ Gae, bring to me a pint o' wine"precious immunities. But if Burns' songs want and that exquisite song which does indeed conthe tone of chivalry, the same fault may be found tain the essence of a thousand love-storieswith the finest writers of love-verses in the lan
Had we never lov'd sae kindly, guage. Surrey--for the authenticity of whose
Had we never lov'd sae blindly, passion it would not be very safe to swear-is in
Never met, or never parted, deed very doleful; but the love-strains of Sydney
We had ne'er been broken-hearted. show no puling sentiment nor sophisticated feeling
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! of any kind. If they want the beauty and tender
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! ness of the love-songs of Burns, they equal them
Thine be ilka joy and treasure, in nature and in warmth. This is their praise.
Peace, enjoyinent, love and pleasure ! The love-verses of Herrick, Carew, Ben Jonson, I have said, that so rich was the ore of the vein Shakspeare, and Suckling, have nothing of this of Burns, that it often breaks forth where it could “ tone of chivalry." Those of Lovelace have an least be expected. Among his neglected songs is exquisite delicacy and sweetness peculiar to them- a ditty called “ Bessy and her Spinning-wheel,” selves; but their sentiment is as natural as it is which, for pure and felicitous moral sentiment, refined. It is not easy to tell where we are to and scenic description, such as only Burns could look for the tone of chivalry in love-songs, unless have given, is worthy of being oftener noticed. lo in such inditings as those of Harrington—“ To a a neglected song called “ The Posy,” among many most stony-hearted maiden, who did most cruelly fine stanzas is this exquisite one use the knight, my good friend;” or, “ To the Lady Isabella when I first saw her look forth of a win
The hawthorn I will pu',
Wi' his locks o' siller grey, dow at Court, and thought her beautiful;" or,
Where, like an aged man, “ To the divine Saccharissa." The love of Burns He stands at break o' day; was neither that of a knight-errant nor a sylph, But the songster's nest within the bush It could neither subsist on sighs nor essences;
I wima tak'away; but it was composed of those feelings which have
And it's a' to make a posy to my aiu dear May. imparted delicacy and elegance to the untutored in the song called “ The Auld Man," the first strains of the rude Laplander and the Russ. Who stanza, describing the return of Spring, is no way shall say its effusions want refinement? Burns remarkable; the second is strikingly fine and was undoubtedly impatient of suing seven years for pathetica smile ; for he possessed the sympathetic art of winning “ the dear angel-smile" with wondrous
Bat my white pow, nae kindly thowe
Shall melt the snaws of age; facility. Instead of catching the descending tear
My trunk of eild, but buss or bield, on a cushion of rose-leaves, or preserving it in “an
Sinks in time's wintry rage. urn of emerald,” or crystallizing “ the pearly trea
Oh! age has weary days,
And nights o' sleepless pain! sure,” he gathered it, as it trembled on the eyelash,
Thou golden time o' youthfu' prime, with his own glowing lip, and devoutly drunk in
Why com’st thou not again? it, a new essence of being. Thus, if his verses want the character of chivalrous gallantry, they
There is another song called - The Waefu' possess something far better in that purified na
Heart,” little noticed, though it must be admired tural tenderness, of which gallantry is at best but by every mind of feeling, which has this exclamathe substitute or the counterfeit. His notions of tion breathed by bereaved affection and pious rethe female character appear throughout quite
signation Shaksperian : his women are all gentleness, and
This vraefu' heart lies low with his softness, and tenderness. The idea of a lofty, pre
Whose heart was only mine; dominating, high-souled; and capricious beauty,
And, oh! what a heart was that to lose
But I maun nae repine. such as is pictured in the old romances ennobling to female character in a general view, yet a most
In a few rather trivial verses, in which Burns is chilling and repulsive individuality-never appears speaking of his filial regard for Scotland in his to have entered his imagination. The utmost ex.
boyhood, is this fine incidental burst of nationtent of his belief in female cruelty is, that
The rough bur-thistlo spreading wide
Among the bearded bear,
I turn'd my weeding hook aside,
And spared the symbol dear. that copious specimens are the less necessary.
There is no doubt that this stanza records a real The Cottar's Saturday Night”-part of " The fact ; and that the young enthusiastic husbandman Vision"-" The Twa Dogs"—the “ Address
the may have spared the noxious weed for the sake of De'il”-“ Tam oShanter”--two-thirds of the the cherished sentiment.-Johnstone's Specimene songs, and especially “ Highland Mary'--' l'oor- of the Poets.
ON THE CHURCH OF KRISUVIK IN ICELAND.
ADVANTAGES OF FREE TRADE. * There was nothing so sacred in the appearance of this church as to make us hesitate to use the altar as our dining-table."--MACKENZIE'S A change has lately been made for the better in the AmeTravels in Iceland. The levity of the traveller is thus apostolically re. rican Tariff. Our government has met this relaxation, and prored
step on the right side, by a corresponding relaxation, which Though gilded domes, and splendid fanes. And costly robes, and choral strains,
must ultimately benefit every body; and in the first place And altars richly drest,
the distressed manufacturers of coarse woollen goods in the And sculptur'd saints, and sparkling gems,
counties of York, Lancashire, Cumberland, &c., &c., to And mitred heads, and diadems,
whose condition we adverted last week. We dare not tell Inspire with awe the breast;
what those wise changes are, because this is an unstamped The soul enlarged-devouto sincere,
publication ; and to do so would be news; but pat to the With equal piety draws near
occasion we quote Franklin, whose sayings ought to be no The holy House of God,
news, and then look back to the history of American reThat rudely rears its rustic head,
strictions. « Suppose,” says Franklin, “a country, X, Scarce higher than the peasant's shed,
with three manufactures, as cloth, silk, and iron, supplying By peasant only troch
three other countries, A, B, C, but desirous of increasing *Tis not the pageantry of show,
the vent, and raising the price of cloth in favour of her own That can impart devotion's glow,
clothiers. In order to this she forbids the importation of Nor sanctify a pray'r: Then why th Icelandic Church disdain,
foreign cloth from A. Or why its sacred walls profane,
A, in return, forbids silks from X.
Then the silk workers complain of a decay of trade.
And X, to content them, forbids silks from B. The contrite heart—the pious mind
B in return forbids iron ware from X.
Then the iron workers complain of decay.
And X forbids the importation of iron from C.
C in return forbids cloth from X.
What is got by all these prohibitions ?
ANSWER.-All four find their common stock of the enNor turn thee from its sacred door,
joyments and conveniences of life diminished." With contumelious pride; But entering in-that Power adore,
So intimately has commerce connected nations, that the Who gave thee, on a milder shore,
repeal of a duty across the Atlantic is as sensible an advanID safety to reside,
tage to us as the repeal of a tax in our own country. The Let no presumptuous thoughts arise,
taxes on each side of the Atlantic go into different trea. That thou art dearer in his eyes
suries, but both press alike on the same people on the Than poor Icelandic swain ; Who bravely meets the northern wind,
community of industrious producers on both sides of the With brow serene-and soul resign'd
water, whose wealth ought to consist in the unrestricted To penury and pain.
exchange of each other's commodities. We tax American Where much is given-more is required;
produce—and the American farmer cannot purchase EngWhere little less is still desired;
lish clothing; the Americans tax our manufactures, and Enjoy thy happier lot
the English weaver cannot buy food. The Americans reap With trenbling awe, and chasten'd fear;
a harvest of heartburnings and contention ; the English a Krisavik's Church to God is dear,
standing army, a crippled revenue, famine, muttered reAnd will not be forgot.
bellion, and poor rates. FAREWELL TO FIFE.
The American restrictive duties were imposed originally Adieu to thee, delightful land !
as a measure of self-protection. The measure was not a Ages have o'er thee past,
wise one, but it was a natural one. Before the separation And round each mould'ring tower of thine,
of the two countries, our commerce with our colonies was Their boary mantle cast.
esteemed more valuable than that with all the world beI've lov'd thee with the love of one,
sides. After the separation, the Americans desired that Whose home was far away,
the intercourse should continue on the old terms. Jeffer. And through thy verdant vales my feet,
son was sent over to negociate a treaty to that effect. He In youth, rejoiced to stray.
failed. George the Third had conceived the idea, that, by But now we part, and it may be,
shutting up all intercourse with the colonies, he could proThat years shall wing their flight,
duce such a state of distress as would compel them to subEre thou again wilt cheer my eye,
mit to his own terms. Henceforward the two countries Or burst upon my sight,
treated each other as foreign states. Restrictions multiThen fare thee well! in other days,
plied. We prohibited their spirits, their wood, their sugar, In after years of life,
Then tobacco, and cotton, and potashes were On Fancy's wing I'll turn to thee,
taxed to the utmost, and nothing but absolute famine And bless the land of Fife!
ANON, would make us admit even of a few barrels of their flour.
They retaliated; and finally to put a stop to the drain of MILITARY FLOGGING.—“ The offender is sometimes silver and gold, which our refusal to take their goods for sentenced to receive a thousand lashes ; a surgeon stands by ours occasioned, and to encourage their own manufactures, to feel his pulse during the execution, and determine how they passed the famous Tariff, imposing prohibitory duties long the flogging can be continued without killing him. on the importation of any goods they could manufacture When human nature can sustain no more, he is remanded themselves. to prison; his wound-for from the shoulder to the loins it The relaxation of this tariff is the consequence of the difkates him one wound is dressed ; and as soon as it is fusion throughout the world of commercial knowledge, and fufficiently healed to be laid open again in the same manner, of the liberal aspect which the policy of Great Britain has be is brought out to undergo the remainder of his sentence. latterly assumed. It must be met, on our side, in a simi. And this is repeatedly and openly practised in a country, lar spirit. And it will be so met. Both Englishmen and where they read in their churches, and in their houses that Americans are now too wise to be persuaded by factious Eible, which saith, “ Forty stripes may the judge inflict knaves and brawling fools, that there is either safety or upon the offender and not 'erceed.” We recommend this prosperity in-setting at defiance the first law of social exis. conservative legislators-it is the opinion of Dr. tence, which teaches men to enjoy all the comforts of life,
by the reciprocal exchange of each other's superfluities.
NOTES OF THE MONTH.
Their sickles hang. Around their simple fare,
Upon the stubble spread, blythesome they form
A circling group, while humble waits behind
The wistful dog ; and with expressive look, Saxon ancestors, from a kind of barley which was
And pawing foot, implores his little share. reaped during it, from which beer was made, from which sort of beer is derived beerlegh, barley. It is
The gleaners wandering with the morning ray, called September, from being the seventh month of
Spread o'er the new-reaped field. Tottering old age
And lisping infancy are there, and she the Roman year. It is the harvest month of Scotland,
Who better days has seen on the average of years, and the vintage of England; cider and perry being now manufactured in
ENJOYMENTS OF THE POOR, all the orchard counties. It is the season of pic Let no one say this is not a season of happi. nics and nutting excursions, which should go hand ness to the toiling peasantry; I know that it is. in hand. Saffron is now gathered-a production in the days of boyhood I have partaken of their never raised in our country, though golden fields harvest labours, and listened to the overflowing of of it may still be seen near Saffron Walden, in their hearts, as they sate amid the sheaves beneath Essex, and on towards Cambridge. The forest the fine blue sky, or among the rich herbage of trees are now taking the rich and varied hues of some green headland, beneath the shade of a tree, autumn; and in the pleasant rustling winds for while the cool keg plentifully replenished the which this month is distinguished, wherever nipt horn ; and sweet, after exertion, were the contents by early evening frosts, they begin to shed their of the basket. I know that the poor harvesters leaves. In the meadows, and among old pastures, are amongst the most thankful contemplators of one may now frequently encounter the mushroom- the bounty of Providence, though so little of it gatherer, and children collecting beech mast, or falls to their share. To them harvest comes as an acorns for the nurseryman; bramble berries are annual festivity. To their healthful frames the fast ripening on the banks and by the wayside, heat of the open fields, which would oppress the and nuts in the copses. The deep orange berries languid and relaxed, is but an exhilarating and of the mountain ash, and the hips and haws are pleasant glow. The inspiration of the clear sky glowing in every hedge. In the vale of Clyde, above, and of the scenes of plenty around them; and and wherever there are orchards, fruit is gather- the very circumstance of their being drawn at this ed, sorted, and stored. The swallow now again bright season from their homes, opens their hearts,
knows her time,” and begins in earnest to take and gives a life to their memories,—Howitt. leave of us, till Spring returns. The rural dainties
An interesting feature of our Scottish harvest of fruit and honey are daily arriving from the is the annual migration and return of the Highcountry to our markets at their best. But reap- landers, and latterly of the poor Irish, who, at this ing is still the grand concern. “ The farmer,
season, pour out upon the Lothians like locusts. says William Howitt, “is in the field, like a rural Fewer have appeared this year than usual, from king among his people.” The labourer old and alarm of cholera. young is there; the dame has left her wheel and
THE HIGHLAND REAPER'S Song. her shady cottage, and with sleeve-defended arms,
Such have I heard in Scottish land, scorns to be behind the best of them; the bloom
Rise from the busy harvest-band, ing damsel is there, adding her sunny beauty to
When falls before the mountaineer, that of universal nature; the boy cuts down the
On Lowland plains, the ripened ear. stalks which overtop his head ; children glean
Now one shrill voice the notes prolong,
Now a wild chorus swells the song. among the shocks, and even the infant sits, propt
Oft have I listened and stood still, with sheaves, and plays with the stubble, and
As it came softened up the hill, “ with all its twined flowers.”—The reaping-hook is
And deemed it the lament of men almost the only implement which has descended
Who languished for their native glen ; from the olden time in its pristine simplicity. It
And thought how sad would be the sound
On Susquehana' swampy ground, is the same now as it was in those scenes of rural
Kentucky's wood-encumbered brake, beauty which the Scripture history, without any
Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, laboured description, often by a single stroke,
Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain
Recalled fair Scotland's hills again. presents so livingly to the imagination; as it was
Sir Walter Scott. when tender thoughts passed
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home,
«Two peculiarities of the moon, which occasion a good when the minstrel-king wandered through the so
deal of speculation among those who are ignorant of the litudes of Paran, and the fields reposing at the feet causes, are, “ the harvest-noon” in September, and “the
hunters' moon ” in March ; the former of which, when near of Carmel ; or, “ as it fell on a day that the child the full, rises for several nights at nearly the same hour; of the Shunamite went out to his father, to the and the latter, at the same age, is equally remarkable for reapers.” Let us look on the September reapers the difference between the times of its rising. The moon in another light,-presented to us by Grahame :
moves nearly to the same distance from the sun every day,
but it moves in a path the one half of which is much nearer At sultry hour of noon, the reaper-band
the north than the other, and this is the case also with the Rest from their toil, and in the lusty stook
apparent annual path of the sun, that luminary appearing
MEMORABILIA OF THE MONTH,
much nearer to the north in summer than in winter. Thus, I was killed, wherever it could be afforded, and in when the moon is moving northward at the most rapid rate; part given to the poor, in commemoration of St. it escapes from the horizon northward, and rises earlier ; and
Michael. when it moves southward at the most rapid rate, it approaches to the horizon, and sets earlier. The full moon
THE Swallow-is one of my favourite birds. He is can be in the former position only in September or October, the joyous prophet of the year, the harbinger of the best and in the latter in March or April ; and thus the harvest season ; he lives a life of enjoyment amongst the loveliest and hunters' moons are occasioned.
forms of nature ; winter is unknown to him, and he leaves
the green meadows of England in autumn, for the myrtle So much for science. But the HARVEST-Moon and orange groves of Italy, and for the palms of Africa. He is also one of the most beautiful objects in the has always objects of pursuit, and his success is secure. visible creation. “ At its rising,” says the ami- Even the beings selected for his prey are poetical, beautiable Howitt, "it has a character so peculiarly its ful, and transient: The ephemeræ are saved by his means
from a slow and lingering death in the evening, and killed orn, that the more a person is accustomed to ex- in a moment when they have known nothing of life but pect and observe it, the more it strikes him with pleasurc. He is the constant destroyer of insects, the friend astonishment.
The warmth and of man; and, with the stork and the ibis, may be regarded balmy serenity of the atmosphere at that season,
as a sacred bird. He is now taking his leave.
JEWISH HARVEST-HOME.-The Feast of Pentecost was the sounds of voices borne from distant fields, the an annual offering of gratitude to Jehovah for having blesfreshness which comes with the evening, combines sed the land with increase. It took place fifty days after to make the twilight walks delicious; and scarcely the Passover, and hence the origin of its name in the Greek has the sun departed in the west, when the moon
version of our Scriptures. Another appellation was
This was % in the east rises from beyond some solitary hill, or applied to it the Feast of Weeks.
very suitable celebration in an agricultural society, where from behind the dark foliage of the trees, and sails joy is always experienced upon the gathering in of the up into the still and transparent air, in the full fruits of the earth. The Hebrews were especially desired magnificence of a world. It comes not as in com on that happy occasion to contrast their improved condi. mon, a fair but flat disc on the face of the sky, tion, as freemen reaping their own lands, with the miserawe behold it suspended in the crystal air in its vidence of Jehovah. The month of May witnessed the greatness and rotundity; we perceive the distance harvest-home of all Palestine in the days of Moses, as well beyond it as sensibly as that before it ; and its ap- as in the present times ; and no sooner was the pleasant parent size is magnificent.”
toil of filling their barns completed, than all the males l'epaired to the holy city with the appointed tribute in their hands, and the song of praise in their mouths. Jewish anti
quaries inform us, that there was combined with eucharisOn the 3d, partridge-shooting commences, as tical service a commemoration of the wonders which took the fields are now supposed to be cleared of grain, place at Mount Sinai when the Lord condescended to pro
nounce his law in the ears of his people. Cabinet Library though in Scotland it is often a full fortnight later. The 8th is a high festival of the Romish
THE STORY-TELLER. Church, the nativity of the Virgin. The 14th was
THE GHAIST O' KININVIE. Rood day, or the Exaltation of the Cross. Fairs wont to be held on all holidays; and among others
(For the Schoolmaster.) we have still the Rood Fair at Dumfries. School..
ABOUT the year 1750, a drover returning with his boys were anciently treated with a nutting on pockets well lined from an Aberlour market, took up his Holy-Rood Day; the Catholic clergy never being quarters for the night in a farm-house on the small estate inattentive to the pleasures and amusements of of Kininvie, near the romantic and beautiful scenery of the the people. Michaelmas day, the 29th, is one of Bridge of Fiddich. He started next morning for the south ; the terms still observed for the election of magis- and, as he was never afterwards heard of, it was generally
believed that he had been murdered. At this period there strates, from “The Lord Mayor of London," down- resided at Hillock head of Kininvie, William Reid, a ward to the most insignificant burgh bailie in stanch old Presbyterian, and member of the Kirk Session Scotland.–Stubble geese are now in perfection, of Mortlach-a believer so strong in faith that, as he him, having in England had six weeks feeding; and the self was wont to say—“ Wi' my Bible i' my pouch i'li
neither fear ghaist nor deil.” But soon alas! had poor goose is accordingly, by prescription at any rate, Willie to tell another tale. One night as Willie was dedicated to St. Michael. A roast goose is univer- steering his course homewards from Mortlach Manse, a sally the appropriate dinner-dish of Michaelmas road he oft had measured both early and late, he had just day in England. In Scotland the goose belongs of reached the lonesome Brig o' Park, when a large black dog right to Christmas. In Denmark it is the supper face went often round about—and kept him company till
came up to him, barking and howling-stared him in the of St. Martin's Eve, the 11th November. It is near his well known door at Hillock head. said that the custom of eating goose on Michael. Willie was so frightened that he almost lost his seven mas day arose from Queen Elizabeth having dined senses ; he told far and near of the Ghaist-how it appearen one with the Governor of the Tower on the 29th ed like a black dog, and grew by degrees as big as a horse; September, and while at dinner receiving intelli- and whenever the elder ventured out at night-fall, the
Ghaist appeared, and kept him in such a state of alarm gence of the defeat of the Spanish Armada; but the that he was soon reduced to a skeleton. The Ghaist percustom is certainly much older than the reign of severed in his visits for many a night, to the terror not Elizabeth. The festival of St. Michael was long only of the elder, but of the whole country-side. At last,
dumb chaobserved in Skye, where, “ after a procession," however, as if wearied of enacting a the St. Michaels bannock was solemnly baked, of racter, one night when very late, it met Willie on his
homeward path, and announced itself as the ghost of him which every one partook. In Ireland, a sheep who murdered the drover, ordering him to follow it to a
A TRUE STORY.
certain spot where evidence of that deed of darkness would nothing more than my father's old dog, which had run inbe found. The supposed murder immediately presented to the wood that day after a hare. “Where's my father?" itself to Willie's mind, he felt convinced of the truth of inquired I, rather hastily. “Ben the house wi' a stranger what he had heard concerning the mysterious disappear-man," was the reply. Thither I went; when my father ance of the drover; and notwithstanding his dread of the seeing me so much agitated, inquired what was the matter? Ghaist, and his horror at these recollections, he was con--while he at the same time, Scotsman-like, answered his strained, by an ungovernable impulse, to accompany his own question, by saying,—“Ho! ho! ye've been fear'd commysterious guide. When they had nearly reached the ing through the wood.” “What made you afraid, my man?" house of Tininver,—“There," says the Ghaist, pointing to a said the stranger. “Nothing," said I, sheepishly.
“Oh! green spot with a cross hollowed out, “there is the very he's been feard for the Ghaist,” said my father.-—" What turf that conceals the remains of the drover;-to-morrow Ghaist?” inquired the stranger. “Oh, by the by," he immstake them up and bury them in consecrated ground. diately added, “The Ghaist o' Kininvie- recollect nowThen I shall have rest and will never trouble you again." | Faith that was a well played game. Is that story still be After these words, and just as the clock struck twelve, the lieved to be true ?" “ True," said my father, " ay, as sure Ghaist disappeared, with a yell which the rocks of Tinin- as you are Charlie M'Iutosh. Though I'm nae fear'd fort ver reverberated in such tremendous echoes, that the mysel', I believe it to be as true as the Bible.” “It was ground on which Willie stood seemed to quiver beneath his just as much a ghaist as I am one,” said Charlie, giving feet. As soon as day broke, Willie went to the minister proof that he himself was no spirit, by gulping a glass of of Mortlach, and gave him a faithful account of what he mountain dew that graced the table, in company with a had seen and heard on the preceding night. The good wooden trencher well plenished with bannocks and cheese. natured pastor lost no time in collecting a large number “I'll tell you the true way of the story,” continued he, at the of his parishioners, with whom he proceeded, under the elder's same time setting down the glass, in the hope of its being guidance, to the celebrated spot pointed out by the Ghaist. again filled, which was done more than once during the After digging to the depth of about four fect, they found course of his narration. some large bones, which they at first supposed to have been The old Laird of Tininver was a merry fellow, as you those of a sturdy Highlander who had been buried well know. One of the servant girls had a child to him, about the same place many years before ; but they of which he was very fond, and was of course anxious to soon changed their opinion, and were convinced that they have it christened. Although it was a bastard, he was so had discovered the bones of the murdered drover. The intimate with the minister (for many a hearty glass they skull, however, was awanting ; but as there was no used to have together) that he imagined there could be little remedying this, they carefully collected all the bones they difficulty in obtaining baptism. To his confusion and discould find, and deposited them in the churchyard of Mort- appointment however, a William Reid, who was a stanch lach. The minister rewarded Willie for his conduct in member of the church, became so obstreperous in his oppothis interesting affair, and congratulated him on being re- sition to the measure, as to vow he would make the case lieved from the Ghaist o' Kininvie. Willie left the manse known to the Presbytery, should the minister attempt to and trudged homewards with a light and happy heart ; but baptize the infant. This menace so operated on the mini. on coming to the Brig o' Park, who should appear but the ster and the other members of the session, that it was resolr. black Ghaist again. It ordered him to go next day to a ed by a majority to refuse the baptism unless the laird certain spot at Tininver, where he would find the drover's made satisfaction according to the usual forms of the church. head, and to bury it with the rest of his bones, which The minister announced this resolution to the laird, inWillie, assisted by the minister and his parishioners, forining him at the same time, that it was Reid who had inhonestly and carefully performed.
fluenced the votes against him. This intelligence highly The Ghaist o' Kininvie, after that time, no doubt slept enraged the laird, who but a short time before had saved sound enough, although thousands who crossed the Brig o' Reid from ruin hy coming to his relief when his creditors Park afterwards, did so with fear and trembling.
were about to roup his all; and from that moment he deLately, upon a dreary winter's night, I formed one of termined on vexing and punishing the ungrateful elder. a rural party, composed of young and old, and seated as The laird had a man who was a fu'o' tricks,” to whom nsual before a blazing fire, listoning to the tales and gossip he told what had happened, and who readily and cheerfully which even still have their power to wile away the dark - agreed to be the instrument for accomplishing his pur. ness of a dismal night in the country. The story of the poses. Accordingly, next time Reid was in Mortlach attend. Ghaist o' Kininvie was told in the manner I have now re-ing the session, the laird's man waylaid him at a lonely lated it, when an old man, with hoary looks, made the place near the Brig o' Park, and having previously fitted following statement :
two or three black dogs' skins to his body, got upon all When a boy I herded the cows in the woods of Tininver; fours, and by barking and howling, succeeded in frighten. and oft have I trembled to pass the celebrated spot where it ing poor Reid almost out of his wits. Next day was said the Ghost directed the bones to be lifted. One spread through the whole country-side that William Reid, night in particular, being obliged to pass by the place on the elder, had seen a ghost in the shape of a big black dog, my way home, I got a most terrible fright. The darkness which had barked at him, and had threatened to appear was but feebly penetrated, by here and there a wreath of again. Prayer meetings were held in Reid's house, and snow which had not yielded to the thaw, -although it was every means tried that could be thought of to “ lay” the now the beginning of March. The wind was up, and the spirit, but in vain; for the elder was continually visited in woods of Tininver moaning to the passing gale, conspired the same way. At last the man in dog-skin getting weato heighten the terror of the hour. This is a dreary place, ried of so many nights' excursions, told the laird that it was said I to myself, and oh! but this is a dismal night Should necessary the business should be brought to an end in some the Ghost appear to me, I am sure I should die on the spot. way or other. Having recollected the spot where a calf Just as I had uttered these words, a rustling noise among had been buried many years before, the head of which had some bushes behind me made my head crouch between my been previously cut off in order to terrify a timorous old shoulders, and my hair stand on end. As I ventured a woman, he proposed to make Reid believe that its bones glance towards the place-oh! horrible-a thing like a were those of a murdered man, and cause him lift and bury dog was ready to leap upon my back. I screamed aloud them in the churchyard. The laird approved of this plan. mercy ! mercy !_and fled with the utmost precipitation: The Ghaist appeared again to Reid in one of his nocturval but, the object of my terror kept close at my heels until I journeyings from the manse, and declared himself to be the reached my father's house. The innocent prattle my ghost of a man who had murdered a drover, desiring the sisters-“ Eh! Geordy, whar got ye colley ?”—Colley, said elder to come along with him that he might shew him 1,—“Ay, colley," said they—“ he's been awa a' day," where he had Luried the body, and promising that, if he scarcely prevented me from fainting ; while it balf con- would lift the bones and bury them in consccrated ground, rinced me that what I had been so much afraid of was he would trouble him no more. Reid was, rejoiced at the