NOTE. It may be guessed by some that I had a certain parish in my eye, and this makes it proper I should add a word of disclamation. In my time there have been two ministers in that parish. Of the first I have a special reason to speak well, even had there been any to think ill. The second I have often met in private and long (in the due phrase) "sat under" in his church, and neither here nor there have I heard an unkind or ugly word upon his lips. The preacher of the text had thus no original in that particular parish; but when I was a boy, he might have been observed in many others; he was then (like the schoolmaster) abroad; and by recent advices, it would seem he has not yet entirely disappeared.

I

THE SPAEWIFE

O, wad like to ken- to the beggar

wife says I

Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.

An' siller, that's sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi'e.

- It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggarwife to me.

O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife

Hoo a' things come to be whaur we find them when we try,

The lasses in their claes an' the fishes in the

sea.

-It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggarwife to me.

O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I

Why lads are a' to sell an' lasses a' to buy;

An' naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.

-It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggarwife to me.

O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I

Gin death's as shüre to men as killin' is to

kye,

Why God has filled the yearth sae fu' o' tasty things to pree.

- It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggarwife to me.

O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I

The reason o' the cause an' the wherefore o' the why,

Wi' mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e'e.

- It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggarwife to me.

THE BLAST

1875

T'S rainin'. Weet's the gairden sod,

Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod — A maist unceevil thing o' God

In mid July

If ye'll just curse the sneckdraw. dod!
An' sae wull I!

He's a braw place in Heev'n, ye ken,
An' lea's us puir, forjaskit men
Clamjamfried in the but and ben
He ca's the earth

A wee bit inconvenient den

No muckle worth;

An' whiles, at orra times, keeks out,
Sees what puir mankind are about;
An' if He can, I've little doubt,
Upsets their plans;

He hates a' mankind, brainch and root,
And a' that's man's.

An' whiles, whan they tak heart again,
An' life i' the sun looks braw an' plain,
Doun comes a jaw o' droukin' rain
Upon their honours -

God sends a spate outower the plain,
Or mebbe thun'ers.

Lord safe us, life's an unco thing!
Simmer an' Winter, Yule an' Spring,
The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring
A feck o' trouble.

I wadnae try't to be a king-
No, nor for double.

But since we're in it, willy-nilly,
We maun be watchfü', wise an' skilly,
An' no mind ony ither billy,

Lassie nor God.

But drink that's my

Sae tak the nod.

best counsel till 'e: