On my brick o' fallaw my labours I'll Nor e'er slip their fine silken hands in the

ply,

An' view on their pasture my twa bonny kye,

pocks,

Nor foul their black shoon wi' the plowin' o't:

Till hairst-time again circle round us wi' For pleased wi' the little that fortune has joy, lent, Wi' the fruits o' the sawin' an' plowin' The seasons row round us in rural cono't.

Nor need I to envy our braw gentle folks, Wha fash na their thumbs wi' the sawin' o't,

tent;

We've aye milk an' meal, an' our laird gets his rent,

An' I whistle an' sing at the plowin' o't.

ELIZABETH HAMILTON.

1758-1816.

northern capital. She remained in Edinburgh till shortly before her death, when she went to Harrowgate for the benefit of her health, which had given way for some years previously. She died at Harrowgate, July 1816, in her fifty-eighth year.

ALTHOUGH better known as the author | mitted into the best society of the of the Cottagers of Glenburnie, Elizabeth Hamilton, as the writer of "My Ain Fireside," is entitled to be numbered among the One-song Singers of Scotland. Yet Scotland is not the land of her birth, for she was born in Belfast, in 1758. As the name implies, she was of Scotch descent; and her father having died when she was an infant, she was brought up with an aunt in Stirlingshire, where she was well educated and cared for. Her aunt having no family of her own, Miss Hamilton | remained in Stirlingshire till both her aunt and her husband died, when she went to reside with her brother in England. About 1793, he too died, and she then went to live with her sister in Bath.

In 1803, they removed to Edinburgh; and, with her literary reputation established, Miss Hamilton was at once ad

Besides the Cottagers of Glenburnie, which appeared in 1808, and is still well known, she wrote a memoir of her brother, Letters of a Hindoo Rajah, the materials of which she derived from her brother's intercourse and papers-he having been several years in India. She also wrote The Modern Philosophers, in three volumes; Letters on Education; Memoirs of Agrippina; Letters to the Daughter of a Nobleman; and (her last works), Popular Essays on the Human Mind, and Hints to the Directors of Public Schools. "My Ain Fireside," her only known poem, was very popular,

glad,

I may laugh when I'm merry, and sigh

and is still well known. It is thoroughly Nae forms to compel me to seem wae or Scotch in cast, yet has somewhat of the luxuriant flow of language of the Irish style which characterises some of Burns' songs; speaking figuratively, it

may be said to have Irish blood in its veins.

MY AIN FIRESIDE.

I hae seen great anes, and sat in great ha's,

'Mang lords and fine ladies a' cover'd

wi' braws;

when I'm sad.

Nae falsehood to dread, and nae malice

to fear,

But truth to delight me, and friendship to cheer;

Of a' roads to happiness ever were tried, There's nane half so sure as ane's ain fireside.

My ain fireside, my ain fireside, O there's nought to compare wi' ane's ain fireside.

At feasts made for princes, wi' princes When I draw in my stool on my cosy hearthstane,

I've been, Where the grand sheen o' splendour has My heart loups sae light I scarce ken't for dazzled my een: my ain;

But a sight sae delightfu', I trow, I ne'er Care's down on the wind, it is clean out spied,

o' sight,

As the bonnie blythe blink o' mine ain Past troubles they seem but as dreanis of

prenticeship as a printer in the office of the Dumfries Journal, and, in his sixteenth year, published the germ of his poem, "The Siller Gun," in twelve stanzas. The subject of the poem is a shooting match for a small silver gun barrel, presented by James VI. as a prize to the best marksman among the Incorporated Trades of Dumfries. In 1779, the poem was expanded to two cantos, and was subsequently added to during the author's life, till, in 1836, the year in which he died, an edition was issued in a volume of five cantos.

Mayne left Dumfries early in life, and wrought in Glasgow for five years, where he wrote his beautiful song of "Logan Braes." In 1787, he went to London, and became editor, and subsequently joint-proprietor, of the Star newspaper. "Logan Braes," which first appeared anonymously, was published in the Star in 1789, with the

plicity of Mayne's. He also took the idea of his "Halloween" from a poem of Mayne's of the same title, which appeared in Ruddiman's Magazine in 1780.

THE SILLER GUN.

CANTO FIRST.

For loyal feats and trophies won, Dumfries shall live till time be done! Ae simmer's morning, wi' the sun,

The Seven Trades there

Foregather'd, for their Siller Gun

To shoot, ance mair!

To shoot ance mair in grand array, And celebrate the king's-birthday, Crowds, happy in the gentle sway

Of ane sae dear,

Were proud their fealty to display,

And marshal here.

O, George! the wale o' kings and men!
For thee, in daily prayer, we bend!
With ilka blessing Heaven can send
May'st thou be crown'd;

The warld around!

initials of Mayne's surname. He pub-
lished several other poems, and among
them one entitled Glasgow," contain-
ing a description of the contemporary
manners of the commercial metropolis And may thy race our rights defend
of Scotland. Though Mayne never re-
visited his native land, he never forgot
it, and was often of service to his
countrymen who were less fortunate in
their London experience. His success-
ful and industrious life terminated in
1836, in his seventy-seventh year.

The "Siller Gun," besides its poetic merits, is valuable as a record of burghal almost extinguished. "Logan Braes," founded on an old air, is a lyric of great beauty and tenderness.

manners now

For weeks before this fête sae clever, The fowk were in a perfect fever, Scouring gun-barrels in the river—

At marks practisingMarching wi' drums and fifes for everA' sodgerizing!

And turning coats, and mending breeks,
New-seating where the sark-tail keeks;
(Nae matter though the clout that eeks
Be black or blue ;)

Burns wrote a song on the same subject. And darning, with a thousand steeks, which wants the directness and sim

The hose anew!

And mony a beau and belle were there, And ev'n the thowless cock their tappin,1 Doited wi' dozing on a chair;