vi. conduct connected therewith; to the Author of "Joe and the Geologist" for his original songs in the dialect, and an admirable imitation of the old border ballad; to Thomas Young, Esq., of Londesborough, Yorkshire, for permission to copy the portrait of Miss Blamire; to James Fawcett, Esq. of Scaleby Castle, for the use of the valuable MSS. in his possession; to Mrs. Thomas Lonsdale of Stanwix, and Mrs. Hetherington of Carlisle, for MSS. and volumes containing contributions by Mark Lonsdale; to the two gentlemen who kindly volunteered to revise the proof-sheets as they passed through the press; and to the Editors of the various newspapers who noticed the work as it appeared in a monthly form. Much of the labour bestowed upon this volume is very inadequately represented by its appearance. Before a single ballad could be recovered-The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall-innumerable collections had to be waded through, and enquiries made in all directions, during the last four or five years; whilst more than fifty letters were written before the few particulars of John Stagg's life could be gathered and properly authenticated. However, the work has been to the Editor a labour of love; and whatever may be its defects or shortcomings, neither time nor expense has been spared to render it worthy of one object-AN HONOURABLE TESTIMONIAL TO THE GENIUS OF CUMBERLAND. December, 1865. NOTE.-Many of the contributions to this volume are Copyright, including the hunting song of John Peel, and the songs and ballads by the author of "Joe and the Geologist." CONTENTS. Portrait of MISS BLAMIRE. Engraved by W. H. When Damon first to Cælia spoke One Sunday morn in cheerful May To a young Lady who took it ill, &c. . All female charms, I own, my fair Harvest; or the bashful Shepherd Hay-time; or the constant Lovers MISS BLAMIRE AND MISS GILPIN. Trafalgar Sea-Fight-Miss Gilpin And ye shall walk in silk attire O Jenny dear, I've courted lang What ails this heart o' mine?. O why should mortals suffer care Again maun absence chill my soul 'Twas when the Sun slid down yon The auld carle wad tak me fain Had my daddie left me gear enough O Jenny dear, lay by your pride O Jenny dear, the word is gane O there is not a sharper dart . |