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And though not of stone and lime,

It will last us a' our time;

And I hope we shall never need another.'

how failed to inform himself as to his friend's | which he occupied for sixty-five years, has now locality before going on his northern tour, had disappeared. He thus alludes to it in one of the mortification of learning on his return his songs:that he had been in his immediate neighbourhood without having seen him. To his son, Bishop Skinner, he afterwards said: "I would have gone twenty miles out of my way to visit the author of 'Tullochgorum."" After ministering at Longside for sixty-five years, Mr. Skinner gave up his parish, and went to reside with his son, the Bishop of Aberdeen, where he died June 16, 1807, twelve days after his arrival.

In this cottage he reared a numerous family, to whom he thus refers:

'What though we canna boast of our guineas, O!
We have plenty of Jockeys and Jeanies, O!
And these, I'm certain, are

More desirable by far

Than a pock full of poor yellow steenies, O!'

It was well that he thought so, as few of the poor yellow steenies' ever came his way. It is doubtful whether his income ever reached that of Goldsmith's village pastor; but a shilling in those days went a long way. With the salary of a footman he had the soul of a gentleman, the genius of a poet, and the learning of a scholar; the poor cottage at Linshart was ennobled by his presence. He lived to see his son bishop of his diocese. He was a pure

Besides his poetical works, which appeared in a volume with the title Amusements of Leisure Hours, or Poetical Pieces, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, Mr. Skinner was the author of An Ecclesiastical History of Scotland, from the first appearance of Christianity in that Kingdom, issued in 1788; and several theological treatises and numerous compositions in Latin verse, which were published, together with a memoir of the author, under the editorial supervision of his son the bishop in 1809. Fifty years later an edition of his poems ap-minded, pure-hearted noble old man, with a peared at Peterhead, with a memoir from the pen of H. G. Reid.

soul overflowing with love to God and contentment with his lot, without one spark of reli

A writer in Frazer's Magazine gives a beau-gious bigotry. A pleasing proof of this may tiful picture of Skinner and his cottage at Linshart, near Longside, which he occupied for sixty-five years. He says: "There are old people still alive who have conversed with him. He was a man of the same cheerful, happy temperament as Ross; a skilful player on the violin, and vocalist enough to be able to sing his own songs. During part of his ministry, he, in | common with his brethren, refused to take the oath of allegiance to the house of Hanover; they were Jacobites to a man, and suffered some persecution in consequence. It was illegal for more than four persons to assemble in one place for worship. We have been told that Skinner evaded this law by reading the service at an open window in his cottage to the people assembled outside. The cottage at Linshart,

be related:-On one occasion he was passing
with a friend close to a Dissenting place of
worship, and on hearing the sound of the
psalmody reverently took off his hat. 'What!'
said his friend, are you so fond of the Anti-
burghers?' There was much of dignity and
Christian charity in the old man's answer-
‘Sir, I respect and love any of my fellow-
Christians who are engaged in singing to the
glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.' It was the
same in politics. He had taken his side; from
principle he had thrown in his lot with the
losing party; but the sympathies of his soul
were not cribbed by narrow creeds or political
exclusiveness. He loved the whole human
race, and was as dear to the Presbyterians
around him as to his own little flock."

TULLOCHGORUM.

Come gie's a sang, Montgomery cried,
And lay your disputes all aside,
What signifies 't for folks to chide

For what was done before them;
Let Whig and Tory all agree,
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,

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But for the sullen, frumpish fool,
That loves to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,

And discontent devour him; May dool and sorrow be his chance, Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow, Dool and sorrow be his chance,

And nane say, Wae's me for him! May dool and sorrow be his chance, Wi' a' the ills that come frae France, Wha e'er he be that winna dance The Reel o' Tullochgorum.1

THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKIT HORN.

Were I but able to rehearse

My ewie's praise in proper verse,
I'd sound it forth as loud and fierce
As ever piper's drone could blaw;
The ewie wi' the crookit horn,
Wha had kent her might hae sworn
Sic a ewe was never born,

Here about nor far awa':
Sie a ewe was never born,
Here about nor far awa'.

I never needed tar nor keel
To mark her upo' hip or heel,
Her crookit horn did as weel

To ken her by amo' them a';
She never threatened scab nor rot,
But keepit aye her ain jog-trot,
Baith to the fauld and to the cot,

Was never sweir to lead nor caw: Baith to the fauld and to the cot, &c.

Cauld nor hunger never dang her, Wind nor wet could never wrang her, Anes she lay an ouk and langer

Furth aneath a wreath o' snaw; Whan ither ewies lap the dyke, And ate the kail for a' the tyke,

1 This extremely popular song owes its origin to the following incident. In the course of a visit Skinner was making to a friend, a dispute arose among the guests on the subject of Whig and Tory politics, which, becoming somewhat too exciting for the comfort of the lady of the house, she, in order to bring it to a close, requested our author to suggest appropriate words for the air of "Tullochgorum." Mr. Skinner readily complied, and before leaving the house produced what Burns characterized as "the best Scotch song ever Scotland saw." The lady's name at whose request it was written was Mrs. Montgomery, hence the allusion in the

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