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, At feasts made for princes, wi' princes When I draw in my stool on my cosy I've been, Where the grand sheen o' splendour has dazzled my een: hearthstane, My heart loups sae light I scarce ken't for my ain; But a sight sae delightfu', I trow, I ne'er Care's down on the wind, it is clean out o' sight, spied, As the bonnie blythe blink o' mine ain Past troubles they seem but as dreams of prenticeship as a printer in the office of the Dumfries Journal, and, in his six- | teenth 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. 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 Mayne left Dumfries early in life, Foregather'd, for their Siller Gun and wrought in Glasgow for five years, where he wrote his beautiful song of 66 '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 initials of Mayne's surname. He published several other poems, and among them one entitled "Glasgow," containing a description of the contemporary manners of the commercial metropolis of Scotland. Though Mayne never revisited his native land, he never forgot it, and was often of service to his countrymen who were less fortunate in their London experience. His successful 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 manners now almost extinguished. Logan Braes," founded on an old air, is a lyric of great beauty and tenderness. 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! May'st thou be crown'd; The warld around! For weeks before this fête sae clever, The fowk were in a perfect fever, Scouring gun-barrels in the river— At marks practising— Marching wi' drums and fifes for everA' sodgerizing! And turning coats, and mending breeks, Burns wrote a song on the same subject, And darning, with a thousand steeks, which wants the directness and sim The hose anew! Between the last and this occasion, And him wha likes a day's potation The lift was clear, the morn serene, Rousing the heart o' man and wean Wi' war's alarms! Frae far and near the country lads, (Their joes ahint them on their yads,) Flock'd in to see the show in squads; And what was dafter, Their pawky mithers and their dads Cam trotting after ! At first, forenent ilk deacon's hallan, His ain brigade was made to fall in ; And, while the muster-roll was calling, And joy bells jowing, Het-pints, weel spiced, to keep the saul in, Around were flowing! Broil'd kipper, cheese and bread, and ham, Laid the foundation for a dram To Jock or Sandy: O! weel ken they wha loo their chappin, Drink maks the auldest swack and strappin'; Gars care forget the ills that happenThe blate look spruce And mony a beau and belle were there, And ev'n the thowless cock their tappin‚1 Fresh as the rose, their beards new shaven, Reviews them, and their line expands Maist feck, though oil'd to mak them glimmer, Hadna been shot for mony a simmer ; That some o' them had bits o' timmer Some guns, she threeps, within her ken, Worm-eaten stocks, Sae, here and there a rozit-end Held on their locks ! Their steps to martial airs agreeing, Their bauld convener proud o' being Attended by his body-guard, His craft, the Hammermen, fu' braw, And then, to show what diff'rence stands They stately strade! Close to the Hammermen, behold, The Tailors walk, erect and bold, The Sutors, o' King Crispin vain, O' guns and banners! The Fleshers, on this joyous day, Able, in ony desp'rate fray, To feght like deils! The journeymen were a' sae gaucy, Ahint them a', |