Franklin Square Song Collection

ranklin Square

ongollection:

TWO ♣ HUNDRED

Havorite Songs and Hymns for Schools and Homes,
Nursery and Fireside.

No. 7.

SELECTED BY J. P. MCCASKEY.

Give me the writing of the ballads of a nation, and you may make its laws.—Fletcher of Saltoun.
For her is the Golden Harp with which to celebrate the victory over sorrow and disappointment—the
solution of the problem unsolvable to the selfish world, the final triumph of Love over Pain.

When the song's gone out of your life you can't start another while it's a-ringin' in your ears, but it's
best to have a bit of silence and out of that maybe a psalm 'll come by-and-by.-Edward Garrett.

I have a passion for ballads. They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedge-rows in the
leafy lanes and by-paths of literature-in the genial Summer time.-H. W. Longfellow.

WEST COAST BOOK HOUSE.

1203 MARKET STREET,

Opp, City Hall, S.F.

NEW YORK.

HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE.

1891.

After traveling the country for thirty years William Nicholson became a packless peddler,
and fell into "a way of drinking." This led from bad to worse, and the grave closed in gloom
over the ruins of a man of true genius. Poor Nicholson, besides his turn for verse, was an ex-
quisite musician, and sang with a powerful and sweet voice. One may imagine the delight of a
lonely town-end, when Willie, the packman and the piper, made his appearance with his stories
and jokes and ballads, his songs and reels and "wanton wiles." There is one story about him which
has always appeared to me quite perfect. A farmer in a remote part of Galloway, one June
morning before sunrise, was awakened by music; he had been dreaming of Heaven and when
he found himself awake, he still heard the strains. He looked out, and saw no one, but at the
corner of a grass-field he saw his cattle, and young colts and fillies, huddled together, and look-
ing intently down into what he knew was an old quarry. He put on his clothes, and walked
across the field, everything but that strange wild melody still and silent in this the "sweet hour
of prime." As he got nearer the "beasts," the sound was louder; the colts with their long
manes, and the cows with their wondering stare, took no notice of him, straining their necks
forward entranced. There in the old quarry, the young sun "glintin'" on his face, and resting
on his pack which had been his pillow, was our Wandering Willie, playing and singing like an
angel "an Orpheus; an Orpheus." What a picture! When reproved for wasting his health
and time by the prosaic farmer, the poor fellow said: "Me an' this quarry are lang acquaint, and
I've mair pleesure in pipin' to the daft cowts than if the best leddies in the land were figurin'
away afore me.”—Dr. John Brown, of Edinburgh.

Our thanks are due to Publishers for copyright favors, and to Prof. CARL MATZ for invaluable
aid here gratefully acknowledged. The Compiler may be addressed through Messrs. Harper &
Brothers, in reference to Old Songs that have been popular favorites, and will be glad to have
suggestions from any persons who are interested. Some of the best selections in the various Num-
bers have been suggested by lovers of song in different parts of the country, often widely separated.
The full list of Contents of the several Numbers may be had on application to the Publishers.

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