flouir his grave to crown!" This is not only the pedantry of tenderness, but the very bathos of bad writing.*

* The Editor requests the reader's pardon for the introduction of a few lines on this subject. He promises not to trespass ou his good nature again.

O, Bothwel bank! again thy flowers

Sprout comely wi' spring's warming showers:
The daff'dil on the burn's gay brow,

Wags his sweet head, o'erlaid wi' dew;
The gowden cowslips, richly meal'd,
Inlay the burn, by bush and bield;

And the blythe lark, from morning cloud,
Lights 'mang the dew, and singeth loud.
Sae sweet wert thou that simmer night,
(All 'neath the moon's celestial light!)
When my dear boy, upon my breast,
Laid down his head awhile to rest:
Heaven took his angel soul awa',
And left him in my arms to fa'.
He lay, like a lilie on the ground,
Wi' a' his fair locks loose around.

I howkedt a grave within my bower,
And there I set this heavenly flower:-
“And thou wilt spring again,” I said,
"And bloom when other flowers will fade;
"Touched with immortal dew, thou'lt stand
"A posie fit for God's own hand;

"Among the flowers of heaven thou❜lt blaw,
"When earthly flowers will fade awa'!"

To howk, to dig.

THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.

THIS is another beautiful song of Mr. Crawford's composition. In the neighbourhood of Traquair, tradition still shews the old "Bush;" which, when I saw it in the year 1787, was composed of eight or nine ragged birches. The Earl of Traquair has planted a clump of trees near by, which he calls "The new Bush."

Hear me, ye nymphs, and every swain,
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me;
Tho' thus I languish and complain,
Alas! she ne'er believes me.
My vows and sighs, like silent air,
Unheeded never move her;

The bonny bush aboon Traquair,
Was where I first did love her.

That day she smil'd and made me glad,
No maid seem'd ever kinder;

I thought myself the luckiest lad,

So sweetly there to find her.

I try'd to sooth my am'rous flame,
In words that I thought tender;
If more there pass'd, I'm not to blame,
I meant not to offend her.

Yet now she scornful flees the plain,
The fields we then frequented;
If e'er we meet, she shews disdain,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny bush bloom'd fair in May,
Its sweets I'll ay remember;
But now her frowns make it decay,
It fades as in December.

Ye rural pow'rs, who hear my strains,
Why thus should Peggy grieve me?
Oh! make her partner in my pains,
Then let her smiles relieve me:
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender;
I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair,
To lonely wilds I'll wander.

CROMLET'S LILT.*

"In the latter end of the 16th century, the Chisholms were proprietors of the estate of Cromlecks (now possessed by the Drummonds). The eldest son' of that family was very much attached to a daughter of Sterling of Ardoch, commonly known by the name of Fair Helen of Ardoch.

Since the first edition of the Reliques was published, the Editor has seen a Letter addressed to Dr. Anderson, of Edinburgh, by a Gentleman of great literary acquirement, from which he has been permitted to make the following extract.

"I thank you particularly for Cromek's Reliques of Burns, which are undoubtedly genuine, and breathing the same genius and the same infirmities with his former works. I will say a little of it. More science and better company, with his father's worth and sound principles, would have made him one of the best poets this country has produced. He is a bigot for laxity, religious and moral; and hence that jumble of sentiments! After telling me of his father's conversion to Socinianism, he added, "but he continued a Calvinist in his manners and conversation.' The thing I liked best was the account of Scotish Songs, which coincides with my own sentiments and theories. His curt, sarcastic remarks, are truly characteristic. Some of them are inaccurate. The Chisholm story is felo de se. The Reformation took place 1559 or 60, and great part of the Bishop's estate went to one of his own name. Little Meg Murray was not born then. The late Sir William Stirling told me, that it was a tradition in his family, that James the 6th, in passing from

Perth

"At that time the opportunities of meeting betwixt the sexes were more rare, consequently more sought after than now; and the Scottish ladies, far from priding themselves on extensive literature, were thought sufficiently book-learned if they could make out the Scriptures in their mother tongue. Writing was entirely out of the line of female education: At that period the most of our young men of family sought a fortune, or found a grave, in France. Cromlus, when he went abroad to the war, was obliged to leave the management of his correspondence with his mistress to a lay brother of the monastry of Dumblain, in the immediate neighbourhood of Cromleck, and near Ardoch. This man, unfortunately, was deeply sensible of Helen's charms. He artfully prepossessed her with stories to the dis

Perth to Stirling, 1617, sent a servant to tell the Lady Ardoch, then a widow, to have all her children dressed, for he was coming to see her and them. They were all drawn up on the green. On the King's seeing them, he said, 'Madam, tell me how many are of them.' 'I only want your Majesty's help to make out the two Chalders.' (i. e. 31 were they.) The King afterwards ate a collop sitting on a stone in the close. I have been told that the Tutor of Ardoch, who was alive in 1715, could, when more than a hundred, drink a bottle of ale at a draught. Much did Lord Tinwald, then a lad, take pleasure in the Tutor's con verse, who knew much of the history of private life."