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Mine are the gallant schemes of politesse,
BORN 1688.-DIED 1745.
WILLIAM Meston was born in the parish of Midmar, in Aberdeenshire. He received a liberal education at the Marischal College of Aberdeen, and was for some time one of the teachers in the High School of that city. He removed from that situation to be preceptor to the young Earl of Marshal, and to his brother, who was afterwards the celebrated Marshal Keith, and by the interest of the family was appointed professor of philosophy in the Marischal College. On the breaking out of the rebellion of 1715, he followed the fortunes of his misguided patrons, who made him governor of Dunotter Castlé. After the battle of Sherrif-Muir, till the act of indemnity was passed, he lurked with a few fugitive associates, for whose amusement he wrote several of the burlesque poenis to which he gave the title of Mother Grim's Tales. Not being restored to his professorship, he lived for some time on the hospitality of the Countess of Marshal, and after her death established an academy successively at Elgin, Turiff, Montrose, and Perth, in all of which
places he failed, apparently from habits of careless expense and conviviality. The Countess of Elgin supported him during the decline of his latter days, till he removed to Aberdeen, where he died of a languishing distemper. He is said to have been a man of wit and pleasantry in conversation, and of considerable attainments in classical and mathe. matical knowledge.
AN IRISH TALE.
From Mother Grim's Tales,
There liv'd a gentleman, possess'd
A seat well chosen, wholesome air,
money never in South Sea;
wag you knew,
lark on high;
And by degrees to hate began
It chanc'd as once in bed he lay, When dreams are true, at break of day, He heard the Cobbler at his sport, And on a sudden to cut short. Whether his morning draught he took, Or warming whiff of morning smoke, The squire suspected, being shrewd, This silence boded him no good; And 'cause he nothing saw or heard, A Machiavelian plot he fear'd. Straight circumstances crowded plain, To vex and plague his jealous brain; Trembling, in panic dread he lies, With gaping mouth and staring eyes ; And straining, lustful, both his ears, He soon persuades himself he hears One skip and caper up the stairs ; Sees the door open quick, and knew His dreaded foe in red and blue; Who, with a running jump, he thought, Leapt plumb directly down his throat, Laden with tackle of his stall, Last, ends and hammer, strap and awl. No sooner down, than, with a jerk,
He fell to music and to work. VOL. IV.
If much he griev'd our Don before,