lent bankrupts, who are able, but unwilling to pay, and to those who by licentiousness and extravagance have wasted the substance of others. We should owe no man any thing but love. Indeed, it gives more pain to a generous mind to injure others, than to suffer personal loss; peculiar care, therefore, should be taken of things borrowed. There are many whose tender consciences are afraid of dishonouring religion, through unavoidable poverty, and being unable to render to all their dues. It is incumbent on all, therefore, whilst they trust in the providence of God, not to tempt Him by negligence or extravagance. They should not contract debts for things not absolutely necessary, which they have not a reasonable prospect of discharging; for nothing more distracts mens minds while they live, or more distresses their families when gone to the "little narrow house," than a burden of debt, without effects with which to pay it. Yet, in the mystery of Providence, this may sometimes unavoidably be the case, even of those who are honest men; nor can the strictest prudence avert the calamity: Besides, many good men are deficient in worldly sagacity, and their unsuspecting simplicity often exposes them to the designs of the artful. But, when this is rather a man's misfortune, than his fault, he will have a testimony to his integrity in the consciences of all impartial persons, the benevolent will be inclined to relieve him, or his, according to their ability; and the Supreme Disposer of our lot and circum.

stances in this world, will, in some way, interfere to clear up his character, and provide for his wants.

I trust that the following solemn truths will always be reflected upon with attention, and with impression, viz. That the same Supreme Disposer, who has assured us that the merciful shall obtain mercy, hath ordained his sharpest arrows against unjust persecutors; and he hath solemnly declared, that "They shall have judgment without mercy, who have shewn no mercy." Your's, &c.

AN OBSERVER.

East Lothian, Dec. 31, 1810.

The Spy professes himself ignorant of the particulars alluded to in the above letter. It was sent to him from a distant part of the country, as appeared by the post-mark; and, though he would have preferred a paper of general observations, to one that makes a reference to individuals, yet he thought his correspondent's letter worthy of a place, and hopes it will lead to farther remarks on a subject so interesting. It is evident, however, that a part of the grievances alluded to, have been previously a subject of serious consideration with the Magistrates of Edinburgh, and that they will be obviated as far as they are concerned, when the new jail is completed; the regulations of which will, no doubt, be judicious in proportion to the extent and elegance of the work.

FOR THE SPY.

Queen Street, Jan. 15, 1811. Think not when woman's transient breath is fled, That all her vanities at once are dead; Succeeding vanities she still regards, And, tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards. POPE.

SIR,

YOUR Correspondent who signs himself a Constant Reader,' has in your paper of the 12th, given us a dissertation, somewhat long, perhaps, on cardplaying. This gentleman seems to have no turn for that species of amusement himself; and conceiving, it may be, that his notions ought to regulate the conduct of others, appears to me to have assumed on this occasion a stile somewhat magisterial. He dislikes cardplaying, to which, in this free country, there certainly can be no objection: and I, on the other hand, am very fond of the amusement. I beg leave, therefore, to say a few words on the subject. I have no ambition of sitting down to a rubber with this gentleman, nor even of winning the odd trick from him. But I cannot help saying something in favour of a relaxation, from which I have derived much entertainment in many a long winter night, and which, when taken in moderation, I would recommend to every gentleman at my time of life.

No man can entertain a more rooted aversion to deep play than I do; and, had your Correspondent directed his remarks to the folly and knavery of gamblers, he might, even after all that has been said on the subject, had he managed the matter properly, have done some little service to society. But, in this gentleman's paper, I can see no

thing about the ruinous and fatal consequences resulting from deep play, whether a man loses or wins--the alienation of mind from all ordinary employments which it must create; nor the irretrievable ruin in which an innocent family may in a moment be involv ed, from the mere mistake of a gentleman playing the deuce instead of the ace. Perhaps your well-meaning Correspondent reserves all this for the subject of a future epistle, and in which, I heartily wish him success.

Whether our nobility and gentry are squandering away, as he says, thousands of pounds at cards every night, Sundays not excepted, is what I for one, cannot take upon me to say. But if a nobleman or gentleman squanders only what is his own, and which he can part with perhaps just as easily, and with as little injury to his family, as the Constant Reader' and I, could part with half-a-crown, it is not very obvious what harm he is doing. If one man's loss is another man's gain, it is impossible that any of this money can be sunk in the sea. If Lord A was, at the end of last year, richer by a few thousands, at the expence of the Earl of B, it is likely that the Earl, before the close of this year, will have, at the same game, regained his loss from the other noble peer, with, perhaps, as much more. And which would seem to balance the account.

As to playing cards on Sundays, I think it very indecent, and I suppose your Correspondent thinks so too, tho' he has not said so. Let him and I, therefore, unite to admonish these good people in a friendly way, to continue their amusement in future, from Monday

1

morning to Saturday night, exclusively.

I have some suspicion that your good Correspondent has not been very well informed about clerks sitting whole nights on the rack at sixpenny whist; and tradesmen and servants cursing their bad luck at three-half-penny loo. Clerks, I am assured, have much less innocent, and much more expensive modes of amusing themselves at night, as some of their masters could testify. And, if your Correspondent will take the trouble to enquire at his own cook, or chambermaid, or footman, he will perhaps be informed, that halfpence are as seldom mentioned in his kitchen, as they are in the drawing-room: and that whatever may be the case with catchhonours and all-fours; loo is utterly unknown in any kitchen in Edinburgh.Even below stairs, I am told, that cursing is not reckoned genteel. Like snuff taking, or dram drinking, or any other habit which is likely to disgust, it seems to be banished from all good company.

Your Correspondent, instead of cards, wishes to introduce music, or what he calls ancient songs and ballads. From this I infer, that he himself has an ear for music; and certainly it is reasonable, that a man should prefer that species of entertainment, for which nature has qualified him. Bet, unfortunately for me, I have no more ear than a cheese; so that, after all the noise I have heard in my own house, both from Mr. Corri and Mr. Gow, I never could distinguish what is called jig-time from minuet, tho'

I am told they are quite different. I cannot, therefore, agree with your Correspondent in the proposed alteration; the more especially as I am well assured, that this gentleman will find upon minute enquiry, that at least one-half of his acquaintance, are as little susceptible of the harmony of sounds as I am, My wife and daughters, it is true, are almost every night at the Theatre hearing Braham, with whom, they assure me, that they are absolutely charmed; and some times (Heaven forgive me,) I say so too. Yet, if your Correspondent is a married man, he will understand me, when I tell him that it is prudent sometimes to conceal or disguise one's feelings, and to pretend to be delighted abroad, when you would much rather, even by yourself, be at home.

Of this gentleman's recommendation of such trumpery as Robin Hood and the Three Giants, all I shall say is, de gustibus nil disputandum.' But, for my part, I recommend to my boys, the Duke of Marlborough's Campaigns, and Lord Nelson's Gazettes, in preference to such trash. And, as to the country library of some old shepherd, I really think that your worthy Correspondent has not been sufficiently guarded, in classing a Family Bible, with the Cloud of Witnesses, and two or three large sheaves of ballads !

I have the honour to be,
Sir,

Your most obedient servant,

EDMUND HOYLE, Jun.

AULD winter, wi' his crusty snout,
Had left our isle, an' taen the route
Far to the north, whar flakey snaw
An' blindin' drift eternal blaw,

To pour forth a' his stormy legions,
An wreak his rage in his ain regions.
Here Phoebus, wi' his gowan-beams,
Had o' his ice made siller streams;
The genii of life and love

Shot i' the stem :-sang i' the grove.
"Twas this last spring, when strange to tell,
A bard, by some uncommon spell,
Heard twa craws, in a sad discourse,
O' a' their ills describe the source.
The ane was auld, the ither young,
The auld ane first thus loos'd his tongue :-

AULD CRAW.

Sweet bairny, we may bless our stars,
That we've gat hither, free o' scars,
Scarce ane o' twenty has escapet
I fear'd ye too had been kidnapet
Had ye stayed langer in your nest,
Ye had been murder'd like the rest.
But tell me bairn, how ye gat clear
O' bloody death, and flaffer'd here.

YOUNG CRAW.

How I gat clear, my dear mamma,
Had I my breath, I'd tell ye a';
Whate'er it was assail'd our nest,
Or death, or devil, man or beast,
I canna say, but faes they ware
To a' craw-kind, that flat I'll swear.
I shook in ilka lith an' limb
To see the fury fell and grim
My kindred by the thrapple grip,
An' their sma' necks asunder nip.
Th'poor young creatures scriech'd and cried
For mercy, but it was denied.

Frae sic a scene o' bluid and plunder,
I gat escapet for a wonder,

For whan they wou'd ha' catch'd my tail,
Up to a branch I loot a speel,'

The raskel stretch'd, and wrought, and strak,
I felt the dadds upo' my back,
And thought, O if I could but flee!
Frae danger yet, I might get free.
But as I ne'er had tried the wing,
I sat an' shook, and said nae thing,
Till forc'd at last to quit my station,
I tried to flee through desperation.

By instinct taught, I spread each pinion,
An' here alighted fortune's minion.
But now when I my wings can toss,
I'll skim o'er meadow, muir, and moss,
An' roam thro' forest, glen, an' hill,
An' pick wild berries at my will;
Frae a' my faes, despising danger,
To ilka evil quite a stranger.

AULD CRAW.

Poor glaiket thing! ye little ken
The cunnin' wiles o' wicked men ;
If ye cou'd flee up to the moon,
And roost anang the starns aboon,
For aught I ever heard, a craw
Might there be free o' dangers a',
But while o'er this green yirth a ranger,
Frae mankind ye're in constant danger.

YOUNG CRAW.

But mamma, mankind canna flee Out o'er the hills like you an' me; 'Wi' them it would be vain to fight, But we can beat them far by flight.

AULD CRAW.

Sae ane wad think, but my dear bairn,
Ye hae your lesson yet to learn.
When foul mischief is man's intention,
They hae nae end wi' their invention.
They hae a thing they ca' a gun,
Wha's direfu' message nane can shun.
Sure very de'ils wad hae repentit,
To hae sae vile a thing inventit;
There is na ane o' a' hell's engines,
Can bleach red fire wi' half th' vengeance.
Tho' far awa' the very crack o't
'Maist gars my heart loup afl' the stalk o't.
Last winter, whan th' snaw was drivin',
An' craws ware right sair pinch't for livin'
I ventur'd in bye to a stack-yard,-
Peep by a corner stood a blackguard,-
An' fir'd a shot, I got a yark o't
Right thro' my leg, see, there's the mark o't,
An' mony a weary day I limpet
Wi' pinchin' hunger, sadly scrimpet,
While far a-front my neighbours jumpet.
Ae afternoon, no lang sinsyne,
Ye then ware young, ye canna' min'
Three chaps cam wast frae Durdie town,
Ane had a gun-(a gleg-ey'd lown);
Ilk shot cam' like a thunder-clap,
Down reel'd the craws at ilka rap,

The ither twa enjoy'd the slaughter,

Wi' shouts o' joy, an' peals o' laughter;
They rov'd about, now here now there,
Till they had pick't the tree-heads bare.
We wha cou'd flee, flew high in air,
Elf-shot ameist at ilka rair,

An' saw our bairns laid low in bings
A mangled mass, heads, feet, and wings;
Sic spooly, rapine, blood, an' death,
I never saw sin I had breath,
An' may my een be clos'd in night,
Ere I again see sic a sight.

Ilad ye been there, amang the branches, The sharp shot too had pierc'd your paunchies;

Down ye had hurl'd wi' death-seal'd eyes, And been bak'd up for food, in pyes.

'There's no a place we can get nested,
But some way we may be molested.
If ane ware here, anither there,
Howlets an' hawks our young might tear.
We big so early in the year,
Our nests are seen baith far an' near,
For ere the leaves begin to sprout,
Our eggs are laid, our young are out:
If to the forest we retreat,

Our young might die for want o' meat,
For there nae ploughs gaun o'er the lee,
Wad turn the wormies up for thee.

YOUNG CRAW.

Hegh! so ye're right, that's very strange,
But whan amang the fields we range,
Doin' neither beast nor body ill,
Will they then seek poor craws to kill.

AULD CRAW.

Aye that they will, ye needna doubt,
Ye ay maun keep a sharp look out.
Perchance upon a rig you light,
And tho' nae danger be in sight,
Frae hint a hedge they'll fire a gun,
An' lay you sprawlin' on the grun';

Wi' bluidy head an' broken banes,
I've seen the like aft'ner than anes.
Ay keep in min' the thought o' danger,
An' to the stack-yard be a stranger.
E'en in the middle o' a muir,

Ye scarce can deem yoursel secure ;
Perhaps ane lurks behind a knowe,
An' in a crack your wings may cow.
But I'll gie you my best advice,
Ye'll think upon't if ye be wise;
Ay whan ye find the smell o' powther,
Wing aff, an' ne'er look o'er your shouther.

YOUNG CRAW.

O' what a life o' anxious care!

Th' thought o't mak's me shake wi' fear.
But tell me mam' does mankin' hate us,
Or do they kill us but to eat us?
Had they nought else to cram their maw,
They wadna leave a livin' craw.

AULD CRAW.

'Deed bairnie, 'tis no for want o' food,
That maks mankind to spill our bluid.
They're beings o' sic a perverse nature,
They pest themselves an' ilka creature:
They say we gi' them great offence,
But this is but a sham pretence;
For ev'n their horses, sheep, an' cows,
I've seen them mony times abuse.
What tho' we eat some o' their wheat,
It's weel ken'd we maun hae our meat;
Our race, tho' mean, they fill their station,
As weel's the lairds o' the creation,
An' may be better, for I'm sure,
Amang ourselves we live secure.
A fellow craw, I scarce wou'd dab,
But they their dearest friends will stab.
An' what is waur, they'll kill themsel,
Which ev'n a craw wad blush to tell.
I've kenn'd them gather out in bands,
To gang and fight in distant lands
Wi'fellow men, wha ne'er cou'd wrang them,
And plunder, murder, burn, an' hang them.
O! wad some fury kill them a',
I'd bless the day I was a craw;
For truly bairn, 'tis my opinion,
The craws might then get the dominion.

At this our bardie loot a laugh,
The frighted pair flew o'er the haugh.
Stay, stay, he cry'd, I hae nae powther,
They heard, but ne'er look'd o'er their
shouther.