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A blythe blinking e'e, and a weel-faured face,
A mou that's wordy the preeing o't,
A lo'esome shape, wi' a step o' grace,

To cheer ane's e'e wi' the seeing o't;
A mind weel plenished wi' hamely sense,
And a warm bit heart that thinks nae offence,
O' these mak a tocher, far, far abune pence,
Or a' that earth has for the gieing o't.

MY MARY.

Tune, "What will I do gin my hoggie die?'

O say na ye maun gang awa,
O say na ye maun leave me ;
For ah, the hour that parts us twa,
O' peace and hope will rieve me!

When ye to unco wheres are gane,
How could I thole to tarry,
Where ilka tree, and ilka stane
Wad mind me o' my Mary.

I could na gang nearhand yon wuds
That saw us aft caressin',

And on our heads let fa' their buds,
In airnest o' their blessin'.

Ilk stane wad mind me how we prest
Its spreadin' coat o' heather,
And how we loed the least aye best
That garr'd us creep thegither.

I canna stay when ye are gane,
My ain, my winsome dearie;
I downa stay to pine my lane,-
I leeve but when I'm near ye.

Then, Mary, dinna gang awa,
O say na ye mauu leave me,
For ah, the hours that pairts us twa
O' life itsel will rieve me!

THE LASS I LEFT BEHIND ME.

TUNE-" Alas that I cam' o'er the muir."

Alas, that I cam o'er the muir,
And left my love behind me ;
I suld hae staid and sae made sure
That she wad ever mind me.

O why does fate send me frae hame,
Why pairt its gudes sae blindly,
That I daur hardly mint the name
O' her I left behind me!

* Ramsay and others, judging from oral tradition, which deals in sounds only, have imagined the starting word of the old and lost song to this air to be "The last time I cam o'er the muir." The Skene M. S., lately discovered by Mr. Dauney, and published with able comments by him, restores the original reading, adopted in this present attempt. Mr. Dauney gives a fine old set of the air.

Her eyes are like twa beads o' wine,
Her skin is alabaster,

And a' about her sae divine

That woman ne'er surpas't her.

[graphic]

The best and fairest o' the lave
Could ne'er in fetters bind me,
But Freedom 's sel wad be a slave
To her I left behind me.

On ane sae lowly born as me,
Wi' gear sac ill providet;
She only cuist a frien'ly e'e,
When a' the rest deridet:

And o'er the muir she, naething laith
Conveyed me hame sae kindly
That O! I maun adore till death
The lass I left behind me.

Forgettin' gear and rank an' a',

Her kindness sae did move me,
That, ere I wist, a kiss I staw,

And said, sweet lass, I love thee.

She sighed, and till I cam again

She vowed she aye would mind me, But ah, her kin may wed ere then The lass I left behind me.

THE MEN-FOLK.

TUNE" The Sutors o' Selkirk."

O dule on the creaturs o' men-folk,
They'll no tak a tellin' ava,
Langsyne, I am sure, they micht ken folk
Are willin' to wed, ane an' a';
I think I may answer for ithers,
A lass kens fu' weel by hersel,
And at wedlock gin ony hac swithers,
It's mair than I ever heard tell.

It's true we maun pit a shy face on't,
And look as we fain wad haud back,
Or wooers wad say we were brazen't,
And sae mak' an awfu' mistak;
But troth the hale maitter is seemin',
To tell ye nae mair than is true,
For mornin' and e'en we are dreamin'
O' some bit lad comin' to woo.

Some women may think it provokin'
To hear thae things out o' the schule,

And tho' I am only outspoken,
May ca' me an even down fule;
But men, by my faith, will be asses
To heed sic wheejeein' ava,
As sure as the laddies like lasses,
The lasses like laddies an' a'.

Then come your ways ilka ane forrit,
And crousely say out your bit say,
Lang hingin' the women abhor it,

And few will be found to say nay

Sae let nae blate callant gang frettin',
We a' like the conjugal yoke,
And baith sides suld thank me for lettin'
This muckle cat out of the poke.

THE LASS WI' THE NIT-BROWN HAIR.

TUNE- "Fy gar rub her ower wi' strae."

O! gin thou wert but here wi' me,
My lassie wi' the nit-brown hair,
We wad be blest as twa could be
That ken they meet to pairt nae mair.
Nae mailens braw, nor jewels rare,
Nae kists o' gowd are mine to gie;
But aye the best, the foremost share,
O' a' I hae suld fa' to thec.

O! gin thou wert but here wi' me,
We'd slip awa to yon green dell,
And big a bower where nane could see,
And theek it wi' the heather bell
And ferns and rashes frae the fell,
Wi' lucken-gowans frae the lea,

;

Suld help to keep the winter snell
Frae skaithing thee, and me through thee.

I wadna seek the howffs o' men,

To set my winsome lily there, But bear her far frae ilka den,

Where life is but a name for care :
She drew her first and halesume air
Frae burn and wud, and hill and glen,
And O! 'twad be a sin and mair
To wyse her now ayont their ken.

When simmer's green cam on the tree,
We'd streek us in the sun to beek,
On some warm knowe where we might see
Our ingle swirlin' up its reek :

Linties wad sing, and lammies meek
Wad race afore us on the lea,

And morn and c'en, frae day to week, A' wad be peace round me and thee.

SONG

To the tune of "Awa, Whigs, awa,"

Burns.

Away, Whigs, away! away, Whigs, away!
You're such a set of selfish knaves

You'll do no good to stay.

Our country must to ruin soon
By your vile tricks be brought,
Lost is her charter's ancient boon
For which our grandsires fought.

Our Queen you as a puppet treat,
A mask to hide your shame;
Our England's walls, her gallant fleet,
You've frittered to a name.

Our laws, in better days of old,
Above all power revered,

Are spurned by traitors base and bold
By your collusion cheered.

Our church is robb'd that you may thrive,
By "heavy blows" you hope

To crush her spirit, and contrive
To sell us to the Pope.

Then Whigs, away! brave Britons rise,
And guard, ere all be gone,

The land your sires were wont to prize,
Her altars, and her throne.

Then away, Whigs, away! away, Whigs, away!
Your such a set of selfish knaves
You'll do no good to stay.

[graphic]

CRITICAL NOTICES.

Emigration from Ireland to South Australia, by Colonel Torrens, F.R.S. Chairman of the Colonization Commission appointed by her Majesty.

WE have, in our former numbers, referred to the various colonies which at present attract emigrants from the mother country, and among others to South Australia; the little pamphlet, however, at the head of this, deserves particular attention inasmuch as it is written as we take it officially by the head of the department, by Colonel Torrens, who in his individual capacity, is an high authority on subjects of political economy, and whose writings have been very favourably received on those subjects; we are particularly interested in South Australia too, inasmuch as it has been selected as a model school for colonization on liberal and equitable principles, for though Paley long since, and more recently Mr. E. Wakefield, and the Archbishop of Dublin have sought to rouse the legislature to the consideration of the principles to be abjured and retained in constructing a colonial society; strange to say until very lately no effort worthy an enlightened maritime nation has been made. The infancy of colonization is but an attempt to force this principle by means often violent, frequently unjustifiable and always artificial; ancient Rome was a refuge for robbers, and the rape of the Sabine women may be excused perhaps by the genius if not the necessity of the times, but would hardly be a precedent for modern imitation; the labouring and mechanic classes of New South Wales, and many of the rich and higher orders of society there are either assigned convicts or persons called emancipists whose period of transportation had expired-indeed it would appear that this colony other

wise most favourably situated, has had no power of recovering from the baneful effects of its first origin; scarcely could the second generation rally from the turpitude of the first, before the next general cargo, still going on of convicts, was landed from the mother country, and leavened its rising society deeply and universally.

In the West Indies it was not alone that the importation of slaves, and those of the distinguishing colour of the negroes, was a great evil, but the circumstance that slavery was the inheritance of the children of parents, one of whom might be free, created a collision between the ties of nature and the love of money, in which the latter was but too often triumphant, and led to many and grievous cruelties; we recollect an old naval surgeon who had been in Curaçoa, once telling us that he knew a merchant who had a beautiful daughter by his coloured slave, a woman who fulfilled the duties of a wife without its privileges, yet with tenderness and fidelity, as is the general habit of this most helpless if not innocent race; our merchant made a fortune, and wished to return home, and in disposing of his property actu ally sold his own daughter and her mother to a friend for £200. It was in vain that the daughter pleaded the education he gave her, and with it a relish for purer prospects; she had too prudent a father to forego for those considerations his hundred pounds; he sold his daughter who was a slave as he did his horse and "a fortiori" her mother; such is slavery, "a bitter draught disguise it as you will;" it is not, however, an easy matter if we would avoid the evils of convicts and slavery, to spread upon a new colony

a sufficient number of labourers or mechanics to make a beginning with to trust to voluntary emigration before the first objections are over-ruled, and the advantages appreciated, would be to give up the principle altogether; in South Australia the difficulty was solved by the legislature in this manner; an act was framed providing that the land be sold and its produce expended solely in giving a free passage to voluntary emigrants, labourers and mechanics of character. In this, however, there is this dilemma; if the price of land be high, a small but useful capitalist must stay at home; if it be very low, then needy adventurers vain of having land, however unable to use it, become possessors, but soon as in Canada, sell it for intoxicating liquors, to which their lives and characters are soon sacrificed; it reminds us in our younger days, when commissions might be had for love or money, of a young boy of 14, an officer in the 88th Regiment, who was sent home from parade, having broken his leg by falling on his sword, which his size and strength prevented his wearing with safety.

We were sorry to see in some of the public prints that (what, indeed, we could not but expect some time or another) discord between the aborigines and the settlers has been attended with fatal effects: three of the latter were murdered by the black natives; but it is some consolation to know that all the natives nearly hunted out the criminals, by giving such information as led to their apprehension, conviction, and execution. We find that efforts are already made to improve the moral and religious character of the inhabitants, native and colonial, by the establishment of a school which admits all denominations of Christians to such religious instruction as their parents approve, and such secular knowledge as will make them useful citizens. Roads and wharfs and railroads are already in progress; and the solitude of the forest, that gloomy spirit which ruled over this vast country from the commencement of time, is now reluctantly yielding its sovereignty to numbers, industry, and civilization, with all its checquered groups of hope, and joy, and care, alas! the constant companions of man wher ever he goes. Water, which is the great desideratum in all countries, does not abound in New Holland. South Australia appears, however, to have more than its share; the Murray is a large river compounded of the Darling and Murrimbidgee and rises in New South

Wales running a course of 1000 miles
before it loses itself in lake Alexandrina;
another river, the Flaxman, has been re-
cently discovered 40 miles above Ade-
laide, running a course towards the
east, and therefore probably terminating
in the Murray, and smaller streams near
Holdfast Bay have been more lately
found out; we were prepared to hear of
successful speculations in this colony,
but what we read in Col. Torrens'
pamphlet exceeds all we could have an-
ticipated. If a man purchases land for
1 an acre, and that on or near his
ground a town is in progress, and par-
ticularly if a river or harbour be dis-
covered in its vicinity, the ground may,
as it has done, rise in value from 1 to
1.800, or more. Then if a man pur-
chases ground he can rent pasture land
to an indefinite extent, on which he can
locate sheep which come from New
South Wales by land, and are sold in
the city of Adelaide, the ewes for about
from 30s. to 1,2; sheep delight in ex-
tensive pastures, and multiply there pro-
digiously, and the wool in this climate
becomes so soft and silky as to triumph
over all competition in the English
Market; capital thus invested yields a
return of 70 or 80 per cent. Such pros-
perity must have some countervailing
circumstances.

The excitement of intellectual and crowded society must not be looked for in those distant regions, but then domestic endearments must proportionably strengthen and multiply; he who spends his day on the wild and interminable wastes of a solitary wilderness amidst the mute inhabitants of the woolly tribe, will relish his evening enjoyments with his own children and wife gazing on a cloudless sky, a tropical sun, and that property on which no creditor can lay his unhallowed hand, with an intensity of pleasure, which mocks the aspirations of the civilized but anxious citizen of the mother country; he may enjoy "the Secura quies et nescia fallere vita," and while the merry sun beams shine through the drooping flowers spread before him in bounteous profusion on nature's beautiful carpet, he need not sigh for the drawing room at home, for with him the language of Milton will meet a responsive echo, as he says to his partner

"Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh

flower

Calls us, we lose the prime to mark how spring
Our tended plants, how bloom the citron grove,
What drops the myrrh and what the baliny reed
How nature paints her colours, how the bee
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet."

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