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*

This while ye hae been mony a gate,

At mony a house.'

Ay, ay!' quo' he an fhook his head,

It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed

Sin I began to nick the thread,

'An' choke the breath:

• Folk maun do fomething for their bread,

'An' fae maun Death.

'SAX thoufand years are near hand fled

'Sin' I was to the butching bred,

An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid,

To ftap or fear me;

'Till ane Hornbook's * ta'en up the trade,

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*An epidemical fever was then raging in that country.

This gentleman, Dr Hornbook, is professonally, a brother of the sovereign Order of the Ferula; but, by intuition and inspiration, is at once an Apothecary, Surgeon, and Physician.

Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan,

· Deil mak his king's-hood in a spleuchan!

'He's grown fae weel acquaint wi' Buchant

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An' ither chaps,

The weans had out their fingers laghin,
And pouk my hips.

SEE here's a scythe, and there's a dart,

They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart;

'But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art

And curfed skill,

Has made them baith no worth a f→t,

Damn'd haet they'll kill!

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'Twas but yeftreen, nae farther gaen,

'I threw a noble throw at ane;

+ Buchan's Domestic Medicine.

Wi'

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'Wi' lefs, I'm fure, I've hundred's flain;

But deil ma-care,

'It just play'd dirl on the bane,

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But did nae mair.

Hornbcok was by, wi' ready art,

And had fae fortify'd the part,

That when I looked to my dart,

It was fae blunt,

Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart

Of a kail-runt.

I DREW my fcythe in fic a fury,

I nearhand cowpit wi' my hurry,

But yet the bauld Apothecary

Withstood the fhock;

I might as weel hae try'd a quarry

'O' hard whin rock.'

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Ev'N them he canna get attended,

'Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it,

Juft

in a kail-blade, and fend it,

'As foon's he fmell's't,

Baith their difeafe, and what will mend it,

'At once he tells't.

AND then a' doctors saws and whittles, ◄ Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles,

'He's fure to hae ;

Their Latin names as fast he rattles
As A B C.

'Calces o' foffils, earths, and trees;

True Sal-marinum o' the feas;

The Farina of beans and pease,

'He has't in plenty;

Aqua

Aqua-fontis, what you please,

'He can content ye.

'FORBYE fome new, uncommon weapons,

'Urinus Spiritus of capons;

'Or Mite-horn fhavings, filings, fcrapings,

• Diftill'd per se ;

'Sal alkali o' Midge-tail-clippings,

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'WAES me for Johbnny Ged's Hole * now,'

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Quoth I, if that thae news be true!

'His braw calf-ward where gowans grew,

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Sae white and bonie,

'Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew;

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