My coward heart wi' happiness, Wi' bliss is brimin' fu'; But, oh! its fu'ness mars my tongue, I haena power to woo.

I prize your smile, as husbandman The summer's opening bloom, And could you frown, I dread it mair, Than he the autumn's gloom.

My life hangs on that sweet, sweet lip, On that calm, sunny brow; And, oh! my dead hangs on them baith, Unless you let me woo.

Oh! lift me to your bosom, then, Lay your warm cheek to mine; And let me round that lovesome waist My arms enraptured twine; That I may breathe my very soul, In ae lang lovin' vow; And a' the while in whispers low, You 'll learn me, love, to woo!

I 'M WANDERING WIDE.

I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, But yet my heart 's at hame, Fu' cozie by my ain fire-cheek, Beside my winsome dame.

The weary winds howl lang an' loud; But 'mid their howling drear, Words sweeter far than honey blabs Fa' saftly on my ear.

I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, I 'm wand'ring wide an' far; But love, to guide me back again, Lights up a kindly star.

The lift glooms black aboon my head, Nae friendly blink I see; But let it gloom--twa bonnie e'en Glance bright to gladden me.

I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, I 'm wand'ring wide and late, And ridgy wreaths afore me rise, As if to bar my gate; Around me swirls the sleety drift, The frost bites dour an' keen; But breathings warm, frae lovin' lips, Come ilka gust atween.

I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, I 'm wand'ring wide an' wild, Alang a steep and eerie track, Where hills on hills are piled; The torrent roars in wrath below, The tempest roars aboon; But fancy broods on brighter scenes, And soughs a cheerin' tune.

I 'm wand'ring wide this wintry night, I 'm wand'ring wide my lane, And mony a langsome, lanesome mile, I 'll measure e'er it 's gane; But lanesome roads or langsome miles, Can never daunton me, When I think on the welcome warm That waits me, love, frae thee.

THOMAS d.i.c.k.

A native of Paisley, Thomas d.i.c.k was originally engaged as a weaver in that town. He afterwards became a bookseller, and has since been employed in teaching and other avocations. He is the author of a number of songs which appear in "Whistle Binkie," and "The Book of Scottish Song;" and also of several tales which have been published separately, and in various periodicals.

HOW EARLY I WOO'D THEE.

AIR--_'Neil Gow's Lament for his Brother.'_

How early I woo'd thee, how dearly I lo'ed thee; How sweet was thy voice, how enchanting thy smile; The joy 'twas to see thee, the bliss to be wi' thee, I mind, but to feel now their power to beguile.

I gazed on thy beauty, and a' things about thee, Seem'd too fair for earth, as I bent at thy shrine; But fortune and fashion, mair powerfu' than pa.s.sion, Could alter the bosom that seem'd sae divine!

Anither may praise thee, may fondle and fraize thee; And win thee wi' words, when his heart's far awa'; But, oh, when sincerest, when warmest, and dearest, His vows--will my truth be forgot by thee a'?

'Midst pleasure and splendour thy fancy may wander, But moments o' solitude ilk ane maun dree; Then feeling will find thee, and mem'ry remind thee, O' him wha through life gaes heart-broken for thee.

HUGH MILLER.

The celebrated geologist, and editor of the _Witness_ newspaper, Hugh Miller, was born at Cromarty on the 10th October 1802. In his fifth year he had the misfortune to lose his father, who, being the captain of a small trading vessel, perished in a storm at sea. His widowed mother was aided by two industrious unmarried brothers in providing for her family, consisting of two daughters, and the subject of this Memoir. With a rudimentary training in a private school, taught by a female, he became a pupil in the grammar school. Perceiving his strong apt.i.tude for learning, and vigorous native talent, his maternal uncles strongly urged him to study for one of the liberal professions; but, diffident of success in more ambitious walks, he resolved to follow the steps of his progenitors in a life of manual labour. In his sixteenth year he apprenticed himself to a stone-mason. The profession thus chosen proved the pathway to his future eminence; for it was while engaged as an operative stone-hewer in the old red sandstone quarries of Cromarty, that he achieved those discoveries in that formation which fixed a new epoch in geological science. Poetical composition in evening hours relieved the toils of labour, and varied the routine of geological inquiry. In the prosecution of an ornamental branch of his profession--that of cutting and lettering grave-stones--he in 1828 proceeded to Inverness. Obtaining the friendship of Mr Robert Carruthers, the ingenious editor of the _Inverness Courier_, the columns of that journal were adorned by his poetical contributions. In 1829 these were issued from the _Courier_ office, in a duodecimo volume, with the t.i.tle, "Poems Written in the Leisure Hours of a Journeyman Mason."

By the press the work was received with general favour; and the author, in evidence that his powers as a prose-writer were not inferior to his efforts as a poet, soon re-appeared in the columns of the _Courier_, as the contributor of various letters on the Northern Fisheries. These letters proved so attractive that their republication in the form of a pamphlet was forthwith demanded.

The merits of the Cromarty stone-mason began to attract some general attention. Sir Thomas d.i.c.k Lauder, who had an occasional residence in Morayshire, afforded him patronage; and the venerable Princ.i.p.al Baird of Edinburgh, to whom he was introduced, recommended him to quit the mallet, and seek literary employment in the capital. Such gratifying encouragement and friendly counsel, though not immediately acted upon, were not without advantage in stimulating his enterprise. Before relinquishing, however, a craft at which he could at least earn a sufficiency for his immediate wants, he resolved to test his capabilities as a writer by a further literary attempt.

Cromarty and its vicinity abounded in legends of curious interest, respecting the times of religious persecutions, and of the rebellions in the cause of the Stuarts, and these Miller had carefully stored up from the recitations of the aged. The pen of Scott had imparted a deep interest to the traditions of other localities; and it seemed not unlikely that the legends of Cromarty, well told, would attract some share of attention. Success attended this further adventure, proportioned to its unquestionable merit--the "Scenes and Legends of the North of Scotland," which emanated from the publishing house of the Messrs Black of Edinburgh, confirmed and widely extended the reputation of the author.

From handling the workman's tools, a sudden transition to the constant use of the pen of the _litterateur_ is, under the most favourable circ.u.mstances, not to be desired. It was the lot of Hugh Miller to engage in an intermediate employment, and to acquire, in a manner peculiarly appropriate, that knowledge of business, and acquaintance with the transactions of life, which are so necessary to those who, through the medium of the press, seek to direct public opinion. Shortly after the publication of his "Scenes and Legends," a branch of the Commercial Bank was opened at Cromarty, and the accountantship was offered to him by the agent. Entering on the duties, after a short preliminary training in the Bank's offices at Edinburgh and Linlithgow, he subsequently added to his domestic comfort by uniting himself in marriage with Miss Lydia Fraser, a young lady of literary tastes, to whom he had for some time borne an attachment. His official emoluments amounted to nearly a hundred pounds a-year; these were considerably augmented by his contributing legendary tales for _The Tales of the Border_, and writing occasional articles to _Chambers' Edinburgh Journal_. The _veto_ controversy was now extensively agitating the Established Church, and, having long supported the popular view, he at length resolved to come forward more conspicuously as the advocate of what he strongly regarded as the rights of the people. He embodied his sentiments in the shape of a letter to Lord Brougham, and, having transmitted his MS. to Mr Robert Paul, the manager of the Commercial Bank, it was by that gentleman submitted to Dr Candlish. Perceiving the consummate ability of the writer, that able divine not only urged the publication of his letter, but recommended his immediate nomination as the editor of the _Witness_ newspaper, which had just been projected by some of the Edinburgh clergy. The offer of the editorship was accordingly made, and, being accepted, the first number of the newspaper was, early in 1840, issued under his superintendence.

As a controversial writer, and the able exponent of his peculiar views of ecclesiastical polity, Hugh Miller at once attained a first rank among contemporary editors. Many persons who were unconcerned about the Scottish Church question, or by whom his sentiments on that subject were disapproved, could not withhold an expressed admiration of the singular power with which his views were supported, and of the cla.s.sic style in which they were conveyed. For some years prior to undertaking the editorship, he had devoted much of his spare time to the preparation of a geological work; and he now, in the columns of his newspaper, in a series of chapters, presented to the public that valuable contribution to geological science, since so well known as his work on "The Old Red Sandstone." To the scientific world, by opening up the fossil treasures of a formation hitherto understood to be peculiarly dest.i.tute of organic remains, this publication claimed an especial interest, which was enhanced by the elegance of the diction. His subsequent publications fully sustained his fame. A work on the physical and social aspects of the sister kingdom, ent.i.tled "First Impressions of England and its People," was followed by "The Footprints of the Creator," the latter being a powerful reply to the work ent.i.tled "Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation." In 1854 he published a most interesting narrative of his early struggles and experiences, with the t.i.tle, "My Schools and Schoolmasters." "The Testimony of the Rocks," a work on which he bestowed intense labour, and which may be regarded as his masterpiece, was published in March 1857, about three months subsequent to his demise; but all the sheets had undergone his final revision.

For some years his health had been declining; in early manhood he suffered severely from a pulmonary affection, known as the "mason's disease," and he never thoroughly recovered. A singular apprehension of personal danger, inconsistent with the general manliness of his character, induced him for many years never to go abroad without fire-arms. He studied with pertinacious constancy, seldom enjoying the salutary relaxations of society. He complained latterly that his sleep was distracted by unpleasant dreams, while he was otherwise a prey to painful delusions. The eye of affection discovered that the system had been overtaxed; but eminent medical counsel deemed that cessation from literary toil would produce an effectual cure. The case was much more serious; a n.o.ble intellect was on the very brink of ruin. On the night of the 24th December 1856, he retired to rest sooner than was his usual, as the physician had prescribed. With redoubled vehemence he had experienced the distractions of disordered reason; he rose in a frenzy from his bed, and, having written a short affectionate letter to his wife, pointed his revolver pistol to his breast. He fired in the region of the heart, and his death must have been instantaneous. The melancholy event took place in his residence of Shrub Mount, Portobello, and his remains now rest in the Grange Cemetery, Edinburgh. As a geologist it is not our province to p.r.o.nounce his eulogy; he was one of the most elegant and powerful prose-writers of the century, and he has some claims, as the following specimens attest, to a place among the national poets.

SISTER JEANIE, HASTE, WE 'LL GO.[11]

Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go To where the white-starr'd gowans grow, Wi' the puddock-flower, o' gowden hue, The snawdrap white, and the bonnie vi'let blue.

Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go To where the blossom'd lilacs grow, To where the pine-tree, dark an' high, Is pointing its tap at the cloudless sky.

Jeanie, mony a merry lay Is sung in the young-leaved woods to-day; Flits on light wing the dragon-flee, And hums on the flowerie the big red bee.

Down the burnie wirks its way Aneath the bending birken spray, An' wimples roun' the green moss-stane, An' mourns, I kenna why, wi' a ceaseless mane.

Jeanie, come! thy days o' play Wi' autumn tide shall pa.s.s away; Sune shall these scenes, in darkness cast, Be ravaged wild by the wild winter blast.

Though to thee a spring shall rise, An' scenes as fair salute thine eyes; An' though, through many a cloudless day, My winsome Jean shall be heartsome and gay;

He wha grasps thy little hand Nae langer at thy side shall stand, Nor o'er the flower-besprinkled brae Lead thee the lounnest an' the bonniest way.

Dost thou see yon yard sae green, Speckled wi' mony a mossy stane?

A few short weeks o' pain shall fly, An' asleep in that bed shall thy puir brother lie.

Then thy mither's tears awhile May chide thy joy an' damp thy smile; But soon ilk grief shall wear awa', And I 'll be forgotten by ane an' by a'.

Dinna think the thought is sad; Life vex'd me aft, but this maks glad; When cauld my heart and closed my e'e, Bonnie shall the dreams o' my slumbers be.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] These verses were composed when the author was suffering from a severe pulmonary complaint which he feared would bring him to an early grave. They were addressed to his sister, a girl of five years, who at this period was his companion in his walks.