A SERENADE.

The shadows of evening fall silent around, The rose with a cor'net of dewdrops is crown'd; While weary I wander in sorrow's eclipse, With your love at my heart, your name on my lips; Your name on my lips, like a melody rare-- Then come, for I 'm lonely in shady Kenmair.

The birds by the river sing plaintive and low, They seem to be breathing a burden of woe; They seem to be asking, why am I alone?

And why do you tarry, or where are you gone?

The flowers are sighing sweet breath on the air, And stars watch thy coming to shady Kenmair.

The gush of the fountain, the roll of the tide, Recall your sweet image again to my side-- Your low mellow voice, like the tones of a flute; Your slight yielding form, and small fairy foot; Your neck like the marble, dark flowing your hair, And brow like the snowdrop of shady Kenmair.

Come love, to the bank where the violets blow, Beside the calm waters that slumber below, While the brier and beech, the hazel and broom, Fling down from their branches a flood of perfume; Oh! what is the world, with its splendours or care, When you are beside me in shady Kenmair!

A SONG OF LITTLE THINGS.

I 'm a very little man, And I earn a little wage, And I have a little wife, In a little hermitage, Up a quiet little stair, Where the creeping ivy clings; In a mansion near the stars Is my home of little things.

I 've two bonnie little bairns, Full of prattle and of glee, And our little dwelling rings With their laughter, wild and free.

Of the greenwoods, all the day, I 've a little bird that sings; It reminds me of my youth, And the age of little things.

I 've no money in the funds, And no steamers on the sea; But my busy little hands Are a treasure unto me.

I can work, and I can sing, With a joy unknown to kings; While peace and plenty smile On my bonnie little things.

And when my work is done, In my cosie ingle nook, With my little ones around, I can read a little book.

And I thank my lucky stars For whatever fortune brings; I 'm richer than a lord-- I 'm content with little things.

MY AIN MOUNTAIN LAND.

Oh! wae 's me on gowd, wi' its glamour and fame, It tint me my love, and it wiled me frae hame, Syne dwindled awa' like a neivefu' o' sand, And left me to mourn for my ain mountain land.

I long for the glens, and the brown heather fells, The green birken shades, where the wild lintie dwells, The dash o' the deep, on the gray rocky strand, That gird the blue hills o' my ain mountain land.

I dream o' the dells where the clear burnies flow, The bonnie green knowes where the wee gowans grow; But I wake frae my sleep like a being that 's bann'd, And shed a saut tear for my ain mountain land.

I ken there 's a la.s.s that looks out on the sea, Wi' tears in the een that are watchin' for me; Lang, lang she may wait for the clasp o' my hand, Or the fa' o' my foot in my ain mountain land.

WHEN I COME HAME AT E'EN.

Give me the hour when bells are rung, And dinsome wheels are still, When engines rest, and toilers leave The workshop, forge, and mill; With smiling lip, and gladsome e'e, My gudewife welcomes me; Our bairnies clap their wee white hands, And speel upon my knee.

When I come hame at e'en, When I come hame at e'en, How dear to me the bairnies' glee, When I come hame at e'en.

Our lowly bield is neat and clean, And bright the ingle's glow, The table 's spread with halesome fare, The teapot simmers low.

How sweet to toil for joys like these With strong and eydent hand, To nurture n.o.ble hearts to love, And guard our fatherland.

When I come hame at e'en, &c.

Let revellers sing of wa.s.sail bowls, Their wines and barley bree; My ain wee house and winsome wife Are dearer far to me.

To crack with her of joys to come, Of days departed long, When she was like a wee wild rose, And I a bird of song.

When I come hame at e'en, When I come hame at e'en, How dear to me these memories When I come hame at e'en.

WILLIAM LOGAN.

William Logan, author of the song "Jeanie Gow," was born on the 18th February 1821, in the village of Kilbirnie, and county of Ayr. Intended by his parents for one of the liberal professions, he had the benefit of a superior school education. For a number of years he has held a respectable appointment in connexion with a linen-thread manufactory in his native place.

JEANIE GOW.

Ye hameless glens and waving woods, Where Garnock winds alang, How aft, in youth's unclouded morn, Your wilds I 've roved amang.

There ha'e I heard the wanton birds Sing blythe on every bough, There first I met, and woo'd the heart O' bonnie Jeanie Gow.

Dear Jeanie then was fair and young, And bloom'd as sweet a flower As ever deck'd the garden gay Or lonely wild wood bower.

The warbling lark at early dawn, The lamb on mountain brow, Had ne'er a purer, lighter heart Than bonnie Jeanie Gow.

Her faither's lowly, clay-built cot Rose by Glengarnock side, And Jeanie was his only stay, His darling and his pride.

Aft ha'e I left the dinsome town, To which I ne'er could bow, And stray'd amang the ferny knowes Wi' bonnie Jeanie Gow.

But, ah! these fondly treasured joys Were soon wi' gloom o'ercast, For Jeanie dear was torn awa'

By death's untimely blast.

Ye woods, ye wilds, and warbling birds, Ye canna cheer me now, Sin' a' my glee and cherish'd hopes Ha'e gane wi' Jeanie Gow.

JAMES LITTLE.

James Little was born at Glasgow, on the 24th May 1821. His father, a respectable shoemaker, was a claimant, through his maternal grandmother, of the t.i.tle and estates of the last Marquis of Annandale. With a very limited elementary education, the subject of this notice, at an early age, was called on to work with his father; but soon afterwards he enlisted as a private soldier. After eight years of military life, chiefly pa.s.sed in North America and the West Indies, he purchased his discharge, and resumed shoemaking in his native city. In 1852 he proceeded to the United States, but subsequently returned to Glasgow. In 1856 he published a small duodecimo volume of meritorious verses, with the t.i.tle, "Sparks from Nature's Fire." Several songs from his pen have been published, with music, in the "Lyric Gems of Scotland."