There has been blinking on the bent,

And flashing on the fell, joe; The red-coat sparks ha'e got their yerks, But carle darena tell, joe.

CHORUS.

There's news!-news! &c.

The prig dragoons, they swore by 'zoons,
The rebels' hides to tan, joe;
But when they fand the Highland brand,
They funkit and they ran, joe.

There's news!-news! &c.

Had English might stood by the right,
As they did vaunt full vain, joe;
Or play'd the parts of Highland hearts,
The day was a' our ain, joe.

There had been news! &c.

O wad the frumpy froward duke,
Wi' a' his brags o' weir, joe,
But meet our Charlie hand to hand,
In a' his Highland gear, joe,

There wud be news! &c.

We darena say the right's the right, Though weel the right we ken, joe; But we dare think, and take a drink, TO RED CLAN-RONALD'S MEN, joe. And tell the news! &c.

Afore I saw the back of ane

Turn'd on his daddy's ha', joe, I'd rather see his towers a waste, His bonnet, bends, an' a', joc. But yet there's news! &c.

Afore I saw our rightful prince
From foreign foggies flee, joc.
I'd lend a hand to Cumberland
To row it in the sea, joe.

But still there's news! &c.

Come fill your cup, and fill it up,

We'll drink the toast you ken, joe; And add beside, the Highland plaid, And RED CLAN-RONALD'S MEN, joe!

And cry our newos! &c.

We'll drink to Athol's bonny lord;

To Cluny of the glen, joe; To Donald Blue, and Appin true, And RED CLAN-RONALD'S MEN, joc.

And cry our news! our gallant news!

That carle disna ken, joe ;
Our gallant news, of tarian trews,

And red Clan-Ronald's men, joe!

This is a very curious song, and appears to relate to some particular event, although the precise meaning is inexplicable. Had the term Carle been written Carlisle, or even Caril, as it is uniformly pronounced in Cumberland, I would have concluded that the song related to the battle of Clifton, where King George's own dragoons were so gallantly repulsed by the rear of the Highland army in its retreat through the North of England, on the 18th of December 1745. No action could be more brilliant than this. The Highlanders were attacked in their rear in the fall of the evening, when they were almost wearied to death, and encumbered with baggage, horses, and waggons. They had no intelligence of the Duke of Cumberland's approach, until he appeared in their rear with the Royal Dragoons and Kingston's Horse. Could any man have calculated on ought but an entire rout? In place of which, the Highlanders faced about, and, in the midst of a hot fire, attacked the dragoons sword in hand, and certainly beat them back in the finest style. Neither Prince Charles, nor one of all his army, knew of the attack till it was over, save a few companies that were behind, guarding the baggage; and yet these few wearied men beat off two regular regiments of dragoons, slew one hundred and fifty of them, and wounded more; while, of the Highlanders, there were only twenty-four killed, and about thirty wounded. There is another circumstance which does not apply to the battle of Clifton Moor. I have read somewhere, though I cannot at present light on the place, that it was the Glengary Highlanders who bore the brunt of that skirmish, and not the followers of ClanRonald. Query. May not this old song be brought as a proof of what the chief of the Macdonell has been urging of late, namely, that Glengary and Clan-Ronald were regarded by this bard as one and the same person? Upon the whole, if this song does not relate to the action at Clifton, I cannot find that it applies in the most distant degree to any other.

The next I send you is of a much older date, and copied from Mr Marshall's collection.

A NEW BALLAD.

You may give dem zome sheese too, and if you tink fitt,

&c.

PRAY, shentlemens, come now and zee my vine show,

And den I vill tell you no more den you know;

I'll open my box, and you'll zee vid your eyes,

If I tell you no truth, I vill tell you no lies.

Virst dere is de vine king, just landed at Greenwich,

But dere is a brave king, dat still remains banish;

He came a great vay, to save dis poor people,

Who, vor vear of de Pope, have made choice of de Devil.

Some zay he has brought us a great deal of monish,

But if you look dere, it is vone, two, tree, Connish;

Dis is de Hannover, and dose are his bishes,

Who vill gul de poor English of all deir brave rishes.

Dere is his wife, in de castle of stone, And vat she is dere vor is very vell known;

Dere lies de poor man, too, vhose blood

a bitt.

Look on dat zame voman, vor dhat is his vife,

Who ne'er vas so vine all de days of her life;

She's as vat as a pork, he's as proud as a pimp,

And all de whole crew are a parcel of imp.

Cast but your eyes round, and view dat brave hero,

Who, if you'll assist him, vill kick out dis Nero;

Now he is de best king dat ever I knew, And it is great pity ye are not all true.

I pray and I hope dat you soon vill be vise,

And de valse king instead of the true vone despise ;

And zure none vill grudge vor to gie me vone guinea,

'Tis to drink a good health to noble king Jamie.

This is the old subject again of King George I. and his two mistresses, his queen, whom, as long as she lived, he confined in "de castle of stone" on mere suspicion, and also his son Prince Fredrick, and his wife. Many anecdotes of these illustrious persons are to be found in the Jacobite Relics, and I have selected this old song for publication, merely on account of the whimsical fancy that runs through it, of exhibiting the various in a show-box. personages JAMES HOGG.

Altrive-Lake, Nov. 7, 1821.

PICTURES OF COUNTRY LIFE.
No. II.

Continued from p. 219.

WHEN Gawin the shepherd set old Isaac on his road that day he left his cottage, there still seemed an embarrassment in his manner. All that he said was under a certain degree of restraint, insomuch that Isaac, who was an observer of human nature, could not help taking notice of it; but those who have never witnessed, in the same predicament, a homebred honest countryman, accustomed to speak his thoughts freely at all times, can

have no conception of the appearance that Gawin made. From the time that the worthy old man first entered his cot, till the time they parted again on the height, Gawin's lips were curled, the one up, and the other down, having an inordinate space flayed between them; his eyes never met those of the old father, but they were that instant withdrawn, and, with an involuntary motion, fixed vertically on the summit of some of the adjacent hills; and when they stopped to converse, Gawin was always laying on the ground with his staff, or beating some unfortunate thistle all to flitters. The one family had suffered a private injury from the other, of a nature so flagrant in Gawin's eyes, that his honest heart could not brook it, and yet so delicate was the subject, that when he essayed to mention it, his tongue refused the office. "There has a sair misfortune happened," said he once, "that ye ablins didna ken o'. But it's nae matter ava!" And with that, he fell on and beat a thistle, or some other op posing shrub, most unmercifully.

There was however one subject on which he spoke with energy, and that was the only one in which old Isaac was for the time interested. It was his son's religious state of mind. He told Isaac, that he seemed to have conceived of the youth aright, for that he was in fact a scoffer at religion, because it had become fashionable in certain college classes, where the religion of Jesus was never mentioned, but with scorn and ridicule; but that he had always been convinced, his infidelity sprung from a perverse and tainted inclination, in opposition to his better judgment, and that if he could have been brought at all to think or reason on the subject, he would have thought and reasoned aright; but that he had avoided it by every means, seeming horrified at the very mention of the subject, and glad to escape from the tormenting ideas that it brought in its train. "Even the sight of your face to-day," continued he, "drove him into a fit of temporary derangement and passion; but from the unwonted docility and kindness that he manifested towards you afterwards, I have high hopes that this visit of yours will be accompanied by the blessing

of Heaven. He has been a dear lad to me; for the sake of getting him forret in his lair, I ha'e pinched baith mysel' and a' my family, and sitten down wi' them to mony a poor and skrimpit meal. But I never grudged that, only I ha'e whiles been grieved that the rest o' my family ha'e gotten sae little justice in their schooling. And yet, puir things, there has never ane o' them grieved my heart, which he has done aftener than I like to speak o'. It has pleased Heaven to punish me for my partiality to him; but I ha'e naething for it but submission. Ha! do ye ken, Sir, that that day I first saw him mount a poopit, and heard him begin a discourse to a croudit congregation, I thought a' my pains and a' my pinching poverty overpaid. For the first quarter of an hour I was sae upliftit, that I hardly kend whether I was sitting, standing, or flying in the air, or whether the kirk was standin' still, or rinnin' round about. But, alake! afore the end o' his twa discourses, my heart turned as cauld as lead, and it has never again hett in my breast sinsyne. They were twa o' thae cauldrife, moral harangues, that tend to uplift poor wrecked, degenerate human nature, and rin down divine grace. There was nae dependence to be heard tell o' there be yond the weak arm o' sinfu' flesh; and oh, I thought to mysel', but that will afford sma' comfort, my man, to either you or me, at our dying day."

Here the old shepherd became so much overpowered, that he could not proceed, and old Isaac took up the discourse, and administered many words of sublime and heavenly comfort: then shaking him kindly by the hand, he proceeded on his way, while Gawin returned slowly homeward, still waging war with every intrusive and superfluous shrub in his path.He was dissatisfied with himself that he had not spoke his mind to the worthy father, who so well deserved his confidence, on a subject that most of all preyed on his heart.

Matilda, who sat watching the path by which her father was to come home, beheld him as soon as he came in view, and continued to watch him all the way with that tender solici tude which is only prompted by the

most sincere and unbiassed love. "With what agility he walks!" exclaimed she to herself; "bless me, sirs, he is running! He is coming pacing down yon green sward as if he were not out of his teens yet. I hope he has been successful in his mission, and prevailed with that abandoned profligate to make some amends to my hapless niece."

ness.

How different are the views of different persons! and how variable the objects of their pursuit! Isaac thought of no such thing. He rejoiced only in the goodness and mercy of his Maker, and had high hopes that he would make him (unworthy as he was) instrumental in gaining over an immortal soul to Heaven and happiHe sung praises to Heaven in his heart, and the words of gratitude and thankfulness hung upon his tongue. His daughter never took her eye from him, in his approach to his little mansion. Her whole dependence was on her father-her whole affection was centered on him: she had been taught from her infancy to regard him as the first and the best of men; and though she had now lived with him forty years, he had never in one instance lessened that esteem, or defaced that pure image of uprightness and sincerity, which her affectionate heart had framed. When he came in, every thing was wrong with him; his feet were damp, although he assured her of the contrary-his right hand sleeve was wringing wet, and there was even a dampness between his shoulders, which was exceedingly dangerous, as it was so nearly opposite the heart. In short, every stitch on old Isaac was to shift piecemeal, though not without some strong remonstrances on his part, and the good-natured quotation several times repeated from the old song:

"Nought's to be won at woman's hand, Unless ye gi'e her a' the plea."

When she had got him all made comfortable to her mind, and his feet placed in well-toasted slippers before the fire, she then began her inquiries. "How did you find all at Gawin's to-day, now when I have gotten time to speir?-"Why," daughter Matty, poorly enough, very poorly. But thanks be to God, I think I left

them somewhat better than I found them."

"I am so glad to hear that. I hope you have taken Graham over the coals about Phemy?"

"Eh! about Phemy?"

"You know what I told you be fore you went away? You were not so unnatural as to forget your own flesh and blood, in communing with the man who has wronged her?"

"I did not think more of the matter; and if I had, there would have been no propriety in mentioning it, as none of the family spoke of it to me. And how was I assured that there was no misstatement? Women are always so rash spoken, and so fond of slander, that I am afraid to trust them at the first word; and besides, my dear Matty, you know they are apt to see things double sometimes.'

"Well, my dear father, I must say that your wit, or raillery, is very ill timed, considering who it relates to. Your grand-daughter has been most basely deceived, under a pretence of marriage, and yet you will break your jokes on the subject.”

Stop, Matty. Do not wrong me. I never broke a joke on such a subject in my life. It was you whom I was joking, for your particular piece of news, which I never heard mentioned by any other; and if I had all my life taken up every amour in the parish, at your first hints, and taken the aggressors over the coals for them, I should often have been in a fine scrape, you know."

Matilda was silenced. She asked for no instances, by way of denying the insinuation; but she murmured some broken sentences, like one who has been fairly beat in an argument, but cannot think to yield. It was rather a hard subject for the good lady; for ever since she had bidden a trembling adieu to her thirtieth year, she had become exceedingly jealous of the conduct of the younger portion of her sex. But Isaac was too kind hearted to exult in a severe joke; he instantly added, as a palliative, "But I should hold my tongue. You have many means of hearing, and coming to the truth of such matters, that I have not."

"I wish this were false, however," said Matilda, turning away her face

from the fire, lest the flame should scorch her cheek; "but I shall say no more about it, and neither, I suppose, will you, till it be out of time. Perhaps it may not be true, for I heard, since you went away, that she was to be there to-day, by appointment of his parents, to learn his final determination, which may have been as false as the other. If she had been there, you would have seen her, you know." "Eh?" said Isaac, after biting his lip, and making a long pause; "What did you say, daughter Matty? Did you say my Phemy was to have been there to-day?"-"I heard such a report, which must have been untrue, because, had she been there, you would have met with her."

"There was a lass yonder," said Isaac. "How many daughters has Gawin?"-" Only one who is come the length of woman, and whom you see in the kirk every day caper ing with her bobbs of crimson ribbons, and looking at Will Ferguson."

"It is a pity women are always so censorious," said Isaac. "Always construing small matters the wrong way. It is to be hoped these little constitutional failings will not be laid to their charge. So Gawin has but one daughter?"

"I said, one that is a grown-up woman. He has, besides, little Ellen, a pert idle brat, who has an eye in her head that will tell tales some day."

Then there was indeed another damsel," said old Isaac, "whom I did not know, but took her for one of the family. Alake, and wo is me! Could I think it was my own dear child hanging over the couch of a dying man! The girl that I saw was in tears, and deeply affected. She even seized my hand, and bathed it with tears. What could she think of me, who neither named nor kissed her, but that I had cast her off and renounced her? But no, no, I can never do that; I will forgive her as heartily as I would beg for her for giveness at a throne of mercy. We are all fallible and offending creatures; and a young maid, that grows up as a willow by the water courses, and who is in the flush of youth and beauty, ere ever she has had a moment's time for serious reflection, or

one trial of worldly experience-that such a one should fall a victim to practised guilt, is a consequence so natural, that, however much to be regretted, is not matter of astonishment. My poor misguided Euphemia! Did I indeed have you kneeling at my knee, and bathing my hand with your affectionate tears, without once deigning to acknowledge you? And yet how powerful are the workings of nature! They are indeed the workings of the Deity himself: for when I arose, all unconscious of the presence of my child, and left her weeping, I felt as if I had left a part of my body and blood behind me.”

"So she was indeed there, whining and simpering over the bed of her honourable lover?" said Matilda. "I wish I had been there, to have pushed her out at the door! The silly, inconsiderate being! To be gulled out of fair fame, name, and character, by such a worthless proffigate, bringing disgrace on all connected with her. And then to go whimpering over his bed!-0 dear love, you must marry me, or I am undone! I have loved you with all my heart, you know, and you must make me your wife. I am content to beg my bread with you, now that I have loved you so dearly! only you must marry me. Oh dear! Oh dear! what shall become of me else!”

"Dear daughter Matilda, are you going to act me a scene of a comedy for my amusement after my journey? Women are always so vehement! Fume! fume! fume! No patience or forbearance with them. Where is the presumptuous being of the fallen race of Adam who can say, Here will I stand in my own strength? What will the best of us do, if left to ourselves, better than the erring, inexperienced being, whose turning aside you so bitterly deprecate? It is better that we lament the sins and failings of our relatives, my dear Matty, than rail against them, putting ourselves into sinful and angry passions, thereby adding one iniquity on the back of another."

The argument was kept up all that evening, and all next day, with the same effect; and if any of them had been asked what it was about, neither could have told: the one attached a