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Northern Star (1837-1852), 14th September 1844, Edition 1 of 1, Page 3

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      STANZAS TO THE MEMORY OF BURNS . TTBITTEX FOB , jUTD INTENDED TO BB SXTKQ AT , THB 1 ATB FESTIVAL O ! Robin ! RobiD ! child of Song , The nobly poor—the brandy Jtrong , Warm hearts , have met to croirn thy lyrs , And mourn the fate that quencb'd its fire , like jmbj soother we and great , Taou wert not tre&rared till too late . Thy " magic mantle ' s" glowing sheen , Bunt through thy shroud-cloth ere twas seen . O ! Robin ! RoMn ! bard * divine , Fair wreaths for thee hare loved to twine j Bat boeb that deck thy memory stone , Eclipse the laurels of thine ovm . Tne craTsn hand would seek to fling A shadow o ' er thy richest striDg : Bat neTer shall such coward slave Shut ont one raj from Robin ' s grave .

      OI Robin > RsbmJ pnnees now "Wai speak or Mm who " held tire plough ;" And many a pilgrim haili the spot , Made sacred by the " ploughman ' s cot " The lips that laugh—the hearts that grieve , Cbam forth taj stralni from mom till eye : For nature ever fondly turns To bear her own sweet troth fron » Burns . Thongh nonght beside of hallow'd "worth , Marked Scotia ' s men and Scotia ' s earth ; Since Barns hsj sang she needs no more , To Epread her fame the wide world o ' er . O : R jbin ! Robin ! proudly dear , Tiy spirit still ia with us here ! And Glory ' s haloTonnd thy head , . Shines as we laud the mighty dead . New Monthly Magazine

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      ^^ SONG . £ HS EStlGSAST MOTHER THB SIGHT BEFOB . E SHE SAILS TiOM rRRHM > . Sleep , darling , sleep , whils my tears wet thy pilloir , Sleep without rocking , this last night her * ; To-moxrewtboBlt rock on the deep foaming billow , The winds for thy lullaby then Qionit hear : But when across the wide "wave yonder , In freedom , thro * strange lands we wander ; O , then , with a holier feeling and fonder My heart , dearest Erin , will turn to thee ! To the land of the stranger , my boy we are going -, Where Sowers , and birds , and tbeir songs are new ; TfFe * ll miss , in the Epring , our own wild fljwers blowing , And listen in yain fsr the sweet cuckoo ; But in oar dreams , so sweetly ringing , "Well fancy we hear the spring-bird singiEg , And gather the flowers in our wild valley springing , And wtep , when we wake , that the dresm is untrue ! i-amud Lover .

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      CAREER GF A FASHIONABLE POET . Hethocgbt—methinks , for poetry , there ' s nothing like " Eethought I " I ' m sure twas made on purpose—nor , I fancy , is there snslii So adorns one ' s composition As an artfol repetition ;—But , perhaps , you'd iike to know tte school in which I have been taBgtr . ? I studied under Bayly first—the famous Th 6 mas Hsynes—And , under that consummate master , teok such constant pains , That I soon acquired the art of him , And at last so got the start of trim , As to beat him altogether both at " honeymoons" and " swains . "

      Papa end * ma delighted at rsy getting on so well , "Were good enough to send me , for a year to L . E-L , ; Where , a " Keepsake" being bought me , All the new effects were taught me , Besides some useful secrets , which I promised not to telL One only ihatl feel myself at liberty to name , ¦ Was , ' always make the leading words of every verse the same ;" I got so good at this That I wrote a little piece ¦ d f our-aud-twenty status , and they each began " She earne !"

      In tkis conjugating style I also proved a great adept , 33 ie next piece published was " She "! gone ! " soon after which , " H « wept . '" Till each number , tense , and person , I'd a seraiate piece of verse on . *• She Bighed I'produced " We laughed !"— " He wrote " was followed by " They slept V Io Q 15 highest walk my " friends then jndgei 1 might with safety pass ; Sly attempts had been as yet confined to the pathetic class : But I learnt to be sublime . When I'd been a little time With Xidy Mary Sophy Etnmelina Fitz Parma !

      Another vast improvement , too , 1 owtd to her exertion—J fc » d oiiij -wiii plain Ecglish yet , which is held in great aversion ! But in '" bu-Ibu's" now a dealer , 1 be ^ an to write genteeler , And scorned to say a thing in English when 1 have the Persian . Hy production then bo various grew , as scares to be computable , 2 ? or cf uld Uary Howie ' s self write things for annuals so suitable ; "So—thongh 1 says it as shouldn't , I ' m positive she couldnt , — ¦ 2 f either in-tbe affectine style , nor yet in the inscrutable . Frazsr ' s JIagazine .

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      The ILLUMINATED 51 AGAZINK—Sotembsh . This is a good nnmber of as good a periodical , iakeii all in all , as London produces . The embellishments are very superior this month ; we notice " particularly a svlv&n scene heading a poetic pieee , w The Two Yew Tree ? , " singularly beautiful . The etcbJD £ bj Leech , lUns'ranng an election 5 cene in ihe Adventures of a Sc 3 mp , " ia also amnsingly excellent . The present Dumber opens -with an article entitled "A Sew Epic / ' in which the writer , taking an imaginary walk through the new Parliamentary palace , conjures up a bright array of

      historical painting 3 and "works of sculpture , which he imagines he sees adorning the palace of osr legislators- T&e article ia powerfully -written , and it 3 Rowing language proclaims a warm heart and enthusiastic mind . He 13 not content with representing the kings , nobles , knights , and high-born ladies which wonld ocenpy the minds of three-fourths Writing on such a theme . ! No . He must also have ihe portraits and statues of such heroes and heroines as Cromwell . Hampden . John Brown . the Covenanter , erace I > arling , Helen "Walker , ( Jeanie Deans I ) , &C In a . £ t of enthusiasm , describing the imaginary glories of the "Victoria Tower , the writer buT 3 ts forth :

      But the personal characteristics of our sovereignsshall they have no record ? Lock in tfee Robing Boem , and as yen csz ? upon the walls , many a sweet , and high , and romantic story fhall burst upon yon ; there , depfad Tipon it , stern and hot Republican though yon be , you shall ptrforce love Royalty , in some , at least , of its human shapes . A ' i a 3 for the loyal enthn iasm of the "writer ! Alas for his hope of converting us , * ' stern and hot ilepublie&ns . " All his glowing descriptions tnrn * utto be mere daj-dreams , not more substantial than " Tee baseless fabric of a vision . " Were it otherwise , we shonld pause , ere we admired these ( sneposed ) creations of an , to iEquire what was tie condition of -the people , -whose rulera thus prgeonslj d ^ eked the national temples . If we lOUnd—to slightly

      misquote" The Lsppj Somes or mTTiicns free . " « -eI 3 and good ; but if not , we should withhold our admiration—at least , our applause , deEpite the high aiid romanrlc siories" associated -withroyalty ; ^^ icb by the by , vrelook upon as being at most bnt few and far between f so few and rare as hardly to throw one redeeming or rather palliating feature » to the dark and bloody portrait of kingcraft Facts against this writer ^ pleasant fictions will , we v * "wei * k Df aTily against him . In ihis country the privileged few are alike dead to all sympathy ¦ with the mass , and to all aspiratioBS after the pure and romantic in art . Tbe many are politically en-Elaved , and socially degraded and gronnd to the oust . The jeic , while regardless of the claims of the inany , Eetm at tbe same time to be utterly regardless of thtir own honour , or the glory of their Oonntry .

      "JSelson was ence Britannia ' s Grod of war ;" tte great sea champion of the " right-divine" of kings , and the right ~ by brigandism of aristocrats : Set look at the kelson Monument , owing its completion to the charitable donation of a polished bar-*>* rianj a Cesssck amocrai ! while the- haughty aristocracy of England look on , and chuckle that the blood-smeared coin came not ont of their pockets . £ 70 , 000 are expended on royal stables ; thousands more on royal doe-kannels . The fripperies and

      fri-Volties of royalty cost , in one seven years , as much | s would do all that the writer of the " New Epic " has imagined ; but we can promise him , and that loo "Ritfeout laying claim to the gift of " Eecond l& Sht , " or the mesmeric faculty of clairvoyance , that he will see none , or but few , Tery few of his splendid ideas carried into execution . Var Qaoen , with her half-rdllion per ^ nnum , has nothing "to gpaTe . The u oldest and wealthiest aristocracy in Europe" coold Bot even complete the poor paltry Kelson columD . Aid us to funds being voted out of the £ 50 , 000 , 000

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      taxes . Sir Robert Peel begs you would not mention it ! When we see the day-dreams of John Saunders realised , perhaps our ideas of royalty may then undergo a change . In the meantime we guess " the writer of the M Kew Epie" will find tbat "stern and hot Republicans" are very likely to increase and multiply ! The " Adventures of a Scamp" are droll enough , thongh bis pictures we fancy are rather over-drawn j but we suppose we most allow for caricature , when the satirist wields the pen . ** Sweet Revenge" by Camilla Tonlmin , is a barely . passable story , having , however , a good moral purpose for its object . The cream of the article is the following just remarks on that noble bat cruelly treated body of women ,

      GOTERNESSES . Trisle and trite are the annals of " the governess . ' "Wearying , monotonous days , months , and years . The shadow of life , without its sunshine . And yet it ii a life of services for which—if justly considered , and they are justly performed—no gold can pay ; but when will she earn in a life what an opera-dancer receives in a year ? Acquirements , too , are demanded from her aye , and are possessed too , -which would put to skame tfie learned members of many learned bodies who tack half the alphabet , as incomprehensible initials , u > their undistinguished names . But she Is poor on her lias descended that enrse of Adam which the rich can

      never comprehend . It is berg to toil ; to struggle in the crowd for some grains from the harvest—which is bo strangely divided , that while garner-houses are full , men starve . She ib too right-minded to beg while she has head or hand to work ; she is too pure to sell herself for a home , and call it marriage . And so she under * takes tbe holiest duty a parent could fulfil ; and aha receives , instead of honour , and praise , and love—too often contempt , insult , and indifference . She is used like a machine s » long as wanted ; and Joston tbe same principle as a steam-engine must be supplied with fuel , is she fed and clad . No more . And then . O ! when will public opinion be roused and righted ; it ii the only lever which can move " the world . "

      M The Mntual Piece-of-Plate Presentation Club , '' by Laman Blanchard , is a capital idea , not however so well worked out , as is usually the case with the productions of this very pleasing and truehearted writer . ** The Jar of Whiskey , " and " A Tale of tbe French RcvolniioD , " are b&tb good . Bnt of all the contents of the present nnmber , " A seasonable Gossip , " by James Smith , is the nearest to our taste . We give the following extracts : —the subject is Aurimx .

      Before the vapoury h ; z « of early morning has been touched with gold by the ascending sun , voices come floating np from every lane and outlet of the village ; and tbe frequent rustle of intruding footsteps in the bearded com startles the wakeful lsik from his dewy , and thenceforth-to-be-forgotten , lair . Up—up—to the very precincts of a deud , which a sunglint haa converted into fire , the startled bird soars , carolling , while his moist plumage , kissed by a slant beam , qnivers radiantly in tbe dawning light . Par and near , let the eye wander where it will , from the bold swelling uplands , that exhibit one broad tract of yellowing corn , to the golden patches in the valley , that shine the brighter from their contrast with the dark trees and verdant

      pasture-land by which they are Bunroundefl—all ia life and movement- No idlers now hang listlessly over the old stone-bridge at the bottom of the village , and sound the rivulet ' s bubbling depths with pebbly plummets . KouegaVhei now around toe deserted smivhy , and outroar the roaring bellows with the babble of thnr blended voices ; but fields and lanes , stack-yards and barns , absorb all idle bands ; and when tbe " lerziug bell" rings out its long-txpected chime , and troops of gleaners pour from tvery cottage door , and throng the meadow paths , and darken the garnered fields , you would suppose tfee village had betn visited fcy pestilence , so little to betoken life is there , throughout its quiet , sleepy , straggling street

      Let us now glance for a moment at the farmer , the genuine unsophisticated yeoman « f the old school—the broad-backed , stroDg-limbed , and brawny-handad scion of the ancient stock—what a transformation the autumn works in him . ' AJnch as we respect the m&ny traits of excellence peculiar to his character , we must confess , that he is , in general , a dull and ponderous animal , a slow-spoken , he&vy-witted saunterer , patiently watchful of the progress ef his crops , and punctually attentive to tbe periodical satisfaction of his appetites ; but at haysell and at harvest , how marvellous tte change ! It is a strife between the laverock and himself , which

      shall be first abroad ; and as with him so with bis household . The earliest glance abet by the rising sun , through the sparkling casement of his ample kitchen shines upon every member of the family , old and young , circling a breakfast-table laden with abundance most profuse . Brief space , sot idly spent , is thns consumed . Without , a sletk and silken-coated cob , saddled and bridled , awaits the Vurden of his master ' s bulk , and , mounting this , the ar . xieus yeoman hastens to the fields . The swarthy reapers own the UnUence of their master ' s eye , and sickles glance like lightning-flashes through the yielding corn . Sometimes alighting from his nag , he wields that implement himself , and with a lower , broader sweep , enjoins a greater thrift of straw , dwelling excitingly tbe while ( bow monrnful is the yearly retrocession of the world !) upon tbe superior mode of

      reaping and of binding ibeavts . which generally obtained -when fie was yonng ; while elder mtn , who were Ms ni-iic tutors in tbe labours of the field , bury their brewn faces in the wheat , Bnd with difficulty suppress a smotbtred laugh . Presently he is araocg the busiest of the carters in a neighbouring field , pitching the sheaves , or driving teams , or portioning out supplies of £ eer , or ruminating on tbe quality and prospective value of his well-sensed oats . And so he fl . ts from field to field , busy as the busiest , and manifesting a volubility of speech and suppleness of limbs peculiar to tbe occaiion , rather than the individual . Dinner supplies him wilh a timely respite , but the customary nap -which used to follow like an epilogue , is now foregone , and afternBon . and even night | if the sky be threatening ) , find him lingering in the fields with the adhesive pertinacity of tbe worthy in the old ballad , who

      Oft fitted the halter , oft traversed the cart , And often took leave , butseem d loath to depart . Nor is it merely in the harvest-field and in the homestead that the most delightful characteristics of the season axe observable . Orchards and gaiden-gTounds are rich witn their abundant fruitage ; and creaking branches heavy with luscious bnrdens , droop to the very ground , which they so richly chtquer with tbeir restless shadows . -What exquisite and varied scenes has Shakspeare laid in such localities ! Think of the carousal in Justice Shallow ' s orchard , when tbe " sweet of the night" came in ; of the ominon * gathering of banded conspirators in that of Brutus ; of Malvolio , " practising behaviour " In Olivia ' s ; of the strife betwixt Sir Rowland ' s fierybloofled sons in that of Oliver ; and of tbe deliciouB moonlight interview among the whispering trees at Belmont . Nor fail to call to mind , as relevant to the spot , the touching allusion made by Felicia Hemans ( in the sonnet entitled " Orchard Blossoms ") to the

      Old nook , Haunted by visions of the first-loved book . That nook , the branches of an apple-tree—that firstloved book , the volume penned by the magician who created Ariel and Pxospero , Hamlet and Lear . With inch association * , do not the leafy orchards become tbe "" campi sanli" of a mial raalm ? In the poetic vein , Miss Pardoe contributes a pretty conceit , entiiled " Psyche , Love and the Bntfeifly . " Tbe following simple ballad is by llrs . Caroline White : —

      THE HAYMAKERS' SONG . A merry troop are we , at rise of sun , Tramping along the field-paths wet with dew , Making tbe still lanes noisy with tbe fun , And song and laughter of out sun-burnt crew—Our cbetks are brown , bnt " neatb Old England ' s skies Who bath more ruddy lips or brighter eyes ? We have to labour hard , with scanty cheer , Through the red sunshine of tbe summer ' s day , But the breeze fans our brows , and BtreamB ore neat , And laughing health and strength turn toil to play ; Lightly we poize the fork , and lighter pass The gathering rake along the scented grass . Spreading the wirid-rows to the tepid air , Or heaping high the seared sweet-smelling hay , We labour on , as free from -worldly care , Aa if we were not children of the clay . O ! bard , indeed , would be the bread we eat , But tbat brown toD and hunger make it sweet .

      High o ' er our beadB the lark ' s glad voice is beard , Sfcow'ring her songs through misty heat-clouds down , Untilthe heart , upspringing with the bird , Feels light , as if it never knew a frown , ( So pleasant are the thoughts her wild notes bring To minds unhaunted by some evil tking ) . Sharp rings the mower ' s scythe in distant fields , Till tbe bright clover heads are lowly laid—And one that I know well amidst them wields , With an untiring arm his shining blade ; But when the stars upon tbe mill-stxeam shice , And all have goae their way—that aim is mine !—Yes , we have joys , though humble , puTe , and high , As thos 6 that thrill the fair patrician's breast ; Xove midst the lordly dome , or summer ' s sky , Is lovt alike , howe'er it be exprest Few are his words , but in his burning cheek And bounding heart , I feel what he would speak .

      There is a lowly cot , "with Bun-Burnt thatch , Scarce seen amidst the vine that spreads it o ' er , ( And round it bumble flowers and herbs to match , Tbat give a grace unto the meanest door)—And he dwells there—but when the autumn ' 8 gone—Lie still my heart—be will not be alone J We miss the gifted Editor this m ^ nth . When will he resume his " Chronicles of CloTeraook"' . We are longing for them . Of all poetry we have the least taste for { = onn& » , a ; and rarely read them . We have , however , r , induced to read one in this Hutnber , by Catl > erine Parr , and find it bo truly beautiful , we eanno * , Tesist the temptation to copy it . Witb . it 3 ouoV . tion we Bust conclude this notice .

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      BONNE " . A sudden shower l The summar rose bends low Ab the bright rain-drop Bink « into her breast , Like gentle heart by tale of woe opprest ; Whilst the cold ivy from ita leaf doth throw The rain-drop back , like heart tbat doth not know The thrill of sympathy , or scorns it , lest Those pleading whispers break itt selfish test , Losing love ' s joy , bo it but lose ita woe ! Counsel me , worldly ivy t which to choose , The closed or open heart ; and thou , pale rose , Lade the light aephyrs with your soft reply ; Bnt ah » even now an answer floatetn by , And my rapt sonl a sweet response receives , In the fresh odour tfthe moist rose-leaves !

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      WILLIAM THOM , THE POET OF INVERURY . It ' s hardly in a body ' s power To keep at times frae being sour , To Bee how things are shared ; How best o' cbiels are whiles in want While coofs on countless thousands rant , And kenna how to wairt Burns . In our article on the Burns Festival , in the Star of August 24 th , allusion was made to Wiixum Thom ihe poet of Inyemy—or according to Punch , Inverwry . * We then intended to offer some further

      observations respecting Mr . Thom , but which we were compelled to postpone owing to the more immediate necessity for the comments on the poet Burns which hare occupied us for the last three weeks , Having disposed of that subject for the present , we now beg the attention of our readers to the following article on the Inverury poet which originally appeared in the Westminster Review . A portion of the article , but only a portion , was given in our columns some months ago . Its interesting nature will , we are sure , be sufficient apology for anything like repetition .

      Mr . Thom is a weaver In Inverury . He has struggled with the hardest poverty . Yet not the griping power of want could chill the enthusiasm of a manly natute , or repress the outbreak of the higher and more generous feelings of the heart . ~ He stands out now a living type of that combination which ought always to txist between the labour of the hand and tbe labour of tbe head , and which is destined yet to be more fully exemplified in our race . Tofl ia on essential of progress ' It is the germ of all high attainment And when the hard banded labourer feels that the belter feelings within him may be cultivated—that his intellect may be fed , strengthen ^ , enlarged by atndy and thought just aa his frame is developed by bodily exercise—this combination will exist , and the artizm will become l'ke the weaver of Inverury , not only & worker at the loom , but an instructor among men—an embodiment of tbe good and true in and around kim , giving vent to what he feels or thinks for the benefit and blessing of man .

      William Thom is now about forty-five years or age . His stature is short , and his legs stunted , like one of those whose childhood was not generously fed ; but there is breadth in his shoulders and clearness in his complexion , indicating a hale and tough constitution . Light auburn hair , now silvering , covers a large broad bead with ample brow , firm set mouth , and light blue twinkling eyes , tall ot the sensibility and acuteness of tfee man . His dress is that of bis station—the corduroy trousers , the blue short coat with brass buttons , and

      the silk hat , having that air of smartness peculiar to the costume of those who follow the sedentary trades . He was the son of & widow , and when a lad was run over by a nobleman ' s carriage , which crushed bis feet and ankle and made him a cripple for life . For this misfortune the nobleman generously gave the mother te . n shillings ! Left alone in the world , Mr . Thom sunk from one degree of poverty to another till he was forced to beg for a subsistence . How could he help it ? —compelled to support a family of six persons on five shillings a week . Hear him give a specimen morning .

      " Imagine a cold spring forenooa It is eleven o ' cloek , but our dwelling shows none of th 9 signs of tbat time of day . The four children are still asleep . There is a bed co ? er bung before the window , to keep all within as much like night as possible ; and the mother sits beside the beds of her children , to lull them back to sleep , when ever ariy shows an inclination to awake . For this there is a cause , for our weekly five shillii gs had not come as expected , and tbe only food in the h » nse consisted of oatmeal saved from , the sapper ef last night Oar fuel is also exhausted . My wife and

      I were conversing in sunken whispers about making an attempt to cook tbe handful of meal , when tbe younger child awoke beyond its mother's power to hush it again to sleep , and then fell a whimpering , and finally broke ont in a steady scream , wbich of course rendered it impossible longer to keep the rest in a state of unconsciousness . Face after face sprung up , each with one consent exclaiming , ¦ # , mother , mother , git me apiece !' HOW WBAK A WORD IS SOKBOW , TO APPLY TO THE FEELINGS OF MTStLF AKD WIFE . DURING THE BEHAIKSZR OF THAT DREARY FORENOON !"

      When it came to the worst ho left the key of his habitation with bis landlord , took his fami . y , and started off . On the third night ( Saturday , ) amid tbe pelting of rain and tbe piercing east wind , William Thom left his family by the way side , and went to a farm house to obtain shelter for the night . Being repulsed , he says :--"I returned to my family . They had crept closer togetbei , and txcept tbe mother , -wore fast asleep . * O Willie , Wlliio , What keepit >© ? ' inquired that trembling woman ; J m dool / u * o' Jeanie , - she added ; ' isna she tceas § me like ? Lets in frae the cauld . ' 'We ' ve nae way to gang , lass , said I , ' whateer come o' us . Yon foik winoa hae us . * Few more words passed . I drew her m-Btle over the wet and chilled

      sleepers , and sat down beside them . My head throbbed with pain , and for a time became the tenement of thoughts I would not now reveal . They partook lets ef sorrow than of indignation ; and it seemed to me thai this same world was a thing very much to bs hated ; and on the whole , the sooner that one like me could get out of it the bet'erfor its sake and my own I fell my self , as it were , shut out from mankind — enclosed — prisoned in misery—no outlook—nohe ! My miserable wife and little ones , who alone cared for mu— what Would I not have done for their sakes at that hour ? Here let me speak out—and be heard , too , while I tell u—

      tbat tbe world does not at all times know bow unsafely it sits when despair has loosed honour ' s last hold npan the heart—when transcendant wretcbedneBB l&ya -weeping roasoD in the duet—when every un ? yrapatbising onlooker is deemed an enemy— who then can limit ihe consequenctsl For my own part , I confers that , ever since that dreadful night , I can never hear of any txtraor inary criminal , without the wish to pierce through the mere judicial view of his career , under which , I am persuaded , there would often be found to txiat an unseen impulse—a chain with one end fix-d in nature ' s holiest grouiid , that drew him on to his destiny .

      " I will resume my story . The gleaming light was scarcely sufficient to allow me to write a little note , wbich I carried to a stately mansion hard by . It was to entreat what we had bten denitd at B , This application was also fruitless . The servant had been ordered to take iu no such notes , and he could not break through the rule . On rt joining my little group my heart lightened at the presence of a serving man , who at that moment came near , and who observing our wretchedness , could not pass without endeavouring to succour us . Tbe kind words of this worthy peasant sunk deep into our hearts . I do not know his name ; but nevtr can I forget biro . Assisted by him , wo arrived , ebi-ut eleven o ' clock , at the farm house of John Cooder , Westtown of Kinnard , where we were

      immediately admitted . The accommodation we were told , was poor—but what an alternative from tbe Btorm-beaten wayside . Tbe servants were no . in bed ; and we were permitted a short time to warm ourselves at the bothy fire . During this intorval the izifaot seemed to revive ; it fastened heartily to tbe breast , and soon fell asleep . We were next led to an out-bouse , A man stood by with a lantern , while with straw and blankets we made a pretty fair bed . In less than half an bour tbe whole slept sweetly ia their dark and almost roofless dormitory . I think it might have been between three and four o ' clock when Jean waked me ! O that scream !—I think I can hear it now . Tbe other children , startled trom sleep , joined in frightful wail over tbeir dead Bister .

      Onr poor Jeanie , h ; id unobserved by us , sunk dunngihe nigbi wider the rffttfs of the exposure of the preceding evening , following as that did , a long course of hardship , too great to be borne by a young frame . Sucn a visitation could only ba well borne by one Hardened to misery and wearied of existence . / sat awhile and looked on them . comfort I had none to give—nine to take . I spake not—what could bt said!—words ? o , no I The worst is over when words can terve us . And yet it is not just wfeen the wound ia given tbat pain is felt . How comes it , 1 wonder , that minor evils will affect even to ngony , while paramount sorrow overdoes itself ,

      and stands in stultified calmness . ' Strange to say , on first becoming aware of the bereavement of tbat terrible night , I s * t for some minnteB gazing upwards at the fluttering and wheeling movements of a party of swallows , our fellow-lodgers , who had been disturbed by our unearthly outcry . After a while I proceeded to awaken the people in the bouse , who entered at once into our feelings , and did everything which Christian kindness could dictate as proper to be done on the melancholy occasion . A numerous and respectable party of neighbours assembled that day to assist at the funeral . In an obscure corner of Kianaird churchyard lies our favourite little Jeaaie .

      " Early on Mooday we wandered onwards without any settled purpwe or end . Nor knew we where that night our vouch , might oe , or where to menow our grave Tis but fair to say , however , that our children never were il ' . off during the daytime . Where our goods were not bf jughX , we were , nevertheless , offered a piece to the fyjiirnies . One thing which migfit contribute to this ¥ « , _ that our appearance as yet was respectable , and it *» , med as if the people saw in us neither the shrewd fr awker nor the habitual mendicant ; so that we were oetter supplied by food than had Deen our lot for many a month before . But O ! tbe ever recurring sunset . Then cume the hour of Bad conjecturing and gorrowfaJ

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      out-look . To seek lodging at a farm before sunset teas to «?** " ? rtfrna . After night , the children , worn out with the day ' s wandering , turned fretful and slept whenever we sat down . After experience taught as cunning in this , um other things—the tactics of habitual vagrants oemg to remain in concealment nea * a farm of good name , until a suitable lateness warranted the attack . " Gin a ' trades fail me Gweeti be thankit , I can beg , " is a Cootcn spying : and poor Thom felt the necessity of it to keep off the tyranny of tbe spectre of atarvatton . In England he was driven to the extremest necessity . Unable to find a night ' s lodging , and without means to pay for a supper for his wife and children , he determined to try ; the effeofc of his flute upon the good people of Metbven . where he was . Hesaya : —

      • Musing over theseaud many other considerations , we found ourselves in a beautiful green lane , fairly ont of the town , and opposite a genteel looking houBe , at the win ^ ewa of which oat several well-dresaed people . I think tbat it might be our bewildered and hesitating movements that attracted their notice—perkaps unfavourably . "A quarter of an hour longer , " said I , " and it will , be darker ; let os walk out a bit . " The sun had been down a good while , and the gloaming was lovely . In epite of everything I felt a momentary reprieve . I dipped my dry flnte In a little bum , and begun to ploy . It rung sweetly amongst the trees . I moved on and on , still playing and " still facing the town . The "Flowers of the Forest " brought me before the house lately mentioned . My mnaic raised one window after another , and in less than tea minutes put me in possession of three shillings and nine-pence of good British money . I sent the mother home with this treasure , and directed her t& send our eldest oirl to

      me . It was by this time nearly dark . Everybody says , Things just need a beginning . ' I made a beginning , and a very good one too . I had a smart turn for strathspeys , and there appeared to be a fair run upon them . By this time I was nearly iu the middle of tbe town . When I finally made my bow and retired to my lodging , it was wfth fdur shillings and some pence , in addition to what was sent before . My little girl got a beautiful shawl , and several articles of wearing apparel . Shall I not bless tbs good folk of Metbven ? Let me ever chance to meet a Methven weaver in distress , and I will share my iasi , bannock wilh him . These men—for I know them , as they know Me , by instinct—these men not only helped me themselves , but testified tbeir gratitude to every one that did so . There was eneugh to encourage further perseverance ; but I felt , after aU , tbat I bad begun too late in life ever to acquire that " ease and grace" indispensable to him who wuuld successfully ' carry the gaberluuzie on . ' I must forego it , at least in a downright street capacity . "

      But yet deeper iffl ction was In store for bltn . His wife died . He felt the blow severely . And his feelings he poured forth in verse—so sweet , so natural , so gentle , that tbe reader at once sympathises with tbe poet . He knew the " sad lealitities of the poor man ' s dwelling , " and the loss of the light of that dwelling , at once its comforter and its hope , " leaving his bairns mltherless , ' and " she who lived in our love cauld , " as few mortals may know it We are glad to state that Mr . Thorn ' s condition and prospects are . much improved . In 1841 , he thus describes to a friend bis dwelling .

      "I occupy two trim little garrets ( n a house belonging to Sir Robert Elphinstone , lately built on the market Stand Of Inverury . We bavs everything required in our bnmbie way ; perhaps our blankets pressed a little too lightly during the last severe winter , but then we crept closer together . That is gone— 'tis summer now , and we are hopeful that next winter will bring better things . " We have read many a tale of unmerited suffering and excoriating sorrow , but rever one that more powerfully moved the feelings than the above short and simple narrative of agonizing sorrows—sorrows calculated to break the heart , or madden the brain of nine-tenths of humanity ' s children . For ourselves we are conscious of being so utterly powerless to contend with the ills which poor Th m has so bravely struggled with , that it is with feelings of the deepest wonder , awe , and admiration , we look upon a man who has braved

      " The battle and the bretze " of adversity ' s galling arrows and blasting atorrn . 3 , with the almost more than mortal heroism which Thom has exhibited . Great God ! how hard to boar are the sufferings of too many of thy children . What a life of toil , of privation , of sorrow , has been Thom ' s , for more than forty years . He was the son of a widtw—a widow among weavers J How much of suffering is necessarily the lot of the child so born and reared ! When a lad he was run over by the carriage of a " nobleman , " for which misfortune he was " compensated" by the said " nobloman" giving his mother ten shillings ! Poor Thou was made a cripple for lite : but what of that ? the " nobleman" quieted

      his own conscience by the generous donation of ten shillings ! Ha ! Ha ! Hal—we laugh in the very savagery of our hut boiling blood to think how this world is ruled . " Noblemen' '! These be thy gods O Israel ! Well , well , this would have been a world without hope , a world fie only for chats again , but for what the Jacobin of Franco did some five and forty years ago . I 4 faith the lesson ? of terror that where then executed came not before they were wanted . The worst of it is , that the blind selfishness and heartless cruelty of the " Have all ' s" of the present day , will , we fear , causa those lossons to be repi&tedt at no distant period , and ia countries nearer homo than Franco . Ten shilling " noblemen" ! Ha ! Ha . ' Ha ! Wo hear the tong of the Jacobin

      ringing" He used to laugh at justice , tbat gay aristocrat , He used to scoff at mercy , —but he knelt to us for that !" • ? " They knew that men were brothers , but in their lust they trod On tbe lessons of their priests , and the warnings of their God . They knew that men were brothers , but tbey heeded , not tbe Lord , So we taught them the great truth anew with fire aDd with sword . '

      Well , Thom became a man . Ho had passed his youth ground down by weaver ' s toil and weaver ' s hunger . If any one wishes to know what these are , let him visit Cumberland and Fifeshire , & 9 we have done , and he will not require many more lessons to teach him the acme of human suffering . He obeyed the " ordinance of God" and took a wife . Ho had , in course of time , a family of children ; and himself , wife , and little ones , had to be supported on his weaver ' s wages of five shilli ? igs weekly . But what business had he with a wife and bairns , with only

      an income of five shillings a week ? demands the Malthusian . For him there was no place at Nature ' s board : at any rate not for children of his , who it brought into the world at all , ought to have been immediately sent out of it again by " painless extinction" ! Such is tho creed of the God-defyiHg , man-murderpg Mammonocracy . Some have had the audacity : to proclaim this creed in the very worda we have nsed : others—the great mass , would affect to be shocked at the charge of entertaining such a belief ; but they take care to prove it theirs by their

      deeds" Actions Bpeak tbe mind ;" and whether they are the acknowledged champions of this oreed or not , their belief in it is put beyond doubt by the very nature of their acts . Thom did not believe in this creed , and acted accordingly . He has four children . The bed cover is hung before the window to keep out the light of day , that his hungry little ones may sleep on , arid not be wukened to the gnawings of a ravenous appetite , which the wretched father has no means of satisfying . It is a cold spring forenoon , —a Scotch spring mind , bnt there is no fire , for the fuel is exhausted . The infant screams and the other children waken up , their first cry being " O % mother , mother , gie me a piece /"' Heavenly God , what a picture « It defies comment ! Bubns says" The last o't , the warst ot , Is only but to teg : "

      but Thom found that this last resource was a " waefu ' " one indeed ! It will be observed that it waB almost invariably the poor who showed any sympathy to poor Thom and his " bairnies . " Let the reader treasure up the words in which is wrought as wilh the painter ' s pencil the dread scene of that night wheu " wee Jeanie" died . He applied at tbe " stately mansion" for the shelter . ' of even barn or stable : but none was granted 1 The servant had been ordered to listen to no such appeals as those poor Thom preferred . Pity bat that we knew the name of the wealthy brute of the " stately mansion . " Did we , it should not be our fault if that name ¦ were not made immortally despicable ; " Exalted o ' er bis lessabhorr'd compeers—And festering in the infamy of years t "

      such gibbetings being necessary to teach the coldhearted miscreants that though they place themselves beyond the pale of humanity's affections , they are notabove the reach of public scorn and odiam . " I ' m dootfu' o' Jeanie , " say 8 the poor heart-broken mother , "isna she waesome-Hke ? Let ' s in frae the cauld . " ' But they'd no where to go ! The mother ' s mantle , scanty enough no doubt , was made to cover as well aa it could the five of them . The wretched husband sits him down on the ground beside them , his heart throbbing with pain . Let poor Thom ' s reflections on . that sad night be read J His calm reflections , penned in after daya } and from their strength of feeHn « , judge , so fa * as that iB possible , what must hare been his frenaied imaginings at the time 1 fc Poor wee Jeanie died that night , was murdered would be a fitter word ; murdered by "Man ' s inhumanity to man !"

      the instruments of death being cold and hunger . But we must avoid comment . Our veins run fire wheu we read this Bad sad tale : and what we think , or rather what we feel , we must forbear to express . But it may be asked to what tends the re-iteration of this tale of misery 1 We answer to the consideration of what is Thom ' s present position 1 Since the sufferings he endured , narrated above , he has become kaowa to fame as a Feet ; and we are informed by

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      i those wno sit on the judgment-seats ia the court of criticism , a Poet too of no ordinary powers . Well there has been lately a great parade made of Scotland ' s " repentance" for the treatment experienced " when living b y that prince of her Poets , Burhs . That " repentance'Ms very good if it bo but real . But how are we to judge of its sincerity ? Only bj turning to her living sons of genius , and ascertaining whether they in their day are nowltreated better than Bdbks was in his . If so , well . ; But if aot so , lAen will the worda , " repentant Scotland" become a mwkery and a by-word through all time . Of Thom ' jS present position we know nothing . His condition in 1841

      was so far improved that he occupied twogarreis , " though he adds the " blankets certainly pressed a little too lightly" during the severe winter . It may he that the Earl of Eglinioun , the noble patron of the Burns Festival , before : he proclaimed the ' * repentance" of Scotland , had sought out the Poet of Inrerury and made his home smile with gladness as a proof that his share of the general repentance was sincere at any rate . As to Professor Wilson we cannot suppose he has done anything of the sort : because he cannot understand howl a man ' s happineaa is to be estimated "by tbe extent ; of his income" ! Happy Professor i ¦

      " Where ignorance is bliss , 'tis folly to be wise !" But be Thoh ' s present condition what it may , that condition will afford a fair gauge of the sincerity of Scotland ' s "repentance" for the cruel and never-tobe-forgotten treatment of j Burns . Perhaps some will ask what it is we want ? Do we want to make Thom change his poor but honest independence for a pensioned , and , what too usually follows , a sycophantic dependanoe on the aristocracy ?' God forbid ! We would ] have Thom preserve hi& purity of soul and manliness of mind at any cost . At the same time oar wish is to rouse the men who have the world ' s gear at their command to do that which justice demands ; [ namely , the placing of nature ' s noble above the ] reach of beggary , and making his home something happier than is usually a weaver ' s .

      To the working class—that class from whom arose Burns and among whose : present chivalry— 'the chivalry of labour , stands prominently the subject of these remarks ; to that Class our advice is , never to miss an opportunity of doing honour to the nobility of their own order , —and more than honour ; —all the justice their own cares and privations po-sibly admit of . Wherever a reading club , or working man ' s society exists , it should be the work of the members to procure as speedily as possible the poems and songs of William Thom , that thereby they may learn how much ! may be achieved by their

      owji order , despite their toils and sufferings . And though all cannot be Poets , all may learn from the writings of Thom much that will improve them in mind and heart , and make them worthy of that great future which is assuredly in store for the masses of this country . Tl p ey will also , by following our advice in this respect , pay the best homage to their noble brother worker , and best aid in elevating him to that piaacle of fame and honour to which , as another of thej"Poor Man ' s PoetB , " he is so justly entitled . ;

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      A BOWL OF "PUXCH . " the "sabre" and the «* cross . " Tbe snbjoinad paragraph from a French jsarnal , the Commerce , ia still vital in some of onr newspapers ;—" Before the Min i ster of War made a grant of 5 , 000 aci ^ s of land in Algeria to the community of the trap * piste , the he 3 d of the order , at the Minister ' s request , visited the colony , and reported , that an establishment of hfa ott 5 % * there would effect much good , by holding oat an tsfti / ipls of the ' best mode of reclaiming the waste lands' General Bngeaud is safd to have embraced the pfen with delight , and to have said to the superior , — Tte sabre first , my reverend father , and thtn the cross . '" How beautiful is French Christianity in regimentals f Sageand , pious Bngeaud ! is worthy of still higher promotion . We would have him g » zatted General of the Jtnny of Martyrs ;* even thongh the said army—raised te Francs—should not be more numerous than that rf General Bombastes . The bullet

      first , and then the 4 on » ecrated wafer f The bnrning of Arab houses—the groans aad agony of murdered men—the despairing screams of violated women—the wailing and misery of &jj > ban children , and tben—yeg , and then—the lamb-likr piiest . tt » healing oil ana bonsy of the church , the amctlfying cenaera , and most hideous mockery of all , She blaspheming Te Deumt The cross set up by the Frerah Mars in Algeria ! What shonld we say of the murderer and burglar who should leave a copy of "The Whole Duty of Man" on the > heartb-atone of his victims ? But there are a set of Christians who constantly confound the cross with the gibbet , and deem a place of bloodshed and rapine the * spot of all others best chosen for H . There i » no doubt that General Bugerud is of this persuasion . We can fancy him , in his meekness , setting a morning edge to his sabre on the cover of the Now Testament .

      3 A&CTITY AND CANNON BALLS , —JOINVILiE IIP IRELAND . The Belfast Vindicator—one of thoije " talking potatoes" that would be mischievous but for their delicious absurdity—thus gabbles of Tangier laurels : — " The Prince de Joinville has won bia laurels [ query , —stonecropj before the ramparts of Tangier . We aresure they will not be bis last . We are fuH *> f confidencein his future triumphs . He has a mother , whose prayera are , no doubt , offered up for his honour and- 'his welfare ; that mother is a living saint , and her prayers are not offered in vain . "

      The French Queen is a most admirable woman ; nevertheless , we hope better from the prayers of saints than bombarded towns , and a butehered people . Sorely , prayers were not made for the better direction of cannon-balls , or tbe more perfect throwing of Congreva rockets . Or , for a moment granting tbat tbey were , surely her Majesty ' s prayers might , in this last instance , have produced better gunnery . The Vindicator or The Tator , continues : — "What if he ( Joinville ) shonld invade Ireland f Why , in that cue , all that we can take upon ourselves

      to say is , tbat the Irish people could offer him no resistance , seeing that tbeir Government has left them no arms . We could not be expected to fight him with ' sticks . But if . ha should happen to bring with him . 100 . 000 stand of arms , and offer them gratis to those Who may be willing to possess them , why , In that case , we should leave people to judge for themselves of thepropriety of sccepting them . This country was thrice invaded by France in tbe last century , and it would not surprise us that the present century saw ^ one or twomore invasions before ita cloae . "

      The writer knows the small value of his head , or her would hardly cackle such treason . For ourselves , we would not deprive him of arms ; certainly not . Ia reward of the above , we would have him made to walk sentry six hours a-day before his own office—with a musket on each shoulder—a couple of cannon balls sliiag at his waist—bis feet in shoes of Gallic woodaad on bis simple bead a foolscap of tricolor soft paper . Heal Scalps ! Great Attraction —Mt . Catlin , the importer of foreign curiosities for tbe English nation , lately advertised a most attractive dish . 1 b& to vay Indians—be assured a refined , a humane , and ditoa ning public—would dance tbe Scalp Dines with—real scalps ! Think of tbat , ladies and gentlemen ; tbe real skin and bair of a human creatnre . Is not that attractive ? As for the ioways themselves , why by this time they are a common cold dish—bnt the scalp supplies the delicious pickles to the feast . Still we think the entertainment

      might be heightened . Scalping is , ordinarily , a fatal operation ; nevertheless , men hav « been known to survive it Why not then—for a crowning treat—why not engage a few desperate wretches , as the managers say , at an enormous expence , to submit to scalpingin iking it worth their while to risk life—and of course doubling the price of admission to tbe tasteful and curious public ? We really think the experiment would answer ; at all events , it would only be carrying out tbe delicate , feeling which advertised tbe— " real scalps ? ' * We are happy to learn that Mr . Catlin has engaged a party of Houentots who w ill Bucceed the Ioways . After the real scalps we presume they will be girdled with sheep ' s intestines , and every thing natural . Where , alaa ! will the romance of life bide itself ? We look in Cooper ' s novels upon glorious pictures of the majestic wild man—the proud , the indomitable , the disinterested—and he comes among UB . and , with a torrent of native eloquence , begs for sixpences !

      Grand Review of the London POSIMEN . — Yesterday , at the Home Office , Sir James Graham reviewed that very efficient body of men , the London Postmen , &ener ;> l and petty . Indeed , from the peculiar interest taken in them by Sir James , they may be called tbe Graham's own . Tbe men were on tbe gronnd aa early as nine , and presented a very imposing appearance .- Nothing could be more satisfactory than the way in which they went throngh their evolutions , opening and reading the letters with a despatch that called forth the admiration of Sir James and all his clerks . The men being ranged in treble line , tbe review began .

      The word of command was Riven as follows , by Sir James-. — " PKseut letters t Feel for seal ! Thumb on seal ! Open letters . ' Read letters ! Re-fold letters ! Re-seal letters 1 Pocket letters ! " Sir James gave the word in a fine sonorous voice ; and was admirably responded to . Nothing could be more dexterouB than the manner in which the postmen , by means of lucifer and wax , rtaled the various missives . When wafers were to . be used , the word of command was thus : —" Wet wafer ! Insert wafer ! Stamp !* The review over , Sir James emphatically complimented tbe body on their efficiency ; and tbey were tben dismissed for their several walks .

      Useful and Ornamental . —The French despatches of the battle of laly mention tbe capture of the Emperor ' a son ' s parasol ! Marshal Bogeand has claimed this for his own use , as he thinks it will keep the laurela he has gathered in Algeria from withering .

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      Thk Chosen Race . —A Gallician Jew , of th © name of Mohr , has published a life of Baron Rothschild in Hebrew , which he haa entitled" Glory to Israel , Biography of Baron Rothschild , " M . Mohr declares , in the course of his narrative , that np to the present time there are only three great men among the chosen people of God—Moaea , David and Rothschild . Forebodings op Winter . —On Sunday evening * a large flock of wild geese passed over Chesterfield on their way , it is supposed , to the fens of Lincolnshire . Such a circumstance , at this early period of the season , was hardly ever known , and it is considered to forebode an early and severe winter . —Nottingham Review .

      Exportation of Machinery . —The exportatioa of lace machinery to France is again in operation . The exporters allege that it is done to evade th » patent lawg , and that the National Institute of Pans levies a duty of 50 per cent ., but if the machinery is upon a new principle not known in France , the duty is only 15 per cent ., as heretofore . —Nottingham-Review . Cromwell and the Nat ? v . —During the disturbances in the reign of Charles tbe First the managing officers of the aavy were directed by tbe King to refusft obedience to the orders of Parliament , and a number o £ ships having been carried away by Prince Rupert , the naval force of the country was reduced to so low a state tbat at the beginning of Cromwell's government hd had onlj foutteen ships of war ef two decks , carrying fort ; guns ; but under the careful management of very able men in different commissions which be appointed , SOcii

      vigorous measures were pursued , tbat within a abort time , though engaged in wa « with the greatest naval power in Europe , the fl- ; et was increased to ene hundred and fifty sail , of wbich more than one-tbbd were two-deckers . Tbe navy was by Cromwell raised to a height which it had never before reached . Paring the Dutch war Cromwell ' s cruisers took no less tban KOft prizes , valued at two millions sterling , from the enemy . England was victorious in five general engagements by sea , in the course of which the ablest commanders that had ever been in the service of tbe States of Hollandsuch as De Kuyter , De Witte , and Van Xroinp—were vanquished . Never was greater attention paid totha navy . Old vessels were not only carefully repaired , but new ones of a larger size built It was . discovered thak

      Raleigb , notwithstanding bis great ta ! ente > faad committed an error when he maintained that a ship of war onght never to exceed 600 tons . Sealed orders seem to have been first resorted to in the FroteetMat * vrhfcH forms a memorable epoch in the Davai history of England . Blake , the glory et his age , taught OH that ¦ wooden walls are superior to stone walls , and that a castle could not resist ships well stationed and bravely fought . Blake performed an action in the Mediterranean infinitely mote daring than the recent attack made by tbe French on Xangiers . Having presented himssif before Tunis , th&Day , by way of reply to a

      Message demanding the release of some Englishmen , who were in captivity , desired him to look at the castles at Porto Feriuo and . « aletta , then do bis utmost . Blake , roused by thi * bravado , immediately stood into the bay , and baviag carried bis ships close np to the fortresses , he commenced such a severe cannonade , within muskeV shot , that they were soon destroyed . He tben maaned all hio boats and burnt every ship In the road , including several corsairs , which had . long ; to-S £ ISKAft » SS » . S « ssAiSiAtff ^ sffiya « s accommo dation .

      I^ Onrb.

      i ^ onrB .

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      THE IKISH POETESS OF AYR . Our readers may remember some lines on the " Burns Fttstiva ! , " which appeared iu this papet of the 17 th August , copied from the Ayi { Advertiser , and to which was prefixed certain remarks of the Editor of that paper , from which we learned that the writer of the lines was " a poor Irish girl , " residing in a bnmbie room in High-street , Ayr , the author of several pieees wbich had appeared in the Ayr Advertiser . The EJitor of that paper kindly remarked that akhonch tbe author of the lines in question occupied an " obscure station , and was comparatively uneducated , " she yet bore " a fair fame , and possessed abilities worthy of being cultivated . " Tbat gentlemanj added a wish that the affluent would take this poor but virtuous and clever

      girl under their protection arid emancipate her from her present condition . Such a wish , even if never realized , is highly honourable to its author , and deserves , for the ' sake of the object thereof , all tbe publicity tbat can be given to it . Since tbe appearance of tbe lines on tbe "Burns Festival , " -we have ! received through the medium of a friend of the poeteBs two poetic pieceB in ' manuscript , which before this week we hava been : unable to notice . One piece fs given below ; the other , j written something In imitation of Burns' " Twa Brigs , " ' we shall most iikely give next week . We cannot j accord to either oar highest praise , though the lines given below contain much simple sweetness . It is very ' evident to us that the " IrishjGirl" has by no means had j fair play in tbe matter of education of even tbe humblest !

      degree : every allowance must land will therefore be made I for the young mind struggling to speak poetic truths , < but as yet by circumstances denied a fair articulation . We intite her , however , to j persevere , and with that view shall give publicity to the pieces sent to us as an encouragement for her to do bo . We have also another I object in view in giving her production a place in our columns , vis , to aid . so far as we have the power , tbe good wishes of tbe Ayr Advertiser , to see our Hibernian friend rescued from the pangs of poverty , and promoted to that state of comfort based on rtquited industry which only one good heart among the " affluent" could easily afford to her . Would that we had Fortunatus ' s wishing cap , or Aladdin ' s Wondetfui Lamp ! we migbt—we would do more than express good wishes . Would , that Lover ' s " Four Leaved Shamrock" was

      ours—O , not a tear , nor aching heart , Shonld in this world be found . But as it is , we must content ourselves with our only talisman and " enchanter ' s ! wand , " the " grey goose quill , ' trusting tbat by its mpan * we may not unsnoesfully give publicity to the merits of the struggling children of poverty , and the talents of the lowly oijscure : in the " aure and blessed hope" of tbe coming of that day \ Wheu sense an' worth , o'er a' the earth , Ssall beer the green an' a that I " With these remarks we beg to introduce the following lines to our readers . , My birth-place is in Erin " a isle , Round wbich proud ocean ' s arms of wave Are flung as if it meant the while To guard the beautiful and brave ; There Northward , in the County Dawn ,

      The spot where first my j breath I drew , — My native town , my native town , Sweet Newiy , lies before the view . No education can I boast , ; Save tbat I learn'd to read and spell , And write ; yet ere nine summers pass'd O ' er me , I bade the school farewell . But even then , tho' but a child , When roaming tound my native hills , My heart would feel a rapture wild , When listening to tbe niurm ' ring rills . Each wild flow'r seem'd my gaze to woo . As it its op ' ning beauties spread j A charm sprung from the very dew Tbat spark'led ' neatb my joyous tread . To me 'twas rapture te behold , The sun in majesty retire , To see each streamlet ting'd with gold , And windows blaze etherial fire !

      And then I dearly lov'd to stray , Slow Ung ' iing by the sounding shore . To mnrk the billows watery way , And hearken to the ocean ' s voar . Enraptur'd would I stand and gsza Upon the waters vast expanse , And view the waves ' neath sunny rays , L 9 ap joyous in each mazy dance . Sky , earth , and ocean seeni'd possess'd Of some dear charm , some mystic spell , Wbich waken'd in my youthful breast Sensations tbat I could not tell ; I paus'd delighted wlaen I caught Tbe music of a tinkling stream , And when I upward gaz'd , ; I thought Each glittering starlit like a dream . My knowledge then was far too scant To give ray thoughts to tbyme or song ; And yet I struggled to give vent

      To youthful feelings , warm and strong . Then iu each rude unmeasur'd strain , I sung of nature "wild and fair , Ambitious only but to gain ; A smile from my companions dear . And I remember well the first—F . rst book of poems I perus'd , Was Burns '; and my young heart nurst , The glow of feeling th « yi diffus'd . Then would I sit with boot in hand And read to my companions young , With accent of the Scottish land , As that had been my native tongue ;

      I dream'd not then tbat e ' er my feet The very land of Burns Bbould tread * . I dream'd not then I e ' er should meet Tbe offspring of the gifted dead . O 'twas an honour far too great , To which my muse did ne ' er aspisa ,. That Burna ' B sons on me should wait , Attracted by my feeble lyre . With condescending smile to coma , And wilh the gen ' rous , lib'ral band , And honour thus the lowly home Of maiden from a stranger land . But long as mem ' ry ' s chords shall thrill * Responsive to this grateful heart , Such kindneas I'll remembe * still . Nor shall it from my soui depart And you , bind sir , to you I owe .

      The thanks my pen can ne ' er reveal , O , if my language coeW but flow , And giye to paper all I feel—My muse might then fit tribute pay , And pour her gratitude to thee , The patron of the humble lay Of ever gratefully j S .

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      Spontaneous Combustion . — A yonng lady , about to sue for a breach of promise ; placed the love letters she had received in a bag , for tbe purpose of produoing ia court ; when , Bad to relate , their own natural warmth oausod spontaneous combustion , and ashes , alone remained I American Taper .

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      * As we believe there are many entbusolsis in Scotland anxious to shew tbeir sympathy towards the poet Thom , we beg to state that he dvtellB in Jjkremry , —and not , aa the printer placed him in eur last , in lnvtrary—Punch , August 24 .

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      ^ S&reasssR 14 , 1844 . THE' MORTHiSRN STAj , i 3

  • Citation
    • Northern Star (1837-1852), Sept. 14, 1844, page 3, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/ns/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1280/page/3/