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surpassed in its kind: Ross had little to add, and he could not excel. There is some truth and life in the closing verse. To clap the hands in the dance, in the manner described, is a common feat of rustic activity ; but the continual ducking of the head is ungraceful, and the din of the hands more clamorous than agreeable. A battle was formerly, and indeed lately, no uncommon termination to religious as well as festive meetings. A devout lowlander once informed me that in his youth he attended a highland kirk, to which the pastor regularly went with an excellent staff of root-grown oak, to arbitrate between his quarrelsome parishioners, who, after sermon, amused themselves with fighting in the kirkyard.


Coming through the crags o' Kyle,

Amang the bonnie blooming heather,
There I met a bonnie lassie,

Keeping a' her ewes thegither.
O’er the moor amang the heather,

O'er the moor amang the heather ;
There I met a bonnie lassie,

Keeping a' her ewes thegither.

* 38 24 Says I, my dear, where is thy hame,

In moor or dale, pray tell me whether? * She says, I tend the fleecy flocks

That feed amang the blooming heather.

We laid us down upon a bank,

Sae warm and sunnie was the weather:
She left her flocks at large to rove

Amang the bonnie blooming heather.

While thus we lay, she sang a sang,

Till echo rang a mile and farther ;

the burden of the sang
Was, O'er the moor amang the heather.

She charm'd my heart, and aye sinsyne

I couldna think on ony other :-
By sea and sky, she shall be mine,

The bonnie lass amang the heather !

O'er the moor amang the heather,

Down amang the blooming heather,
By sea and sky, she shall be mine,

The bonnie lass amang the heather!

A singular story is told about the origin of this very beautiful song.-Burns says," Coming through the Crags o' Kyle” is the composition of Jean Glover, a girl who was not only a whore but a thief, and in one or other character had visited most of the correction-houses in the west. She was born, I believe, in Kilmarnock. I took the song down from her singing, as she was strolling through the country with a slight-of-hand blackguard.” There are older, and there are newer verses on this subject, but Jean Glover has surpassed them far in gaiety, and life, and ease. Her song became popular about the year 1790, and is likely to continue a favourite.


For the sake of gold she has left me-o;
And of all that's dear she's bereft me-o;
She me forsook for a great duke,
And to endless wo she has left me-o.
A star and garter have more art
Than youth, a true and faithful heart;
For empty titles we must part ;
For glittering show she has left me-o.

No cruel fair shall ever move
My injured heart again to love;
Thro' distant climates I must rove,

Since Jeany she has left me-o.


Ye powers above, I to your care
Resign my faithless lovely fair;
Your choicest blessings be her share,
Tho' she has ever left me-o!

To the inconstancy of Miss Jean Drummond, of Megginch, we are indebted for this popular song. It is seldom that woman's fickleness produces so much pleasure. Dr. Austin, a physician in Edinburgh, had wooed and won this young lady, when her charms captivated the Duke of Athol ; and the doctor was compelled to console himself with song whën his bride became a duchess. One naturally inquires the cause of such inconstancy ; and it would appear that her lover was right when he sung,

For the sake of gold she has left me-o.

The noble admirer for whose love she was faithless was a man somewhat advanced in lifea widow had won him before, and borne him a family and he had only wealth and rank to oppose to youth and to talent. On the death of his grace the duchess married Lord Adam Gordon, and Providence indulged her with a long life, that she might reflect and repent.


Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,

My bonnie dearie.

As I gade down the water side,
There I met my shepherd lad,
He rowed me sweetly in his plaid,

An' he ca'd me his dearie.

Will ye gang down the water side

see the waves sae sweetly glide
Beneath the hazels spreading wide ?

The moon it shines fu' clearly. '

Ye shall get gowns and ribbong meet,
Cauf leather shoon to thy white feet ;
And in my arms yese lie and sleep,

shall be



If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,
Ise gang wi' you, my shepherd lad,
And ye may rowe me in your plaid,
And I shall be

your dearie.

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