set the pace for the other Burns clubs of the country, and the second result of the erecting of the Burns Cottage will prove as successful as the first. Of course, many changes will have to be

made in the interior of the Cottage, but the general plan will remain the same and it will stand a monument to the genius of Scotland's favorite son.

JANE F. WINN.

BURNS

O who shall sing his praise to night?
Or who shall speak his name?
What gifted tongue, or fancy's flight,
Can soar beyond his fame?

He whom a thousand bards have sung,
Down through a hundred years,
In Scottish, and in alien tongue,
With mingled mirth and tears.
He the unhonored lowly one,
Who trod toil's dusty ways,
And brightened all he looked upon:
How meager then his praise!
The poor said, "He is but our own."
As prophet might expect,

The rich looked on with hearts of stone,
And chilled him with neglect.
Pedantic learning looked askance
Upon the rustic bard,

'Twas Love alone that dared advance
To pour its sweet reward.

His bosom felt the eager clutch

Of every warring fate,

But love and pity claimed so much,
They left no room for hate.

His heart was like Aeolian lyre,
Attuned to passions strong;
His soul glowed with Celestial fire,
That turned all things to song.

Beast, Bird, and "modest little flower,"
Unhonored thus before;

He breathed on them his mystic power,

To sing for evermore.

The woodland streams that long were mute

And nameless flowed along;

Were stirred as by Apollo's lute,

And rippled into song.

Life's tangled web, its woof and warp;

And all life's secret springs,

He played upon them like a harp,
And thrilled its thousand strings.

O Robin! Scotia's darling son;
In thy brief stormy years;

How vast the trophies thou hast won?
With thy heart's blood and tears.

Not humble birth, nor low estate,
Could bind thy pinions long;

Thou soarest high among the great :-
The deathless sons of song.

Milton, and Dante, we revere;

And Shakespeare we admire;

Scott and a hundred more are dear
Among the minstrel choir.

But He who holds our hearts in thrall!
On Earth, or gone above,

The dearest, sweetest, of them all
The Bard of Love! we love

To-night upon the stormy sea,
And on all lands of earth,
The sons of Scotia think of thee,
And land that gave thee birth.
And thus with Scottish hearts aflame,
This old world rolls along,
And to the honor of thy name,
Ringed with a wreath of song

O Peasant, Patriot, Bard and King!
Thou each and all by tuins;

Till birds and freemen cease to sing,
Shall live the fame of Burns.

And Scotland! Should thy fields be spread
Once more in martial strife,

His "Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled"!
Would rouse the d ad to life.

Bill Quill, editor and proprietor of The Local, sat alone in his sanctum, contemplating his prospects for the coming year. The circulation of his weekly had decreased during the past twelve months four copies. Mrs. Hennessy, who paid her subscription in fresh laid eggs, had died. Dick Tuber, who supplied the editor with potatoes in exchange for The Local, had moved out of the district. The Rev. Sam Godwin had been obliged to seek new pastures, the mortgage on his old frame church having been foreclosed, and the editor had at last been impelled to strike Tim Slowpay off the list of subscribers for being three years in arrears. The loss of these four subscribers was serious enough to set the editor thinking very hard how he could make ends meet without them.

There was nothing to attract new settlers to the village. The few tradesmen who advertised in The Local knew it did their business little or no good, but they refrained from saying so because The Local could not run without their support, and Bill Quill could not live without The Local.

Bill was a Democrat through and through, but his best patrons were Republicans. By changing his politics he could have obtained abundant financial backing. There are honorable men in journalism and Bill was one of them. He would have rather let The Local die than sacrifice his principles.

After contemplating the seriousness. of the situation in all its phases, Bill said to himself: "Things are growing worse and worse. It almost breaks my heart to think of giving up The Local, yet I fear it must be done and I must move to some new field. Thank God Millie died when she did."

Millie was Bill's wife. How he missed her no one who has not been similarly bereaved can fully appreciate.

There was a loud knock at the door.

This embarrassed Bill. He would have preferred to be left alone in his sorrow. Wiping the tears from his eyes and trying to conceal his grief he opened the door and was surprised to see a prosperous looking gentleman, whom he had never seen before.

"You are Bill Quill, editor of The Local, I believe," said the stranger.

"I am," was the editor's reply. "And I'm Mr. Penfield of The Daily Skit," announced the visitor.

"I'm glad to meet you; come in,” said Bill Quill, showing Mr. Penfield the utmost courtesy.

"Your old friend, the Rev. Sam Godwin," began Mr. Penfield, "tells me you are the cleverest paragraph writer in this State. I want a man of your ability on my paper. I have just been elected Mayor of Wagtown and have little time to write myself. I have appointed Mr. Godwin editor. He assures me that with your help he could greatly improve The Skit, so I have come to ask you to accept the position of assistant editor. I will make good any loss you may sustain by giving up The Local, and I will give you $50 salary per week to start.”

"Mr. Penfield," replied Bill Quill, with a big lump in his throat. "The Local is worth nothing. When you arrived I was planning to discontinue its publication and move out of the district. Mr. Godwin has given you too high an estimate of my attainments. I am not worth $50 per week to any newspaper, but I shall gladly accept a position on your staff, under Mr. Godwin at $20 per week, which I consider ample."

It was finally agreed to leave the matter of compensation in Mr. Penfield's hands. After he had left Bill Quill's sanctum, Bill began to peruse a copy of The Skit. It had not occurred to Bill to ask Mr. Penfield as to the politics of his paper, which was a red hot exponent of Republicanism.

"Not for a million a year would I write for that detestable sheet," said Bill Quill to himself, consigning The Skit to the fire. He then wrote to Mr. Penfield, expressing regrets that he had omitted to enquire regarding the politics of the paper, and requesting that their agreement be considered as cancelled, it being against his principles to write for a Republican paper.

So here was Bill Quill in his sanctum again, face to face with poverty, and firmly resolved to carry out his intention to move to a new district. He was busy thinking out plans for the future, when Mr. Slowpay surprised him with a visit. "Why did you stop sending me The Local, Bill?" enquired Mr. Slowpay.

"I cannot live on water alone," was Bill's impressive response. "Your subscription is three years in arrears, so I had to take your name off the list.'

"You served me right. This pays my arrears and two years in advance," answered Mr. Slowpay, laying $5 on the editor's table.

"The Local will never be issued again," said Bill Quill, sadly, returning Mr. Slowpay $2. "I am about, to leave the district."

"You'll do no such thing," said Mr. Slowpay, emphatically, and left the sanctum with determination in his counte

nance.

He immediately circulated the report that Bill Quill had stopped the publication of The Local, and intended to move away from the district. The town was shocked, and the leading citizens hastened to visit the editor and express their universal regret.

"We can't get along without The · Local, said Supervisor Squarepeg. “You must remain with us and keep The Local running even though it doesn't pay. Here are the names of ten new subscribers and $10. Besides, your old friend Captain Touchim and I have put our heads together, and here is a thousand dollars to help to keep things moving.”

Nearly all his subscribers called on Bill Quill, one by one and two by two during the day and evening and paid their subscriptions a year in advance.

The Local took on a new lease of life, but Bill Quill's happiness was not complete because Millie was not with him to share it.

EDITOR OF THE CALEDONIAN:

Sir-Knowing that many readers of the CALEDONIAN magazine can understand Gaelic, and are naturally interested in Gaelic songs, of which there are great varieties of the most popular melodies possessed by any race, and, as there is a tendency at home and abroad to cultivate and perpetuate these beautiful melodies, so alluring to the highland heart, the thought flashed through my, mind that an occasional Gaelic song, appearing in the CALEDONIAN would be appreciated by the Gaelic speaking readers, being the only periodical in this city of which the Gaels can claim kinship, and in this manner contribute our share to the cultivation and perpetuation of the language, poetry, and song of the Highlands and Islands.

If we, as Gaelic speaking Highlanders, are desirous of conforming to the motto adopted by certain Gaelic societies and spoken of by Ossean of old, i.e., “Lean gu dluth ri clin do shinsir," or "Cling closely to the fame of our ancestors," we could not employ our spare moments to better advantage than to study these beautiful Gaelic songs and melodies during the winter evenings, when sitting closely at the fireside, or rather inhaling the nauseous fumes of a heating apparatus and surrounded with the neverceasing clang of trolley cars, which in a peculiar degree has enfeebled the calibre of the sturdy Gael, who in bygone days was accustomed to inhale the salubrious breezes

"Amang Hielan' hills,

Midst nature's wildest grandeur," and in the winter evenings listening with rapturous joy to the songs and stories of the Gaelic bards so plaintively rehearsed by our unpretentious neighbors in the Highland Clachan. Still, if we desire to retain remeniscences of these earlier scenes, and are anxious to keep alive the good old Gaelic, with its undefined repository of song and story, such songs

as, "Is toigh leam a Ghaidhealtachd, Mo nighean donn Bhoidheach, Mali cheag og, etc., appearing in your well conducted magazine should be the medium of reviving the Celtic element to its normal condition and transport our thoughts to Tir nan Beann, reminding us more vividly of the Highland Ceilidh Anns a gleann san robh mi og.

Let us always bear in mind the spirited words of the late Sheriff Nicholson, in describing the valorous deeds of the Highland regiments:

"Think then of the name ye bear,
Ye that wear the Highland tartan
Zealous of its old renown,
Hand it down without a blemish."
GAIDHEAL.

SILVER WEDDING.

A very happy silver wedding celebration was held at the home of Dr. and Mrs. John D. Ross, 47 Fifth street, Woodhaven, on the evening of Saturday, December 10. The guests assembled at 7 o'clock and enjoyed a right royal time. There was an abundance of all kinds of music, while the speakers who offered their congratulations to the happy and honored couple in brief addresses, included the Hon. Wallace Bruce, the Rev. Archibald Ross, Charles H. Govan, W. H. Harrison and others. Many tasteful and valuable silver presents suitable for the occasion were received at the home during the day as well as several bouquets of flowers and a magnificent cluster of twenty-five large white roses. A number of letters from friends at a distance, who could not attend were also received and an exceedingly happy and well written poem from Bard William Murray, of Hamilton, Ontario, arrived during the festivities, and was greatly appreciated by all present. A peculiar and interesting event of the evening was the opening of an air-tight box, containing a large piece of the original wedding cake, which had been packed away the night after the wedding, December 11, 1879. It was found to be in an excellent state of preservation and each of the company was presented with a small piece of it, enclosed in a dainty little white and silver box. Dr. Ross is a frequent contributor to THE CALE

DONIAN, and is well known to the literary world as the editor of various books on Robert Burns, and as the author of "Scottish Poets In America," "A Cluster of Poets, Scottish and American," "Celebrated Songs of Scotland," "Random Sketches on Scottish Subjects," and other works of a similar character. A biographical sketch of him, accompanied by a portrait, appeared in last February's issue of THE CALEDONIAN.

Among the company present were the following: Hon. W. Bruce, K. Bruce, Mrs. F. Burkman, Mrs. and Miss Funnell, Mr. and Mrs. J. Pennie, Mrs. E. McLeod, Mr. and Mrs. D. McLeod, Mr. and Mrs. W. Thurman, Mr. and Mrs. C. Marsland, C. H. Gowan, Rev. A. Ross, A. Ross, Jr., H. E. Ross, Mrs. M. Ross, J. E. Boyle, C. H. Ryno, Jr., W. H. Harrison, Á. Pennie, J. Hagan, G. W. Ross, C. W. Ross, Miss H. C. Ross and Miss I. L. Ross, Miss M. Lydgate and Miss A. Forsberg.

$250,000 FOR A SCHOOL OF PHILANTHROPY.

Some ten years ago Mr. John Stewart Kennedy, the New York Scotch banker, who is well known for his large beneficences, built at the cost of $500,000 the United Charities Building, at Fourth avenue and Twenty-second street, as a home for several benevolent societies, has recently added to this great gift by donating a quarter of a million dollars to endow a School of Philanthropy, to be conducted under the auspices of the Charity Organization Society. The income of this $250,000 will be used to defray the cost of educating and training charity workers. Mr. Kennedy says in his letter to Mr. Robert W. De Forest, president of the Charity Society:

A DESCENDANT OF ROB ROY.

The death took place on Wednesday at his residence, Craig Royston, Merchiston Crescent, Edinburgh, of Mr. Donald MacGregor, who for over half a century, has been a prominent citizen in Edinburg, and one of the principal hotel keepers in the United Kingdom. His house, the Royal Hotel, in Prince Street, was for many years the leading hotel in the Scottish capital. Mr. MacGregor, who claimed descent from Rob Roy, was proprietor of the estate of Ardgarten, Arrochar. He was prominently associated with the movement for preserving Rob Roy's grave and other MacGregor memorials, and with the formation of the Clan Gregor Society. Mr. MacGregor was in his eightythird year, and is survived by a widow and five of a family.

Sir Donald Currie has given $100,000 to the University of Edinburgh.

In Scotland, forty-two of the Provosts are teetotalers. No mention is made of the Bailies or Councillors.

DALBEATTIE.

Death of a Noted Farmer.-Mr. Alexander Welsh, Newton Stewart, a well-known figure in agricultural circles in Western Galloway, passed away last week at the age of eightyfive. He was an excellent judge of stock, and had long been in the habit of supplying landed gentlemen in England with Galloway cattle for their pastures.

Memorial Tablet to "Christopher North."A memorial tablet erected at Townhead Terrace, Paisley, to mark the birthplace of Professor John Wilson, "Christopher North," was formerly unveiled on Saturday by Rev. Principal Hutton. The tablet, which is in bronze, has been admirably executed. It is the work of Mr. Shannon, sculptor, Glasgow, and its erection is due to the members of the Tannahill Gleniffer Burns Club.

Hector Macdonald Memorial.-The committee in charge of the arrangements for the erection of a memorial to the late Sir Hector Macdonald at the grave in the Dean Cemetery, Edinburgh, have made choice of a design submitted by Mr. Birnie Rhind, A.R.S.A. The design is an Egyptian obelisk, nineteen and one-half feet high, with a life-size bust in bronze of Sir Hector, military emblems, and laurel festoons. In all, fifteen designs were considered by the committee. The design selected has been approved by Lady Macdonald. Mr. Birnie Rhind is a brother of Mr. Massy Rhind of this city, New York.

INVERNESS.

Local Notes.-Permission has been granted to Edmundson's Electric Lighting Corporation to erect an electric lighting station at Waterloo Place at £4.000.-The Highland Strathspey and Reel Society held a "ceilidh" in the Alexandra Hotel on Tuesday.-Mr. Fergus Smith, M.A., who is a native of Inverness, has been appointed headmaster of Whitehall Public School, Glasgow.-The new society formed to prevent overlapping of charities will be known as "The Inverness Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor."-The consecration of the new Bishop (Dr. Maclean) will take place in St. Andrew's Cathedral on Wednesday.

STORNOWAY.

Local Notes.-The Town Council on Monday decided to lay a further portion of the Bay head reclamation under grass and to ask the engineer to submit a specification for the protccting of the seaward fringe by pitching.In consequence of an epidemic of whooping cough in town the Elementary Department of the Nicolson Institute has been closed till 10th January. What threatened to be a serious disturbance over the Kinloch Church, Lochs, was averted by the visit to the district on Saturday of Superintendent Smith. Sections of both parties were in actual occupancy of the building, determined to hold it for their respective congregations on Sunday. Happily wiser counsels prevailed, and they agreed to occupy jointly till such time as the question of ownership is finally settled.

SKYE.

The marriage of Mr. K. L. MacDonald, son of the popular laird of Skaebost,, to Miss Geraldine, youngest daughter of Mr. Junius Smith, Warwickshire, has been the occasion of much rejoicing on the island.

BURNS' BIBLE SOLD.

At Messrs. Sotheby's Rooms, in London, Burns' Family Bible was sold by auction. There was no doubt as to the authenticity of the volume. It is by one John Reid, of Edinburgh, 1775, seven years before the birth of the poet at Alloway. To suit the demands of the fastidious, it was catalogued as "imperfect," as if the book without its autographic entries was of great intrinsic value. The poet had written the various birth entries on the reverse of the title of the New Testament. He had omitted to name the several places of birth, and the book in that respect is greatly wanting in information which family Bibles generally supplied in cases of disputed inheritance and succession as late as a few years back. pedigree of the Bible is as follows:-(1)

The