A SCOTCHMAN IN LOVE.

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gered him. Her raven locks and jet black eyes were too much for Allen to withstand; and, on the next Sunday, Miss Phoebe was arrayed in the pink slip, and looked like a new-blown rose.

Allen's gravity became much disturbed, and in addressing his landlady, he said, "Meestress Gray, ye have a pratty business here, and ye maun have scraped a little siller together. Ye have also a canny doater."

I'd

Mrs. Gray: "Ah! Doctor," she is a little forward thing, who takes great liberty with you; have you snub her."

Doctor: "Weel, weel, Meestress Gray, that's na' offence to me; but, as I was just saying, ye must ha' saved a fifty-pund, or so."

Mrs. Gray: "Oh! lawful heart, Doctor; a poor widow like me cannot have much money."

Doctor: "There's na' getting through the world without a little siller, Mrs. Gray: I was thinking about your doater."

Mrs. Gray: "Ah! Sir, she's a little expensive thing she runs away with all I can get."

:

Doctor: "I was thinking about Phoebe, if ye'd pairt wi' her.”

Mrs. Gray: "Part with her, Sir; for what?"
Doctor: "To me, Meestress Gray."

Mrs. Gray: "Aye, Doctor, but she's so young." Doctor: "Weel, weel, Meestress Gray, ther's na' much objecction to that."

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Mrs. Gray: For sure, Doctor, you are the best judge on such matters."

Doctor: "Then, as I was saying, ye have twa shop windows, and if Phoebe should become Mrs. Allen, I could set my gallipots in the other window, and we would, in that case, drop all talk about the siller."

Phoebe soon found what power she had over the Doctor's heart; and had only to wait for her own consent to become Mrs. Allen. Her impatience for the nuptial dress, however, was too evident; but the Doctor's prudence was not to be overcome. My friend had a taste for music, and restrained the eagerness of the fair one for a time by singing the following song, in which she joined in the last

verse:

SONG. (PAGE 177.)

"Prithee, Pœbe, not so fast,
Let's na' run and wed in haste;
We've a thousand things to do,
You must fly, and I pursue.

"You must frown, and I must sigh;
I entreat, and you deny;
Stay! if I am never cross'd,
Half the pleasure will be lost.

"Be, or seem to be, sincere ;

Give me reason to despair;
Fondness will my wishes cloy,
Make me careless of my joy.

What is more delightful than a walk into the fields on a summer's evening, when the soft-dropping shower has allayed the sultry heat of the day? How refreshing the cool breeze, that wafts the scent of meadow-flowers across your path! While sauntering by the wood-side or silver stream, with no desire to hook or even disturb its playful tenants, or to see the wood-pigeon bleed, let us luxuriate in the smiles of nature. On every side what cheering sounds! -the lowing cattle, the throstle on the tree, the far

off whetting scythe. the dull whirl of the

What music this! compared to modern factory-mill, stupifying

the youthful brain. What weary sameness is imposed on the imprisoned elves, who sigh to taste the sweet refreshing air.

Great as this change is from village life, as it used to be, it is not without its enjoyments. Trade brings with it domestic comforts and mental pleasures. The spread of books and schools, lays open all the avenues

pre

to knowledge, and nothing is more striking at the sent day, than the rapid development of enquiring minds, among the lower orders. From this class many simplifications in our machinery have sprung.

The sciences of mechanics and chemistry, furnish illimitable objects of research. The field is of vast extent, especially in our manufactories, in which the newly-discovered laws of nature are wonderfully applied. The hydrostatic bellows, which was considered little more than a toy when I was a lad, has enabled the engineer to carry the tubular bridge, weighing two thousand tons, over an arm of the sea. Our immense spinning mills so completely absorb the time and attention of the masses in the large towns, that every Sunday the artificers, after an early morning service, ought to be driven into the fields to recruit their health. In the evening the government should supply the finest music in our churches, where the soul may be elevated in the solemn service of thanksgiving for the blessings we enjoy. This would refine and raise the taste of the people, and get rid of much evil and misery.

THE WORKING MAN'S SONG.-(PAGE 197.)

"The morning of our rest is come,

The sun is shining clear;

I see it on the steeple top,

Put on your shawl, my dear.