one day let us quite forget the grief that we have known

For

one day let us

quite for-get the grief that We

have

known the grief that we have known

For one e day let us

quite forget the grief that we have known the grief that we have

known.

twenty has a single particle remaining in his body which he had ten years ago. All that he before had has now entered into new combinations, forming parts of other men, animals, or vegetables, exactly as the present body will afterwards be resolved into new combinations after death. The mind, however, remains the same. The human frame may be considered as a chemical machine, as much so as the steam engine, or the quick and wondrous telegraph; but though formed of the like materials and liable to injury, marvellous to relate, it possesses the power of repairing itself! In fact, man lives and dies every twenty-four hours. In the state of sleep, the vitality that has been wasted is replenished by his evening meal, and he wakes, resuscitated for the following day. In a state of nature, man is the most helpless of beings. He has neither clothes to defend him from the weather, nor weapons to protect him from the attacks of savage creatures. But in place of these the Creator has given him a greater portion of brain (the electric principle) than to any other animal. Hence, he is endowed with reason and induction, by which he discovers the laws of nature; and, like a demi-god, uses them to rule the world. It can scarcely be said that man has yet arrived at a state of maturity. He has not yet sufficiently informed himself how to manage his life and conduct so as to live out his full term of years.

Under a conspiracy of favourable circumstances in

M

our infancy, such as food, climate, and instruction, till we can think and act for ourselves, it is not too much to believe, that a hundred years would be required to develop the sum of our powers, and another hundred for declining years. Nay, I am rather of Mr. Godwin's opinion, that the body, under the government of a philosophic mind, possibly might last for a thousand years.

CHAPTER XLIX.

AULD ROBIN GRAY

In the Lives of the Lindsays there is an interesting letter, from Lady Ann Lindsay to Sir Walter Scott, calling upon him to convey to the author of Waverley (whom she is informed he knows), how grateful she feels for the distinguished notice passed upon the ballad of Auld Robin Gray, and that he is the first person to whom she has imparted the secret of herself being the author of that long-contested ballad. Her ladyship states that Robin Gray was the herdsman at their family seat, at Balcarres :

“In a melancholy mood I wrote the words to an old Scotch melody, of which I was passionately fond. To give its plaintive tones some little history of virtuous distress in humble life, I bethought me of the incidents penned in the ballad. While I was writing

'Steal

it, I called to my little sister, Lady Hardwick, and said: 'I have been writing a song, my dear. I am oppressing my heroine with many misfortunes. I have already sent Jamie to sea, and broken her father's arm; made her mother fall sick, and given her Auld Robin Gray for a lover; but I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow, poor thing. Help me to one.' the cow, sister Ann,' said little Elizabeth. was immediately introduced into the verse. fireside amongst our friends, Auld Robin Gray was often called for. I was pleased with the approbation it met with. My dread of being suspected the author made me very shy, but I carefully kept my secret."

The cow

At our

Scotland has ever been a land of poets, but certainly never a land of musical composers. Like Switzerland, their mountains, rocks, and ravines return in echoes, the germs of melody we hear in the shepherd's song. Their broad Scotch is more favourable to melody, than the narrow English. They contrive to discard the consonants which often lock up the tones of the voice in our language, but more so in the German and in the French, in the nose; hence, the Scotch, for its openness of sound, approaches nearest to Italian. Having no instrument but the bagpipe, which was left them by the Romans, they never could acquire a knowledge of instrumental music.

While other nations boast of their composers, Scotland has not a single name upon record: nor could I find a dozen bars of printed or written music, in the

whole country. It has ever been a mystery how the Scotch should have acquired a celebrity in their national songs, where so little music exists. Perhaps we may refer the earliest national music having any claim to excellence, to the time of Queen Mary, whose elegant Court was in close alliance with that of France. The quiet enjoyed by Scotland, as compared with the incessant wars that England was engaged in, was peculiarly favourable to the sister arts; and what was very remarkable, this period was the Augustan age of poetry, nearly the whole of the Court ladies being excellent poets.

If we refer to Dr. Crotch's Specimens of Scotch Melodies, we find the early attempts at song are rude and inelegant; but as they passed from hand to hand in manuscript, they received constant improvement, both in words and sounds; and succeeding ages have rubbed off the asperities, which deform the originals. The Italian musicians, whom Mary had at her Court, caught the wild notes of the country, and gave them rhythm and melody; and we may date the best of their love-songs from the time of David Rizzio-her accomplished musician.

The charm of the ballad lies in the simplicity of the thoughts and words being expressed in the most artless notes. It is a composition that every one understands, and in which every passion of the human breast has been poured forth, from the remotest age. Perhaps, no ballad has been more admired than Auld Robin