occasionally from the sober decorum of his verses. In an epistle to his friend Betton, high sheriff of the county, who had sent to him for a peck of seedcorn, he says:—
Soon plantina time will come again,And on receiving a copy of some verses written by a lady, he talks in a sad way for a Presbyterian deacon:—
Syne may the heavens gie us rain,
Ana shining heat to bless ilk plain
Ana fertile hill,
Ana gar the loads oa yellow grain,
Our garrets fill.
As long as I hae food and clothing,
Ana still am hale and fier and breathing,
Ye's get the corn—and may be aething
Ye'll do for me;
(Though God forbid)—hang me for naething
Ana lose your fee.
Were she some Aborigine squaw,The practical philosophy of the stout, jovial rhymer was but little affected by the sour-featured asceticism of the elder. He says:—
Wha sings so sweet by nature's law,
I'd meet her in a hazle shaw,
Or some green loany,
And make her tawny phiz and 'a
My welcome crony.
We'll eat and drink, and cheerful takeA quaintly characteristic correspondence in rhyme between the Deacon and Parson McGregore,
Our portions for the Donor's sake,
For thus the Word of Wisdom spake—
Man can't do better;
Nor can we by our labors make
The Lord our debtor.