“Hornbrook was by wi' ready art,

1 “A countra laird had taen the batts, And had sae fortified the part,

| Or rome curmurring in his guts ; That when I looked to my dart,

His only son for Hornbook sets,
It was sae blunt,

And pays him well-
Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets,
Of a kail-runt.

Was laird hinsel. "I drew my scythe in sic a fury,

“ That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way; I nearhand cowpit wi' my hurry,

Thus goes he on from day to day,
But yet the bauld apothecary

Thus does he poison, kill, and slay,
Withstood the shock;

An's weel paid for't;
I might as weel hae tried a quarry

Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey
O'hard whin rock.

Wi' his curs'd dirt:
“And then a' doctor's saws and whittles, “But hark! I'll tell you of a plot,
Of a' dimensions, shapes, and metals,

Though dinna ye be speaking o't;
A’ kinds o'boxes, mugs, and bottles,

I'll nail the self-conceited sot
He's sure to hae;

As dead's a herrin':
Their Latin names as fast he rattles

Neist time we meet, I'll wad a groat,
As A B C.

He gets his fairin'!" “Calces o'fossils, earths, and trees;

But just as he began to tell, True sal-marinum o'the seas;

The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell
The farina of beans and peas,

Some wee short hour ayont the twal,
He has't in plenty;

Which rais'd us baith:
Aqua-fontis, what you please,

I took the way that pleas'd mysel',
He can content ye.

And sae did Death
“Forbye some new, uncommon weapons,
Urinus spiritus of capons;
Or mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings,
Distillid per se;.

The Poly Fair.
Sal-alkali o'midge-tail clippings,
And mony mae.”

A robe of seeming truth and trust

Hid crafty observation ; “Waes me for Johnny Ged's Hole (31) now," And secret hung, with poison'd crust, Quo' I; “if that thae news be true,

The dirk of Defamation : His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew,

A mask that like the gorget show'd,

Dye-varying on the pigeon;
Sae white and bonny,

And for a mantle large and broad,
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi'the plew;

He wrapt him in Religion.
They'll ruin Johnny !"

HYPOCRISY A-LA-MODE. (11.) The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh,

UPON a simmer Sunday morn, And says, “ Ye need na yoke the pleugh,

When Nature's face is fair,
Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh,

I walked forth to view the corn,
Tak ye nae fear :
They'll a' be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh

And snuff the cauler air,

The rising sun owre Galston muirs,
In twa-three year.

Wi' glorious light was ylintin';
" Whare I kill'd ane a fair strae death, The hares were hirplin' down the furs,
By loss o' blood or want o' breath,

The lav'rocks they were chantin'
This night I'm free to tak my aith,

Fu' sweet that day.
That Hornbook's skill
Has clad a score i' their last claith,

As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad,

To see a scene sae gay,
By drap and pill.

Three hizzies, early at the road, “An honest wabster to his trade,

Cam skelpin' up the way;
Whase wife'stwa nieves were scarce well-bred, Twa had manteeles o’ dolefu' black,
Gat tippence worth to mend her head, But ane wi' lyart lining;
When it was sair;

The third, that gaed a-wee a-back,
The wife slade cannie to her bed,

Was in the fashion shining,
But ne'er spak mair.

Fu'gay that day.

Like Socrates or Antonine,

| His talk o'hell, whare devils dwell, Or some auld pagan heathen,

Our vera sauls does harrow (41)
The moral man he does define,

Wi' fright that day.
But ne'er a word o' faith in
That's right that day.

A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit,

Fill'd fou o'lowin' brunstane, In guid time comes an antidote

Wha's ragin' flame, and scorchin' heat, Against sic poison'd nostrum ;

Vad meit the hardest whun-stane! For Peebles, frae the water-fit (36),

The half asleep start up wi' fear, Ascends the holy rostrun :

And think they hear it roarin', See, up he's got the word o' God,

When presently it does appear And meek and mim has view'd it,

'Twas but some neebor snorin' While Common Sense (37) has ta'en the

Asleep that day.
road,
And aff, and up the Cowgate (38), 'Twad be owre long a tale, to tell
Fast, fast, that day.

How monie stories past,

And how they crowded to the yill Wee Miller (39) neist the guard relieves,

When they were a' dismist : And orthodoxy raibles,

How drink yaed round, in cogs and caurs, Tho' in his heart he weel believes,

Amang the furms and benches : And thinks it auld wives' fables;

And cheese and bread, frae women's laps, But, faith! the birkie wants a manse,

Was dealt about in lunches,
So, cannily he hums them;

And dauds that day.
Altho' his carnal wit and sense
Like halflins-ways o'ercomes him

In comes a gaucie, gash guidwife,
At times that day.

And sits down by the tire,
Now butt and ben the change-house fills,

Syne draws her kebbuck and her knife;

The lasses they are shyer.
Wi' yill-caup commentators;

The auld guidmen, about the grace,
Here's crying out for bakes and gills,
And there the pint-stoup clatters;

Frae side to side they bother,
While thick and thrang, and loud and

and Till some ane by his bonnet lays,

And yi’es theni't like a tether, lang, Wi' logic and wi' Scripture,

Fa’lang that day. They raise a din, that, in the end,

Waesuck! for him that gets nae lass, Is like to breed a rupture

Or lusses that hae nathing!
O' wrath that day.

Sma' need has he to say a grace,
Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair

Or melvie his braw claithing! Than either school or college:

Oh wives be mindfu' ance yoursel It kindles wit, it waukens lair,

How bonny lads ye wanted, It pangs us fou o' knowledge.

And dipua, for a kebbuck-heel, Be't whisky gill, or penny wheep,

Let lasses be affronted Or ony stronger potion,

On sic a day! It never fails, on drinking deep,

Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattlin' tow,
To pittle up our notion

Begins to jow and croon;
By night or day.

Some swagger hame the best they dow, The lads and lasses, blythely bent

Some wait the afternoon. To mind baith saul and body,

At slaps the billies halt a blink, Sit round the table weel content,

Till lassess trip their shoon: And steer about the toddy.

Wi' faith and hope, and love and drink, On this ane's dress, and that ane's leuk, They're a' in famous tune They're making observations;

For crack that day. While some are cozie i' the neuk,

How monie hearts this day converts
And formin'assignations

O'sinners and o'lasses !
To nieet some day.

Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gano,
But now the I d's ain trumpet touts, As saft as ony flesh is.
Till a' the hills are rairin',

There's some are fou o' love divine; And echoes back return the shouts--

There's some are fou' o' brandy; Black Russell (40) is na sparin':

And many jobs that day begin His piercing words, like Highlan' swords, May end in houghimagandy, Divide the joints and marrow;

Some ither day.