GLAMIS' BONNIE BURNIE.

Air_“Katherine Ogie.
From springs on Sidlaw's highest hills

Flows Glamis' bonnie burnie ;
And down the glen it murmurs sweet,

Wi' mony a jinkin' turnie.
It laves the meadows bright and green,

Where lasses soft are singing,
And wild woods with the melody

Of happy birds are ringing.

All Nature sang fair Isa's charms,

Heav'n's smiles in bliss revealing,
As to mine own her lips I prest,

And nought from her concealing.
She vowed her heart was wholly mine,

Forsake me would she never;
Believing then her words sincere,

My love I gave for ever.

On still thou flow'st, my bonnie burn,

But thy voice is wild and dreary ;
Birds' dowie songs attune no more

My heart so faint and weary.
Woes me! the sunshine of my soul

With her hath all departed :
No longer mine, yet from my heart,

Oh ! never to be parted. The Laird's song had apparently astonished them all, for, instead of instant applause following, as in the case of the others, the members seemed to be struck dumb with amazement, as if they had not expected so fine marble out of such an unpromising quarry. “That's fine, though,” patronisingly said the Miller, at

” length. “Ye'd surely been jilted, Laird, i' your youth, else ye widnae kent sae weel aboot it.

“We will compare it with your own by-and-by," quizzingly remarked the Chairman. Now, Mr Miller, we are all attention, sir, expecting you will astonish us by as gratifying an exhibition of the muse's inspirations as those to which we have just listened with so much pleasure."

“What a terrible nicht that is, though,” said the Miller,

looking in the direction of the window, and apparently quite unheeding the satirical remarks of the worthy Chairman. “ The wind's roarin' amon' the trees as if a' the demons an' evil speerits o' the air had been let loose at ance by the Prince o'Darkness to terrify us puir bodies wi’ their screechin' din an' eldrich screams; an' the snaw-flakes are flappin' an' dashin' against the shiverin' window-panes juist like a heart-broken lover in sorrow an' in pain, left alane to his hopeless fate by his cruel false one, noo left him for ever

“Very good," interrupted the Chairman ; " but we want your song, Mr Miller."

“Juist like him," said the Smith, with a triumphant leer in his waggish eye.

“Nane kens better than himsel' what we're a' waitin' for. It's time his win’-bag was burst, at onyrate.”

A peal of laughter followed this well-timed repartee of the Smith, which, having somewhat subsided, the Miller indignantly rejoined

“I'll match my ain native Dean wi' the drumley Kerbet ony day;" and immediately, in a fine tenor voice, very tenderly sang

MY AIN BONNIE DEAN.

Air_" Mrs Admiral Gordon's Strathspey."
Of a' the streams that gently flow

By moorland, strath, or den,
I love the Dean, meand'ring slow

Where dwells sweet Lizzie Glen.
She's dear to me as ane can be,

Love sparkles in her een ;
Her voice sae sweet oft mingles meet

Wi' my ain bonnie Dean.

Sing by her cot, my bonnie stream,

Her charms sae rich and rare ;
Gay deck, wi' diamond jewels bright,

Her gowden tresses fair.
Then on thy bosom tenderly

Bring safe my bridal queen,
By gow’ny howe and broomy knowe,

Come thou, my bonnie Dean.

I carena for the winsome swains,

Nor each admiring e'e;
No a' their art, wi' dextrous dart,

Can wile her heart frae me.
Wi' lav'rocks liltin' in the lift,

An' linties by the green,
True, constant both, we'll pledge our troth,

By thee, my bonnie Dean.

In after days, when bairnies play

Upon thy hazel braes,
And Lizzie sings o' wedded joys,

While spreading out her claes,
The burden o’ her sang will be,

While fond I listen keen-
“O, blessings rest the sweetest, best,

On thee, my bonnie Dean !"

A long ringing burst of general applause followed the singing of “Bonnie Dean,” which having been suitably acknowledged by the Miller, the Student was next called upon for his anxiously-expected contribution to the evening's enjoyment.

“We'll get something noo," said the Laird, “ that 'll be worth the listenin' to, for as he and I cam' alang frae the glen thegither to the meetin' o' the Club the nicht, he wad scarce speak a single word, but keepit strummin' and hummin' awa' to himsel, as if he was either demented, or in a deep broon study wi' which nae ordinar' mortal was fit to entermeddle."

“But he's maistly aye that way,” rejoined the Miller ; “aye think, thinkin' awa' to himsel' fin he should be engaged in the conversation that may be goin' on, or else he juist runs in a minute to the other extreme. He's a perfect cameleon he's never half an hour after the same thing."

“Grantin' yer premises are richt,” said the more observant Smith, “yonr deductions are no soond. It by no means follows that because our young friend is reticent at one time and loquacious at anither, that he should therefore, or neces

sarily, be devoid either of high intellectual thought, or of a steady persevering will to carry his thoughts, whatever these may be to a definite and practical conclusion,

“I agree entirely with our good friend the Smith,” remarked the Chairman, “ who has stated the case with his usual clearness and good sense

“The forester tells me, too,” interruptingly persisted the Miller, “that if a wee bit birdie happens to gie a bit liltie, that nae ither body wid tak’ the least notice o', the electrified Student will listen to it in rapture, as if it were an angel fae Heaven that sang upon the tree

“You do me by far too much honour," said the Student, quietly interrupting the Miller in his turn. “The light and shade of which you speak are the result of inward emotions implanted by the great Creator, doubtless to serve some useful and beneficent purpose hereafter. If I sometimes revel in a visionary land of golden dreams, surrounded by an atmosphere of melodious song, it is equally my delight to dwell with my

fellow-men upon this fair and beautiful earth, and to exhibit as far as I can all the traits and feelings of an intensely human, tender, loving heart. But, dismissing this subject, as too personal for the present, permit me to say that I have noticed with great interest that the sentiments expressed in the songs you have so creditably sung to-night refer almost exclusively to the past: and, strange to say, I have unconsciously struck the same key-note in the verses which, with your leave, brother members, I will now read to you.” Reads.)

Now, as beside the fire I sit,

In my old rocking-clair,
Before the lighted tapers gleam,

Disclosing beauties fair,
How vivid come the visions blest,

Like sweet celestial dreams,
Of my own uative valley-list!

The music of its streams.
The gowans, whins, the buttercups,

In all their beauty bloom,
The gowdies and the linties sing

Among the yellow broom.
Again I wander by the burn

That skirts the homestead dear-
My own loved home ! can I conceal

Tbe tributary tear?
No! gem with liquid silvery pearls

This roughly wrinkled cheek,
All fondly gushing from the heart,

Of life's bright morn they speak.
My father's manly form I see,

I hear my mother's voice,
And the rhymes of some old melody

Do now my heart rejoice.

How fresh the sough of wild-woods green

Plays round my raptured ear,
Recalling whisperings from afar

Of memories ever dear!
How clear the bleating of the sheep,

The lowing of the kine !
Alas ! how dear, how very dear

The days o' langsyne.
The mill-wheel dashes round and round,

The miller spruce and gay,
The lads and lasses lilting loud,

I e'en as glad as they;
As, on the sunny knowe, beside

The tufts of golden broom, 'Midst songs of birds, soft hymns of streams

Wild flowers of richest bloom-

I sit and read the ancient lays

Of classic Greece and Rome,
Or sing with abbot, monk, and nun

Beneath cathedral dome;