XX.

He roard a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu' desperation!

An' young and auld came rinnin out,
To hear the sad narration:

He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,
Or crouchie Merran Humphie,
Till stop! she trotted thro' them a',
An' wha was it but grumphie
Asteer that night!

XXI.

Meg fain wad to the barn hae gaen,
To winn three wechts o' naething.
But for to meet the Deil her lane,
She pat but little faith in:
She gies the herd a pickle nits,
An' twa red cheekit apples,

To watch, while for the barn she sets

In hopes to see Tam Kipples

That vera night.

XXII.

She turns the key wi' cannie thraw,
And owre the threshold ventures;

• This charm must likewise be performed, unperceived, and alone. You go to the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is danger that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht; and go through all the attitudes of etting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times; and the third ime an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having both the fig ure in question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life.

リ

But first on Sawnie gies a ca',
Syne bauldly in she enters;

A ratton rattled up the wa',

An' she cried, L-d, preserve her!
An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a',
An' pray'd wi' zeal an' fervor,
Fu' fast that night.

XXIII.

They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice:
Then hecht him some fine braw ane
It chanc'd the stack he faddom'd thrice
Was timber-propt for thrawin:
He taks a swirlie, auld moss oak,

For some black, grousome carlin;
An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke,
Till skin in blypes cam haurlin,
Aff's nieves that night.

XXIV.

A wanton widow Leezie was,

As canty as a kittlen;

But och that night, amang the shaws,

She got a fearfu' settlin!

She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn,

An' owre the hill, gaed scrievin,

Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn,f

• Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a bear-stack, and fatk on it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.

You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a south-running spring or rivulet, where three lairds' lands meet," and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and, sometime near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it

To dip her left sark-sleeve in,
Was bent that night.

XXV.

Whyles o'er a linn the burnie plays,
As thro' the glen it wimpl't;
Whyles round a rocky scar it strays;
Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't;
Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle;
Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
Below the spreading hazel,

Unseen that night.

XXVI.

Amang the brackens, on the brae,
Between her an' the moon,
The Deil, or else an outler quey,
Gat up an' gae a croon!

Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool;

Near lav'rock-height she jumpit,

But mist a fit, an' in the pool,

Out owre the lugs she plumpit,

Wi' a plunge that night.

XXVII.

In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
The luggies three* are ranged,

Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another; leave the third empty. Blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand: if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered

An' ev'ry time great care is taen,
To see them duly changed;

Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys,
Sin' Mar's year did desire,

Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
He heav'd them on the fire,

In wrath that night.

XXVIII.

Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks,
I wat they did na weary;
An' unco tales, an' funnie jokes,

Their sports were cheap an' cheery.
Till butter'd so'ns,* wi' fragrant lunt,
Set a' their gabs a-steerin;

Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,

They parted aff careerin,

Fu' blythe that night.

THE JOLLY BEGGARS.

A CANTATA.

RECITATIVO.

WHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
Or wav'ring like the Bauckie-bird, †
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast;

When hail-stanes drive wi' bitter skyte,

Sowins, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Hallow

een supper.

†The old Scotch name for the Bat.

And infant frosts begin to bite,
In hoary cranreuch drest;
Ae night at e'en a merry core
O'randie, gangrel bodies,
In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their orra duddies:
Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted and they sang;
Wi' jumping and thumping,
The vera girdle rang.

First niest the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sat weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm
She blinket on her sodger:
An' ay he gives the tousie drab
The tither skelpin kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab

Just like an a'nous dish.

Ilk smack still did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whip,

Then, stagg'ring and swagg'ring
He roar'd this ditty up:

:

1 AM a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come