And one bright female form, with sword and crown, Still grieves to view her banners beaten down. STAG-HUNTING. Not so the stately stag, of harmless force; Drives through the thicket, scales the lofty steep; Bounds o'er the hills, or darts through valleys deep; Plunges amid the river's cooling tides, While strong and quick he heaves his panting He from afar his lov'd companions sees, Hounds, horses, hunters, horns, still sound along The cruel hounds pour round on every hand; the skies; Fierce as a storm they pour along the plain; Desperate, he turns to make a feeble stand: JOHN SKINNER. BORN 1721- DIED 1807. REV. JOHN SKINNER, a popular poet and ecclesiastical historian, was born October 3, 1721, at Balfour, in the parish of Birse, Aberdeenshire. His father was schoolmaster of that parish, and his mother was the widow of Donald Farquharson, Esq. of Balfour. At the age of thirteen John entered the University of Aberdeen, where he pursued his studies with diligence and great success. After he graduated he became assistant in the parish schools of Kenmay and Monymusk. In 1740 he went to Shetland in the capacity of a private tutor. Returning to Aberdeenshire he was ordained a presbyter of the Episcopal Church, and called to the parish of Longside. A few years later, after the troubled period of the rebellion of 1745, his chapel was destroyed by the soldiers of the Duke of Cumberland; and on the plea of his having transgressed the law by preaching to more than four persons without subscribing to the oath of allegiance, he was during six months kept a prisoner in Aberdeen jail. From early youth Skinner had composed verses in the Scottish dialect, but his entering the ministry checked for a time his poetical propensities. His subsequent productions, which include all of his popular songs, were written to please his friends or to gratify the members of his family. In a letter to Burns, dated 1787, he says:-"While I was young I dabbled a good deal in these things; but on getting the black gown I gave it pretty much over, till my daughters grew up, who, being all good singers, plagued me for words to some of their favourite tunes, and so extorted these effusions which have made a public appearance beyond my expectations, and contrary to my intentions; at the same time, I hope there is nothing to be found in them uncharacteristic or unbecoming the cloth, which I would always wish to see respected." A poetical epistle addressed by him to Robert Burns, in commendation of his talents, was termed by the Ayrshire bard as "the best poetical compliment he had ever received." It led to a regular correspondence, which was carried on to the gratification of both parties. They, however, never met. Burns, who some |