e to wrang--
Creep awa', my bairnie--creep afore ye gang.

AE GUDE TURN DESERVES ANITHER.

Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great,
The puirest bodie is still your brither;
The king may come in the cadger's gate--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

The hale o' us rise frae the same cauld clay,
Ae hour we bloom, ae hour we wither;
Let ilk help ither to climb the brae--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

The highest among us are unco wee,
Frae Heaven we get a' our gifts thegither;
Hoard na, man, what ye get sae free!--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

Life is a weary journey alane,
Blithe 's the road when we wend wi' ither;
Mutual gi'ing is mutual gain--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

THE NAMELESS LASSIE.

There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name,
There 's nane may ken the humble cot my lassie ca's her hame;
Yet though my lassie's nameless, an' her kin o' low degree,
Her heart is warm, her thochts are pure, and, oh! she 's dear to me.

She 's gentle as she 's bonnie, an' she 's modest as she 's fair,
Her virtues, like her beauties a', are varied as they 're rare;
While she is light an' merry as the lammie on the lea--
For happiness an' innocence thegither aye maun be!

Whene'er she shews her blooming face, the flowers may cease to blaw,
An' when she opes her hinnied lips, the air is music a';
But when wi' ither's sorrows touch'd, the tear starts to her e'e,
Oh! that 's the gem in beauty's crown, the priceless pearl to me.

Within my soul her form 's enshrined, her heart is a' my ain,
An' richer prize or purer bliss nae mortal e'er can gain;
The darkest paths o' life I tread wi' steps o' bounding glee,
Cheer'd onward by the love that lichts my nameless lassie's e'e.

BONNIE BONALY.

Bonnie Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream,
Murmurs and sobs like a child in a dream;
Falling where silver light gleams on its breast,
Gliding through nooks where the dark shadows rest,
Flooding with music its own tiny valley,
Dances in gladness the stream o' Bonaly.

Proudly Bonaly's gray-brow'd castle towers,
Bounded by mountains, and bedded in flowers;
Here hangs the blue bell, and there waves the broom;
Nurtured by art, rarest garden sweets bloom;
Heather and thyme scent the breezes that dally,