r of the great city, turning to the quiet of his native valley
to sing the charms of the Nith, where he

"Had paidlet i' the burn,
And pu'd the gowans fine."

It was in the _Dumfries Courier_ that his first poetic essay found its
way to print. That journal was then edited by the veteran M'Diarmid,
himself an honour to the literature of Scotland, and no mean judge of
its poetry. A cheer from such a quarter was worth the winning, and our
aspirant fairly won it, by the five stanzas of which the following is
the last:--

"The flowers may fade upon your banks,
The breckan on the brae,
But, oh! the love I ha'e for thee
Shall never pass away.
Though age may wrinkle this smooth brow,
And youth be like a dream,
Still, still my voice to heaven shall rise
For blessings on your stream!"

But banks and braes, and straths and streams, and woods and waves,
though very dear to memory, merely come up to the painted beauties of
descriptive verse. They must be warmed through

"The dearest theme
That ever waked the poet's dream,"

and love must fill the vision, before the soul can soar above the
delicious but inanimate charms of earth, into the glowing region of
human feeling and passion.

"In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And man below, and saints above:
For love is heaven, and heaven is love!"

Nor was this essential inspiration wanting in the breast of the young
bard. The climate of Caledonia is cold, but that the hearts of her sons
are susceptible of tropic warmth is shewn by a large proportion of her
lyric treasures. Heroism, pathos, satire, and a peculiar quaint humour,
present little more than an equal division, and the attributes of the
wholly embodied Scottish muse attest the truth of the remark on the
characteristic heat and fire which pervade her population, and excite
them to daring in war and ardour in gentler pursuits. Thus Bennoch sung
his Mary, Jessie, Bessie, Isabel, and other belles, but above all his
Margaret:--

"The moon is shining, Margaret,
Serenely bright above,
And, like my dearest Margaret,
Her every look is love!
The trees are waving, Margaret,
And balmy is the air,
Where flowers are breathing, Margaret,