'd your minnie, and she has gi'en ye leave,
To gang to the Wells o' Wearie.

ALEXANDER LAING.

One of the simplest and most popular of the living national
song-writers, Alexander Laing, was born at Brechin on the 14th May 1787.
His father, James Laing, was an agricultural labourer. With the
exception of two winters' schooling, he was wholly self-taught. Sent to
tend cattle so early as his eighth year, he regularly carried books and
writing-materials with him to the fields. His books were procured by the
careful accumulation of the halfpence bestowed on him by the admirers of
his juvenile tastes. In his sixteenth year, he entered on the business
of a flax-dresser, in his native town--an occupation in which he was
employed for a period of fourteen years. He afterwards engaged in
mercantile concerns, and has latterly retired from business. He now
resides at Upper Tenements, Brechin, in the enjoyment of a well-earned
competency.

Mr Laing early wrote verses. In 1819, several songs from his pen
appeared in the "Harp of Caledonia"--a respectable collection of
minstrelsy, edited by John Struthers. He subsequently became a
contributor to the "Harp of Renfrewshire" and the "Scottish Minstrel,"
edited by R. A. Smith. His lyrics likewise adorn the pages of
Robertson's "Whistle Binkie" and the "Book of Scottish Song." He
published, in 1846, a collected edition of his poems and songs, in a
duodecimo volume, under the designation of "Wayside Flowers." A second
edition appeared in 1850. He has been an occasional contributor to the
local journals; furnished a number of anecdotes for the "Laird of
Logan," a humorous publication of the west of Scotland; and has compiled
some useful elementary works for the use of Sabbath-schools. His lyrics
are uniformly pervaded by graceful simplicity, and the chief themes of
his inspiration are love and patriotism. Than his song entitled "My Ain
Wife," we do not know a lay more beautifully simple. His "Hopeless
Exile" is the perfection of tenderness.

AE HAPPY HOUR.

AIR--_"The Cock Laird."_

The dark gray o' gloamin',
The lone leafy shaw,
The coo o' the cushat,
The scent o' the haw;
The brae o' the burnie,
A' bloomin' in flower,
An' twa' faithfu' lovers,
Make ae happy hour.

A kind winsome wifie,
A clean canty hame,
An' smilin' sweet babies
To lisp the dear name;
Wi' plenty o' labour,
An' healt