_Garlands_, which, with a few honorable exceptions, are sad
abortions, mere channels for rhyme-struck editors. There is one peculiarity
of the midland songs and ballads which I do not remember to have seen
noticed, viz. their singular affinity to those of Scotland, as exhibited in
the collections of Scott and Motherwell. I have repeatedly noticed this,
even so far south as Gloucestershire. Of the old Staffordshire ballad which
appeared in your columns some months ago, I remember to have heard two
distinct versions in Warwickshire, all approaching more or less to the
Scottish type:

"Hame came our gude man at e'en."

Now whence this curious similarity in the vernacular ideology of districts
so remote? Are all the versions from one original, distributed by the
wandering minstrels, and in course of time adapted to new localities and
dialects? and, if so, whence came the original, from England or Scotland?
Here is a nut for DR. RIMBAULT, or some of your other correspondents
learned in popular poetry. Another instance also occurs to me. Most of your
readers are doubtless familiar with the pretty little ballad of "Lady Anne"
in the _Border Minstrelsy_, which relates so plaintively the murder of the
two innocent babes, and the ghostly retribution to the guilty mother. Other
versions are given by Kinloch in his _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, and by
Buchan in the _Songs of the North_, the former laying the scene in London:

"There lived a ladye in London,
All alone and alonie,
She's gane wi' bairn to the clerk's son,
Down by the green-wood side sae bonny."

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And the latter across the Atlantic:

"The minister's daughter of New York,
Hey with the rose and the Lindie, O,
Has fa'en in love wi' her father's clerk,
A' by the green burn sidie, O."

A Warwickshire version, on the contrary, places the scene on our own
"native leas:"

"There was a lady lived on lea,
All alone, alone O,
Down the greenwood side went she,
Down the greenwood side, O.

"She set her foot all on a thorn[1],
Down the greenwood side, O,
There she had two babies born,
All alone, alone O.

"O she had nothing to lap them in,
All alone, alone O,
But a white appurn and that was thin,
Down the greenwood side, O," &c.

Here there are no less than four versions of the same ballad, each
differing materially from the other, but all bearing unmistakeable marks of
a common origin. It would be inte