ich the greater portion was written by Alexander, was
published in 1838; their joint-treatise on "Practical Economy" in the
year following. In 1843, Alexander published a small volume of tales,
entitled "The Scottish Peasant's Fireside," which was favourably
received. During the same year he was offered the editorship of the
_Dumfries Standard_ newspaper, with a salary of L100 a-year, but he was
unable to accept the appointment from impaired health. He died at Mount
Pleasant, near Newburgh, on the 13th June 1843, and his remains were
interred in his brother's grave in Abdie churchyard. An interesting
volume of his Memoirs, "embracing Selections from his Correspondence and
Literary Memoirs," was published in 1845 by Mr William M'Combie.

WITHER'D FLOWERS.

Adieu! ye wither'd flow'rets!
Your day of glory's past;
But your latest smile was loveliest,
For we knew it was your last.
No more the sweet aroma
Of your golden cups shall rise,
To scent the morning's stilly breath,
Or gloaming's zephyr-sighs.

Ye were the sweetest offerings
Which Friendship could bestow--
A token of devoted love
In pleasure or in woe!
Ye graced the head of infancy,
By soft affection twined
Into a fairy coronal
Its sunny brows to bind.

* * * * *

But ah! a dreary blast hath blown
Athwart you in your bloom,
And, pale and sickly, now your leaves
The hues of death assume.
We mourn your vanish'd loveliness,
Ye sweet departed flowers;
For ah! the fate which blighted you
An emblem is of ours.

* * * * *
And though, like you, sweet flowers of earth,
We wither and depart,
And leave behind, to mourn our loss,
Full many an aching heart;
Yet when the winter of the grave
Is past, we hope to rise,
Warm'd by the Sun of Righteousness,
To blossom in the skies.

A SPRING SONG.

There is a concert in the trees,
There is a concert on the hill,
There 's melody in every breeze,
And music in the murmuring rill.
The shower is past, the winds are still,
The fields are green, the flow'rets spring,
The birds, and bees, and beetles fill
The air with harmony, and fling
The rosied moisture of the leaves
In frolic flight from wing to wing,
Fretting the spider as h