y emigrating
to the United States, he has for some years been engaged in mercantile
concerns at New York.

Latto first became known as a song-writer in the pages of
"Whistle-binkie." In 1845 he edited a poem, entitled "The Minister's
Kail-yard," which, with a number of lyrics of his own composition,
appeared in a duodecimo volume. To the "Book of Scottish Song" he made
several esteemed contributions. Verses from his pen have appeared in
_Blackwood's_ and _Tait's Magazines_.

THE KISS AHINT THE DOOR.

TUNE--_"There 's nae Luck about the House."_

There 's meikle bliss in ae fond kiss,
Whiles mair than in a score;
But wae betak' the stouin smack
I took ahint the door.

O laddie, whisht! for sic a fricht
I ne'er was in afore;
Fou brawly did my mither hear
The kiss ahint the door.
The wa's are thick--ye needna fear;
But, gin they jeer and mock,
I 'll swear it was a startit cork,
Or wyte the rusty lock.
There 's meikle bliss, &c.

We stappit ben, while Maggie's face
Was like a lowin' coal;
An' as for me, I could hae crept
Into a mouse's hole.
The mither look't--saffs how she look't!--
Thae mithers are a bore,
An' gleg as ony cat to hear
A kiss ahint the door.
Their 's meikle bliss, &c.

The douce gudeman, tho' he was there,
As weel micht been in Rome,
For by the fire he puff'd his pipe,
An' never fash'd his thumb;
But, titterin' in a corner, stood
The gawky sisters four--
A winter's nicht for me they micht
Hae stood ahint the door.
There 's meikle bliss, &c.

"How daur ye tak' sic freedoms here?"
The bauld gudewife began;
Wi' that a foursome yell got up--
I to my heels and ran.
A besom whiskit by my lug,
An' dishclouts half-a-score:
Catch me again, tho' fidgin' fain,
At kissin 'hint the door.
There 's meikle bliss, &c.

THE WIDOW'S AE BIT LASSIE.

TUNE--_"My only Jo and Dearie, O!"_

Oh, guess ye wha I met yestreen
On Kenly banks sae grassy, O!
Wha cam' to bless my waitin' een?--
The widow's ae bit lassie, O!
She brak' my gloamin' dream sae sweet,
Just whaur the wimplin' burnies meet;
The smother'd laugh--I flew to greet
The widow's ae bit lassie, O!

They glintit slee--the moon and she--
T