ing a small
change-house, and taking part as an instrumental musician at the local
concerts. He excelled in the use of the violin. Ingenious as a mechanic,
and skilled in his original employment, he invented a machine for
figuring on muslin, for which he received premiums from the City
Corporation of Glasgow and the Board of Trustees.

Macindoe was possessed of a lively temperament, and his conversation
sparkled with wit and anecdote. His person was handsome, and his open
manly countenance was adorned with bushy locks, which in old age,
becoming snowy white, imparted to him a singularly venerable aspect. He
claimed no merit as a poet, and only professed to be the writer of
"incidental rhymes." In 1805, he published, in a thin duodecimo volume,
"Poems and Songs, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," which he states, in
the preface, he had laid before the public to gratify "the solicitations
of friends." Of the compositions contained in this volume, the ballad
entitled "A Million o' Potatoes," and the two songs which we have
selected for this work, are alone worthy of preservation. In 1813, he
published a second volume of poems and songs, entitled "The Wandering
Muse;" and he occasionally contributed lyrics to the local periodicals.
He died at Glasgow, on the 19th April 1848, in his seventy-seventh year,
leaving a numerous family. His remains were interred at Anderston,
Glasgow. The following remarks, regarding Macindoe's songs, have been
kindly supplied by Mr Robert Chambers:--

"Amidst George Macindoe's songs are two distinguished
by more clearness and less vulgarity than the rest. One
of these, called 'The Burn Trout,' was composed on a
real incident which it describes, namely, a supper,
where the chief dish was a salmon, brought from Peebles
to Glasgow by my father,[69] who, when learning his
business, as a manufacturer, in the western city, about
the end of the century, had formed an acquaintance with
the poet. The other, entitled 'Cheese and Whisky,'
which contains some very droll verses, was written in
compliment to my maternal uncle, William Gibson, then
also a young manufacturer, but who died about two
months ago, a retired captain of the 90th regiment. The
jocund hospitable disposition of Gibson--'Bachelor
Willie'--and my father's social good-nature, are
pleasingly recalled to me by Macindoe's verses, rough
as they are.