00] The origin of the air is somewhat amusing. The Rev. Mr Gardner,
minister of Birse, in Aberdeenshire, known for his humour and musical
talents, was one evening playing over on his Cremona the notes of an air
he had previously jotted down, when a curious scene arrested his
attention in the courtyard of the manse. His man "Jock," who had lately
been a weaver in the neighbouring village, had rudely declined to wipe
the minister's shoes, as requested by Mrs Gardner, when the enraged
matron, snatching a culinary utensil, administered a hearty drubbing to
the shoulders of the impudent boor, and compelled him to execute her
orders. The minister witnessing the proceeding from the window, was
highly diverted, and gave the air he had just completed the title of
"Jenny Dang the Weaver." This incident is said to have occurred in the
year 1746.

THE LASS O' ISLA.

"Ah, Mary, sweetest maid, farewell!
My hopes are flown, for a 's to wreck;
Heaven guard you, love, and heal your heart,
Though mine, alas, alas! maun break."

"Dearest lad, what ills betide?
Is Willie to his love untrue?
Engaged the morn to be his bride,
Ah! hae ye, hae ye, ta'en the rue?"

"Ye canna wear a ragged gown,
Or beggar wed wi' nought ava;
My kye are drown'd, my house is down,
My last sheep lies aneath the snaw."

"Tell na me o' storm or flood,
Or sheep a' smoor'd ayont the hill;
For Willie's sake I Willie lo'ed,
Though poor, ye are my Willie still."

"Ye canna thole the wind and rain,
Or wander friendless far frae hame;
Cheer, cheer your heart, some other swain
Will soon blot out lost Willie's name."

"I 'll tak my bundle in my hand,
An' wipe the dew-drop frae my e'e;
I 'll wander wi' ye ower the land;
I 'll venture wi' ye ower the sea."

"Forgi'e me, love, 'twas all a snare,
My flocks are safe, we needna part;
I 'd forfeit them and ten times mair
To clasp thee, Mary, to my heart."

"How could ye wi' my feelings sport,
Or doubt a heart sae warm and true?
I maist could wish ye mischief for 't,
But canna wish ought ill to you."

TASTE LIFE'S GLAD MOMENTS.[101]

Taste life's glad moments,
Whilst the wasting taper glows;
Pluck, ere it withers,
The quickly-fading rose.

Man blindly follows grief and care,
He seeks for tho