SCOTLAND. Abbotsford. A FAREWELL TO ABBOTSFORD. THESE lines were given to Sir Walter Scott at the gate of Abbotsford, in the summer of 1829. He was then apparently in the vigor of an existence whose energies promised long continuance; and the glance of his quick, smiling eye, and the very sound of his kindly voice, seemed to kindle the gladness of his own sunny and benignant spirit in all who had the happiness of approaching him. OME of the gifted! fare thee well, HOME And a blessing on thee rest! While the heather waves its purple bell O'er moor and mountain crest; While stream to stream around thee calls, And braes with broom are dressed, While the high voice from thee sent forth Wakening the spirits of the North, Like a chieftain's gathering cry; While its deep master-tones hold sway Joy to the hearth and board and bower! And hearts of proof, and hands of power, While one proud pulse in the land can thrill, Felicia Hemans. NOT ABBOTSFORD. OT only for the Bard of highest worth, Do I invoke ye, Powers of Heaven and Earth! Shall we again behold his counterpart, So good and great, — benevolent as wise, How meekly hath he borne his faculties! A model to the irritable race, Of generous kindness, courtesy, and grace! Horace Smith." Aberdeen. KATE OF ABERDEEN. HE silver moon's enamored beam THE Steals softly through the night, To wanton with the winding stream, And kiss reflected light. To beds of state go, balmy sleep ('T is where you've seldom been), May's vigil while the shepherds keep With Kate of Aberdeen. Upon the green the virgins wait, Till morn unbars her golden gate, Strike up the tabor's boldest notes, We'll rouse the nodding grove; The nested birds shall raise their throats, And hail the maid I love. And see, - the matin lark mistakes, He quits the tufted green: Fond bird! 't is not the morning breaks, "T is Kate of Aberdeen. Now lightsome o'er the level mead, Like them the jocund dance we'll lead, For see, the rosy May draws nigh; And hark! the happy shepherds cry, 'T is Kate of Aberdeen. John Cunningham. JEAN OF ABERDEEN. I've seen the blooming rosy brier, YE' On stately Dee's wild woody knowes; Ye've seen the op'ning lily fair, In streamy Don's gay broomy howes; An' ilka bonnie flower that grows Amang their banks and braes sae green, These borrow a' their finest hues Frae lovely Jean of Aberdeen. Ye've seen the dew-eyed bloomy haw, When we're amang the braes alane, An' softer is the bosom-sigh Of lovely Jean of Aberdeen. Though I had a' the valleys gay Around the airy Bennochie, An' a' the fleecy flocks that stray Alexander Laing. BARCLAY OF URY. AMONG the earliest converts to the doctrines of Friends in Scotland was Barclay of Ury, an old and distinguished soldier, who had fought under Gustavus Adolphus in Germany. As a Quaker, he became the object of persecution and abuse at the hands of the magistrates and the populace. UP the streets of Aberdeen, By the kirk and college green, Close behind him, close beside, Flouted him the drunken churl, Prompt to please her master; And the begging carlin, late Yet, with calm and stately mien, |