lers were subjected to hardships of which they were not aware. Winter overtook them whilst in the Gennesee country, on their return by the way of Albany; and they were compelled to trudge the greater part of their route through snow mid-leg deep. Of the two colleagues that accompanied Wilson, one tarried amongst his friends on the Cayuga lake, and the other gave out, and took the benefit of a more agreeable mode of travelling. But the hardy Wilson's pride would not permit him to be overcome by fatigue or difficulties. He manfully kept the road, refusing to be relieved even of his gun and baggage; and arrived at his home the 7th of Dec. having been absent 59 days, and traversed in that time upwards of 1200 miles. The last day he walked 47 miles. He remained four or five years as a teacher in the state of Pennsylvania, and was afterwards employed for about the same length of time as a land surveyor. He then became connected with Mr. Samuel Bradford, bookseller and stationer, of Philadelphia, in the capacity of editor. He soon distinguished himself as a man of genius and observation; and among other things which gained him the approbation of the inhabitants of that country, was an elegant work on American Ornithology, which, for accuracy of observation, and splendour of execution, has never been equalled by any publication in that quarter of the world. In pursuit of subjects for this performance he actually traversed a great part of the United States, and was enabled to pursue his favourite diversion of shooting. He killed the birds, drew their figures, and described them. There are few more particulars known of the life of Mr. Wilson; and we learn that he has since paid the debt of nature." THE FLOW'R O' DUMBLANE. THE Sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft faulding blossom, She's modest as onie, and blythe as she's bonnie; Wha'd blight in its bloom, the sweet flow'r o' Dumblane. HIE BONNIE LASSIE. HIE bonnie lassie blink over the burn, A ewe and twa lammies is a' my hale stock, But I'll gie't to my lassie, and mair if I had, I hae little siller, but ae hauf year's fee; KATE O' GOWRIE. TUNE-" Dainty Davie." WHEN Katie was scarce out nineteen, Quo' she, I winna marry thee, O my dear Katie, say nae sae, I fear nae want o' claise, nor nought, Thou'rt worth the Carse o' Gowrie. Sine on her mouth sweet kisses laid, Quo' he, let's to the auld fouk gang, The auld fouk syne baith gied consent, That she gaed hame to Gowrie. O'ER THE MIST SHROUDED CLIFTS. TUNE-" Banks of the Devon." O'ER the mist-shrouded clifts of the low mountain straying, Where the wild winds of winter incessantly rave; What woes wring my heart, while intently surveying The storm's gloomy path on the breast of the wave. Ye foam-crested billows allow me to wail, Ere ye toss me afar from my lov'd native shore; Where the flow'r which bloom'd sweetest in Coila's green vale, The pride of my bosom, my Mary's no more! No more by the banks of the streamlet we'll wander, THE HIGHLAND PLAID. LOWLAND lassie, wilt thou go When row'd within my Highland plaid. Soon the voice of cheerie Spring Will gar a' our plantings ring; * The Editor of this Work wishes not to be understood as accusing his readers of inattention to their immortal BURNS, when he introduces to their notice, as new to them, a fragment of his writings. It has never been published, so far as he knows, in any edition of his works, appearing sometime after its composi tion in the Ayr Advertiser. It was probably the Mary he has elsewhere so pathetically sung of, that excited this beautiful effusion, in which Scotia easily recognizes the genius of the first of her minstrels. |