O lodger in the sea-king's halls! couldst thou but un derstand Whose be the white bones by thy side, or who that dripping band, Slow swaying in the heaving waves, that round about thee bend, Which sounds like breakers in a dream, blessing their ancient friend Oh, couldst thou know what heroes glide, with larger steps round thee, Thine iron side would swell with pride; thou'dst leap within the sea! Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand, To shed their blood so freely for the love of FatherlandWho left their chance of quiet age and grassy church yard grave So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing waveOh, though our Anchor may not be all I have fondly sung, Honor him for their memory, whose bones he goes among. FERGUSSON, ROBERT, a Scottish poet, born at Edinburgh, September 5, 1750; died there, October 16, 1774. He was a copying clerk in a lawyer's office, and was wont to relieve the monotony of his daily labor by writing verse and in conviviality. The doings of a social club to which he belonged, and in which his fine voice made him a favorite, are celebrated in Auld Reekie, the best of his poems. In 1773 a collection of his poems was published. He had already manifested symptoms of mental disease; these were aggravated by a fall by which his head was injured, and he was placed in a public asylum, where he died. A copy of his poems fell into the hands of Burns, and had much to do in shaping the bent of his poetical genius. Burns thus apostrophizes his precursor: "Oh thou my elder brother in misfortune, In 1787 Burns sought out the unmarked grave of Fergusson in the Canongate burying-ground, and caused a memorial-stone to be placed by it, upon one side of which is this inscription: "By special grant of the managers to Robert Burns, who erected this stone, this burial-place is to remain forever sacred to the memory of Robert Fergusson." AN EDINBURGH SUNDAY. On Sunday, here an altered scene O' men and manners meets our een. Ane wad maist trow, some people chose To change their faces wi' their clo'es, And fain wad gar ilk neighbor think They thirst for guidness as for drink; But there's an unco dearth o' grace, That has nae mansion but the face, And never can obtain a part In benmost corner of the heart. Why should religion mak us sad If good frae virtue's to be had? Na: rather gleefu' turn your face, Forsake hypocrisy, grimace; And never hae it understood You fleg mankind frae being good. In afternoon, a' brawly buskit, The joes and lasses lo'e to frisk it. Some tak a great delight to place The modest bon-grace ower the face, Though you may see, if so inclined, The turning o' the leg behind. Now, Comedy-Garden and the Park Refresh them, after forenoon's wark: Newhaven, Leith, or Canonmills, Supply them wi' their Sunday's gills, Where writers aften spend their pence, To stock their heads wi' drink and sense. While danderin' cits delight to stray, To Castle-hill or public way, Where they nae other purpose mean Than that fool cause o' being seen, Let me to Arthur's seat pursue, Where bonny pastures meet the view, And mony a wild-lorn scene accrues, Befitting Willie Shakespeare's muse If Fancy there would join the thrang, The desert rocks and hills amang, To echoes we should lilt and play, And gie to mirth the livelang day. Or should some cankered biting shower For, oh, wae 's me! the thistle springs Our palace and our ancient state. VOL. X.-4 -Auld Reekie. FERRIER, SUSAN EDMONSTON, a Scottish novelist, born at Edinburgh, September 7, 1782; died there, November 5, 1854. Her father, James Ferrier, was for a time one of the Clerks of the Court of Sessions with Sir Walter Scott. She herself was an intimate friend of the author of Waverley, and contributed much to relieve the sadness which overclouded the later years of his life. She wrote only three novels: Marriage (1818); The Inheritance (1824), and Destiny (1831). These novels were all published anonymously, and by many the authorship was attributed to Scott. Thus in the Noctes Ambrosiana (November, 1826), the Ettrick Shepherd is made to say: "I aye thocht that The Inheritance was written by Sir Walter as weel's Marriage, till it spunked out that it was written by a leddy." Sir Walter was wont to give Miss Ferrier a high place among the novelists of the day. In his diary for March 27, 1826, after speaking of a new novel which he had been reading, he says: "The women do this better. Edgeworth, Ferrier, Austen, have all given portraits of real society far superior to anything man-vain man-has produced of the like nature." MISS VIOLET MACSHAKE. As soon as she recognized her grand nephew, Mr. Douglas, she welcomed him with much cordiality, shook him long and heartily by the hand, patted him on the |