DAY DREAMS OF OTHER YEARS.

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DAY DREAMS OF OTHER YEARS.

THERE are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years,

And time long, long departed, like the present still appears; And I revel in the sunshine of those happy, happy hours, When the sky of youth was cloudless, and its path was strewn with flowers.

Oh, those days of dreamy sweetness! Oh, those visions of delight!

Weaving garlands for the future, making all of earth too bright;

They come creeping through my memory like messengers of

peace,

Telling tales of bygone blessings, bidding present sorrows

cease.

Long lost friends are gathering round me, smiling faces, gentle forms,

All unconscious of earth's struggles, all unmindful of its

storms

Beaming radiantly and beautiful, as in the days of youth, When friendship was no mockery, when every thought was truth.

Joy, illuming every bosom, made fair nature fairer still— Mirth sported on each summer breeze, and sung on every rill; Beauty gleaming all around us, bright as dreams of fairyland

Oh, faded now that lustre, scattered far that happy band.

Now deeply traced with sorrow is the once unclouded brow, And eyes that sparkled joyously are dim with weeping now; We are tasting life in earnest-all its vain illusions goneAnd the stars that glistened o'er our path are falling one by one.

Some are sleeping with their kindred-summer blossoms o'er them wave;

Some, lonely and unfriended, with the stranger found a grave; While others now are wandering on a far and foreign shore, And that happy, loving company shall meet-ah! never more.

But afar in memory's garden, like a consecrated spot,
The heart's first hopes are hidden, and can never be forgot;
And the light that cheered us onward, in our early, airy days,
Oft we linger in the distance to look back upon its rays.

Old Time, with hand relentless, may shed ruins o'er the earth, May strew our path with sorrow, make a desert of our

hearth

Change may blight our fairest blossoms, shroud our clearest light in gloom,

But the flowery fields of early years, shall never lose their bloom.

MARGARET CRAWFORD, OF CARNWATH.

NEWBIGGIN NELL.

O Newbiggin Nell, sweet Newbiggin Nell,
I ne'er saw a lassie like Newbiggin Nell!
O' a' the braw lassies that trip to the well,
There was ne'er ane to me like Newbiggin Nell.

O Newbiggin Nell is so bonnie and braw,
And Newbiggin Nell is the flower o' them a';
Our strong-lunged precentor, na' Baitlaw himsel',
Ne'er sung of a fairer than Newbiggin Nell!

Her breath is as sweet as the flower of the haw,
Her neck is as white as the new driven snaw,
Her cheek is as fair as the red heather bell-
O! there ne'er was a lassie like Newbiggin Nell!

THE COVENANTERS IN CARNWATH MOOR.

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There's a lad in Dunsyre, fu' campie and crouse,
That fain wad hae Nelly to keep his bit house,
But she bade him gang hame to his auld Kirkland Bell!
And no come a-courtin' to Newbiggin Nell!

The Dolphington dandie was a' fidgen fain,
To get bonnie Nell for a wife o' his ain;
But she bade him gang back to Dolphington Dell,
And come nae mair a-courtin' to Newbiggin Nell!

O Newbiggin Nell has a dark rollin' e'e,
And kindly and sweetly she smiles upon me;
And I'll lay my life, to an auld mason's mell,

I'm the lad that will marry sweet Newbiggin Nell!

Nell was a comely damsel in the employment of the late Mr. Ritchie, farmer, Newbigging.

THE COVENANTERS IN CARNWATH MOOR.

THE moors and the mountains of Scotland were red,
With the blood of our best and our dearest ;
And the martyr's narrow and lonely bed,

Rose afar in the solitudes drearest.

Thick lay the mist over Clyde's lovely vale,

And slowly the morning was breaking;

O'er the dark woods of Kersewell the stars glimmered pale,
And the blackbird her song was awaking.

Then bright rose the sun o'er the moors of Carnwath,
And the laverock was merrily singing;

The cry of the moorcock in Falla's green Strath,
From the yelpin' Craigs echoes were ringing.

The dew glistened bright on the red heather bells,
The wild flowers in beauty were blooming;
And far o'er the vales, and the high mountain fells,
The wild bees in thousands were humming.

The butterfly danced in the gay sunny beam,
, And wantoned from blossom to blossom;
The speckled trout sprang from the dazzling stream,
At the fly sailing over its bosom.

When afar in the wilds of the moors of Carnwath,
The faithful and few met together,

Undaunted by threatenings of torture and death,
In a valley of sweet blooming heather.

There was Denholm the bold, from the shades of Westshield,
The cottars of lone Auchingray;

And the stern Laird of Kersewell had met on the field,
With his tenants around him to pray.

The preacher was Peden, the fearless and bold,
And around him the scattered flocks gathered,
As sheep seek the home of the sheltering fold
When a rude, stormy day has been weathered.

Aloud rose the psalm with melodious swell,

And each heart was attuned for devotion, When a sign from the watch on Cobbenshaw Fell, Shewed the ruthless dragoons were in motion.

Then fervent, though briefly, the minister prayed,
"O God of our fathers, our safety be,

And shield us, O Lord, from his merciless raid
Who comes to destroy us for worshipping Thee?"

Then all sought in haste the mossy retreat,
And the brown heather's friendly cover;

Claverhouse soon arrived, but nothing could meet
Save the cry of the moorfowl and plover.

But he saw from the marks on the fresh trodden heath,
That a meeting had lately been there,

Of those whom he hunted o'er mountain and strath,
For seeking the Saviour in prayer.

BUNDLE AND GO.

He raged and be fumed, he stormed and blasphemed,
Disappointed at losing his prey;

And scoured every glen with his merciless men,
To find where the fugitives lay.

Oft he passed and repassed in hot, fiery haste,
Where in trembling concealment they lay;
But searched all in vain over mountain and plain,
Then slowly at last rode away.

O, happy are they who the statutes obey
Of creation's Omnipotent King;

Though destruction and wrath be around their path,
Safety and peace He can suddenly bring.

And even though the worst on their heads should burst,
With composure, with triumph they die;

For the Saviour they love is in heaven above,
And their home is with Him in the sky.

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This meeting was held on the farm of Woolfords. A large stone on which the preacher stood still bears the name of "Peden's Poopit.' Sir William Denholm, of Westshield, was attainted, confiscated, and sentenced to be executed, as soon as he could be apprehended. He was implicated in Argyle's attempt to revolutionise the country. He concealed himself 14 days in Cranly Moss, near Westshield House, which was then occupied by a party of dragoons sent to apprehend him. He escaped to Holland; returned with William; had his estates restored, and was for many years M.P. for Lanark, and Master of the Mint. The stern Laird of Kersewell was Sir Robert Chiesly, a gentleman of considerable influence among the Covenanters. He acted as one of the agents for that body when in arms, to attempt a pacific arrangement with Charles I.

BUNDLE AND GO.

"FRAE the foot o' the Tintoc, where Clyde rins sae smoothly, And lasses and lads sing o' love a' the day,

I'm come, my dear lassie, to mak' my last offer,
Sae mak' up your mind noo, and dinna delay.

E