But were I laird o' Leven's glen, SLIGHTED LOVE. THE rosebud blushing to the morn, Were ne'er sae fair as thee, Mary! How blest was I, a little while, Though gear was scant, an' friends were few, That glanced sae saft on me, Mary! But wealth has won your heart frae me; May a' the bliss that gowd can gie, For ever wait on thee, Mary! For me, nae mair on earth I crave, But that yon drooping willow wave Its branches o'er my early grave, Forgot by love, an' thee, Mary! An' when that hallow'd spot you tread, Where wild-flowers bloom above my head, O look not on my grassy bed, Lest thou shouldst sigh for me, Mary ! GEORGE MACINDOE. GEORGE MACINDOE, chiefly known as the author of "A Million o' Potatoes," a humorous ballad, in the Scottish language, was born at Partick, near Glasgow, in 1771. He originally followed the occupation of a silk-weaver, in Paisley, which he early relinquished for the less irksome duties of a hotel-keeper in Glasgow. His hotel was a corner tenement, at the head of King Street, near St Giles' Church, Trongate; and here a club of young men, with which the poet Campbell was connected, were in the habit of holding weekly meetings. Campbell made a practice of retiring from the noisy society of the club to spend the remainder of the evenings in conversation with the intelligent host. After conducting the business of hotel-keeper in Glasgow, during a period of twenty-one years, Macindoe became insolvent, and was necessitated to abandon the concern. He returned to Paisley and resumed the loom, at the same time adding to his finances by keeping a small change-house, and taking part as an instrumental musician at the local concerts. He excelled in the use of the violin. Ingenious as a mechanic, and skilled in his original employment, he invented a machine for figuring on muslin, for which he received premiums from the City Corporation of Glasgow and the Board of Trustees. Macindoe was possessed of a lively temperament, and his conversation sparkled with wit and anecdote. His person was handsome, and his open manly countenance was adorned with bushy locks, which in old age, becoming snowy white, imparted to him a singularly venerable aspect. He claimed no merit as a poet, and only professed to be the writer of "incidental rhymes." In 1805, he published, in a thin duodecimo volume, "Poems and Songs, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," which he states, in the preface, he had laid before the public to gratify "the solicitations of friends." Of the compositions contained in this volume, the ballad entitled "A Million o' Potatoes," and the two songs which we have selected for this work, are alone worthy of preservation. In 1813, he published a second volume of poems and songs, entitled "The Wandering Muse;" and he occasionally contributed lyrics to the local periodicals. He died at Glasgow, on the 19th April 1848, in his seventy-seventh year, leaving a numerous family. His remains were interred at Anderston, Glasgow. The following remarks, regarding Macindoe's songs, have been kindly supplied by Mr Robert Chambers: "Amidst George Macindoe's songs are two distinguished by more clearness and less vulgarity than the rest. One of these, called 'The Burn Trout,' was composed on a real incident which it describes, namely, a supper, where the chief dish was a salmon, brought from Peebles to Glasgow by my father,* who, when learning his business, as a manufacturer, in the western city, about the end of the century, had formed an acquaintance with the poet. The other, entitled 'Cheese and Whisky,' which contains some very droll verses, was written in compliment to my maternal uncle, William Gibson, then also a young manufacturer, but who died about two months ago, a retired captain of the 90th regiment. The jocund hospitable disposition of Gibson-' Bachelor Willie'—and my father's social good-nature, are pleasingly recalled to me by Macindoe's verses, rough as they are. " June 1, 1855." * Mr James Chambers, of Peebles, who died in 1824. CHEESE AND WHISKY. TUNE-" The gude forgi me for leein"." BELIEVE me or doubt me, I dinna care whilk, I feast upon whisky, and cheese o' ewe milk, Your jams and your jellies, your sugars and teas, When patfou's o' kale, thick wi' barley and pease, As stoupfou's o' whisky, and platefou's o' cheese, Tho' the house where we 're sittin' were a' in a bleeze, I never could think about fleeing, But would guzzle the whisky, and rive at the cheese; Perhaps ye may think that I'm leeing, I'm leeing, Perhaps ye may think that I'm leeing. THE BURN TROUT. TUNE-" The gude forgi me for leein"." BRITHER Jamie cam west, wi' a braw burn trout, In the burn that rins by his grandmother's door Ae night fell asleep a wee piece frae the shore, An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller, the miller, An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller. This trout it was gutted an' dried on a nail Weel rubbed wi' saut, frae the head to the tail, This trout it was boil'd an' set ben on a plate, The banes and the tail, they were gi'en to the cat, When this trout it was eaten, we were a' like to rive, May ilk trout in the burn grow muckle an' thrive, |