Part 19

On his first connexion with the Excise, Mr Train turned his attention to the most efficient means of checking illicit distillation in the Highlands; and an essay which he prepared, suggesting improved legislation on the subject, was in 1815 laid before the Board of Excise and Customs, and transmitted with their approval to the Lords of the Treasury. His suggestions afterwards became the subject of statutory enactment. At this period, he began a correspondence with Mr George Chalmers, author of the "Caledonia," supplying him with much valuable information for the third volume of that great work. He had shortly before traced the course of an ancient wall known as the "Deil's Dyke," for a distance of eighty miles from the margin of Lochryan, in Wigtonshire, to Hightae, in Lochmaben, Dumfriesshire, and an account of this remarkable structure, together with a narrative of his discovery of Roman remains in Wigtonshire, greatly interested his indefatigable correspondent. In 1820, through the kindly offices of Sir Walter, he was appointed Supervisor. In this position he was employed to officiate at Cupar-Fife and at Kirkintilloch. He was stationed in succession at South Queensferry, Falkirk, Wigton, Dumfries, and Castle-Douglas. From these various districts he procured curious gleanings for Sir Walter, and objects of antiquity for the armory at Abbotsford.

Mr Train contributed to the periodicals both in prose and verse. Many of his compositions were published in the _Dumfries Magazine_, _Bennett's Glasgow Magazine_, and the _Ayr Courier_ and _Dumfries Courier_ newspapers. An interesting tale from his pen, entitled "Mysie and the Minister," appeared in the thirtieth number of _Chambers' Edinburgh Journal_; he contributed the legend of "Sir Ulrick Macwhirter" to Mr Robert Chambers' "Picture of Scotland," and made several gleanings in Galloway for the "Popular Rhymes of Scotland," published by the same gentleman. He had long contemplated the publication of a description of Galloway, and he ultimately afforded valuable assistance to the Rev. William Mackenzie in preparing his history of that district. Mr Train likewise rendered useful aid to several clergymen in Galloway, in drawing up the statistical accounts of their parishes,--a service which was suitably acknowledged by the writers.

Having obtained from Sir Walter Scott a copy of Waldron's "Description of the Isle of Man," a very scarce and curious work, Mr Train conceived the idea of writing a history of that island. In the course of his researches, he accidentally discovered a M.S. volume containing one hundred and eight acts of the Manx Legislature, prior to the accession of the Atholl family to that kingdom. Of this acquisition he transmitted a transcript to Sir Walter, along with several Manx traditions, as an appropriate acknowledgment for the donation he had received. In 1845 he published his "History of the Isle of Man," in two large octavo volumes. His last work was a curious and interesting history of a religious sect, well known in the south of Scotland by the name of "The Buchanites." After a period of twenty-eight years' service in the Excise, Mr Train had his name placed on the retired list. He continued to reside at Castle-Douglas, in a cottage pleasantly situated on the banks of Carlingwark Lake. To the close of his career, he experienced pleasure in literary composition. He died at Lochvale, Castle-Douglas, on the 7th December 1852. His widow, with one son and one daughter, survive. A few months after his death, a pension of fifty pounds on the Civil List was conferred by the Queen on his widow and daughter, "in consequence of his personal services to literature, and the valuable aid derived by the late Sir Walter Scott from his antiquarian and literary researches prosecuted under Sir Walter's direction."

[114] Mr Train published, in 1806, a small volume, entitled "Poetical Reveries."

[115] Sir Walter Scott was convinced of the accuracy of the statement, regarding the extraordinary connexion between the Wellesley and Bonaparte families, and deferred publishing it only to avoid giving offence to his intimate friend, the Duke of Wellington.

MY DOGGIE.

AIR--_"There 's cauld kail in Aberdeen."_

The neighbours a' they wonder how I am sae ta'en wi' Maggie, But ah! they little ken, I trow, How kind she 's to my doggie. Yestreen as we linked o'er the lea, To meet her in the gloamin'; She fondly on my Bawtie cried, Whene'er she saw us comin'.

But was the tyke not e'en as kind, Though fast she beck'd to pat him; He louped up and slaked her cheek, Afore she could win at him. But save us, sirs, when I gaed in, To lean me on the settle, Atween my Bawtie and the cat There rose an awfu' battle.

An' though that Maggie saw him lay His lugs in bawthron's coggie, She wi' the besom lounged poor chit, And syne she clapp'd my doggie. Sae weel do I this kindness feel, Though Mag she isna bonnie, An' though she 's feckly twice my age, I lo'e her best of ony.

May not this simple ditty show, How oft affection catches, And from what silly sources, too, Proceed unseemly matches; An' eke the lover he may see, Albeit his joe seem saucy, If she is kind unto his dog, He 'll win at length the lassie.

BLOOMING JESSIE.

On this unfrequented plain, What can gar thee sigh alane, Bonnie blue-eyed lassie? Is thy mammy dead and gane, Or thy loving Jamie slain? Wed anither, mak nae main, Bonnie, blooming Jessie.

Though I sob and sigh alane, I was never wed to ane, Quo' the blue-eyed lassie. But if loving Jamie's slain, Farewell pleasure, welcome pain, A' the joy wi' him is gane O' poor hapless Jessie.

Ere he cross'd the raging sea, Was he ever true to thee, Bonnie, blooming Jessie? Was he ever frank and free? Swore he constant aye to be? Did he on the roseate lea Ca' thee blooming Jessie?

Ere he cross'd the raging sea, Aft he on the dewy lea, Ca'd me blue-eyed lassie. Weel I mind his words to me, Were, if he abroad should die, His last throb and sigh should be, Bonnie, blooming Jessie.

Far frae hame, and far frae thee, I saw loving Jamie die, Bonnie blue-eyed lassie. Fast a cannon ball did flee, Laid him stretch'd upo' the lea, Soon in death he closed his e'e, Crying, "Blooming Jessie."

Swelling with a smother'd sigh, Rose the snowy bosom high Of the blue-eyed lassie. Fleeter than the streamers fly, When they flit athwart the sky, Went and came the rosy dye On the cheeks of Jessie.

Longer wi' sic grief oppress'd Jamie couldna sae distress'd See the blue-eyed lassie. Fast he clasp'd her to his breast, Told her a' his dangers past, Vow'd that he would wed at last Bonnie, blooming Jessie.

OLD SCOTIA.

I 've loved thee, old Scotia, and love thee I will, Till the heart that now beats in my bosom is still. My forefathers loved thee, for often they drew Their dirks in defence of thy banners of blue; Though murky thy glens, where the wolf prowl'd of yore, And craggy thy mountains, where cataracts roar, The race of old Albyn, when danger was nigh, For thee stood resolved still to conquer or die.

I love yet to roam where the beacon-light rose, Where echoed thy slogan, or gather'd thy foes, Whilst forth rush'd thy heroic sons to the fight, Opposing the stranger who came in his might. I love through thy time-fretted castles to stray, The mould'ring halls of thy chiefs to survey; To grope through the keep, and the turret explore, Where waved the blue flag when the battle was o'er.

I love yet to roam o'er each field of thy fame, Where valour has gain'd thee a glorious name; I love where the cairn or the cromlach is made, To ponder, for low there the mighty are laid. Were these fall'n heroes to rise from their graves, They might deem us dastards, they might deem us slaves; But let a foe face thee, raise fire on each hill, Thy sons, my dear Scotia, will fight for thee still!

ROBERT JAMIESON.

An intelligent antiquary, an elegant scholar, and a respectable writer of verses, Robert Jamieson was born in Morayshire about the year 1780. At an early age he became classical assistant in the school of Macclesfield in Cheshire. About the year 1800 he proceeded to the shores of the Baltic, to occupy an appointment in the Academy of Riga. Prior to his departure, he had formed the scheme of publishing a collection of ballads recovered from tradition, and on his return to Scotland he resumed his plan with the ardour of an enthusiast. In 1806 he published, in two octavo volumes, "Popular Ballads and Songs, from Tradition, Manuscripts, and Scarce Editions; with Translations of Similar Pieces from the Ancient Danish Language, and a few Originals by the Editor." In the preparation of this work, he acknowledges his obligations to Dr Jamieson, author of the "History of the Culdees," Dr Robert Anderson, editor of the "British Poets," Dr John Leyden, and some others. On the recommendation of Sir Walter Scott he was received into the General Register House, as assistant to the Deputy-Clerk-Register, in the publication of the public records. He held this office till 1836, during a period of thirty years. Subsequently he resided at Newhaven, near Edinburgh, and ultimately in London, where he died on the 24th of September 1844. Familiar with the northern languages, he edited, conjointly with Sir Walter Scott and Henry Weber, a learned work, entitled "Illustrations of Northern Antiquities from the Earlier Teutonic and Scandinavian Romances." Edinburgh, 1814, quarto. In 1818 he published, with some contributions from Scott, a new edition of Burt's "Letters from the North of Scotland."

Mr Jamieson was of the middle size, of muscular form, and of strongly-marked features. As a literary antiquary, he was held in high estimation by the men of learning in the capital. As a poet he composed several songs in early life, which are worthy of a place among the modern minstrelsy of his country.

MY WIFE 'S A WINSOME WEE THING.

TUNE--_"My Wife 's a wanton wee Thing."_

My wife 's a winsome wee thing, A bonnie, blythesome wee thing, My dear, my constant wee thing, And evermair sall be; It warms my heart to view her, I canna choose but lo'e her, And oh! weel may I trow her How dearly she lo'es me!

For though her face sae fair be, As nane could ever mair be; And though her wit sae rare be, As seenil do we see; Her beauty ne'er had gain'd me, Her wit had ne'er enchain'd me, Nor baith sae lang retain'd me, But for her love to me.

When wealth and pride disown'd me, A' views were dark around me, And sad and laigh she found me, As friendless worth could be; When ither hope gaed frae me, Her pity kind did stay me, And love for love she ga'e me; And that 's the love for me.

And, till this heart is cald, I That charm of life will hald by; And, though my wife grow auld, my Leal love aye young will be; For she 's my winsome wee thing, My canty, blythesome wee thing, My tender, constant wee thing, And evermair sall be.

GO TO HIM, THEN, IF THOU CAN'ST GO.

Go to him, then, if thou can'st go, Waste not a thought on me; My heart and mind are a' my store, And they were dear to thee. But there is music in his gold (I ne'er sae sweet could sing), That finds a chord in every breast In unison to ring.

The modest virtues dread the spell, The honest loves retire, The purer sympathies of soul Far other charms require. The breathings of my plaintive reed Sink dying in despair, The still small voice of gratitude, Even that is heard nae mair.

But, if thy heart can suffer thee, The powerful call obey, And mount the splendid bed that wealth And pride for thee display. Then gaily bid farewell to a' Love's trembling hopes and fears, While I my lanely pillow here Wash with unceasing tears.

Yet, in the fremmit arms of him That half thy worth ne'er knew, Oh! think na on my lang-tried love, How tender and how true! For sure 'twould break thy gentle heart My breaking heart to see, Wi' a' the wrangs and waes it 's tholed, And yet maun thole for thee.

WALTER WATSON.

Walter Watson was the son of a handloom weaver in the village of Chryston, in the parish of Calder, and county of Lanark, where he was born, on the 29th March 1780. Having a family of other two sons and four daughters, his parents could only afford to send him two years to school; when at the age of eight, he was engaged as a cow-herd. During the winter months he still continued to receive instructions from the village schoolmaster. At the age of eleven his father apprenticed him to a weaver; but he had contracted a love for the fields, and after a few years at the loom he hired himself as a farm-servant. In the hope of improving his circumstances, he proceeded to Glasgow, where he was employed as a sawyer. He now enlisted in the Scots Greys; but after a service of only three years, he was discharged, in June 1802, on the reduction of the army, subsequent to the peace of Amiens. At Chryston he resumed his earliest occupation, and, having married, resolved to employ himself for life at the loom. His spare hours were dedicated to the muse, and his compositions were submitted to criticism at the social meetings of his friends. Encouraged by their approval, he published in 1808 a small volume of poems and songs, which, well received, gained him considerable reputation as a versifier. Some of the songs at once became popular. In 1820 he removed from Chryston, and accepted employment as a sawyer in the villages of Banton and Arnbrae, in Kilsyth; in 1826 he proceeded to Kirkintilloch, where he resumed the labours of the loom; in 1830 he changed his abode to Craigdarroch, in the parish of Calder, from which, in other five years, he removed to Lennoxtown of Campsie, where he and several of his family were employed in an extensive printwork. To Craigdarroch he returned at the end of two years; in other seven years he made a further change to Auchinairn which, in 1849, he left for Duntiblae, in Kirkintilloch. He died at the latter place on the 13th September 1854, in his seventy-fifth year. His remains were interred at Chryston, within a few yards of the house in which he was born. His widow, the "Maggie" of his songs, still survives, with only four of their ten children.

Besides the volume already mentioned, Watson published a small collection of miscellaneous poems in 1823, and a third volume in 1843. A selection of his best pieces was published during the year previous to his death, under the superintendence of several friends in Glasgow, with a biographical preface by Mr Hugh Macdonald. The proceeds of this volume, which was published by subscription, tended to the comfort of the last months of the poet's life. On two different occasions during his advanced years, he received public entertainments, and was presented with substantial tokens of esteem. Of amiable dispositions, modest demeanour, and industrious habits, he was beloved by all to whom he was known. His poems generally abound in genuine Scottish humour, but his reputation will rest upon a few of his songs, which have deservedly obtained a place in the affections of his countrymen.

MY JOCKIE 'S FAR AWA'.

Now simmer decks the fields wi' flowers, The woods wi' leaves so green, An' little burds around their bowers In harmony convene; The cuckoo flees frae tree to tree, While saft the zephyrs blaw, But what are a' thae joys to me, When Jockie 's far awa'? When Jockie 's far awa' on sea, When Jockie 's far awa'; But what are a' thae joys to me, When Jockie 's far awa'?

Last May mornin', how sweet to see The little lambkins play, Whilst my dear lad, alang wi' me, Did kindly walk this way! On yon green bank wild flowers he pou'd, To busk my bosom braw; Sweet, sweet he talk'd, and aft he vow'd, But now he 's far awa'. But now, &c.

O gentle peace, return again, Bring Jockie to my arms, Frae dangers on the raging main, An' cruel war's alarms; Gin e'er we meet, nae mair we 'll part While we hae breath to draw; Nor will I sing, wi' aching heart, My Jockie 's far awa'; My Jockie 's far awa,' &c.

MAGGIE AN' ME.

AIR--_"The Banks o' the Dee."_

The sweets o' the simmer invite us to wander Amang the wild flowers, as they deck the green lea, An' by the clear burnies that sweetly meander, To charm us, as hameward they rin to the sea; The nestlin's are fain the saft wing to be tryin', As fondly the dam the adventure is eyein', An' teachin' her notes, while wi' food she 's supplyin' Her tender young offspring, like Maggie an' me.

The corn in full ear, is now promisin' plenty, The red clusterin' row'ns bend the witch-scarrin' tree, While lapt in its leaves lies the strawberry dainty, As shy to receive the embrace o' the bee. Then hope, come alang, an' our steps will be pleasant, The future, by thee, is made almost the present; Thou frien' o' the prince an' thou frien' o' the peasant, Thou lang hast befriended my Maggie an' me.

Ere life was in bloom we had love in our glances, An' aft I had mine o' her bonnie blue e'e, We needit nae art to engage our young fancies, 'Twas done ere we kent, an' we own't it wi' glee. Now pleased, an' aye wishin' to please ane anither, We 've pass'd twenty years since we buckled thegither, An' ten bonnie bairns, lispin' faither an' mither, Hae toddled fu' fain atween Maggie an' me.

SIT DOWN, MY CRONIE.[116]

Come sit down, my cronie, an' gie me your crack, Let the win' tak the cares o' this life on its back, Our hearts to despondency we ne'er will submit, We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet; An' sae will we yet, an' sae will we yet, We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet.

Let 's ca' for a tankar' o' nappy brown ale, It will comfort our hearts an' enliven our tale, We 'll aye be the merrier the langer that we sit, We 've drunk wi' ither mony a time, an' sae will we yet, An' sae will we yet, &c.

Sae rax me your mill, an' my nose I will prime, Let mirth an' sweet innocence employ a' our time; Nae quarr'lin' nor fightin' we here will permit, We 've parted aye in unity, an' sae will we yet, An' sae will we yet, &c.

[116] The last stanza of this song has, on account of its Bacchanalian tendency, been omitted.

BRAES O' BEDLAY.[117]

AIR--_"Hills o' Glenorchy."_

When I think on the sweet smiles o' my lassie, My cares flee awa' like a thief frae the day; My heart loups licht, an' I join in a sang Amang the sweet birds on the braes o' Bedlay. How sweet the embrace, yet how honest the wishes, When luve fa's a-wooin', an' modesty blushes, Whaur Mary an' I meet amang the green bushes That screen us sae weel, on the braes o' Bedlay.

There 's nane sae trig or sae fair as my lassie, An' mony a wooer she answers wi' "Nay," Wha fain wad hae her to lea' me alane, An' meet me nae mair on the braes o' Bedlay. I fearna, I carena, their braggin' o' siller, Nor a' the fine things they can think on to tell her, Nae vauntin' can buy her, nae threatnin' can sell her, It 's luve leads her out to the braes o' Bedlay.

We 'll gang by the links o' the wild rowin' burnie, Whaur aft in my mornin' o' life I did stray, Whaur luve was invited and cares were beguiled By Mary an' me, on the braes o' Bedlay. Sae luvin', sae movin', I 'll tell her my story, Unmixt wi' the deeds o' ambition for glory, Whaur wide spreadin' hawthorns, sae ancient and hoary, Enrich the sweet breeze on the braes o' Bedlay.

[117] The braes of Bedlay are in the neighbourhood of Chryston, about seven miles north of Glasgow.

JESSIE.

AIR--_"Hae ye seen in the calm dewy mornin'."_

Hae ye been in the North, bonnie lassie, Whaur Glaizert rins pure frae the fell, Whaur the straight stately beech staun's sae gaucy, An' luve lilts his tale through the dell? O! then ye maun ken o' my Jessie, Sae blythesome, sae bonnie an' braw; The lassies hae doubts about Jessie, Her charms steal their luvers awa'.

I can see ye 're fu' handsome an' winnin', Your cleedin 's fu' costly an' clean, Your wooers are aften complainin' O' wounds frae your bonnie blue e'en. I could lean me wi' pleasure beside thee, Ae kiss o' thy mou' is a feast; May luve wi' his blessins abide thee, For Jessie 's the queen o' my breast.

I maun gang an' get hame, my sweet Jessie, For fear some young laird o' degree May come roun' on his fine sleekit bawsy, An' ding a' my prospects agee. There 's naething like gowd to the miser, There 's naething like light to the e'e, But they canna gie me ony pleasure, If Jessie prove faithless to me.

Let us meet on the border, my Jessie, Whaur Kelvin links bonnily bye, Though my words may be scant to address ye, My heart will be loupin' wi' joy. If ance I were wedded to Jessie, An' that may be ere it be lang, I 'll can brag o' the bonniest lassie That ere was the theme o' a sang.

WILLIAM LAIDLAW.

As the confidential friend, factor, and amanuensis of Sir Walter Scott, William Laidlaw has a claim to remembrance; the authorship of "Lucy's Flittin'" entitles him to rank among the minstrels of his country. His ancestors on the father's side were, for a course of centuries, substantial farmers in Tweedside, and his father, James Laidlaw, with his wife, Catherine Ballantyne, rented from the Earl of Traquair the pastoral farm of Blackhouse, in Yarrow. William, the eldest of a family of three sons, was born in November 1780. His education was latterly conducted at the Grammar School of Peebles. James Hogg kept sheep on his father's farm, and a strong inclination for ballad-poetry led young Laidlaw to cultivate his society. They became inseparable friends--the Shepherd guiding the fancy of the youth, who, on the other hand, encouraged the Shepherd to persevere in ballad-making and poetry.