youth, when the pestilence broke out in Edinburgh in 1645. He, with a son of Westshield, a merchant apprentice, had gone to a public-house, and received change of some money, and next day that house was shut up as infected with the plague. This gave a strong alarm at home. James Denham was sent for, and both were strictly examined as to every circumstance. Thomas had received the money in change, and so frightened were all that none would touch the pocket in which the money was, but at a distance ; and after the pocket was cut out, it was with tongs cast in a fire, and both lads were shut up in a bed-chamber, sequestrate from all company, and had victuals at proper times handed in to them. While they thus stood their quarantine, by strength of imagination, or power of fancy, some fiery spots broke out on their arms and thighs, and they imagined no less than unavoidable death. They mutually lamented; Thomas had more courage and Christian resignation than his companion. 'James,' said he, let us trust in God and in the family prayers, for Jesus' sake, who, as he cures the plague of the heart, can, if we are infected, cure the most noisome disease of the body.' They both went to their knees, and joined in most solemn prayer, had much spiritual comfort; and in a fortnight were set at liberty, and the family retired to the country."

It was during this pestilence that Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, daughters of the Lairds of Kinvaid and Lednoch, in Perthshire, built their bower on a romantic spot by the banks of the river Almond. Here they were supplied with their provisions by a young gentleman, a suitor of one or other of them; but unhappily he also brought with him the infection from the town of Perth, and they both died. All admirers of Scottish song are familiar with the air which bears their name; but the words, as usually sung, were composed by Allan Ramsay, and are comparatively modern. The old ballad now given, which is very sweet and simple, was recovered by Mr Sharpe.

BESSIE Bell, and Mary Gray,
They were twa bonnie lasses,

They biggit a bower on yon burn-side,
And theekit it ower wi' rashes.

They theekit it ower wi' rashes green,
They theekit it ower wi' heather;
But the pest cam' frae the burrows-toun,
And slew them baith thegither.

They thought to lie in Methven kirkyard,
Amang their noble kin,

But they maun lie in Dronoch Haugh,
To beek forenent the sun.

And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,
They were twa bonnie lasses;
They biggit a bower on yon burn-side,
And theekit it ower wi' rashes.

BONNY MAY.

ANOTHER and much longer version of this ballad is given in the Border Minstrelsy, under the title of "The Original Ballad of the Broom of Cowdenknows." With regard to the propriety of that name, there may be some doubt, as the words do not seem to be well suited to the so-called air. I am inclined to think that the "Broom" is a mere amplification of the following ballad, which was printed by Mr Herd, and which is sung to an ancient air preserved in Johnson's "Museum."

IT

was on an ev'ning sae saft and sae clear,
A bonny lass was milking the kye;

And by came a troop of gentlemen,
And rode the bonny lassie by.

Then one o' them said unto her,

66

'Bonny lass, pr'ythee show me the way."

"O if I do sae it may breed me wae,

For langer I daurna stay."

But dark and misty was the night,
Before the bonny lass came hame;
Now where hae ye been, my ae daughter?
I am sure you wasna your lane.”

"O father, a tod has come o'er your lamb,
A gentleman of high degree;

And aye while he spake he lifted his hat,
And bonny, bonny, blinkit his e'e."

Or e'er six months were past and gane, Six months but and other three,

The lassie begud for to fret and to maen, And think lang for his blinkin e’e.

"O wae be to my father's shepherd, An ill death may he die ;

He bigged the bughts sae far frae hame, And trysted a gentleman to me !"

It fell upon another fair evening,
The bonny lassie was milking her kye,
And by came the troop of gentlemen,
And rode the bonny lassie by.

Then one of them stopt, and says to her, "Wha's aught that baby you are wi'?" The lassie began for to blush, and think, "To a father as good as ye!"

"O haud your tongue, my bonny May,
Sae loud as I hear ye lie ;

O dinna ye mind the misty night
I was in the bught wi' thee?"

Now he's come aff his milk-white steed, And he has ta'en her hame;

"Now let your father bring hame the kye, Ye ne'er mair shall ca' them again.

"I am a lord of castles and towers,
Wi' fifty ploughs o' land and three;
And I hae gotten the bonniest lass,
That is in this countrie."

THE CRUEL MOTHER.

A FEW stanzas of this ballad were printed as a fragment in Herd's collection. Sir Walter Scott inserted in the Border Minstrelsy a ballad called "Lady Anne," which does not appear to be ancient, though it refers to the same subject. Indeed, it is expressly stated that it was copied by Mr C. K. Sharpe from an old magazine. Messrs Motherwell and Buchan have both given versions from recitation which have a strong resemblance, except as to the burden. From these versions the following is constructed, with a refrain somewhat similar to that in Herd's copy.

HE leaned her back unto a thorn,

SHE

Ah, well-a-day!

And there she has her twa babes born;
The wind gaes by, and will not stay.

She's riven the muslin frae her head,
Ah, well-a-day!

She's tied the babies hand and feet;

The wind gaes by, and will not stay.

She has ta'en out her wee penknife,
Ah, well-a-day!

And there she ended baith their life;

The wind gaes by, and will not stay.