admonition of the old man, the young sailor complied, and gave the following song in a clear manly voice :

THE SAILOR TO HIS BOAT.

My Kate-my Kate-my bonnie, bonnie Kate!
When the breeze is piping high,
With thy rudder shipp'd, and thy canvass set,
O'er the bounding waves we fly!

My Kate-my Kate-my bonnie, bonnie Kate!
Let the landsman court his bride;

With thee I woo a merrier fate,

On the glancing ocean tide.

Away! away! with thy streamers gay,
Away through the April sea;

Ay, sweet Kate! now, with thy bending prow,
Thou art lilting merrily!

And merrily on where the white curlew
O'er the distant breaker screams,
Thy keel shall furrow the waters blue,
As thy foam-track brightly gleams.

Say, Kate, shan't we weather the stormy gales,
And breast the careering waves?

Think you they'll get us to turn our tails,
Like a couple of lubberly knaves?

My Kate-my Kate-my bonnie, bonnie Kate!

I know thee better of old;

Since first I chose thee for my mate,

Thou hast been as the north wind bold.

Then away! away! through our breezy Firth,

In an hour we'll fetch Dunbar ;

In every heave there is health and mirth-
Away! like a sea-god's car!

Plunge through-right through-my bonnie Kate!

Pass proudly o'er the billows;
Thy pennons wave, thy sails are set,
Thy good masts bend like willows.

Huzza! huzza! my Kate! well sail'd,-
Let Boreas blow amain;

Thou never yet at his might hast quail'd,
And thou'lt match him once again!

Ay! now let the landsman boast of his wife,
His wife with the laughing ee,—

Will she carry him through the squalls of life,
As thou, my Kate, dost me?

I'll reef not an inch of thy canvass, Kate,
Thou canst bear it all and more!

Let they who fear to trust thee wait
With the fresh water swabs ashore;

We'll out alone, for we know the way,.
Thou need'st no helm, my lass!
We'll shore away by the Isle of May,
And sweep by the stormy Bass.

By St Andrew ! it is a sight to see
Thy gunwale kiss the wave,

As it gallops by right angrily;

But we'll cheat the saucy knave!

No prey art thou for him, sweet Kate,
While thy oaken planks hold tight,
So let him growl in his jealous hate,-
He may bark, but he daurna bite.

My Kate-my Kate-my bonnie, bonnie Kate !
I loe thee more and more;

Let the sky look dark as the frown of fate-
For us there are joys in store.

Then away through the ocean's valleys green,
Away o'er its white-topp'd hills!

Away, while the winds blow loud and keen,
From life and its thousand ills!

"Very well indeed!" exclaimed Charles, to the boatman; "you have not said a word more of the musical powers of your young friend than he deserves; I have really been much pleased."

"Ah, sir," said the old boatman, “if ye like singing on the water, ye should hear it on one of our Highland lochs, hemmed round by mountains, inaccessible even to the light bounding step of the deer-hunter."

"Are you from the Highlands, friend ?”

66

Ay, sir. I am a Macdonald of the Crimson Heath, and old and feckless as I now am, my foot has pressed the heather on Craig Gnanich, where I have chased the roe and the red-deer."

"Is that a real Highlander ?" cried Mrs. Lennox. "I must go over and hear what he is saying." And much to the relief of Sir Pelham, the lady went and seated herself by her new friend.

"Great changes have taken place in the Highlands," said Charles, meaning to compliment the old man. "Your countrymen are becoming quite polished and refined."

"Ye may say that; there are sad changes come in amongst us. The Highlanders. now are but little better than so many Lowlanders."

"That must be very distressing," replied Charles, with a good-natured smile. "But how came you to leave your country?"

My chief," replied the old man, proud

ly, "raised a regiment, and I, his fosterbrother, had a good right to go with him. He was wounded in the battle-field, and I carried him from it in my plaid; but vain was the help of man-he died in my arms. I had no heart to return to my country when its pride was laid low, more particu larly as his successor, though of his blood, wanted the liberal heart and hand of my chief. The base churl's first act was to turn out of their farms, because they could not give such rents as his greed demanded, a score of families, whose forbears had lived on the place for countless generations; but the curses of houseless old age, and the cries of wailing infants, drew down an awfu' punishment on him!"

"What is that he is saying about four

bears?" asked Mrs Lennox.

"And pray, how was this unworthy chieftain punished ?" said Charles. "Ye see, sir, the chief's castle stood close on the edge of the loch; and the bonny