r smile,
Or drap a tend'rer tear?
But now she 's gane,--dark, dark an' drear,
Her lang, lang sleep maun be;
But, ah! mair drear the years o' life
That still remain to me!

Whan o'er the raging ocean wave
The gloom o' night is spread,
If lemes the twinkling beacon-light,
The sailor's heart is glad;
In hope he steers, but, 'mid the storm,
If sinks the waning ray,
Dees a' that hope, an' fails his saul,
O'erpress'd wi' loads o' wae.

ALEXANDER MACANSH.

The author of "The Social Curse, and other Poems," Alexander Macansh,
was born at Dunfermline in 1803. At the age of eleven apprenticed to a
flaxdresser, he followed this occupation during a period of thirty-eight
years, of which the greater portion was spent in Harribrae factory, in
his native town. During the intervals of his occupation, which demanded
his attention about fourteen hours daily, he contrived to become
familiar with British and continental authors, and with the more
esteemed Latin classics. He likewise formed an intimate acquaintance
with mathematical science. Of decided poetical tastes, he contributed
verses to _Tait's Magazine_, the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_, and the
_Scotsman_ newspaper. In 1850, he published, by subscription, his volume
of poems, entitled "The Social Curse, and other Poems," which has
secured him a local reputation. Continuing to reside in Dunfermline, he
has, for several years, possessed a literary connexion with some of the
provincial newspapers, and has delivered lectures on science to the
district institutions. To Mr Joseph Paton, of Dunfermline, so well known
for his antiquarian pursuits, he has been indebted for generous support
and kindly encouragement. Mr Macansh labours under severe physical
debility.

THE MOTHER AND CHILD.

The mother, with her blooming child,
Sat by the river pool,
Deep in whose waters lay the sky,
So stilly beautiful.
She held her babe aloft, to see
Its infant image look
Up joyous, laughing, leaping from
The bosom of the brook.

And as it gazed upon the stream,
The wondering infant smiled,
And stretched its little hands, and tried
To clasp the shadow'd child,
Which, in that silent underwold,
With eager gesture strove
To meet it with a brother-kiss,
A brother-clasp of love.

Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child,
('Twas