ns' Cottage, and more lately he received a
similar compliment in his native town. Considerate attentions have been
shewn him by the Duchess of Sutherland, the Duke of Argyle, the Rev. Dr
Guthrie, and other distinguished individuals. In the autumn of 1856 he
had conferred on him by the Queen a small Civil List pension.

Mr Maclagan's latest publication, entitled, "Ragged and Industrial
School Rhymes," appeared in 1854, and has well sustained his reputation.
Imbued with a keen perception of the beautiful and pleasing, alike in
the natural and moral world, his poetry is marked by refinement of
thought, elegance of expression, and an earnest devotedness. In social
life he delights to depict the praises of virtue. The lover's tale he
has told with singular simplicity and tenderness.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] To Mr Disseret of Edinburgh we are indebted for the particulars of
Mr Maclagan's personal history.

CURLING SONG.

Hurrah for Scotland's worth and fame,
A health to a' that love the name;
Hurrah for Scotland's darling game,
The pastime o' the free, boys.
While head, an' heart, an' arm are strang,
We 'll a' join in a patriot's sang,
And sing its praises loud and lang--
The roarin' rink for me, boys.
Hurrah, hurrah, for Scotland's fame,
A health to a' that love the name;
Hurrah for Scotland's darling game;
The roarin' rink for me, boys.

Gie hunter chaps their break-neck hours,
Their slaughtering guns amang the muirs;
Let wily fisher prove his powers
At the flinging o' the flee, boys.
But let us pledge ilk hardy chiel,
Wha's hand is sure, wha's heart is leal,
Wha's glory 's on a brave bonspiel--
The roarin' rink for me, boys.

In ancient days--fame tells the fact--
That Scotland's heroes werena slack
The heads o' stubborn foes to crack,
And mak' the feckless flee, boys.
Wi' brave hearts, beating true and warm,
They aften tried the curlin' charm
To cheer the heart and nerve the arm--
The roarin' rink for me, boys.

May love and friendship crown our cheer
Wi' a' the joys to curlers dear;
We hae this nicht some heroes here,
We aye are blythe to see, boys.
A' brithers brave are they, I ween,
May fickle Fortune, slippery queen,
Aye keep their ice baith clear and clean--
The roarin' rink for me, boys.

May health an' s