to seek repose from toil in the perusal of poetry and the
composition of verses. "My simple muse," he afterwards wrote, "oft
visited me at the plough, and made the labour to seem lighter and the
day shorter." In 1811, and in 1824, he published small collections of
verses. At the recommendation of some influential friends, he published,
in 1848, a compact little volume of his best pieces, under the title,
"Leaves from a Peasant's Cottage-Drawer;" and to which was prefixed a
well-written autobiographical sketch. He was often oppressed by poverty;
and, latterly, was the recipient of parochial relief. He died in the
parish of Hounam, on the 6th April 1855; and his remains rest in the
church-yard of his native parish. Many of his poems are powerful, both
in expression and sentiment; and several of his songs are worthy of a
place in the national minstrelsy. In private life he was sober, prudent,
and industrious.

FAREWELL TO CALEDONIA.

Adieu! a lang and last adieu,
My native Caledonia!
For while your shores were in my view,
I steadfast gazed upon ye, O!
Your shores sae lofty, steep, an' bold,
Fit emblem of your sons of old,
Whose valour, more than mines of gold,
Has honour'd Caledonia.

I think how happy I could be,
To live and die upon ye, O!
Though distant many miles from thee,
My heart still hovers o'er ye, O!
My fancy haunts your mountains steep,
Your forests fair, an' valleys deep,
Your plains, where rapid rivers sweep
To gladden Caledonia.

Still mem'ry turns to where I spent
Life's cheerfu' morn sae bonnie, O!
Though by misfortune from it rent,
It 's dearer still than ony, O!
In vain I 'm told our vessel hies
To fertile fields an' kindly skies;
But still they want the charm that ties
My heart to Caledonia.

My breast had early learn'd to glow
At name of Caledonia;
Though torn an' toss'd wi' many a foe,
She never bow'd to ony, O!
A land of heroes, famed an' brave--
A land our fathers bled to save,
Whom foreign foes could ne'er enslave--
Adieu to Caledonia!

ON VISITING THE SCENES OF EARLY DAYS.

Ye daisied glens and briery braes,
Haunts of my happy early days,
Where oft I 've pu'd the blossom'd slaes
And flow'rets fair,
Before my heart was scathed wi' waes
Or worldly care.

Now