ed his
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_. Previous to the publication of that
work, several excellent collections of the older Scottish ballads had
been made, and industrious gleaners have since gathered up every stray
traditionary ear of corn which still lay unnoticed in the furrow. Our
excellent friend Robert Chambers, availing himself of all these labours,
has given, in a popular form, the essence and spirit of the whole; nor
does there, we believe, exist a single fragment of the least merit which
has escaped so rigorous a search. We understood that the English ballads
had long ago been collected. These were neither so numerous nor so
romantic as ours; but they had fallen at a much earlier date into the
hands of the antiquaries, and we hardly expected in our day to be told
of a considerable addition. Therefore it was with no little
astonishment, and some curiosity, that we perused the announcement of a
new work entitled, "The Minstrelsy of the English Border; being a
collection of ballads, ancient, remodelled, and original--founded on
well-known Border legends. With illustrative notes by Frederick
Sheldon."

Predisposed though we certainly were to do every justice to the original
strains of Mr Sheldon, he will forgive us when we own that the ancient
ballads were the primary objects of our quest. We were eager to discover
what kind of materials--what snatches of antique song, he had rescued
from oblivion among the wild moors of Northumberland; and his preface
gave us ample hope of the choice nature of his budget.

"No doubt," says Mr Sheldon, alluding to Sir Walter's literary
researches upon the Border--"no doubt many ballads _did_ escape, and
still remain scattered up and down the country side, existing, probably,
in the recollection of many a sun-browned shepherd, or the
weather-beaten brains of ancient hinds, or 'eldern' women; or in the
well-thumbed and nearly illegible leaves of some old book or pamphlet of
songs, snugly resting on the 'pot-head,' or sharing their rest with the
'great ha' bible,' 'Scott's Worthies,' or 'Blind Harry's' lines. The
parish dominie, or pastor of some obscure village amid the many nooks
and corners of the Borders, possesses, no doubt, treasures in the ballad
ware, that would have gladdened the heart of a Ritson, a Percy, or a
Surtees; in the libraries, too, of many an ancient descendant of a
Border family, some black-lettered volume of ballads doubtlessly
slumbers in hallowed and u