ance of
Neil Gow, the celebrated violinist, and composed, at his particular
request, the words to his popular tune "Farewell to Whisky,"--the only
lyric from her pen which has hitherto been published. In all the
collections of Scottish song, it appears as anonymous. In the present
work, it is printed from a copy in one of her MS. volumes.

Mrs Lyon died on the 14th September 1840, having survived her husband
about two years, and seen the greater number of her children carried to
the grave. Entirely free of literary ambition, she bequeathed her MSS.
to the widow of one of her sons, to whom she was devotedly attached,
accompanied by a request, inscribed in rhyme at the beginning of the
first volume, that the compositions might not be printed, unless in the
event of a deficiency in the family funds. Their origin is thus
described:--

"Written off-hand, as one may say,
Perhaps upon a rainy day,
Perhaps while at the cradle rocking.
Instead of knitting at a stocking,
She 'd catch a paper, pen, and ink,
And easily the verses clink.
Perhaps a headache at a time
Would make her on her bed recline,
And rather than be merely idle,
She 'd give her fancy rein and bridle.
She neither wanted lamp nor oil,
Nor found composing any toil;
As for correction's iron wand,
She never took it in her hand;
And can, with conscience clear, declare,
She ne'er neglected house affair,
Nor put her little babes aside,
To take on Pegasus a ride.
Rather let pens and paper flame,
Than any mother have the shame
(Except at any _orra time_)
To spend her hours in making rhyme."

In person, Mrs Lyon was of the middle height, and of a slender form. She
had a fair complexion, her eyes were of light blue, and her countenance
wore the expression of intelligence. She excelled in conversation; and a
retentive memory enabled her to render available the fruits of extensive
reading. In old age, she retained much of the buoyant vivacity of youth,
and her whole life was adorned by the most exemplary piety.

NEIL GOW'S FAREWELL TO WHISKY.[62]

TUNE--_"Farewell to Whisky."_

You 've surely heard of famous Neil,
The man who play'd the fiddle weel;
He was a heartsome merry chiel',
And weel he lo'ed the whisky, O!
For e'er since he wore the tartan hose
He dearly liket _Athole brose_![63]
And grieved he was, you may suppose,