r of these national
treasures some exquisite airs of his own. For a number of the airs in
the works just mentioned, but particularly in the 'Select Melodies,' he
had experienced difficulty in procuring suitable words, owing chiefly to
the crampness of the measures--a serious drawback which appears to
pervade, more or less, the sweetest melodies of other nations as well as
those of our own. A number of these I supplied as well as I could.

"About this time the native taste for Scottish song in city society
seemed nearly, if not altogether lost, and a kind of songs, such as
'I've been roaming,' 'I'd be a butterfly,' 'Buy a broom,' 'Cherry-ripe,'
&c. (in which if the head contrived to find a meaning, it was still such
as the heart could understand nothing about), seemed alone to be
popular, and to prevail. R. A. Smith disliked this state of things, but,
perhaps, few more so than Mr P. M'Leod, who gave a most splendid
evidence of his taste in his 'Original National Melodies.' Both Smith
and M'Leod were very particular about the quality of the poetry which
they honoured with their music. M'Leod was especially careful in this
respect. He loved the lay of lofty and undaunted feeling as well as of
love and friendship; for his genius is of a manly tone, and has a bold
and liberal flow. And popular as some of the effusions in his work have
become, such as 'Oh! why left I my hame?' and 'Scotland yet!' many
others of them, I am convinced, will yet be popular likewise. When the
intelligence of due appreciation draws towards them, it will take them
up and delight to fling them upon the breezes that blow over the hills
and glens, and among the haunts and homes of the isle of unconquerable
men. To Mr M'Leod's 'National Melodies' I contributed a number of songs.
In the composition of these I found it desirable to lay aside, in some
considerable degree, my pastoral phraseology, for, as conveyed in such
productions, I observed that city society cared little about rural
scenery and sentiment. It was different with my kind and gifted friend
Professor Wilson. He was wont to say that he would not have given the
education, as he was pleased to term it, which I had received afar in
the green bosom of mountain solitude, and among the haunts and homes of
the shepherd--meaning the thing as applicable to poetry--for all that he
had received at colleges. Wilson had introduced my song, 'When the glen
all is still,' into the _Noctes_, and La Sapio comp