Clashesidle gossip.
Coupingoverturning.
Cummercomrade.
Curfuffleagitation.
De'il gaed o'er Jock Wabstereverything went topsy-turvy.
Dour carlerugged old man.
Dreed the daydone this day.
Droghling and coghlingpuffing and blowing.
Ewestnearest.
Fire flaughtflash of lightning.
Forbearsforefathers.
Fushttush.
Garedmade.
Glifffright.
Gliffingvery short time.
Gloamingtwilight.
Gloweringgazing.
Gyrope.
Glunchgloomy.
Harryplunder.
Inglefire.
Illdifficult.
Ilkaevery.
Kempingstriving.
Laid i' the moulslaid in the grave.
Lowflame.
Loaninglane.
Luckiedame.
Latchmire.
Mirkdark.
Out-takenexcepting.
Powhead.
Powteringgroping.
Priggedearnestly entreated.
Rathquick.
Redepray.
Rigginroof.
Sainbless.
Sark fu' o' sair banessound beating.
Scoupitscampered.
Shank yoursell's awatake yourselves off.
Shealingrude cottage.
Show 'em the cauld shoutherappear cold and reserved.
Skirlshrill cry.
Sleuth-houndsblood-hounds.
Speirask.
Steikedshut.
Steerinjure.
Sunkielow stool.
Threepthreaten.
Tirled at the door pinknocked at the door.
Touzle outransack.
Tykedog.
Wampishtoss about.
Worriecowshobgoblins.
Wusswish.
A GTHE INDIAN MAIDEN'S SONG,
BY WILLIAM SHOBERLThe youth I love is far away.
O'er forest, river, brake, and glen;
And distant, too, perchance the day,
When I shall see him once again.
Nine moons have wasted. 2 since we met,
How sweetly, then, the moments flew!
Methinks the fairy vision yet
Portrays the joy that ZEMLA knew.
In list'ning to the tale of strife,
When Shone AZALCO'S prowess bright,
The strange adventures of his life,
That gave me such unmix'd delight.
That dream of happiness is past!
For ever fled those magic charms!
The cruel moment came at last,
That tore AZALCO from my arms!
What bitter pangs my bosom rent,
When he my sight no longer bless'd!
To some lone spot my steps I bent,
My secret sorrows there confess'd.
My sighs, alas! were breath'd unheard,
Could aught on earth dispel my grief?
Nor smiling sun, nor minstrel bird,
Can give this aching heart relief.
Since he I love is far away,
O'er forest, river, brake, and glen,
And distant, too, perchance the day,
When I shall see him once again.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
(For the Mirror.)"Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?"
Since, my dear readers, even in this season of busy festivity I can spare a few moments to write for your gratification, I venture to hope you will spare a few to read for mine.
And so here we are, once again on tiptoe for a merry Christmas and a happy new year. My good friends, especially my fair friends, permit me to wish you both. Yes, Christmas is hereChristmas, when winter and jollity, foul weather and fun, cold winds and hot pudding, good frosts and good fires, are at their meridian! Christmas! With what dear associations is it fraught! I remember the time when I thought that word cabalistical; when, in the gay moments of youth, it seemed to me a mysterious term for every thing that is delightful; and such is the force of early associations, that even now I cannot divest myself of them. Christmas has long ceased to be to me what it once was; yet do I even now hail its return with pleasure, with enthusiasm. But, alas! how differently is it viewed, not only by the same individual at different periods of life, but by different individuals of the same age; by the rich and poor, the wretched and the happy, the pampered and the penniless!
To proceed to the object of this paper, which is simply to throw together a few casual hints, connected with the period. I would beg my reader's attention, in the first place, to an odd superstition, countenanced by Shakspeare, and which, if he happens to lie awake some night, (say with the tooth-achewhat better?for that purpose I mean,) he will have an opportunity of verifying. The passage which contains it is in Hamlet and exhibits at once his usual wildness of imagination, and a highly praiseworthy religious veneration for the season. Where the ghost vanishes upon the crowing of the cock, he takes occasion to mention its crowing all hours of the night about Christmas time. The last four lines comprise several other superstitions connected with the period:
It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes,
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long.
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad:
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike;
No fairy takes; no witch hath power to charm;
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
It is to be lamented that the hearty diet, properly belonging to the season, should have become almost peculiar to it; the Tatler recommends it throughout the year. "I shall begin," says Steele, "with a very earnest and serious exhortation to all my well-disposed readers, that they would return to the food of their forefathers, and reconcile themselves to beef and mutton. This was the diet which bred that hardy race of mortals who won the fields of Cressy and Agincourt. I need not go so high up as the history of Guy, earl of Warwick, who is well known to have eaten up a dun cow of his own killing. The renowned king Arthur is generally looked upon as the first who ever sat down to a whole roasted ox, which was certainly the best way to preserve the gravy; and it is farther added, that he and his knights sat about it at his round table, and usually consumed it to the very bones before they would enter upon any debate of moment. The Black Prince was a professed lover of the brisket; not to mention the history of the sirloin, or the institution of the order of Beefeaters, which are all so many evident and undeniable proofs of the great respect which our warlike predecessors have paid to this excellent food. The tables of the ancient entry of this nation were covered thrice a day with hot roast-beef; and I am credibly informed by an antiquary, who has searched the registers in which the bills of fare of the court are recorded, that instead of tea and bread and butter which have prevailed of late years, the maids of honour in queen Elizabeth's time were allowed three rumps of beef for their breakfast!"
Now this is manly, and so is the diet it advises; I recommend both to my readers. Let each determine to make one convert, himself that one. On Christmas day, let each dine off, or at least have on his table, the good old English fare, roast beef and plum-pudding! and does such beef as our island produces need recommendation? What more nutritive and delicious? and, for a genuine healthy Englishman, what more proper than this good old national English dish? Let him whose stomach will not bear it, look about and insure his lifeI would not give much for it. It ought, above all other places, to be duly honoured in our officers' mess-rooms. As Prior says,