520 RODERICK, THE FATR-HAIRED. 



Solomon the a-hungered prodigal cleaving to another as to" his last 

 hope Pharaoh's Host submerged in a flood of rowan-berries, " pur- 

 ple as the Tyrian dye ;" and the Tailor's coat brocaded all over with 

 leaves of the liveliest green. The landlord, availing himself of the 

 ancient privilege of " preein' his ain stoup," showed the best example 

 to his guests. The " tass 1 ' plied cheerily round until Roderick's 

 fancy and feelings, elevated above the cares, anxieties, and disap- 

 pointments of his former affection, derived renewed energy and hope 

 from the love-smiles and maiden innocence of Jenny Glendinning, 

 and the more substantial attractions of her mud cottage and her yel- 

 low cow. Marriage was named by his aunt, and listened to with the 

 divinest loveliness by Jenny. The reverend Thomas Twinetext was 

 forthwith invited as " the canniest at puttin' twa thegither," who 

 performed the holy rite with due Presbyterian decorum, to the cor- 

 dial satisfaction of all. The neighbours all round were summoned to 

 assist in and countenance the nuptial festivity, while Willie Morri- 

 son's best reels and strathspeys relieved at intervals the martial and 

 spirit-stirring measures of the bagpipe, giving youth to age, and 

 elasticity to the limbs of all who had met there to lash the helm of 

 harmony. The potency of Duncan's usquebaugh having'rather over- 

 come the joyous heart of the happy bridegroom, he was put to rest 

 in comfortable ignorance of the felicities which awaited him, while 

 the company kept it up with unabated joviality until broad day, 

 every one promoting his own happiness by conferring it on others. 

 Awakening from his slumbers, Roderick seemed unconscious of all 

 that had been transacted the night previous, and least of all suspect- 

 ing " where a fair bride lay/' he addressed her as to Tom, who he 

 supposed had taken shelter with him for the night, enquiring " why 

 he wore a woman's cap on his head of nights?" But being unde- 

 ceived, * * * #*#* #** 



THE INDIAN MOTHER. 



Now welcome, welcome, baby-boy, unto a mother's fears, 

 The pleasure of her sufferings, the rainbow of her tears, 

 The object of your father's hope, in all he hopes to do, 

 A future man of his own land, to live him o'er anew ! 



How fondly on thy little brow a mother's eye would trace, 

 And in thy little limbs, and in each feature of thy face, 

 His beauty, worth, and manliness, and every thing that's his, 

 Except, my boy, the answering mark of where the fetter is! 



