John Anderson, my Jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And monie a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,

And sleep thegither at the foot,

John Anderson, my Jo.

MY pretty Jane, my pretty Jane!

Ah! never, never look so shy;

But meet me in the evening,

While the bloom is on the rye. The spring is waning fast, my love, The corn is in the ear,

The summer nights are coming, love, The moon shines bright and clear. Then, pretty Jane, my dearest Jane! Ah! never look so shy,

But meet me in the evening,

While the bloom is on the rye.

But name the day, the wedding day, And I will buy the ring;

The lads and maids in favours white
And village bells shall ring.

The spring is waning fast, my love,
The corn is in the ear,

The summer nights are coming, love,
The moon shines bright and clear.
Then, pretty Jane, my dearest Jane!
Ah! never look so shy,

But meet me in the evening,

While the bloom is on the rye.

Edward Fitzbail.

ROCKED IN THE CRADLE

OF THE DEEP.

ROCK'D in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleep;
Secure, I rest upon the wave,
For Thou, O Lord, hast pow'r to save.
I know Thou wilt not slight my call,
For Thou dost note the sparrow's fall,
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep.

And such the trust that still were mine,
Tho' stormy winds swept o'er the brine;
Or though the tempest's fiery breath
Rous'd me from sleep to wreck and death!
In ocean cave still safe with Thee,
The germ of immortality;

And calm and peaceful is my sleep,

Rock'd in the cradle of the deep.

Mrs. Willard.

THE Minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;

His father's sword he has girded on,

And his wild harp slung behind him."Land of song!" said the warrior-bard, "Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee!"