THE TATTIE-BOGLE.

[A]

A farmer once, to scare the birds away,

O'er his poor seeds set up, to leer and ogle,

A raffish moon-face, stuffed with straw and hay,

A Tattie-Bogle;

And rook and daw and stare their pinions spread

Incontinent; for, so they judged the matter,

Some scowling foe stood there, and off they fled

With startled chatter.

A week the portent stood in sun and rain

And fluttered rags of dread. A sparrow, nathless,

Whose nestlings cried, dashed down and snatched a grain,

And got off scathless.

Emboldened, back she flew; to such good end

The others followed, craning and alarmful,

To find the monster, if perhaps no friend,

At least unharmful.

To-day the bogle wags, a thing of jest

And open scorn; the very pipits mock it;

A jenny wren, I'm told, has built her nest

In one torn pocket!

Heart of my heart, and so prove aught of awe

That darkens on your path; the buckram rogue'll

Stand, when you face him, but a ghost of straw—

A Tattie-Bogle!

[A] Scarecrow. Scots.

Exasperated Subscriber (having found six different numbers engaged). "Well, what numbers HAVE you got?"