"An' he flung himsel' upon the fresh piled sods, an' greeted like a child.
"When he grew more calm, we had a long conversation about the past; an' truly I think that the man was na in his right senses, when he married yon wife. At ony rate, he is nae lang for this world; he has fretted the flesh aff his banes, an' afore mony months are owre, his heid wul lie as low as puir Jeanie Burns."
My Native Land.
"My native land, my native land!
How many tender ties,
Connected with thy distant strand,
Call forth my heavy sighs!
"The rugged rock, the mountain stream,
The hoary pine-tree's shade,
Where often in the noon-tide beam,