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Depend upon it, my snobbish friend,
Your family thread you can't ascend,
Without good reason to apprehend

may find it waxed at the farther end,

By some plebeian vocation;
Or, worse than that, your boasted line
May end in a loop of stronger twine,

That plagued some worthy relation !


But Miss MacBride had something beside
Her lofty birth to nourish her pride-
For rich was the old paternal MacBride,

According to public rumor; And he lived “up town,” in a splendid square, And kept his daughter on dainty fare, And gave her gems

that were rich and rare, And the finest rings and things to wear,

And feathers enough to plume her.


A thriving tailor begged her hand,
But she gave “the fellow" to understand,

By a violent manual action,
She perfectly scorned the best of his clan,
And reckoned the ninth of any man

An exceedipgly vulgar fraction!


Another, whose sign was a golden boot,
Was mortified with a bootless suit,

In a way that was quite appalling;
For, though a regular sutor* by trade,
He wasn't a suitor to suit the maid,
Who cut him off with a saw-and bade

“The cobbler keep to his calling!”

* Sutor is the Latin for shoemaker.


A rich tobacconist comes and sues,
And, thinking the lady would scarce refuse
A man of his wealth, and liberal views,
Began, at once,

with “If

And could you really love him—"
But the lady spoiled his speech in a huff,
With an answer rough and ready enough,
To let him know she was up to snuff,

And altogether above him!

A young attorney, of winning grace,
Was scarce allowed to “open his face,”
Ere Miss MacBride had closed his case

With true judicial celerity;
For the lawyer was poor, and “seedy' to buot,
And to say the lady discarded his suit,

Is merely a double verity!


The last of those who came to court,
Was a lively beau, of the dapper sort,
“Without any visible means of support,"

A crime by no means flagrant
In one who wears an elegant coat,
But the very point on which they vote

A ragged fellow "a vagrant!"


Now dapper Jim his courtship pliea (I wish the fact could be denied) With an eye to the purse of the old MacBride,

And really nothing shorter!" For he said to himself, in his greedy lust, 6. Whenever he dies—as die he must

And yields to Heaven his vital trust,
He's very sure to come down with his dust,'

In behalf of his only daughter."


And the very magnificent Miss MacBride,
Half in love, and half in pride,

Quite graciously relented;
And, tossing her head, and turning her back,
No token of proper pride to lack-
To be a bride, without the “Mac,”

With much disdain, consented!


Old John MacBride, one fatal day,
Became the unresisting prey

Of fortune's undertakers;
And staking all on a single die, .
His foundered bark went high and dry

Among the brokers and breakers !


But, alas, for the haughty Miss MacBride, 'Twas such a shock to her precious pride! She couldn't recover, although she tried

Her jaded spirits to rally; 'Twas a dreadful change in human affairs, From a place “up town,” to a nook “up stairs

From an avenue down to an alley!


'Twas little condolence she had, God wot-
From her “troops of friends," who hadn't forgot

The airs she used to borrow!
They had civil phrases enough, but yet
'Twas plain to see that their “deepest regret"
Was a different thing from sorrow'

And one of those chaps who make a pun
As if it were quite legitimate fun
To be blazing away at every one
With a regular, double-loaded gun-

Remarked that moral transgression
Always brings retributive stings
To candle-makers as well as kings;
For making light of cereous things"

Was a very wick-ed profession !

And vulgar people—the saucy churls-
Inquired about the price of pearls,"

And mocked at her situation:
“She wasn't ruined—they ventured to hope
Because she was poor, she needn't mope.
Few people were better off for soap.

And that was a consolation"

And to make her cup of woe run over.
Her elegant, ardent plighted lover

Was the very first to forsake her;
“He quite regretted the step, 'twas true.
The lady had pride enough for two,'
But that alone would never do

To quiet the butcher and baker'

And now the unhapp? Miss MacBride
The merest ghost of her early pride-

Bewails her lonely position;
Cramped in the very narrowest niche,
Above the


and below the richWas ever a worse condition!


Because you flourish in worldly affairs,
Don't be haughty, and put on airs,

With insolent pride of station!
Don't be proud, and turn up your nose
At poorer people in plainer clothes,
But learn, for the sake of your


repose, That wealth's a bubble that comes

-and goes ! And that all proud flesh, wherever it grows,

Is subject to irritation!




[ James Hogg, generally known as “The ETTRICK SHEP. HERN," was, perhaps, the most creative and imaginative of the uneducated poets. His fancy had a wide range, picturing in its flight scenes of wild aërial magnificence and beauty. His taste was very defective, though he had done much to repair his early want of instruction. His occupation of a shepherd, among solitary hills and glens, must have been favorable to his poetical enthusiasm. He was not, like Burns, thrown into society when young, and forced to combat with misfortune. His destiny was unvaried, until he had arrived at a period, when the bent of his genius was fixed for life. Without society during the day, his evening hours were spent in listening to ancient legends and ballads, of which his mother, like Burns's, was a great reci er. This nursery of imagination he has himself beautifully described :

2. O list, the mystic lore sublime

Of fairy tales of ancient time!

* For a Note on Chambers, see Exercise CVIII.

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