THE KING'S BIRTH DAY AT AVON PRINTFIELD, 1792.

Lang may we bruik sic happy hours,
To stray 'mang braes, an' bogs, an' bow'rs,
On king's birth day to gather flow'rs

To bufk our winnocks;

Content an this be still our dow'rs,

Wi' claise an' bannocks.

Here rowth o' flow'rs by nature grow,
Nae art's requir'd to gar them dow;
Ye gods! what blefsings ye bestow

On thankless man ;

O keep us frae the auld boo-kow,
As lang's ye can.

Now glorious Samuel, Avon's brag,
On sic occasions never lag,

By day break rear your painted flag,
An' flag staff baith;

I wat it is nae tatter'd rag,

You Lunin town an' Embrugh baith,
Aft bloodie scenes o' dirt an' death,
On days like this, had in your wrath,
An' social be;

At Avon feint a ane wad fkaith
A very flee.

To beet the joys o' this day's sport,
Our masters, Lord reward them for't!
Gie us a fouth o' the best sort

O' barley broe,

That maks the time seem wond'rous short
An' cheary too.

As soon's' we get our mid-day meal,
O' bread an' butter, milk or kail,
Then shanks that ken na how to fail,
On king's birth day,

Upon a floor weel laid wi' dail,

Hard reels away.

Keen Frazer rúbs his fiddle strings,
His elback flees as it had 'wings;
Rae at the bafs wi' vigour clings,

An' weel he plays,

While voices at the punch bowl sings
'King George's praise.

The damsels clean, an' trig, an' fair,
Frifk thro' the reels wi' rural air,
Nae wanton look, nor bosom bare,

To temp the younkers,
Here flesh and blude may safely stare,
As if at Blunker's *.

Then young, an' auld, an' middle age,
Far frae their cares quite thrang engage,
Whilst harmlefs mirth an' pleasure rage,
How great the blifs!

Hech! life wad be a funny stage

Were't ay like this.

Sic pleasures maun through time gie way,
Nane need expeck they'll last for ay;
The Lafs that opes the yetts o' day,
Wi' faithfu' heart,

Keeks in wi' halesome smiling ray,

An' bids us part.

Now Musie ye hae done fu' weel,
Some ither time us twa may speel
Up to Parnafsus wi' a wheel,

An' view its tap;

But first and foremost or we speel,

We'll tak a nap.

I. K. PRINTER AVON FIELD.

*Or gorcocks. An explanation of this word will be very obliging.

i

ANECDOTES OF ARTEDI, THE FAMOUS SWEDISH NATURALIST, WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF A NEW EDITION OF HIS WORKS BY M. WALBAUM.

THE public are indebted to Linnæus for the following interesting memoirs of his friend and fellow disciple Artedi, a name well known to the lovers of natural history. These extracts are made from a Latin edition of Artedi's works, just published by Dr Walbaum of Lubeck, in three volumes quarto, with plates. These anecdotes are written with that warmth which was natural to Linnæus, and adds one more to the numerous list of examples that are before the public, of the hard fate that too often marks the private life of philosophers.

John Artedi was born in the year 1705, in the province of Angermania in Sweden. He inherited from nature an ardent paffion for all branches of natural history, but he excelled particularly in what respects fishes.-In 1724, he came to study at the university of Upsal. “In 1728," says Linnæus," I came from Lund to Upsal. I wished to devote myself to medicine. I inquired who, at that university, excelled most for his knowledge; every one named Artedi. I was impatient to see him. I found him pale, and in great distress for the lofs of his father, with his thin hair neglected. He resembled the portrait of Ray, the naturalist. His judgement was ripe, his thoughts profound, his manners simple, his virtues antique. The conversation turned upon stones, plants, animals; I was enchanted with his observations, equally ingenious and new; for at the very first, he was not afraid to communicate them to me with the utmost frankness. I desired his friendship, he asked mine. From that moment we formed a friendship,