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My Muse will nae assist me langer,
The dorty jad sometimes does anger;
I thought her ance a gay smart lass;
But now she's come till sic a pass,
That a' my cudgelling an' whipping,
Will hardly wake her out o' sleeping;
To plague her mair I winna try,
But dight my pen an' lay it by.
———
THE BROWNIE O' FEARNDEN.
"ONCE MORE THE BROWNIE SHEWS HIS HONEST FACE."
The Brownie is supposed to have been a descendant of the Lar (illegible text)iliaris of Greece, as he generally attached himself to some ⟨secular⟩ family, whom he faithfully served every night by performing any laborious task which he thought would be acceptable. ⟨In the⟩ day time he always retired to some ruinous castle, unfrequented church, or solitary den or valley in the neighbourhood; and ⟨so disinterested⟩ was his attachment, that any offer of reward, particularly of food or clothing, he invariably reckoned a hint from the ⟨family⟩ that they wished to dispense with his services, which he immediately transferred to another. He has likewise been known to ⟨abandon⟩ a beloved haunt, when often surprised in his places of daily (illegible text)ement, or when any particular observations were made on his ⟨appearance⟩, which was "meagre, shaggy, and wild." It is ⟨therefore⟩ very probable, as we have no later tradition concerning the ⟨brownie⟩ of the following ballad, that the questions put to him by (illegible text)age femme at the door of the farm house, occasioned his ⟨departure⟩ from his favourite Fearnden for ever.
There liv'd a man on Noranside,
When Jamie held his ain;
He had a mailen fair an' wide,
An' servants nine or ten.
