TAMMIE CHALMERS SPEAKS.

Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 15, 14 July 1894, Page 6

TAMMIE CHALMERS SPEAKS.

HOME HAPPINESS. A TRIBUTE TO JENNY. Whistlebinkie, July 4. I see, Linda, ye’ve been wondering what’s come owre me; but in fact, wuraan, I’ve been that busy feditin' among glaur an’ kye, that I’ve scarce time for aucht else. The auld laird of Dumbiedyke’s coonsel tae his son Jock, to be aye stickin’ in a bit tree (when daein’ naught else) wis gran’ advice, and could be followed wi’ advantage in maist pairts o’ Southland, but I think if the auld laird had happened tae be laird o’ Whistlebinkie, his deein’ coonsel wad hae been — “ Aye be howkin a bit drain, Jock,

when; ye can, as it pins • the canid Water aff the stomach o’ the crops, an’ the eaulder mortgages aff the stomach o’ the farmer, quicker dhan ancht else. ■ But I forget that ye being a wumman body, ye’ll be no muckle caring aboot the like o’- thae things ; but ye see, Linda, it’s sae lang sin I wrote tae the lassies that I’m sort o’ wander’d what tae crack aboot. Jenny an’lassie are awa owre seein’ a neeboor wum man that’s no varra weel, an’ I’m left by mysel. Ye see, Jenny’s ane o’ thae sort o’ craturs that although she has a bit yowl at things sometimes, her heart is in the richt place ; an’ when there’s ony trouble aboot, she’s aye tae the front. She hasna the sense or ability tae proclaim or explain her' religion, but she’s gotten what’s faur better —she has the wisdom tae act it. I like yer Home Circle page in the Cross, an’ I’m sure ye’ll aye try an’ mak’ it—what every home circle should be made —as bonny as possible, sae that when we’ve read the ongauns in the outer warl’, we can turn tae the Home page, kennin’ there’ll be something tae amuse instruct us there. Ah, Linda, it’s a gran’ thing for young an’ auld tae hae a hame, and tae hae a love for that hame, an’ a’ that’s in it. It’s ane o’ the strauehest roads tae heaven aboon, and it’s the purest heaven rich or puir can mak’ below. What, although monarchies an’ republics gang tapsal-teerie, an’ banks an’ loan companies mak’ us scratch oor heids ? What, although could win’s blaw, and we wade halfway to the knees in glaurP Ance we are safe in oor ain hoose, wi’ oor ain folk aroond us, we forget a’ aboot it, an’ are happy in the happiness o’ those aroond us ; an’ we rise refreshed in the morn in’ an’ gang tae oor wark, resolved tae mak’ the warld bonnier some way. Sae tae the bounie lassies wha are looking forrit tae starting a hame o’ their ain wi’ the lad they lo’e, if they want tae be honoured among men and respected among women, let them aye min’ to keep their hames clean and bonny, no wi’ grandeur that’s bocht wi’ siller, but jist wi’ that bonniness we a’ ken sae weel but canna describe, an’ that aye tells a man that his comfort and his siller are ta’en care o’ by his wife. Sae the love that first bund them thegither shall continue and deepen as they git aulder —no philosophical love nor canny love, but just the love that like the sun cheers and warms us, and aye ap pears brichter and mair welcome a we grow aulder. Here is twa or three verses I made an’ sent tae Jenny mony a lang year sin’ in oorcoorting days— Jenny’ll be mad at me sending them, but never min’ —she’ll git oor it;—

I lo’e a young lassie, a bonny young lassie, A modest young lassie, sae trig and sae braw. When wi’ her, or-near her, when I see her or hear her, My heart thrills wi’ joy, and rapture an’ a’; Her name it is Jenny, she has but few pennies, But she has sense, she has virtue, she’s as p .ire as the snaw. The thocht o’ her warms' me, the blink o’ her charms me. Ye’l aye be sweet, Jenny, what’er may befa’. Some lads like but pride, and a blue-blooded bride, And some like but beauty, and a lass trig and braw; Some lads like but gear, and a tocher’d rich dear; And some lads, alas, they like nae lass ava. But gie me her sae sweet; she’s baith bonny and neat. She’s mair precious than jewels and rubies and a’, Wi’ my loved loving Jenny, I’d be blest mair than any, For wi’ naething but her, I’d be rich aboon a.’ The morning sun blesses, as sweetly it kisses The dew frae the flowers, that in purity blaw. The breeze wi’ its laughter, in love follows after The something, the something that aye onward ca’s The ocean’s white cresses, they love the caresses Of the moonbeams they worship, their love and their law, Ae things lo’e anither; and are aye drawn thegither As I tae my heart, my sweet Jenny wad draw. The birds may cease singing; the flowers may cease springing, The seasons ne’er come, and the rain never fa’,

•. 1 . .... .../• . ' . The winds-.. may oeue blowing, the stream* may cease flowing, .. . .. The seas become dry and the rbcks melt awa. All nature may languish, all life from earth vanish, ...... But man’s; soul its life tae a close never draws. And when mortal, things perish, my soul shall aye cherish, It’s love for sweet Jenny, what’er may befa.' Tammie Chalmees.