THE BROWNIES IN SCOTLAND.

Like “Annie Laurie,” ‘“‘ Bonnie Doon,”
And many a soul-inspiring tune.

It chanced to be the time of year

When ice was spread on stream and mere,
And hardy Scotchmen strained their bones

 

And muscles, Shoving curling-stones,
And made the very hills applaud,
Or echo back their language broad.
The Brownies, from a neighboring height
Peeped down upon the pleasing sight
Until the shades of evening came
And made the players quit their game.
Said one: ‘‘ Let half a dozen go

For brooms to sweep away the snow
While others run without delay

To find where stones are laid away.
This curling game, that to the band

 

May seem so strange, I understand.

I ’ve watched them play till after dark

On frozen lakes within the park,

And heard the loud approval, too,

Of ‘Weel done, Sawnie; guid for you!’”
It was not long, as one may think,
Before they stood around the rink.
Some for the sport were doubly nerved,
And won applause they well deserved,
While others soon had aching bones
Who got in front of sliding stones.
Sometimes the stones hit with such force

 

They split, or, bounding on their course,
6 46