Near this spot
Her husband has sown for immortality all that was mortal;
Uncertain whether he is more sensible of the
grief of having lost,
Or the glory of having possessed her.

* * * * *


MURDER OF THE LAIRD OF WARRISTON, BY HIS OWN WIFE.

This is the subject of a Scottish ballad, well known to collectors in
that department; and the history of the conversion of the murderess,
and of her carriage at her execution, compiled apparently by one of
the clergymen of Edinburgh, has been lately printed by Mr. Charles
Kirkpatrick Sharpe, whose merits as an author, antiquary, and
draughtsman, stand in no need of our testimony.

The story of the young lady is short and melancholy. She was a daughter
of Livingston of Dunipace, a courtier, and a favourite of James VI.;
an ill-assorted marriage united her at an early age with the Laird of
Warriston, a gentleman whom she did not love, and who apparently used
her with brutal harshness. The Lady Warriston accused her husband of
having struck her several blows, besides biting her in the arm; and
conspired with her nurse, Janet Murdo, to murder him. The confidante,
inspired by that half-savage attachment which in those days animated the
connexion between the foster-child and the nurse, entered into all the
injuries of which her _dalt_ (i.e. foster daughter) complained,
encouraged her in her fatal purpose, and promised to procure the
assistance of a person fitted to act the part of actual murderer, or