of _rubbish_; inasmuch as the ballads are all worthless modern versions of
what had appeared "centuries ago" in their _genuine_ shape. Had these
ballads _not existed in print_, we should have been glad of them in any
form; but, in the present case, the publication of such a book (more
especially by a learned society) is a positive nuisance.

Another work which I cannot refrain from noticing, called by one of the
reviewers "A valuable contribution to our stock of ballad literature"? is
Mr. Frederick Sheldon's _Minstrelsy of the English Border_. The preface to
this volume {50} promises much, as may be seen by the following passage:--

"It is now upwards of forty years since Sir Walter Scott published his
_Border Minstrelsy_, and during his 'raids,' as he facetiously termed
his excursions of discovery in Liddesdale, Teviotdale, Tyndale, and the
Merse, very few ballads of any note or originality could possibly
escape his enthusiastic inquiry; for, to his love of ballad literature,
he added the patience and research of a genuine antiquary. Yet, no
doubt many ballads _did_ escape, and still remain scattered up and down
the country side, existing probably in the recollection of many a
sun-browned shepherd, or the weather-beaten brains of ancient hinds, or
'eldern' women: or in the well-thumbed and nearly illegible leaves of
some old book or pamphlet of songs, snugly resting on the 'pot-head,'
or sharing their rest with the 'Great Ha' Bible,' _Scott's Worthies_,
or Blind Harry's lines. The parish dominie or pastor of some obscure
village, amid the many nooks and corners of the Borders, possesses, no
doubt, treasures in the ballad-ware that would have gladdened the heart
of a Ritson, a Percy, or a Surtees; in the libraries, too, of many an
ancient descendant of a Border family, some black-lettered volume of
ballads, doubtlessly slumbers in hallowed and unbroken dust."