And the grey willows by the water side;
Nature cried "halt!" nor could he well refuse;
Stop, Gilbert, breathe awhile, and ask _the news_.
"News?" cried a stooping grandame of the vale,
Aye, rare news too; I'll tell you such a tale;
But let me rest; this bank is dry and warm;
Do you know Peggy Meldrum at the farm?
Young Herbert's girl? He'as cloath'd her all in white.
You never saw so beautiful a sight!
Ah! he's a fine young man, and such a face!
I knew his grandfather and all his race;
He rode a tall white horse, and look'd so big,
But how shall I describe his hat and wig?"

A promising Story cut short.

"Plague take his wig," cried Gilbert, "and his hat,
Where's Peggy Meldrum? can you tell me _that_?"
"Aye; but have patience man, you'll hear anon,
For I shall come to her as I go on,
So hark 'ye friend; his grandfather I say,"--
"Poh, poh,"--cried Gilbert, as he turn'd away.
Her eyes were fix'd, her story at a stand,
The snuff-box lay half open'd in her hand;
"You great ill-manner'd clown! but I must bear it;
You oaf; to ask the news, and then won't hear it!"
But Gilbert had gain'd forty paces clear,
When the reproof came murmuring on his ear.

Again he ask'd the first that past him by;