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— )78 JAMES HEDDERWICK. The worthless day I heed not; but in hours Upon the silent vales — the sunny glow Of guslung noontide joy, it may be some That fills each alley, close, and copsewood Will dwell upon my name; and I will be nook; A happy spirit there, affection's look, to see. I know them— love them—mourn not them to leave. Death is upon me, yet I fear not now; Existence and its change my spirit cannot Open my chamber-window— let me look grieve! JAMES HEDDEEWICK Jakes IIedderwick was born in Glasgow, Previous to leaving Edinburgh Jlr. IIedder- January 18, 1814.^ At an early age he was wick was entertained at a public dinner, at put to the printing business in his father's which the late Mr. Charles Maclaren, editor of establishment. His tastes, however, being the Scotsman, presided, and Mr. John Hill more literary than meclianical, he became dis- Burton, advocate, officiated as croupier, while satisfied with his position, and devoted all his tlie company included many literary men and leisure hours to study and composition, con- artists of distinction. In 1844 he collected some tributing in prose and verse to various news- of his poems which had appeared at various papers and periodicals. In his sixteenth year times in different periodicals, and published he went to London. AVhile there he at- them in an elegant volume. After the death of tended tlie university, and gained the first the gifted David Gray Mr. IIedderwick prepared prize in the rhetoric class. Before he was a most interesting memoir of his life, which twenty-three he became sub-editor of the Scots- was prefixed to his poems, together with an man newspaper. In 1842 he returned to his introductory notice written by Mr. Eichard native city and established the Glasfjoiv Citizen, Monckton Milnes (now Lord Houghton). In a weekly newspaper which long maintained 1859 Mr. IIedderwick published another vol- a respectable position. In this journal ume of poems, under the title of Lays ofMiddle Alexander Smith made his first appearance as Age. From this, his principal work, we make a poet, and in later years poor David Gray the subjoined selections. first saw his beautiful lines in its columns, In 1864 Mr. Hedderwick established the bearing the nom-de-plume of " Will Gurney." Evenimj Citizen, one of the first Scottish half- Among others who made their iHbut in the penny daily newspapers, which under his con- Citizen was Mr. William Black, who has since trol maintains a high character, and is said to attained great popularity as a journalist and have the largest circulation of any daily paper writer of fiction. in Scotland. FIRST GRIEF. They tell me first and early love The grief that marks our dawning youth Outlives all after dreams; To memory ever clings. But the memory of a first great grief And o'er the path of future years To mc more lasting seems; A lengthen'd shadow flings. ' " When I was eight years old," Mr. Heilileiwick family. Not liking the country, he returned somewhat writes to tlie Editor, "I was in America for a few abruptly, so that I narrowly escaped being a Yankee!" months, my father having eniig ated thither with his — Eu. — ; —— ! ! ; JAMES HEDDERWICK. 379 wears Oil, oft m\' mind recalls the hour But the deep, deep track that sorrow Wiieu to my father's home Time never can eft'ace! Death came —an uninvited guest From his dwelling in the tombl I had not seen his face before, I shndder'd at the sight, THE EMIGRANTS. And I shudder still to think, upon The anguish of that nightl The daylight was dying, the twilight was dreary, And eerio the face of the fast-falling night. A youthful brow and ruddy cheek But closing the shutters, we made ourselves cheery Became all cold and wan With gas-light and firelight, and young faces An eye grew dim in which the light bright. Of radiant fancy shone. the brow, Cold was the cheek, and cold When, hark! came a chonis of wailing and The eye was fix'd and dim; anguish dead And one tliere mourn"d a brother We ran to the door and Lok'd cut through the Who would have died for him! dark; Till- gazing, at length we began to distinguish I know not if 'twas summer then, The slow-moving masts of an ocean-bound bark. I know not if 'twas spring, But if the birds sang on the trees Alas! 'twas the emigrants lea^•ing the river, I did not hear them sing! Their homes in the city, their haunts in the dell If flowers came forth to deck the earth, From kindred and friends they had parted for Their bloom I did not see; ever, I look'd upon one wither'd flower, But their voices still blended in cries of farewell. And none else bloom'd for me! We saw not the eyes that their last looks were A sad and silent time it was taking; Within that house of woe. We heard but the shouts that were meant to All eyes were dull and overcast. be cheers. And ever}' voice was low! But which told of the aching of heai-ts that were And from each cheek at intervals breaking, The blood appear'd to start. A past of delight and a futurs of tears. As if recall'd in sudden haste long as we hsten'd, in lulls of the night To aid the sinking heart! And breeze. Softly we trod, as if afraid On our ears the sad shouting in faint music fell. To mar the sleeper's sleep, Till methought it seem'd lost in the roll of the And stole last looks of his pale face white seas, winds only echoed For memorj' to keep! x\nd the rocks and the With him the agony was o'er. farewell. And now the pain was ours, IMore bright was our home-hearth, more bright As thoughts of his sweet childhood ros3 and more cosy, Like odour from dead flowers! As we shut out the night and its darkness once And when at last he was borne afar more; cheeks, that so radiant and rosy. From the world's weary strife, But pale were the Were flush'd with delight a few moments before. How oft in thought did we again Live o'er his little life! So I told how the morning, all lovely and tender. His every look — his every word Sweet dew on the hills, and soft light on the voice's tone His very sea, whose worth Come back to us like things Would follow the exiles and float with its splen- Is only prized when gone! dour, To gild the far land where their homes were The grief has pass'd with years away. to be. And joy has been my lot; But the one is oft remember'd In the eyes of my childi-en were gladness and And the other soon forgot. gleaming, The gayest hours trip lightest by, Their little prayer utter'd, how calm was their And leave the faintest trace; sleep ! 380 JAMES HEDDEKWICK. I in my di-eaming could hear the wind But ME. screaming, THE LAND FOR And fancy I heard hoarse replies from the deep. I've been upon the moonlit deep When the wind had died away, And often, when slumber had cool'd my brow's like an ocean-god asleep fever, And bark majestic lay; A cb-eam-utter'd shriek of despair brolce the The spell; But lovelier is the varied scene, 'Twas the voice of the emigrants leaving the river, The hill, the lake, the tree, And startling the night with their cries of AVhen bathed in light of midnight's queen; farewell. The land I the land! for mc. The glancing waves I've glided o'er AVhen gently blew the breeze; SORROW AND SONG. But sweeter was the distant shore. The zephyr 'mong the trees. The murmur of the mountain rill, "Weep not over poet's wrong, The blossoms waving free. Mourn not his mischances; The song of birds on every hill, Sorrow is the source of song, The land! the land! for me. And of gentle fancies. The billows 1 have been among Rills o'er rocky beds are borne, When they roU'd in mountains dark, Ere they gush in whiteness; And night her blackest curtain hung Pebbles are wave-chafed and worn Around our heaving bark; Ere they show their brightness. But give me, when the storm is fierce. home and fireside glee, Sweetest gleam the morning flowers My Where winds may howl, but dare not pierce, AVhen in tears they waken; The land! the land! for me. Earth enjoys refreshing showers the boughs are shaken. AVhen And when around the lightning flash'd, I've been upon the deep. Ceylon''s glistening pearls are sought And to the gulf beneath I've dasli'd In its deepest waters; Adown the liquid steep; From the darkest mines are brought But now that I am safe on shore. Gems for beauty's daughters. There let me ever be; others wander o'er, Through the rent and shiver'd rock The sea let land! the land! forme. Limpid water bi-eaketh; The 'Tis but when the chords are struck That their music waketh. Flowers, by heedless footstep press'd. MIDDLE AGE. All their sweets surrender; Fair time of calm resolve—of sober thought! Gold must brook the fiery test Quiet half-way hostelry on life's long road, Ere it show its splendour.

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