An honest man here lies at rest, the friend of man the friend of truth the friend of age and guide of youth. Few hearts like his with virtue warmed, few heads with knowledge so informed. If there's another world, he lives in bliss. If there is none, he made the best of this.

'T is sweeter for thee despairing Than aught in the world beside,-Jessy!

Not the bee upon the blossom, In the pride o' sunny noon; Not the little sporting fairy, All beneath the simmer moon; Not the poet, in the moment Fancy lightens in his e'e, Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, That thy presence gi'es to me.

Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever . . .

The heart that is generous and kind most resembles God.

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that aye be your border.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min?