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Mary Hutton


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Did our space permit we should have selected her affecting verses upon reading of a poor girl in Sheffield who was taken before a magistrate because she was found weeping over her father's grave; which must, surely, be a new misdemeanour in England.

We give below a few lines from those Mary Hutton has addressed to the Memory of the Ettrick Shepherd.

Oft have I wish'd, sweet bard to see

Thee, and thy darling, Wee Jamie

And all thy worthy family

But now this wish can never be

For Ettrick's bard is now no more

Yet thy sweet tales our homes shall cheer

And when the peasant's task is o'er

He'll read thy pages with a tear

And teach his children to revere

With deep respect and high esteem

From day to day and year to year

The bard that sang by Yarrow's stream.

This may not be the very best of poetry, yet it is not without its uses, and we are glad to know that, besides a Montgomery and an Elliott Sheffield has one and perhaps many Mary Huttons.

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