A WINTER-PIECE AMONG THE PENTLANDS.

A flock of fieldfares from the leafless trees Flew chattering mournfully, while here and there A single redwing flung upon the breeze A sigh that seem’d the utterance of despair.

But on the burn, scarce half a mile below, The bluff white-breasted ouzel from a rock Pour’d his bold song—a huddling overflow Of mirth, those faint-heart winter-fowl to mock. —Henry Johnstone.