Whane'er she names a mither's name,
An' sairly presseth thee, Willie,
Oh! tell her of a happy hame

Far, far o'er earth an' sea, Willie ;
An' ane that waits to welcome thein,
Her hameless bairns, an' me, Willie.

ROBERT CHAMBERS.

FEW men have done so much for their native land as William and Robert Chambers. Rarely, too, do we meet literary talent and business skill combined in the same individuals to the extent that is in their case. Though Robert is the poet, and, in fact, the most eminent as a literary man, yet they have both labored successfully, and their labors having been generally combined, it is difficult to separate them. Their operations as booksellers commenced in Leith about thirty-five years ago, from which place they subsequently removed into Edinburgh. To eke out the profits of bookselling, William taught himself the art of printing, and not only printed, but bound, with his own hands, the entire edition of the first publication they undertook. They were remarkably industrious, toiling late and early at their business. Robert's first work was the "Traditions of Edinburgh," the best work ever written on the subject. This was followed by the "Popular Rhymes of Scotland," "The Picture of Scotland," the "Histories of the Scottish Rebellions," in three volumes, a "Life of James I.," and a "Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotchmen," in four large volumes; and at a later period his great work the "Encyclopædia of English Literature."

William, in the meantime, was not idle. He was engaged on the "Book of Scotland," a work of great value, and a "Gazetteer of Scotland," decidedly the best ever prepared. Their great enterprise, a joint one, the publication of the "Edinburgh Journal," is their most useful as well as most successful work. After an existence of more than twenty years, this periodical, notwithstanding the appearance of many rivals and imitators, has now a circulation of more than sixty thousand copies weekly. In connection with this, their various publications all issued at a very low rate, and thus adapted to the means

of the humblest individuals, have been unprecedentedly popular. Of the "Information for the People," one of their most useful publications, thirty thousand of each number was sold as it appeared, and it has had a large sale since it was completed. They now employ one hundred and eighty persons, and have ten printing presses in their mammoth establishment. This forms a curious contrast with the little shop and the hand press of William Chambers thirty years ago.

A strong love of their native country characterizes both brothers, as evidenced in their writings. William has recently purchased the house in which they spent their boyhood in Peebleshire, and an adjoining estate where he resides during the summer. Robert still lives in Edinburgh.

They have assisted many a youthful genius struggling with poverty, and been the means, by their Journal, of developing much latent talent among the Scottish peasantry.

SEOILA UD.

SCOTLAND! the land of all I love,

The land of all that love me;

Land, whose green sod my youth has trod,
Whose sod shall lie above me.

Hail, country of the brave and good;
Hail, land of song and story;
Land of the uncorrupted heart,

Of ancient faith and glory!

Like mother's bosom o'er her child,
The sky is glowing o'er me;
Like mother's ever-smiling face,

The land lies bright before me.
Land of my home, my father's land;
Land where my soul was nourished;

Land of anticipated joy,

And all by memory cherished!

Oh Scotland, through thy wide domain
What hill, or vale, or river,

But in this fond enthusiast heart

Has found a place forever?

Nay, hast thou but a glen or shaw,
To shelter farm or sheiling,
That is not fondly garnered up
Within its depths of feeling?

Adown thy hills run countless rills,
With noisy, ceaseless motion;
Their waters join the rivers broad,
Those rivers join the ocean:
And many a sunny, flowery brae,
Where childhood plays and ponders,
Is freshened by the lightsome flood,
As wimpling on it wanders.

Within thy long-descending vales,
And on the lonely mountain,
How many wild spontaneous flowers
Hang o'er each flood and fountain!
The glowing furze, the "bonny broom,"
The thistle, and the heather;

The blue-bell, and the gowan fair,
Which childhood likes to gather.

Oh for that pipe of silver sound,
On which the shepherd lover,