Yet, there is tolerable proof extant that the above dates from at least the beginning of the seventeenth century. "Katherine Beardie," anyway, is the name affixed to an air in a manuscript musical collection which belonged to the Scottish poet, Sir William Mure, of Rowallan, written, presumably, between the years 1612 and 1628. The same tune, under the name of "Kette Bairdie," also appears in a similar collection which belonged to Sir John Skene of Hallyards, supposed to have been written about 1629. Further, so well did Sir Walter Scott know that this was a popular dance during the reign of King James VI., as Mr. Dawney points out, that he introduces it in the _Fortunes of Nigel_, with this difference, that it is there called "Chrichty Bairdie," a name not precisely identical with that here given; but as Kit is a diminutive of Christopher, it is not difficult to perceive how the two came to be confounded. Old as it certainly is--and older by a deal it may be than these presents indicate--it maintains yet the charm of youth--delighting all with its lightly tripping numbers. No less does-- THE MILLER'S DOCHTER. There was a miller's dochter, She wadna want a baby, O; She took her father's grey hound An' row'd it in a plaidie, O. Singing, Hush-a-ba! hush-a-ba! Hush-a-ba, my baby, O! An 'twere na for you lang beard, I wad kiss your gabbie, O! While bedding operations have been in progress no song, surely, has been more welcome and effective than HAP AND ROW. Hap and row, hap and row, Hap and row the feetie o't; I never kent I had a bairn Until I heard the greetie o't. The wife put on the wee pan To boil the bairn's meatie, O, When down fell a cinder And burn't a' its feetie, O. Hap and row, hap and row, Hap and row the feetie o't; I never kent I had a bairn Until I heard the greetie o't. Sandy's mither she came in As sune's she heard the greetie o't, She took the mutch frae aff her head And rowed it round the feetie o't. Hap and row, hap and row, etc. In about equal favour stands HOW DAN, DILLY DOW. How dan, dilly dow, Hey dow, dan, Weel were ye're minnie. An' ye were a man. Ye wad hunt an' hawk, An' hand her o' game, An' water your daddie's horse When he cam' hame. How dan, dilly dow, Hey dan, floors, Ye'se lie i' your bed Till eleven hours. If at eleven hours You list to rise, Ye'se hae your dinner dight In a new guise. Laverocks' legs, And titlins' taes, And a' sic dainties My mannie shall hae. A cheery and comforting lilt, indeed, with its promise of plenty. Much superior to the next, which bears in its bosom the hollow and unwelcome ring of a "toom girnal"--a sound no child should ever know. It is yet a lilt familiar to the nursery:-- CROWDIE.