that of an old maid. In a word, the object of his choice was but a very few years younger than himself. Her name was Peggy Purves, and it is possible she was inclined to adopt the language of the song, and say-- "O mother, onybody!" for when James made his proposal, she smirked and blushed--said she "didna ken what to say till't"--took the corners of her apron in her fingers--hung her head--smiled well pleased, and added, she "would see!" but within three months became the wife of Jemmy the Leveller. James became the father of two children, a son and daughter; and we may here notice a circumstance attending the baptism of the son. About three weeks after the birth of the child, his mother began to inquire-- "What shall we ca' him, James? Do ye think we should ca' him Alexander, after your faither and mine?" "Haud yer tongue, woman," replied James, somewhat testily. "Goodness me! where's the use in everlastingly yatter-yattering about what I will ca' him? The bairn shall hae a name--a name that will be like a deed o' virtue and greatness engraven on his memory as often as he hears it." "Oh, James, James!" returned Peggy, "ye're the strangest and perversest man that ever I met wi' in my born days. I'm sure ye'll ne'er think o' giein ony o' yer heathenish Jacobin names to my bairn!" "Just content yersel, Peggy," replied he--"just rest contented, if ye please. I'll gie the bairn a name that neither you nor him will ever hae cause to be ashamed o'." Now, James was a rigid Dissenter, and caused the child to be taken to the meeting-house; and he stood up with it in his arms, in the midst of the congregation, that his infant might publicly receive baptism. The minister inquired, in a low voice, "What is the child's name?" His neighbours were anxious to hear the answer; and, in his deep, sonorous tones, he replied aloud-- "GEORGE WASHINGTON!" There was a sort of buzz and a movement throughout the congregation, and the minister himself looked surprised. When her daughter was born, the choice of the name was left to Peggy, and she called her Catherine, in remembrance of her mother. Shortly after the birth of his children, the French Revolution began to lour in the political horizon, and James Nicholson, the weaver, with a fevered anxiety, watched its progress. "It is a bursting forth o' the first seed o' the tree o' liberty, which the Americans planted, and George Washington reared," cried James, with enthusiasm; "the seeds o' that tree will spread owre the earth, as if scattered by the winds o' heaven--they will cover it as the waters do the sea--they will take root--they will spring up in every land: beneath the burning sun o' the West Indies, on the frozen deserts o' Siberia, the slave and the exile will rejoice beneath the shadow o' its branches, and their hearts be gladdened by its fruits."