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 LIBRARY 
 
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 fat tljp 
 
 Satabltatjrli 19118 
 
THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS 
 
Edin^rgh : Scott £ Ferguson and Burness £ Company, 
 Printers to Her Majesty. 
 
THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS 
 
 CtEXEAL0C4ICAL AXD HISTORICAL MEMOIRS OF 
 THE POET HIS ASSOCIATES AXD THOSE CELEBRATED 
 
 IX HIS WRITINGS 
 
 Cftf Hmeage ot tfie ^oet 
 
 By the late Rev. CHARLES ROGERS, D.D., LL.D. 
 By Rev. J. C. HIGGINS, A.M., B.D., 
 
 TAKBOLTON 
 
 In Three Volumes 
 Vol. Ill 
 
 EDINBURGH 
 PRINTED FOR THE GRAMPIAN CLUB ^ 
 
 1891 ^ ^ 
 
i.^" ^hn I 
 
 Heart that no sorrow wrings ! 
 Man, in wliose praises all are loud ! Voice that for ever sings ! 
 A people's love, the holy bier, that holds thy worth in trust. 
 With glory flashing through the tear that drops above thy dust ; 
 O, rich inheritor of fame, rewarded well at last, 
 
 Whose strong soul, like a sword of flame, smites with fierce light the past, 
 The sculptured piles, in trumpet tones, attest thy vast renown, 
 A nobler lieirship than the thrones of princes handed down. 
 
 A. G. Murdoch. 
 
 1h\ 
 
 p-t. a 
 
PEEFACE 
 
 Having been asked, with a view to the completion of this Work, 
 to prepare a short biography of Burns, I have aimed at writing 
 a concise narrative, setting forth as many of the incidents of the 
 Poet's career as the avaihible space would allow, and at making as 
 large use as possible of the Poet's own words. 
 
 For the purpose of writing a " Life of Burns," the late Dr. 
 Charles Rogers had gathered a mass of notes ; but these notes 
 could have been advantageously utilised only by Dr. Roo-ers 
 himself. 
 
 Every one knows that the subject of the Poet's Life and 
 Writings has already been fully and powerfully dealt with by 
 many eminent authors. 
 
 Having agreed, however, though not without misgivings, to 
 complete Vol. 111. of the Book of Robert Burns, I have tiied to 
 perform my task clearly, faithfully, and sympathetically. 
 
 J. C. H. 
 
Is there a \vhini-ins])ir(JJ fool, 
 
 Owre fast for thouglit, owre hot for rule, 
 
 O^vTe blate to seek, owre proud to snool. 
 
 Let him draw near ; 
 And o'er this grassy heap sing dool, 
 
 And drap a tear. 
 
 Is there a man whose judgments clear, 
 Can others teach the course to steer, 
 Yet runs himself life's mad career, 
 
 Wild as a wave. 
 Here pause — and through the starting tear 
 
 Survey this grave. 
 
 The poor inhabitant below 
 
 Was quick to learn and wise to know, 
 
 And keenly felt the friendly glow, 
 
 And softer flame ; 
 But thoughtless follies laid him low. 
 
 And stained his name. 
 
 A Bard's Epitaph. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 _, -r. , T PAGE 
 
 iHK Poets Lineage, ...... .1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Birth and Early Environments, ...... 75 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Erom 1777-1784. Age 18-25. Tarbolton, Kirkoswald, Irvine, . 91 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Erom 1784-1786. Age 25-27. Mossgiel and Mauchline, . .113 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Eirst Winter in Edinburgh — November 28, 1786 -May 5, 1787. 
 
 Age 27-28, ........ 140 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Border, West Highland, Northern, and Devon Valley Tours — 
 
 May 5-October 20, 1787. Age 28, . . . .161 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 More Edinburgh Life. Clarinda. Excise Appointment. Marriage. 
 
 October 1787-June 1788. Age 28-29, .... 180 
 
VI LI 
 
 COX TENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER YITI. 
 Elusland— June 1788-Dece.mber 1791. Age 29-32, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Dumfries— 1792-1795. Age 33-3G, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Closing Ye.\h, July 1795-July 1796. Age 36-37, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 194 
 
 226 
 
 274 
 
 APPENDICES, 
 
 Appendix A. — Coxcerxing the Poet's Family, 
 Appendix B. — Manual of Religious Belief, 
 Appendix C. — The Poet's Commmonplace Books, 
 Appendix D. — Burns and Freemasonry, 
 Appendix E.— The Ayr Burns Statue — 1891, 
 
 307 
 310 
 315 
 336 
 34e 
 
 ILLUSTRATIOX. 
 Silhouette of Robert Burns, taken by ]\Iiers in 1787. 
 
THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 THE POETS LINEAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The land he trod 
 Hath now become a place of pilgrimage ; 
 Where dearer are the daisies of the sod, 
 That could his song engage. 
 The hoary hawthorn, wreathed 
 Above the banks on which his limbs he flung, 
 While some sweet plaint he breathed ; 
 The streams he wandered near ; 
 The maidens whom he loved, the songs he sung — 
 All, all are dear ! Isa Craig Knox. 
 
 So early as the eleventh century the name of Burnes appears in the 
 English records. In Domesday Book Godric de Burnes is named in 
 the year 1050 as the owner of wide domains in Kent. In Rymer's 
 Eoedera is recorded a bull of Pope Nicholas IV., whereby John de 
 Burnes, knight, is in 1290 welcomed to Rome as envoy of Edward I. 
 And according to Dugdale, in his Monasticon, William de Burnes is, 
 in a charter of Edward II., included among the early benefactors of 
 the hospital founded at Eastbridge, in Canterbury, by Thomas a 
 Becket. Curious as pointing to the early origin of the surname, 
 these notices do not otherwise avail our present inquiry, since it is 
 
 VOL. III. A 
 
2 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 certain tliat the family in which we are interested did not derive 
 even remotely from an English source. 
 
 The Scottish surname, Burns or Burnes, is formed from the 
 compound word Burn-house, signifying a dwelling or croft resting 
 upon the margin of a rivulet or small stream. Farm homesteads 
 and private dwellings styled Burnhouse are common in all the 
 lowland counties, especially in the counties of Fife and Kincardine, 
 while the family name Burnes or Burns is or was common in every 
 district in which existed the territorial appellative. 
 
 In the parish and other registers of Kincardineshire the surname 
 is variously spelt Burnes, Burnas, Burnase, Burnace, and Burness,^ 
 and members of the Kincardineshire stock seem to have derived 
 from a comnKjn ancestor at or about the farm of Burnhouse, now 
 called Kair, in the parish of Arbuthnot.^ In the parish register of 
 Arbuthnot are the followinoj entries : — 
 
 At the kirk of Arbuthnot, the 23rd May 1635, William Burncss, in the 
 
 parish of Kineff, and Janet INIilne, in this parish, were married. 
 
 On the 1 1th April 1G47, John Burnace of Boghall, in Arbuthnot, and Marf^^aret 
 
 Stcvinson, in the parish of Glenbcrvie, were prochumed in order to marriage. 
 
 To John Burnace and his wife were baptized at Arbuthnot, 
 Margaret, on the 15th October 1648 ; James, on the 22nd December 
 1650; and Robert, on the 20th January 1656. 
 
 At Arbuthnot, on the 23rd March 1656, the banns of marriage 
 were proclaimed between Robert Burnes and Margaret Mill in 
 
 ^ In the Orkneys there are three jilaccs known into Burnes at or prior to the middle of the 
 
 as Burness— a small lake in the parish of West- seventeenth century. On the 20th February 
 
 ray, an estate in the parish of Firth and Sten- 1661 Alexander TurnbuU, son of Peter TurnbuU 
 
 ness, and the old parish of Burness, now annexed of Stracathro, gave infeftnient in liferent to his 
 
 to that of Cross in the island of Sanday. But wife Jean Hunter, daughter of David Hunter of 
 
 Burness or Burns, so far as we can ascertain, Burnes, in the northmost fore-tenement of land 
 
 docs not exist as a surname in any part of the on the east side of Murray Street, Montrose. 
 
 Orkneys. — Burgh Records of Montrose, Seisins, vol. 
 
 '■' There was another Burnhouse in the parish 1656-1670, p. 112. 
 of Montrose, of which the name was abbreviated 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 3 
 
 Glenbervie, and on the 29th April of the same year John Burnes in 
 Boghall of Arbuthnot and Agnes Jamie in Garvock were married. 
 On the 26th of May 1664 Thomas Burnace and Mary Gib were 
 married at Arbuthnot; and on the 6th September 1698 David 
 Burness had baptized at Arbuthnot a daughter, Jean. 
 
 At or prior to the middle of the seventeenth century, George 
 Burnace, from Arbuthnot, settled at Barnsen Hill, in the parish of 
 Benholm. He had a son baptized on the 2nd April 1662, but his 
 name is in the register incidentally omitted. Tradition affirms that 
 he had a son Eobert, who was father of Robert Burnes, solicitor in 
 Stonehaven. The latter married Isabel Meldrum, by whom he had a 
 son, Robert, who became Sheriff-Substitute of Kincardineshire. The 
 Sheriff's wife was Anne Cushnie. 
 
 During the seventeenth century members of the Kincardine- 
 shire sept were variously employed. On the 5th Aprd 1637 John 
 Burnes, "servitor" or factor to Sir Alexander Strachan of Thornton, 
 IS named as a witness to an heritable bond granted by the Earl 
 of Traquair, Treasurer of Scotland, to Alexander Straitoun of 
 that Ilk.' Patrick Burness, " Clerk to the Presbytery of Brechin," 
 attests a bond, whereby, on the 26th August 1659, John Lindsay of 
 Edzell grants "ane hundreth merks and six bolls of oatmeal," etc., 
 to the parish reader at Lochlea.' Colonel John Burnes is mentioned 
 in the Act of 1690 for " rescinding the foref^iultures and fynes since 
 the year 1665."' 
 
 We have found members of the Burnes ftmiily at Arbuthnot 
 intermarrying with parishioners of Glenbervie, a course perfectly 
 natural, since these parishes are contiguous. An early Burnes settle- 
 ment at Glenbervie becomes known to us in the following narrative. 
 
 ^ In his Notes on the Name and Family of 2 Ibid. p. 17. 
 
 B^irnes, p. 13, Dr. James Burnes states that the s ^^.^.^ Pari. Scot., ix. 166. 
 
 instrument was in the possession of his father. 
 
4 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 David Stuart of Johnston near Laurencekirk, accompanied at the 
 battle of Pinkie, on the 10th Se23tember 1547, his puissant neigh- 
 bour, Sir Alexander Douglas of Glenbervie. Wounded in the conflict, 
 Sir Alexander was by Stuart borne from the field ; and, in acknow- 
 ledgment of this service. Sir Alexander granted him the lands of 
 Inchbreck, in his barony of Glenbervie, the gift being confirmed 
 by a charter from the Eegent, Mary of Guise, which is dated at 
 Aberdeen in 1556/ And, according to Professor John Stuart of 
 Aberdeen, who early in the present century owned the lands of 
 Inchbreck, persons of the name of Burnes were farmers on the 
 estate when his ancestor, David Stuart of Johnston, entered upon 
 his orrant." 
 
 The early parish registers of Glenbervie have been lost — the 
 extant record of births dating only from 1721, and that of marriages 
 from 1748. The parish register of Arbuthnot, which is extant from 
 1G31, contains the following important entry : — " At the kirk of 
 Arbuthnot, the 27th of August 1633, the said day Robert Burnace 
 presentit ane chyld to be baptizit, callit Robert. Witness thairto 
 Robert Krow in Parkhead." According to the usual method, when 
 a child was baptized publicly, the session-clerk named the congrega- 
 tion only as witnesses, while if a child was baptized privately, the 
 names of two or more individuals were given as witnessing the 
 solemnity. But at this time the minister of Glenbervie was Mr. 
 James Douglas, second son of Sir Archibald Douglas of Glenbervie, 
 who, admitting of a godfather, according to the episcopal mode, 
 caused the godfather's name to be in the parish register entered as 
 a witness. And Robert Krow, named as witness to the baptism of 
 the 27th August, may probably have been the child's maternal 
 
 1 Jervise's J/e-M0n«;.9 of Awjmand Mearns, Ediiib. 1861, 8vo. pp. 95-99; letter from Alexander 
 Stuart, Esq., of Inchbreck, to the writer. 
 - Dr. James Barnes's " Notes," p. 14. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 5 
 
 grandfather, since the infant evidently received his name. Krow 
 is described as " in Parkhead," which imi^lies that he rented the 
 farm at the head of the slope or rising ground, on which is situated 
 the demesne, or home park at Arbuthnot. Robert Krow, evidently 
 a son of Robert Krow, farmer at Parkhead, " had a child baptized 
 to him, by the name of Robert, at the kirk of Arbuthnot, on the 
 4th September 1646," and on the occasion, Sir Robert, afterwards 
 first Viscount Arbuthnot, was present as godfather.' The presence 
 of a territorial baron at a baptism in the family of a tenant 
 betokened more than ordinary favour. And, as the name Robert 
 was common in every generation of the Arbuthnot family from the 
 close of the fourteenth century, and the bearers of it had latterly 
 been persons of eminence,- it may be as^imed that it was by the 
 farmers Krow adopted in compliment to the family of their landlord. 
 And we have remarked how that, apparently from one of the Krow 
 family, it was introduced into that of Burnes. 
 
 The family of Krow, or Crow, can be traced to the parish of 
 Arbuthnot only. During the eighteenth century members of the 
 family rented farms in the parish of Brechin, and are found inter- 
 marrying in the families of the district landowners.^ 
 
 Colonel John Crow, descended from the Brechin family, had a 
 daughter and heiress, Helen Margaret, who in 1841 espoused Major- 
 General Sir John Campbell, Bart. ; her eldest son. Sir Archibald 
 Ava Campbell, succeeded as third baronet on the death of his 
 father in 1855. 
 
 Robert, son of Robert Burn ace, baptized at Arbuthnot on the 
 
 1 Arbuthnot Parish Register. and Chark's I. His eldest son, also Sir Robert, 
 
 2 Sir Robert Arbuthnot of that Ilk, a man of was a man of authority and weight ; he was 
 great ability and superior accomplishments, created Viscount Arbuthnot in 1641, and died 
 was employed in state service by James VI. ; in 1659. His son, grandson, and great-grandson, 
 he died in 1615, and was succeeded by his successively Viscounts of Arbuthnot, each bore 
 nephew, Sir Robert Arbuthnot, who made a tlie Christian name of Robert. 
 
 considerable figure in the reigns of James VI. ^ Brechin Parish Register. 
 
6 777^ BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 2 7 til August 1633, was by his father established in a farm in the 
 parish of Glenbervie. In the Arbuthnot register a marriage 
 proclamation is entered tlius : — "June 10, 1GG5, Robert Burnace in 
 the parische of Glenbervie, and Alspit [Elizabeth] Wise, lawfull 
 daughter to Andrew Wise in Gyretsmire, gave in their names to be 
 proclaimed for marriage." 
 
 The f^imily of Wise rented lands in Kincardineshire ; and 
 synchronous with Andrew Wise, tenant in Gyretsmyre, there lived 
 at Arbuthnot Richard Wise, also tenant at Gyretsmyre, and David 
 Wise "in Bringieshill." Members of the sept intermarried with 
 the families of Strachan of Thornton,^ and of other landowners in 
 Kincardineshire, The present representative is Thomas Alexander 
 Wise, M.D., formerly Principal of the Hooghly and Dacca Colleges, 
 and now of Hillbank, in the county of Forfar. 
 
 In leasing a farm at Glenbervie, Robert Burnes or Burnace 
 joined a neighbourhood in which persons of his name and kin had 
 rented portions of land for a series of generations. 
 
 Walter Burnes ^ of the parish of Glenbervie, who there died prior 
 to the middle of the seventeenth century, had a son of the same 
 Christian name. 
 
 Walter Burnes the younger held in lease on the estate of Inchbreck 
 the farm of Bogjorgan,^ extending to sixty acres, Scottish measure. 
 He there resided till his death, which took place in November 1670. 
 
 ' See Memorials, of the Scottish Families of Stewart, and was consequently obliged to 
 
 Strachan and Wise. Printed for private cir- abandon his native country, and, as a fugitive, 
 
 culation, 1877. betake himself to the Lowlands, accompanied by 
 
 - In his "Notes" Dr. James Burnes sets his son Walter, who was then a boy. Finding 
 
 forth that the first Walter Burnes was tradi- his way to Glenbervie, he there dropped the 
 
 tionally represented as having been originally name Campl^ell, substituting that of Burnes, as 
 
 designated Walter Campbell, and as owner an abbreviation of Burnhouse, liis former 
 
 of a small farm styled Burnhouse, in the county possession. The alleged tradition is utterly at 
 
 of Argyle. He had, iiroceedcd the tradition, variance with recorded facts. 
 
 given offence to his chief, the Earl of Argyle, ^ The present rent of Bogjorgau farm is i'40. 
 by yielding support to the royal house of 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 7 
 
 His will, lately discovered by the present writer among the unrecorded 
 testaments of the Commissariot of Brechin, is of the followino- 
 purport : — 
 
 Testament Testamentar, Latter Will, Legacie, and Inventory of the goods, etc., 
 pertaining to Walter Burnece in Bogjargan, and possessed in common betwixt 
 him and Issobell Grig, his spous, the tyme of his deceis, who deceist in 
 the month off November 1670, given up by himself at Bogjargan the 7th day 
 of K'ovember 1670 years. Walter Burnece being sick of body and perfect of 
 memorie, made his latter will befor thir witnesses, Robert Tailiour in Halkhill 
 and John Greig in Halkhill. 
 
 Inventor. 
 Imprimis, two old oxen for 6 lib 13 4d. the peice. 
 Item, three stotes, 6 lib the peice. 
 Item, two kine, 6 lib the peice. 
 Itevi, three coyes [queys], 5 lib. the peice. 
 Item, two horses, the one 3 lib., the other 6 lib. 
 Item, eight Avedders, 26s. 8d. the peice. , 
 
 Item, ten ewes, 1 lib. the peice. 
 
 Item, beare and infield corne, a chalder, at 4 libs, ilk boll. 
 Item, Outfield corne, a chalder, at 3 libs, ilk boll. 
 Itevr, the houss, with the haill outsight and insight plenishing, 10 libs. 
 
 Debts restaned to him. 
 Item, be David AVyse in Jaksbank, 6 lib. 10s. 
 
 Debts restaned be him. 
 Item, the laird's duty, four score of merks. 
 Item, to the parson of teind silver, 5 libs. 
 Item, to William Neilson in Bogtoun, 6 libs. 
 Item, to Archibald Gellie in Lageviu, 2 libs. 
 Item, to two hooksfies, the one 8 merks, the other 4 libs. 
 Item, to John Greig in Halkhill, 20 merks. 
 Sum total, 91 lib. 
 
 Legacy. Itevi, leaves his present wyffe Issobel Greig his executrix, and his 
 debtors being paid, he leaves to his two youngest children, David and Jean 
 Burnece, to ilk one fiftie merkis. 
 
 Item, he leaves John Greig in Halkhill to be tutor and overseer to them. 
 
8 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The will is attested by ''Mr. John Irving," minister of 
 Glenbervie/ 
 
 As Walter Burnes names Isobel Greig as his " present wyfFe," 
 the entry would imply that he had been espoused previously. And 
 as he provides only for his two youngest children, David and Jean, 
 it may be inferred that he had other children, and that these had 
 already been provided for. 
 
 In the farm of Bogj organ Walter Burnes w^as succeeded by two 
 brothers, William and James, who may reasonably be regarded as his 
 elder sons, and not improbably by a former wife. In 1705, when 
 James, the younger brother, retired from the farm, the following 
 memorandum as to the plenishing was drawn up, under sanction of 
 the landlord, William Stuart of Inchbreck : — 
 
 Ane note of the biging off Bogjorgine, lielonging to William Stuart, heritor 
 thereoff, given up be William Burnasse, present tenant of the sd. rowm, and 
 James Burnasse, late possessore of the halff therofF, upon the seventainth day of 
 Jully, 1705 years. 
 
 hnp. (a ffyr) houss, consisting of thrie couplles, ffour horses, two taill postes, 
 ane midle wall with ane post ffrom the ground, with ane rooflf, two pares 
 in the syd, with ane door bandet locked and bared, and with ane window 
 of two lightes, bradet bandet and snecked, with ane loume, all to be 
 sufficient. 
 
 Item, ane barne, consisting of ffyve couplles, ffour horses, two taill postes, 
 ane rooff, thrie pares in the syd, with ffor door locked and bandet, and back door 
 bared and steepled, all to be sufficient. 
 
 Item, ane byre, consisting of four couplles, two in the syd, ane rooff, with 
 door and door cheikes bandet, all to be sufficient. 
 
 It is declared be both parties that if ther be no other inventur ffound 
 betwixt this and Whytsonday nixt, 1706 years, that this shall be ane tr[ue] 
 inventur off the said William Burness at his removell from the said roum. In 
 
 ^ Mr. John Irving was parish minister of Glenbervie from 1C36 till his death in November 
 1680.— ftw^i Ecd. Scot. iii. 873. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 9 
 
 witness . . . beffor these witnesses,- Robt. Middletoun in Broombank and 
 David Watson in Polburn, wryter hereoff. 
 
 William Stuart, 
 R. Midletoun, JVitnes. 1jq5 
 
 D. Watson, ^vlfiies and ivryter} << -^y ^ » 
 
 On one of two recumbent tombstones in Glenbervie churchyard, 
 commemorative of members of the Burnes family, are at the upper 
 part engraved the initials W. B. and C. R, separated by the figure 
 of a heart, indicating wedlock. These initials commemorate WiUiam 
 Burnes, tenant in Bogjorgan, and his wife Christian Fotheringham. 
 The tombstone is considerably defaced, but there are distinguishable 
 the initials I. B., W. B., and E. B., evidently intended to"" indicate 
 the names of three children of the family who had died young. 
 Next follow the words, ''And here lyes his son, John Burnes, who 
 departed the 10th of April 17—, being of age 3—" 
 
 John Burnes may be historically recognised. In a work entitled 
 "History of the Eebellion in the 1715, by the Rev. Mr. Robert 
 Patten, formerly chaplain to Mr. Forster," published at London in 
 1745, there occurs, at page 121, the following entry : "Strathmore's 
 Regiment. A great part of them were prevented from crossing the 
 Forth by the King's ships, but there did John Burnes, Lieut. ,°with 
 fifteen others." On the outbreak of the insurrection under the Earl 
 of Mar in 1715, the Earl Marischal was, by his relative and neigh- 
 bour, William Stuart of Inchbreck, aided in forming a regiment^in 
 support of the Chevalier. And not improbably Lieutenint John 
 Burnes was a member of the corps which, in December 1715, was 
 reviewed at Stonehaven by the Chevalier, during his visit to the 
 Earl Marischal at Fetteresso. 
 
 1 The original of this inventory, with other Poet's biographers from the late Mr. Stuart of 
 documents relating to the Burnes family, was, Inchbreck, and was not returned to him. 
 about forty years ago, borrowed by one of the 
 VOL. III. B 
 
10 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 On the Glenbervie tombstone, already described, is the further 
 
 legend: "Here under lies Burnes, 1715," such 
 
 being probably the date of William Burnes's death. The tombstone 
 bears to have been erected in 1719. 
 
 Amono- the survivinoj children of William Burnes and Christian 
 Fotherino-ham were William and James. William succeeded to the 
 farm of Bogjorgan. He married Elspeth Taylor, by whom he had a 
 son, William, also two daughters, Christian and Elspeth. Christian 
 married James Kerr, and Elspeth became the wife of William Taylor, 
 tenant in Whitebog, Kincardineshire. 
 
 Ayilliam,son of William Burnes and Elspeth Taylor, married Helen, 
 daughter of William Thomson, merchant at Drumlithie. He died in 
 1784, in his sixty-fifth year. He was father of four sons, AVilliam, 
 James, Eobert, and John ; and of seven daughters, Jean (baptized 
 30th January 1752),^ Janet, Margaret, Isobel, Jean, Sarah, and Mary. 
 Of these, William, James, Jean, and Janet died in infancy. Margaret 
 married Robert Dallas, merchant, Stonehaven. Robert settled in 
 Stonehaven, and there died in 1816. He married, first, in November 
 
 1778, , when he paid as a proclamation fee the sum of 
 
 £6, 6s. Scots; secondly, on the 8th February 1794, Anne Paul,^ with 
 issue a son, William, who established a manufactory at Stonehaven.^ 
 
 John Burnes, youngest son of William Burnes and Helen 
 Thomson, was born 23rd May 1771. After being a single year at 
 school, he was apprenticed to a baker at Brechin at the age of thirteen. 
 In 1794 he enlisted as a private in the Angus Fencibles, and while 
 with his regiment stationed at Dumfries, he became known to his 
 relative the Poet. At Dumfries, in 1796, he composed Tlirummy 
 Cap, a metrical tale, which was afterwards printed. On the dis- 
 
 ' Fordoun Pari-sli Rugister. " Dunnottar Parish Register. 
 
 ' Statement Ly William Buriiess, manufacturer, Stonehaven, to Dr. Burnes, dated 22nd August 
 1834. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 11 
 
 banding of his corps, which took place at Peterhead on the 1st of 
 April 1799, he proceeded to Stonehaven, where he entered into 
 trade as a baker. In 1803 he joined the Forfarshire Militia, in 
 which he served twelve years; he was discharged in June 1815. 
 Thereafter employed as traveller by a publishing house, he, 
 while prosecuting his duties, perished in a snowstorm, on the road 
 between Stonehaven and Aberdeen, on the 12th January 1826. 
 Besides his tale of Tlirummy Cap, he, in 1819, published a volume 
 containing " The Hermit, or. The Dead come to Life," a comic 
 dramatic tale; " Rosmond and Isabella; or, The Persisting Penitent," 
 a tragedy ; " The Old Soldier," a comic drama ; " Sir James the 
 Rose," a tragedy ; and " Charles Montgomerie," a tragedy. In his 
 preface, dated "Stonehaven, May 5, 1819," he, in allusion to his 
 compositions, remarks that " he leaves them to their fate," adding 
 that " although the learned may condemn them as stubble to the 
 flames, damning both them and the author for writing them ; yet, if 
 one good-natured fellow declare he has any pleasure in their perusal, 
 the author has all he wishes for." Subsequently he published at 
 Montrose " The Recruit," an interlude in one act. His plays were 
 occasionally acted on the provincial stage, the author assisting in 
 the performances. In his metrical writings John Burnes is a close 
 imitator of his relative Robert Burns ; but in his blank verse he is 
 original and considerably powerful. He married, in 1801, Margaret 
 Davidson, a native of Peterhead, by whom he had several children. 
 
 James Burnes, younger son of William Burnes and Christian 
 Fotheringham, rented the farm of Brawlinmuir, in the parish of 
 Glenbervie, and on the Inchbreck estate.^ An anecdote illustrative 
 of his sagacity has been preserved. Highland freebooters made 
 
 ^ The farms of BraAvlinmuir and Mains of present rental of £120. Both farms are now 
 Inchbreck, which were usually let together, in the hands of the proprietor, 
 embrace about 200 acres, and might produce a 
 
12 777^ BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 frequent incursions into Kincardineshire, snateliing both money and 
 goods. Learning that a body of these plunderers were hovering in 
 his neighbourhood, he concealed his money in the nave of an old 
 cart wheel which lay in front of his house. In this way the robbers 
 were, on entering and quitting the dwelling, made to tread 
 unconsciously upon the treasure they sought to plunder.' 
 
 On the 14th June 1740 James Burnes executed his will ; it thus 
 proceeds : — 
 
 Be it knoM-n to all men by thir presents, Me, James Burnace, in Bralin- 
 muir, that fforasmickle as I have thought fitt to setle my small worldly concern 
 in my lifetime ffor preventing any disorder or confusion that may arise among 
 my children after my death, I with the burden of my own liferent, sell and 
 dispone from me and after death to and in ffavours of Robert Burnace, my 
 eldest lawfull son, in Clochnahill ; William Burnace, my second son, in Bralin- 
 muir ; James Burnace, in Halkhill, my third son ; George Burnace, in Elphill, 
 my fourth son ; Margaret Burnace, spous to James Gawen, in Drumlithie, my 
 only daughter ; and the said James for his interest, my haill corns and croft and 
 other moveables parteining to me at present or that may be the time of my 
 decess in as ffar as extends to the soum of one hundred merks Scotts money to 
 each of the saids Robert, AYilliam, James, and George Burnace, my sons ; and 
 ffifty merks money forsaid to the said ]Margret Burnace and James Gawen ; and 
 the like soum of ffifty merks to John Gawen, lawfull son to the said James 
 Gawen, making in haill ffive hundred merks Scotts money divided and apointed 
 to them in mener above exprest, with full power to them, agreeable to thir 
 respective shares, to midle, intromitt with, sell, use, and dispose on my said 
 croft and effects for payment to them of the said soum and shares, to each of 
 them so due as above sett doun and divided, always under the provision before 
 of my liferent use, and w^hat is over and above this payment as said is, I sett 
 and dispon to my wife Margret ffalconer, to be by her liferented, and what 
 remains after her death I recomend to be equally divided amongst my said ffive 
 children free of any burden, except twenty merks to Margaret Scott Burnace, 
 lawful daughter to the deceased Thomas Burnace, my fifth son, which, at 
 discretion of my said children, I appoint to be payed either with themselves or 
 
 ^ Chambers's L\J<i and Worls of Hohcrt Burni<, EJin. 1851, vol. i. p. 334. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 13 
 
 at the death of the said INIargret ffalconer, my spous ; which disposition, with the 
 burden and provision before mentioned, I bind and oblige me to warrend, 
 acquit, and defend good and valid to my said children as above divided, Avith 
 respect to the soums particularly above mentioned at all hands and against all 
 deadly. Dispensing with the generality hereof, and Avith all nullities, imper- 
 fections, and objections in law, proponeable or prejudicial hereunto in any sort. 
 I further recomend to my sons to be careful of, and dutiful to, my said spous and 
 their mother, and to be assisting to bring to perfection my said goods so disponed, 
 and the value of them aplyd for payt. of the forsaid soums as above apointed, 
 and, more particularly, I recomend peace and unity among themselves and exact 
 observance of what I herein above recomended ; and if any shall offer to contra- 
 veen or contradict this in any pairt, then the rest agreeing to and abiding by 
 the same are hereby empowered to denude him or them of the share to them 
 appointed, and to apply the same among themselves at discretion, and for the more 
 security I consent to the registration hereof in the Books of Council and Session 
 and others competent to have the strength of ane decreet, that letters of hornino' 
 and other executorials necesser on ane charge of ten days may be direct hereon, I 
 
 thereto constitut my procurators. In "Witness wherof thir presents (written 
 
 on this sheet of stampt paper by James Strachan, "Writer in Stonhyve) are 
 subscrived with my hand at Bralenmuir, the fourteen day of June, Seventeen 
 hundred and ffourty years, Before thir witnesses — David Croll, in AVhitbog; 
 George Touch, in Inchbreck ; John Jellie, Subtenant in Bralenmuir; and 
 William Taillor, son to James Tailor, in Whitbog. 
 
 I. B. 
 David Croll, Witnes. 
 
 George Touch, Wittens. The testator's signature is attested by 
 
 John Jellie, Witnes. James Strachan, N.P. 
 
 William Tailyor, "Witnes. ^ 
 
 Margaret Falconer, wife of James Burnes, belonged to a family, 
 ancient, and, in one of the brandies, noble. Ranulph, son of Walter 
 de Lunkyn, obtained from William the Lion, about the close of the 
 twelfth century, the office of royal falconer, with a grant of lands 
 in Kincardineshire, which, on account of the owner having charge of 
 
 ^ The original testament lias been preserved in tlie slieriff-clerk's office, Stonehaven j it bears 
 to have been recorded on the 28th January 1743. 
 
14 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 the king's liawks, were subsequently designated Halkerton. By the 
 family was assumed the name of Falconer. Sir Alexander Falconer 
 of Halkerton, a zealous adherent of Charles I., was appointed a 
 Senator of the College of Justice, and in 1647 was raised to the 
 peerage as Lord Falconer of Halkerton. He is now represented by 
 Francis Alexander Keith Falconer, ninth Earl of Kintore. 
 
 James Burnes and his wife are in the churchyard of Glenbervie 
 commemorated by a tombstone inscribed thus : — 
 
 Here under lyes the body of James Lurnes, ^vlio was tenant in Brawl inmuir, 
 who died ye 23 of January 1743, aged 87 years. Also the body of Margaret 
 Talconer, his spouse, who departed this life the 28th of December 1749, aged 
 
 90 years, 
 
 Altho' our bodj-s worms destroy, our reins consumed be ; 
 Yet in our flesh and with our eyes, shall our Redeemer see. 
 
 Here is the grave of Thomas Burnes, son of the above, who departed this life 
 June ye 8 1734, aged 29 years. Also his lawful and only daughter Margarctt, 
 who departed this hfe :March ye 24th 1741, aged 8 years. 
 
 By his wife, Margaret Falconer, James Burnes had seven sons, 
 of whom were Eobert, William, James, George, and Thomas ; also a 
 daughter, Margaret. 
 
 Margaret, only daughter of James Burnes and Margaret Falconer, 
 married James Gavin, Drumlithie, Kincardineshire, with issue two 
 sons, John and George. 
 
 John, the elder son, to whom James Burnes, his maternal grand- 
 father, bequeathed the sum of fifty merks, rented the farm of 
 "West Bogtoun, in the parish of Glenbervie. 
 
 George Gavin, the second son, was born in 1736 ; he traded as 
 a brewer at Drumlithie, and there died on the 28th of September 
 1800.^ Having acquired considerable opulence, the succession to 
 his estate was by his representatives keenly contested in the law 
 
 ' Tombstone inscription in Glenbervie churcbyard. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 15 
 
 courts. By his first wife, Christiau Bisset (who died in June 1770, 
 at the age of thirty-four), he had two sons, James, who died in 
 infancy, and Robert, who rented the farm of Collieston, and died 
 10th February 1805, aged forty-one ; also a daughter, Isabella. 
 
 Isabella, only daughter of George Gavin and Christian Bisset, 
 born in 1759, married in 1795 her cousin, George Greig,^ farmer 
 at Alpity, in the parish of Arbuthnot, and of Shepherdshaugh, 
 in the parish of Fordoun, who died on the 1st of June 1840, at the 
 age of seventy-seven. To the spouses, George Greig and Isabella 
 Gavin (the latter died on the 9tli of December 1837), were born six 
 sons and a daughter, Catherine. T^Yo of the sons, William and 
 Alexander, died in infjincy. 
 
 James, the eldest surviving son, born 14th Aj^ril 1798, rented 
 the farm of Mains of Kair, in Arbuthnot, and died on the 2nd July 
 1882. He married, 16th December 1821, Margaret Peat (who died 
 22nd December 1851), with issue three sons and three daughters. 
 
 John Kinloch, eldest son, born 22nd November 1822, is a banker at 
 Leeds. He married, first, in 1850, Isabella, daughter of John M'Bean, 
 Inverness, with issue three sons and two daughters, of whom survives 
 — Duncan Macbean Greig, M.D., University College Hospital, London. 
 He married, secondly, Elizabeth H. Tootall, without issue. 
 
 George, second son, born 14tli April 1824, resides at 9 Argyle 
 Place, Edinburgh. He married, in 1851, Catherine Smart, Arduthie, 
 Stonehaven, with issue one son, Charles ; also three daughters, 
 Elizabeth, Maggie, and Norah. 
 
 James Booth, third son, born 22nd August 1838, is a banker at 
 Laurencekirk. He married, in 1871, Margaret, daughter of James 
 Stinson, Belfast, with issue two sons, John Reginald and James 
 
 ^ The family of Greig were extensively con- yard of that parish. In the Commissariot 
 
 nected with the parish of Gleiibervie, as is Register of Brechin is recorded the testament of 
 
 evidenced by the numerous tombstones com- Rol)ert Greig in Nether Kinmonth, in the 
 
 niemorating persons of the name in the church- parish of Glenbervie, who died in March 1G77. 
 
16 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Stephenson ; also three daughters, Greta Kathleen, Eliza Stephenson, 
 and Annie May. 
 
 Isabella, eldest daughter, born 6th February 1826, died in infancy. 
 
 Clementina, second daughter, born 30th December 1828, married, 
 13th May 1851, George Leghorn, merchant, Clones, Ireland, with 
 issue five sons, John, WiUiam, George, Frederick, and Charles James; 
 also four daughters, Margaret Peat, Elizabeth, Jane, and Primrose 
 Leghorn. 
 
 Jane, third daughter, born 23rd July 1832, died 27th October 1847. 
 
 George, second son of George Greig and Isabella Gavin, rented 
 the farm of Townhead of Arbuthnot ; he afterwards settled in 
 Tasmania, where he has acquired land and attained opulence. He 
 married, and has a numerous offspring. 
 
 David, third son of George Greig, rented the farm of Harvieston, 
 in the parish of Kinneff. He died young, and his remains are 
 interred in the churchyard of Glenbervie, where he is commemorated 
 by a granite tombstone. 
 
 John, fourth son, rented the form of Grange of Kinneff; he 
 married Elizabeth Burness of Cloch in the same parish, and died in 
 1889. 
 
 Catherine, only daughter of George Greig and Isabella Gavin, 
 born 1804, married, in July 1827, Alexander Martin, who rented the 
 farms of Ilawhill and Mill of Garvock ; he died at Aberdeen in 1887. 
 
 George Gavin married, secondly, Catherine Ley, who died 3rd 
 December 1829, aged eighty-six. Of this marriage were born two 
 sons, Thomas and John, and a daughter, Elizabeth. Thomas, the 
 elder son, born 1782, died at St. George's, Granada, on the 23rd 
 of January 1809. John, second son, born 1789, died in Jamaica 
 7th December 1818. Elizabeth, elder daughter, born 1778, died 
 15th July 1818.' 
 
 ^ Tombstone inscription in Glenbervie cliurchyard. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 17 
 
 Thomas, fifth son of James Burnes, died 8th June 1734, at the 
 age of twenty-nine ; ^ his remains were committed to the churchyard 
 of Glenbervie. He married, with issue a daughter, Margaret Scott, 
 who died on the 24th March 1741, aged eight years; she is named 
 in her grandfather's will as legatee for twenty merks.^ 
 
 , sixth son, rented the farm of Hawkhill of Glenbervie. 
 
 He married Margaret Greig, and died in 1735, aged thirty-seven.^ 
 
 William, the second son, succeeded his father in the lease of 
 Brawlinmuir. He married, with issue, but his children seem to 
 have died young or unmarried. 
 
 James Burnes, third son of James Burnes and Margaret Falconer, 
 born in 1690, rented the farm of Hawkhill of Glenbervie, and, on 
 the death of his elder brother AYilliam, succeeded to the lease of 
 Brawlinmuir. He died 3rd April 1778, at the advanced age of 
 
 eighty-eight.* He married, first, Christie, by whom he had 
 
 four sons, James, Thomas, William first, and William second ; alsa 
 two daughters, Margaret and Catherine. 
 
 James, eldest son, was baptized 29th March 1724 ; he rented 
 first, the farm of Auchtochter, in the parish of Fordoun, afterwards 
 the farm of Higham, near Montrose. Thomas, second son, baptized 
 11th February 1729, was employed as a gardener in England; he 
 returned to Scotland, where he died in 1804. William, first of the 
 name, baptized 11th July 1731, died in infancy. William, second 
 of the name, baptized 12th October 1735, settled in Montrose as an 
 officer of excise ; he spelt his name Burness.^ 
 
 Margaret, elder daughter, was baptized 10th August 1722. 
 
 Catherine, younger daughter, was baptized 3rd May 1726. 
 
 James Burnes married, secondly, Catherine Beattie (a relative of 
 
 - ' Tombstone inscription in Glenbervie church- ^ Tombstone inscription in Glenbervie church- 
 
 yard, yard. 
 
 "^ Will of James Burnes, supra. ' Glenbervie Parish Register. 
 
 3 Ibid. 
 VOL. III. C 
 
18 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Professor James Beattie, author of " The Minstrel '"), by whom he had 
 two sons, David and George. George, the younger son, died 16th 
 October 1769, at the age of twenty-eight.' 
 
 David, the elder son, succeeded his father in the farm of 
 Brawlinmuir. . 
 
 In his instrument of lease, dated at Castleton,^ 25th October 
 1788, the proprietor of his farm, Doctor John Stuart of Inch- 
 brock, — 
 
 agrees fur himself, his heirs and successors, to sett to him and his heirs and 
 executors the towns and hinds of Mains of Inchbreck and Brawlinmoor, lying 
 in the parish of Glenbervie, for the space of nineteen years -while the lessee 
 becomes bound to make residence, and to pay to the landlord an annual rent of 
 £31, 18s. lOfd. sterling; also to lead his peats from the Hill of Inchbreck, and 
 to furnish shearers to him for one day in harvest.^ 
 
 On the expiry of the lease of Brawlinmuir in 1807, David Burnes 
 rented the larger farm of Boghead of Kintore.'' About the year 
 1776 he married Catherine Milne, a native of Drumlithie, by whom 
 he had five sons and five daughters. 
 
 Catherine Beattie, the eldest daughter, baptized 28th June 1775, 
 married Archibald Falconer, with issue seven sons, David, Robert, 
 AVilliam, John, who became a solicitor in Stonehaven, George, 
 Archibald, and Alexander ; also fuur daughters, Catherine, Margaret, 
 Jean, and Isabel. 
 
 Jean, second daughter of David Burnes, baptized 18th May 
 1781, married John Reith, farmer at Tipperty, in the parish of 
 Glenbervie, with issue five sons, David, John, Alexander, James, and 
 
 ' Tonilibtoue inscription in Glenbervie cliurch- ^ David Burnes was visited by the Poet at 
 
 yard. Brawlinmuir in September 1787. Aware of the 
 
 ^ Castleton of Mondynes, near Glenbervie, was Poet's celebrity, his wife sought to entertain 
 
 then the residence of the proprietor of Inchbreck. him in the best manner, and accordingly pro- 
 
 ' For a copy of the lease we are indebted to duced on her table an infusion of tea, then a 
 
 Alexander Stuart, Esq., the present proprietor of rare beverage in a farmer's dwelling.— Family 
 
 Inchlircfk. Tradition. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 19 
 
 William ; also five daughters, Catherine, Margaret, Christian, Jean, 
 and Louisa. 
 
 David Reith, the eldest son, rented the farm of Jackston, in the 
 parish of St. Cyrus, and subsequently engaged in merchandise, first 
 at St. Cyrus, afterwards at Auchenblae. 
 
 John Reith, second son, practised as a physician at Fettercairn, 
 Banchory, Stonehaven, and St. Cyrus. His son, the Rev. John 
 Reith, was in 1872 ordained minister of the Established Church 
 at Rickarton, Banfishire. 
 
 Alexander Reith, third son, engaged in legal pursuits, and 
 settled in Glasgow, where he died. 
 
 James Reith, the fourth son, succeeded his father as lessee of the 
 farm of Tij^perty ; he now resides at Old Crombie, in the parish of 
 Marnoch, Aberdeenshire. 
 
 William Reith, fifth son, farms land in Canada. 
 Catherine, eldest daughter of John Reith and Jean Burnes, is 
 wife of John Smith, formerly farmer at Balmaladie, and subsequently 
 at Pitgarvie, Kincardineshire. 
 
 Margaret, second daughter, espoused James Clark, farmer, 
 Stoneyroo, Kincardineshire, with issue one son and two daughters. 
 
 Clmstian, third daughter, married Arthur Stephen, farmer at 
 Jackston, parish of St. Cyrus, with issue four sons and two daughters. 
 Jean, fourth daughter, died young. 
 Louisa, fifth daughter, died unmarried. 
 
 Margaret, third daughter of David Burnes and Catherine Milne, 
 was born 1st March 1782, and died at Aberdeen. She married 
 first on the 3rd March 1802 ^Robert Ley, farmer, Knockback, in 
 the parish of Fordoun, who died in 1815, aged thirty-four,^ with 
 issue three sons, David, James, and John ; also four daughters, 
 Catherine, Jane, Margaret, and Isabella. 
 
 ^ Tombstone inscription in Glenbervie churcliyaid. - Ibid. 
 
20 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 David, the eldest son, held a parochial office at Merton, in 
 Surrey ; he died at an advanced age, and a monument was, by his 
 neighbours, erected to his memory in the parish church. 
 
 James, second son, succeeded his father as lessee of Knockback 
 farm. 
 
 John, third son, died in childhood. 
 
 Catherine, the eldest daughter, married first William Collie, 
 farmer, Tulloch, parish of Durris, Kincardineshire ; secondly, 
 Alexander Duthie, who rented the same farm. 
 
 Jane, second daughter, married John Masson, farmer, Hilton of 
 Kinneff. 
 
 . Margaret, third daughter, married William Don, farmer, New- 
 lands, Kincardineshire. 
 
 Isabella, fourth daughter, died unmarried. 
 
 Margaret Burnes married, secondly, James Dickson, farmer at 
 Jvnockback, who died in 1821, aged twenty-nine,^ with issue a son, 
 George, and a daughter, Mary. 
 
 George Dickson, son of James Dickson and Margaret Burnes, 
 became a cattle-dealer in London ; he died unmarried. 
 
 Mary Dickson married James Kesson, overseer at Drumtochty 
 Castle, Kincardineshire, with issue a son, Edward, who died while 
 prosecuting his studies for the ministry ; also a daughter, Mary, 
 wife of James Paton, superintendent of the Art Galleries, Glasgow, 
 and who has issue four sons and two daughters. 
 
 Isabel, fourth daughter of David Burnes, baptized 13th May 
 1788, married George Brown, farmer, Wardhouse, parish of Kintore, 
 with issue. 
 
 Mary, fifth and youngest daughter of David Burnes, baptized 
 4th June 1796, married William Urquhart, Woodside, Aberdeen, 
 with issue. 
 
 ' Tuuibstone inscrii)tion in Glenbeivie churchyai'd. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE, 21 
 
 James, eldest son of David Burnes, ba^Dtized ]9th March 1777, 
 rented the farm of East Mains of Barras, parish of Kinneff; he 
 married Margaret Eeith, sister of John Keith, farmer, Tipperty, 
 with issue five sons, William, David, Alexander, John, and James ; 
 also six daughters, Catherine, born 25th April 1809 ; Jean, born 
 14th February 1815; Isabel; Margaret, born 5th August 1819; 
 •Nicholas, and Eliza. 
 
 George, second son of David Burnes, baptized 4th December 
 4784, succeeded his fether in the lease of Boghead of Kintore. He 
 
 married Nicholas, daughter of Tait, papermaker, Inverurie, 
 
 with issue two sons, William and David ; also a daughter, Elsie. 
 
 David, third son of David Burnes, baptized 11th August 1786, 
 l-ented first the lands of Milltimber, and afterwards the farm of 
 Knockquharn, in the parish of Kintore. He married Agnes Smith, 
 a native of Kintore parish, with issue two sons, William and James. 
 William perished in an insurrection at Fiji about the year 1870. 
 
 Alexander, fourth son of David Burnes, baptized 3rd July 1790, 
 engaged in merchandise at Aberdeen, and, acquiring opulence, 
 purchased the estates of Maestrick and Prospect Place in that county. 
 By his wife, Mary Smith, he had a son, John, who died in child- 
 hood ; also a daughter, Elizabeth Smith. Born in 1823, she 
 became in 1842 the first wife of John Stuart, LL.D., advocate, 
 Aberdeen. An accomplished antiquary, Mr. Stuart was in 1854 
 appointed one of the official searchers in the General Eegister 
 House, Edinburgh; and in 1873 was promoted as principal keeper 
 of the Register of Deeds. He died at Ambleside on the 19th July 
 1877, at the age of sixty-four. In 18G6 he received from the 
 University of Aberdeen the degree of LL.D., in recognition of his 
 literary eminence. Of his many erudite works in relation to 
 Scottish history and antiquities, his Sculptured Stones of Scotland 
 holds a chief place. Dr. Stuart was twice married. By his first 
 
22 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 wife, Elizabeth Burnes, who died 1st March 1848, he had a son, 
 Robert, who died in infancy ; also two daughters. Mary, the 
 elder daughter, is unmarried ; Jane Gordon, the second daughter, 
 born January 1847, married, in 1867, the Rev. John Woodward, 
 incumbent of St. Mary's EpiscojDal Church, Montrose, with issue 
 two sons, who died in childhood ; also two daughters. 
 
 John, youngest son of David Burnes, prosecuted business as a 
 distiller in Aberdeen ; he died unmarried. 
 
 George Burnes, fourth son of James Burnes, farmer, Brawlin- 
 muir, rented the foiin of Elfhill, in the parish of Fetteresso. He 
 married, with issue five sons and five daughters. James, the eldest 
 son, was baptized 29th May 1729 ;^ Robert, the second son, on the 
 14th August 1731 ;■ John, the third son, on the 3rd June 1733;^ 
 George, fourth son, on the 22nd June 174G ; and William, fifth son, 
 on the I7th September 1749. Christian, the eldest daughter, was 
 baptized 25th ]May 1735 ; Elizabeth, second daughter, on the 27tli 
 June 1737 ; Anne, third daughter, on the Gth May 1739 ; Jean, 
 fourth daughter, on the 23rd April 1744; and Jlelen, fifth and 
 youngest daughter, on the 5th April 1747.* 
 
 James, eldest son of George Burnes, farmer, Elfhill, succeeded 
 to his father's lease, but latterly rented the farm of Midtoun of 
 Barras, parish of KinnefF. He married, 25th November 1811, 
 Elizabeth AVoocl, with issue three sons, George, Hugh, and James ; 
 also six daughters, Mary, Magdalene, Anne, Charlotte, Margaret, 
 and C'atherine. Mary, the eldest daughter, married William 
 Fotheringham, farmer, Dubton, Glen of Cowton ; Magdalene, 
 
 'One of the witnesses of the baptism was "Robert Birness, in Clochauhill." — Fetteresso 
 
 tlie child's paternal grandfather, described as Parish Register. 
 
 " James Birnes, in Bralanniuire." — Fetteresso •* One of the witnesses to the baptism was 
 
 Parish Register. " Mr. John Stewart, Professor of Mathematics 
 
 * As witnesses to the baptism arc "Robert in the Marisehal College, Aberdeen." — Fetteresso 
 
 Stewart, late Provost of Aberdeen," and Parish Register. 
 
 * Fetteresso Parish Register, 
 
THE POET'S LINEAGE. 23 
 
 second daughter, married Alexander Mollison, farmer, Meroie ; 
 Anne, third daughter, married John Edward; Charlotte, fourth 
 daughter, married David Taylor, farmer, Colliston ; Margaret, fifth 
 daughter, married Thomas Mitchell, Chapel of Barras ; and 
 Catherine, sixth daughter, married Andrew Duthie, farmer, Bog of 
 Glaslaw. 
 
 Hugh, second son of James Burnes, settled in London. James, 
 the third son, succeeded his father in the lease of Midtoun of 
 Barras ; he afterwards rented the farm of Cloch of Hilton, parish of 
 Kinneff. He married, and had five sons, Hugh, David, John, 
 Kobert, and James ; also three daughters, Elizabeth, Catherine, and 
 Isabel. 
 
 Robert Burnes, eldest son of James Burnes, Brawlinmuir, by 
 his wife, Margaret Falconer, rented the farm of Kinmonth in Glen- 
 bervie, from which he removed to the larger farm of Clochanhill, 
 in the parish of Dunnottar, situated about four miles to the 
 south-west of Stonehaven. Of this farm the rent was £10, 8s. 4d. 
 sterling, with the payment as kain of two " reik hens " or domestic 
 fowls, which, according to the usage of the period, implied a 
 dwelling-house of four apartments. Along with the neighbouring 
 farmers, he built a school at Clochanhill, and aided in supportino- 
 a teacher. Like the majority of the tenant-farmers of the North of 
 Scotland, he was a severe sufferer from the inclement winter and 
 spring of 1740, and the losses he then sustained he was unable 
 to fully overcome. Along with his second son, Robert, he, on the 
 16th February 1744, granted to ex-Provost Stuart of Aberdeen 
 the followino- oblio-ation : — 
 
 j\Ir. Robert Burnes, tenant in Clochanhill, in the parish of Dunnottar, and 
 Eobert Burness, his son there, grant us to have received in friendly borrowin<^, 
 at the term of Martinmas last (notwithstanding of the date of thir presents), 
 from Robert Stuart, Esi|., Provost of Aberdeen, all and haill the sum of one 
 
24 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 hundred and seventeen pounds one shilling Scots money, wherewith we hold 
 ourselves well content, satisfied, and paid ; and discharges him thereof, renunce- 
 ing the exception of not numerate money, and all other exceptions and objections 
 of law proponable in the contrary, the whole sum of one hundred and seventeen 
 pounds one shilling money foresaid of principall, Avith one year's annual rent 
 thereof from the said term of Martinmas last to the term of payment under- 
 written, we, the said Robert Burneses, elder and younger, bind and oblige us, 
 conjunctly and severally, our heirs, executors, and successors, and intromitters 
 with our goods and gear whatsomever, thankfully to content, repay, and again 
 deliver to the said Robert Stuart, his heirs, executors, and assignees, and that 
 at the term of Martinmas next to come, 1744 years, without any requisition or 
 longer delay, with the sum of twenty-three pounds money above written of 
 liquidate expenses in case of faillie, together also with the due and ordinary 
 annual rent of the said principal sum yearly, termly, quarterly, and proportion- 
 allv, so long as the same shall happen to remain unpaid after the foresaid term 
 of payment, conform to the laws of the kingdom for the time being : And for 
 the more security we consent to the registration hereof, and constitute Mr. 
 AVilliam Grant, advocate, our procurator. — In witness whereof (written upon 
 stampt paper by John Duncan, writer in Stonehyve) we have subscribed these 
 presents with our hands at Stonehyve, the sixteenth day of February 1744 
 years, before these witnesses, William Ronald, merchant in Stonehyve, and the 
 said John Duncan. Robert Eurnes. 
 
 Robert Durness.^ 
 
 AVith a view to the extension of agricultural business, Robert 
 Burnes the elder obtained on the 15th January 1745, from George 
 Kinloch of Kair, a lease for seven years of " the touns and lands of 
 Fallside and Braiks," in the parish of Dunnottar. In the lease the 
 rent of Fallside is specified as £63, 13s. 4d. Scots in money, 
 and in grain to the value of £22, 7s. 4d., while the rent of Braiks 
 is named as £26 Scots. Robert Burnes also became bound to 
 pay the proportion of the minister's stipend and of the school- 
 master's salary due upon the lands. But, lacking capital, he 
 
 ' General Register of Deeds, vol. clix. The younger Robert, it will be remarked, uses in Lis 
 signature the double s. 
 
THE POETS LTYEAGE. 25 
 
 fell into arrears to his new landlord. Accordingly, lie granted to 
 that gentleman, — Mr. Kinloch of Kair, — on the 13th December 
 1746, a promissory note for £155, 3s. 6d., and this instrument was 
 on the 3rd August 1747 protested for non-payment.^ 
 
 The date of the protested bill indicates the period when Kobert 
 Burnes was compelled to quit his several farms, including Clochan- 
 hill. He now retired to a cottage at Denside, in the parish 
 of Dunnottar, his three unmarried daughters aiding by their 
 industry to uphold the roof- tree." 
 
 Robert Burnes married Isabella, daughter of Alexander Keith, 
 tenant-farmer at Criggie, in the parish of Dunnottar.^ Of the 
 marriage were born four sons, James, Robert, William, and George ; 
 also six daughters, Margaret, Elspeth, Jean, Isabel, Mary, and a 
 daughter who died in infanc}^. 
 
 Margaret, the eldest daughter, born in 1723, married Archibald 
 Walker, residing at Crawton, Kincardineshire ; with issue, a son, 
 James, who rented the farm of Gallowton, Dunnottar, and, 
 marrying, had a son, Alexander, iron merchant, Aberdeen ; also a 
 daughter, Isobel, who married James Knox, residing in Stonehaven. 
 
 Elspeth, second daughter of Robert Burnes, was baptized on the 
 18th August 1725. She married John Caird, who rented the farm 
 of Woodhead, Fetteresso, and subsecjuently of Deeside of Dunnottar.'* 
 Of the marriage was born a daughter, Anna, baptized 26th April 
 
 'GeneralRpgititerof Deeds, vol. clxxii., part 2. * In a letter addressed by the Poet to Mr. 
 
 ^ Eobert Burnes was helped by occasional James Burnes of Montrose, dated 21st June 
 
 remittances from his son William (the Poet's 1783, John Caird is named as a correspondent 
 
 father) ; and there is a tradition that when, on of his brother Gilbert. Writing to Gilbert from 
 
 one occasion, he received the remittance of a Edinburgh on the 17th September 1787, the 
 
 one-jwundnote, he wasat alosshow toutilizeit, Poet, in referring to his movements in his 
 
 since bank notes as an equivalent for coin were northern tour, has these words, "John Caird, 
 
 totally unfamiliar in the district of Dunnottar. though born in the same year with our father, 
 
 3 "The Land of the Burnesses," by James walks as vigorously as I can: they have had 
 
 Crabb Watt, F.S.A., article in the Scots Marja- several letters from his son in New York." 
 zine for February 1S90 (vol. V. pp. 176-188). 
 
 VOL. III. D 
 
26 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 1763/ who marricJ Henry Watson, with issue two sons, James and 
 Henry, also two daughters, Mary and Elspeth. By his wife, Elspeth 
 Burnes, John Caird had also three sons. Robert, the eldest son, 
 baptized 4th July 1753,' married Margaret Melvin, Stonehaven, 
 with issue three daughters. Of these, Jean, the eldest, married 
 James Sheritt, Aberdeen; Mary, the second daughter, married 
 George Smith, a native of Stonehaven, who settled in Ijondon ; and 
 Margaret, the third daughter, married James Watson, residing at 
 Aberdeen. James, the second son, baptized 20th June 1755, emi- 
 grated to New York. John, the youngest son, baptized 3rd January 
 1760, visited the Poet at Mossgiel during the summer of 1784. 
 Respecting him the Poet writes, on the 3rd August 1784, to Mr. 
 James Bui-ness at Montrose : — " We were very happy with the un- 
 expected favour of John Caird's company for nearly two weeks, and 
 I must say it of him that he is one of the most agreeable, facetious, 
 w^arm - hearted lads I was ever acquainted with." John Caird 
 married Margaret Henderson, and settled at Markinch, Fifeshire. 
 
 Jean, third daughter of Robert Burnes, baptized 24th May 1727, 
 married John Burnes, sub-tenant, Bogj organ ; she died at Fetteresso 
 without issue. Isobel, fourth daughter, baptized 18th August 1730, 
 became, in 1769, second wife of William Brand, manufacturer and 
 dyer, Auchinblae, Kincardineshire." Writing to his brother Gilbert 
 from Edinburgh, 17th September 1787, the Poet remarks: — " I spent 
 two days among our relations, and found our aunts Jean and Isobel still 
 alive, and hale old women. . . . William Brand is a short old fellow\" 
 
 Of the marriaoe of William Brand and Isobel Burnes was l)orn 
 
 ' Duuuottar raiisli liegister. Xetlier Kiuiiioiitli, iiaiisli of Gleulieivie, died 
 
 * Parish Register of Fetteresso. some time prior to March 1610. At the time of 
 
 ' William Brand had issue by his first marriage. his death he was found largely indebted to Alex- 
 
 His progenitors were a race of yeomen of ander Scott of Baldovie and another. — Brechin 
 
 the name, who rented lands in Glenbervie for a Commissariot Register. The family are believed 
 
 course of centuries. Thomas Brand, tenant in to have been followers of the House of Douglas. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 27 
 
 ill 1770 a son James, \y1io became a builder at Ancliinblae. He 
 married Rachel, daughter of James Guthrie, builder, Loanhead of 
 Pitarrow, in the parish of Fordoun, with issue four sons, Charles, 
 AVilliam, James, and David. 
 
 Charles Brand, the eldest son, was born at Auehinblae in 1805. 
 After serving an apprenticeship in the building trade to James 
 Guthrie, his maternal grandfather, he, in 1831 entered upon business 
 at Montrose. Having satisfactorily executed some important 
 building contracts in the neighbourhood, he, in connexion with 
 the Scottish North-Eastern Railway, got several contracts, which 
 included the construction of the viaducts over Drumlithie Glen and 
 the Bervie Water. One of the syndicate who undertook the contract 
 for the Great North of Scotland Railway, a part of the line was 
 executed under his personal superintendence. Among his other 
 works were the erection of the Central Station at Glasgow, and the 
 completion of the Grangemouth Dock at the cost of £250,000. 
 Interested in agricultural pursuits, he in 1857 leased the farm 
 of Mains of Fordoun. He there died on the 8th January 
 1885. Charles Brand married, 27th November 1830, Margaret, 
 daughter of AVilliam Falconer, farmer at Waters, parish of Glen- 
 bervie, by his wife Catherine Reith, eldest daughter of John 
 Reith, farmer at Tipperty in the same parish ; she was born in 
 1804, and died in 1881. Of the marriage were born two sons, James 
 and David ; also two daughters, Elizabeth and' Anne Guthrie. 
 
 James Brand, the elder son, born 20th September 1831, was 
 assumed by his father as a partner in the firm of Charles Brand 
 & Son, railway contractors, Glasgow ; he is now sole partner. From 
 the firm which he represents, Mr. Arrol, the eminent constructor of 
 the Forth Brido;e, received his first commission as a brido;e con- 
 structor. He married, 26th February 1862, Jane, daughter of 
 William Robert Gordon, procurator - fiscal of Banffshire, by his 
 
28 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 wife, Margaret, daughter of James George, manufacturer, Keith, 
 with issue six sons, Charles Joseph, James Gordon, Henry Francis, 
 William Robert Josef)h, David Guthrie, and Clement Ignatius ; also 
 five daughters, Margaret, Mary Louisa, Jane Agnes, Anne Elizabeth, 
 and Gertrude Josephine, 
 
 David, younger son of Charles Brand, born 1849, died in 1885, 
 without issue. 
 
 Elizabeth, elder daughter, born 1834, married James Catto, 
 merchant, Aberdeen, with issue. 
 
 Anne Guthrie, younger daughter, born 1836, married William 
 Jones, London ; she died in 1879 without issue. 
 
 William, second son of James Brand and Rachel Guthrie, was 
 born in 1807 ; he died in 1883, without issue. 
 
 James, third son, was born in 1808, and died in 1 87 1. By his wife, 
 Margaret Urquhart, a native of Dingwall, he had two sons, Kenneth 
 and James ; also four daughters, Rachel, Margaret, Jane, and Elizabeth. 
 
 David, fourth son, married Jane, daughter of Archibald Falconer, 
 by his wife, Catherine Beattie, with issue, four sons, Archibald, 
 William, Charles, and David Falconer ; also two daughters, Jane 
 Anne and Catherine. 
 
 Mary, fifth daughter of Robert Burnes, baptized 2Gth October 
 1732, died unmarried. The sixth daughter, whose name is unknown, 
 died in infancy. 
 
 James Burnes, eldest son of Robert Burnes and Isabella Keith, 
 was born in 1717. Apprenticed to a joiner at Montrose in 1732, 
 he, on the 11th September 1751, became a burgess of that burgh, 
 and was elected a town councillor on the 26th September 1753. 
 He died on the 17th July 1761, at the age of forty-four. He 
 married, in 1745, Margaret Grub (she died in 1795), by whom he 
 had three sons and three daughters. One son and two daughters 
 died young. Elizabeth, the surviving daughter, married, 8th 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 29 
 
 January 1768, George Hudson/ merchant, Bervie, and afterwards 
 provost of that burgh, by whom she had three sons and eight 
 daughters. Of these, two sons, George and William, and four 
 daughters, Elizabeth, Margaret (first), Margaret (second), and Sarah 
 Anne, died unmarried or without issue. John, the eldest son, married 
 Jean Forster ; Christian married Alexander Guthrie ; Anne married 
 John Pirie, without issue ; Elizabeth married Dr. Douglas, suro-eon, 
 Elie ; and Sarah married Dr. Davidson, physician at Edinburgh. 
 
 David, eldest son of James Burnes and Margaret Grub, born 
 30th July 1749, married, in December 1777, Jean M'Bean, with 
 issue a son, Thomas, baptized 30th July 1783; also two daughters, 
 Margaret, born 5th March 1780, and Jean, born 30th August 1781.' 
 
 James Burnes, second surviving son of James Burnes and 
 Margaret Grub, was born on the 24th December 1750. In 1770 he 
 was elected schoolmaster of Montrose, and on the 26th February 
 1771 he presented a petition to the town council of the buro-h, 
 representing that he had " commenced teacher of English, Writino-, 
 Arithmetic, and Church ]\[usic in the town, but as his circumstances 
 were but narro^y, and as he had been put to a considerable expense 
 in acquiring these branches of education and some knowledo-e of 
 the French language," he craved that he should be allowed a yearly 
 salary. As the town council rejected his demand, he abandoned 
 his office,^ and, studying law, became a solicitor.* With his uncle, 
 William Burnes, the Poet's father,'^ also with the Poet himself, he 
 
 ^ George Hudson was of English descent, his < On the death of his father, James Burnes 
 
 father and grandfather having come to Mon- some time resided with his uncle William, and 
 
 trose in 1745 with Lord Robert Manners' in deference to his wish adopted the double s 
 
 regiment. His father married Elizabeth, in spelling his name. Subsequently he resumed 
 
 daughter of William Carnegie, convener of the the older form. 
 
 incorporated trades at Montrose.— Dr. James s ^ i^t^gj, addressed by William Burnes, the 
 
 Burnes's " Notes," p. 35. Poet's father, to his nephew, Mr, James Burnes, 
 
 - Montrose Baptismal Register. dated Lochlie, 14th April 1781, is preserved in 
 
 2 Montrose Town Council Records. the Poet's monument at Edinburgh. 
 
30 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURKS. 
 
 maintained a friendly correspondence ; he was visited by tlie Poet 
 in 1787, and, on tlie event of his death, offered to aid in maintaining 
 his children. He died at Montrose on the 12tli June 1837, aged 
 eighty-seven ; his remains were deposited near those of his father, 
 in the old burgh churchyard. James Burnes married, on the 6th 
 January 1777, Anne, daughter of John Greig, burgess of Montrose, 
 by his wife, Jean, daughter of Eobert Watson of Sheilhill, Forfar- 
 shire ; she was born 16th July 1749, and died 12th February 1796. 
 Of the marriao'e of James Burnes and Anne Greio; were born four 
 sons and four daughters. Anne, the eldest daughter, born 16tli 
 April 1783, died in inftmcy ; Christian, second daughter, born 15th 
 April 1785, died in 1815, unmarried; Elizabeth, third daughter, 
 died in 1818, unmarried ; Sarah, fourth daughter, died in 1814, 
 unmarried. John, the eldest son, died in infancy in 1779 ; George, 
 third son, born 30th September 1781, died in 1801, unmarried ; and 
 Robert, the youngest son, died in infancy. 
 
 James Burnes, second son of James Burnes and Anne Greig, was 
 born on the 1st April 1780.^ Articled to his father, he studied law, 
 and became a solicitor in Montrose. As Dean of Guild, he, on the 
 11th December 1817, entered the town council of the burgh. On 
 the 13th April 1818 he reported to the town council — 
 
 That at a public meeting the Guiklry had unanimously declared they had 
 heard with satisfaction that Joseph Hume, Esq., a guild brother of the burgh, 
 had, at the invitation of his townsmen, offered himself a candidate to represent 
 the district of burghs in the next Parliament ; and, taking into account the 
 well-known talents, principles, and conduct of that gentleman for years past, 
 they thought him a proper person to be their representative in Parliament, and 
 therefore recommended him to the magistrates and town council for their votes 
 on the occasion. 
 
 ]\Ir. Burnes was, on the 23rd September 1818, elected provost; 
 
 ^ JInntro.se l^'ari.sh Register. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 31 
 
 he held the office for two years. He was re-elected provost on the 
 29th September 1824, and on the 2nd February 1825 was chosen 
 to the office of joint town-clerk. Evincing a deep interest in 
 municipal affairs, he corrected the abuses of the close buroh 
 system, and has consequently been described as the father of 
 Scottish burghal reform. A zealous agriculturist, he was, in recog- 
 nition of service, appointed a J. P. for the county of Forfar. He 
 latterly resided at Brunton Place, Edinburgh, where he died on the 
 loth February 1852, at the age of seventy-two. His remains were 
 deposited in the cemetery at Dairy, where he is commemorated by a 
 handsome tombstone. 
 
 Provost James Burnes married, 22nd April 1800, Elizabeth, sixth 
 daughter of Adam Glegg, merchant burgess of Montrose, and provost 
 of the burgh ; she was born 5th April 1779, and died at Edinburgh 
 on the 25th February 1851. The fomily of Gleg, Glegg, or Glyo-e, 
 was connected with the Mearns. In 1694 Adam Glyge is com- 
 memorated in the church of Marykirk, on a tombstone thus 
 inscribed : — 
 
 Heir lyes Adam Glyge, smith in the hill . . . jNlorphye, some tyme 
 howsband to Isobel Loav, who departed the 10 of Awgwst. Adam Gle . . , 
 died in April 1698, aged %^. John Gleig died May 15, 1737, aged 83. Isobel 
 Gleig died March -Ith, 1761, aged 78. 
 
 John Gleig, named in the epitaph, was grandfather of Provost Adam 
 Glegg of Montrose, who was born in 1731, and died at London on 
 the 1st June 1807. He married his cousin-german, Anne (born 8tli 
 November 1738, died 22nd December 1811), daughter of John 
 Smith, provost of Brechin, by his wife, Christian Colvin, one of the 
 three co-heiresses of Alexander Colvin, burgess of Montrose, by his 
 wife, Christian Ramsay, descended from the old family of Ramsay 
 of Balmain. By James Boswell, in his "Tour," he is mentioned as 
 
32 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURXS. 
 
 having conducted Dr. Samuel Johnson and himself to the Episcopal 
 chapel at Montrose. 
 
 Among the descendants of Adam Glegg, blacksmith at Marykirk, 
 were the Right Rev. George Gleig, LL.D., Bishop of Brechin, and 
 Primus of the Scottish Episcopal Church, who died at Stirling on 
 the 9th March 1840, aged eighty-seven; also his cousin, the Rev. 
 Georo-e Gleio-, parish minister of Arbroath, who died 19th June 
 1835, at the age of seventy-eight. Their fathers were blacksmiths, 
 the bishop's father exercising his craft at Boghall, in the parish of 
 Arbuthnot. 
 
 Of the marriage of James Burnes, provost of ]\Iontrose, and 
 Elizabeth Glegg, "were born nine sons and five daughters. Anne, the 
 eldest daughter, and Margaret, died in infancy. Anne, second of 
 the name, born on the 17th August 1808, married, 6th April 1833, 
 at Bhooj, in India, Captain William Ward, who died at Tanna, near 
 Bombay, 9th July 1845, without issue. Elizabeth, born 23rd August 
 1809, married at Bombay, 3rd March 1831, Lieutenant-General 
 Richard Whish, son of tlie Rev. Richard Whish, rector of North wold, 
 Norfolk, and brother of Sir W. S. Whish, K.C.B., who commanded 
 at Moultan ; he died at Clifton, 10th November 1854. 
 
 Of the marriage of Lieutenant-General Richard Whish and 
 Elizabeth Burnes were born five sons and six daughters. Frederick 
 Alexander, the eldest son, born at Ahmedabad, 27th July 1833, died 
 at Paunchgunny, India, in August 1872, a retired captain of the 
 Royal Artillery. Albert William, second son, was born at Clifton, 
 11th July 1843. A commander in the Royal Navy, he was some 
 time employed as inspecting officer of the coastguard, Montrose ; 
 he now resides at Woodcot, Allandale, in the Province of Ontario, 
 Canada. He married, 30th October 1873, Louisa Emily, third 
 daughter of Captain Charles Forbes, of the I7th Regiment, and 
 widow of Captain T. M. Hcwctt, with issue four sons, Albert 
 
THE POETS L EWE AGE. 33 
 
 Forbes, bom 3rd Janiuiiy 1875, and died young; Cyril Beresford, 
 born 3rd March 1876 ; Hugh Dudley, bora 7th July 1877, and died 
 young; and Arthur Burnes, born 1885 ; also three daughters, Lillian 
 Theresa, bom 1879, Beatrice Adelaide, born 1881, and Christabel 
 Kathleen, born 1883. 
 
 Arthur Richard Lewis, third son of Lieutenant-General Whish 
 and Elizabeth Burnes, was born at Clifton on the 1st March 1847 ; 
 he is manager of the National Provincial Bank of England, Lincoln's 
 Lm, London. Li 1867 he married Agnes Cooke, with issue two 
 daughters, Evelyn Mary, born 1871, and Ada Margaret, born 1874. 
 Ernest Burnes, fourth son, born at Clifton, 12th September 1848, 
 holds estates near Rosario, South America ; he is unmarried. Cecil 
 Holland, fifth and youngest son, was born at Clifton, 9th March 1850. 
 As a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, he took part in the bombard- 
 ment of Alexandria. Having retired from the navy, he now 
 resides at Kinmount, Ontario, Canada. He married, in 1887, Mary 
 St. George. 
 
 Matilda Emily, eldest daughter of Lieutenant-General Whish 
 and Elizabeth Burnes, was born at Clifton on the 29th April 1835 ; 
 she married, at Clifton, in August 1856, the Rev. Augustus Cooper, 
 Greystoke, Upper Norwood, and has two children, Mabel and 
 Augustus. Eliza Jane, second daughter, born at Clifton, 31st May 
 1836, married her cousin. Major Edward Burnes Holland, now 
 deceased; she died 12th October 1882, leaving a son, Alexander 
 Burnes, and a daughter, Constance Emily. Flora Thornborough, 
 third daughter, born at Clifton, Uth January 1839, married in 1859 
 Major Daniel Eales, of the 25th Native Infantry, Bombay, who died 
 in March 1874. Of the marriage were born a son, Lionel, and a 
 daughter, Maud. She married, secondly, John Pollen, LL.D., of 
 the Civil Service, Bombay. Annette Isabella, fourth daughter, born 
 at Boulogne-sur-Mer, 21st July 1841, is unmarried; Clara Salter, 
 
 VOL. III. E 
 
34 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 fifth daughter, bom at Clifton, 19th October 1844, and Kathleen 
 White, the sixth daughter, born at Clifton, 3rd June 1851, are both 
 unmarried, and are members of a " Sisterhood " in London. 
 
 Jane Glegg Burnes, fourth daughter of James Burnes and 
 Elizabeth Glegg, was born at Montrose on the 11th October 1810. 
 She married, on the 11th July 1833, at Ahmedabad, India, 
 Colonel James Holland, quartermaster - general of the Bombay- 
 Army. Colonel Holland retired from active service on the 14th 
 February 1857, and died on the 16th April 1889. By his wife, 
 Jane Glegg Burnes, Colonel Holland had three sons and a daughter. 
 Trevenen James, the eldest son, was born at Bombay on the 31st 
 May 1834. Entering in 1851 the Indian Army, he became assistant 
 cjuartermaster-general of the army at Bombay. On the 2nd June 
 1869, he was nominated C.B. He has composed a history of the 
 Abyssinian campaign. In August 1871 he retired from the army 
 with the rank of colonel ; he is J. P. for Kent and Cornwall. He 
 married ]\largaret Nicolson, with issue a son, Charles Trevenen 
 Townsend, born 19th July 1882; also four daughters, viz. Emily 
 Gertrude, born 15th October 1863, married, 30th June 1886, 
 Andrew Noble Bertram of Clober, Stirlingshire ; Mary Enid 
 Margaret, born 18th October 1872; Lilian Elaine, born 9th June 
 1874 ; and Ethel May, born 16th April 1877. 
 
 Edward Burnes Holland, second son of Colonel James Holland 
 Ijy his wife, Jane Glegg Burnes, was born at Belgaum, India, on the 
 20th March 1836. In November 1850 he obtained by public 
 competition at Cheltenham College the commission in the Indian 
 Army awarded by Lieutenant-General Sir James Lushington, G.C.B. 
 He became major of the Royal Engineers, and died at Bombay on 
 the 12th March 1874. He married, at Clifton, in 1858, his cousin, 
 Eliza Jane Whish, by whom he had a son and daughter.^ 
 
 ' See siqn-a, p. 33. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE, 
 
 35 
 
 Henry John Coode Holland, third son, born 28th October 1842, 
 died in childhood. 
 
 Charles Wroughton Del Hoste Holland, fourth son of Colonel 
 James Holland, \Yas born at Bombay on the 20th January 1845. 
 A stock and share broker in London, he resides at AVimbledon. 
 He married, 25th February 1875, Margaret Riach, with issue two 
 sons, Charles Stewart, born 28th December 1875, and James Burnes, 
 born 3rd July 1883; also a daughter, Margaret Effie, born June 
 188G. 
 
 Cecilia Agnes Holland, only daughter of Colonel James Holland 
 and Jane Glegg Burnes, was born at Bombay on the 22nd December 
 184G. She married, 3rd January 1870, George Dalton Hardy, 
 underwriter, Lloyd's, with issue a son and four daughters. 
 
 Cecilia, fifth and youngest daughter of Provost James Burnes, 
 was born at Montrose on the 10th November 1815. She married, 
 on the 12th November 1839, at Bhooj, in India, John Phihp Major^ 
 captain 11th Bombay Native Lifantry, and died at Bombay on the 
 IGth October 1840, eight days after her husband, who died ofi"Gogo, 
 in the Gulf of Cambay, 8th October 1840. Their only child, Francis 
 Ward Major, was born at Ahmedabad, 12th August 1840. He is 
 now a colonel in the Lidian Staff Corps, and in the Paymaster- 
 General's department, Madras. He married, Gth June 1863, 
 Adelaide, second daughter of the late Captain Charles Forbes, of the 
 17th Regiment, with issue two sons, Francis Forbes, born 23rd 
 December 18G7, and Philip Charles, born 11th May 1873 ; also two 
 daughters, Adelaide Louisa, born 21st July 18G4, and Violet, born 
 24th October 18GG. 
 
 Of the nine sons of Provost James Burnes, Robert, born 26th 
 July 1803, William Maule, Edward Phillips, and George Patrick, 
 died young. 
 
 James Burnes, the eldest son, was born at Montrose on the 12th 
 
3G THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 February 1801. Educated to the medical profession at the Univer- 
 sity of Edinburgh, and in Guy's and St. Thomas's Hospitals, London, 
 he, in 1821, obtained a surgeon's commission in the East India 
 Company's service. Distinguished as a linguist, he was authorized 
 to explore the countries on the Bombay north-west frontier, and he 
 prepared a valuable account of the southernmost of the Rajpootanah 
 states, and of the vast dreary tract between Goozerat and the Indus. 
 After holding various offices, he was posted in February 1823 to the 
 ] 8th Native Infantry, stationed at Bombay, and in 1824 was 
 preferred as surgeon to the Residency at Cutch. In 1827 his pro- 
 fessional services were rendered to the Ameer of Scinde, with 
 marked appreciation. His Narrative of the Court of Scinde, pub- 
 lished in 1829, was generally esteemed. Returning to Britain in 
 1834, the University of Glasgow conferred upon him the degree of 
 LL.D., and the Royal Society granted him a Fellowship. He also 
 received the honour of Guelphic knighthood, and, at a j^ublic banquet 
 given in his honour at Edinburgh, was presented with a silver 
 vase with a commendatory inscription. A furlough of three years 
 he improved Ijy preparing a work on the history of the Knights 
 Templars. In December 1837 he returned to Bombay, when he was 
 appointed surgeon to the garrison. In 1841 he was elected secretary 
 to the JNIedical Board, and in 1846 was promoted as superintending 
 surgeon. With the rank of physician-general he was, in 1847, 
 transferred to the Poonah division, and in 1848 he was nominated 
 to a seat at the Medical Board of Bombay. Having served in India 
 twenty-eight years, he, in July 1849, retired from his professional 
 duties. Before leaving Bombay, he received complimentary addresses 
 from various public bodies to which he had been helpful. Having 
 held office as Grand Master of the Freemason lodsfes of Western 
 India, the brethren, on his departure, presented him with sevei-al 
 splendid gifts, and in his honour founded four medals, of which one 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. - 37 
 
 was to be competed for in the academy of Montrose. On his return 
 to this country, Dr. James Burnes occupied a poi'tion of his time in 
 preparing materials for a history of his famil}^, which, in 1851, he 
 jmnted for private circulation, in a thin duodecimo, under the title of 
 Notes on the Name and Family of Burnes. He was appointed J. P. 
 for the counties of Middlesex and Forfar. He died at Manchester 
 on the 19th September 1862, and his remains were deposited at 
 Swindon Church, near Cheltenham. 
 
 Dr. James Burnes married, first, on the 28tli March 1829, 
 Sophia, second daughter of Major -General Sir George Holmes, 
 K.C.B., with issue seven sons and two daughters. He married, 
 secondly, on the I7th June 1862, at St. Mary Abbot's, Kensington, 
 Esther Price, a native of Wales, who now resides at 40 Ladbrook 
 Scj[uare, Kensington. 
 
 Sophia Holmes, elder daughter of Dr. James Burnes, born at 
 Bhooj, 6th September 1832, and Isabella Cecilia Holmes, younger 
 daughter, born at Edinburgh on the 4th February 1835, died in 
 infancy. 
 
 George James Holmes Burnes, eldest son of Dr. James Burnes, 
 born at Bhooj on the 9th December 1829, held a commission in the 
 1st Bombay Fusiliers, and received medals for the Punjab, Moultan, 
 and Guzerat. Consecjuent on his efforts to save a child from the 
 violence of the mutineers, he was massacred at Lucknow on the 19th 
 November 1857. In the vestibule of the parish church, Montrose, 
 a monumental tablet, erected by his brother officers, commemorates 
 his worth. 
 
 Fitz-James Holmes Burnes, second son of Dr. James Burnes, was 
 born at Bhooj on the 6tli September 1831. He served as an officer 
 of the 33rd Kegiment, Madras Native Infantry, and died in 1872. 
 
 Holland "Ward Holmes Burnes, third son of Dr. James Burnes, 
 was born at Bhooj on the 15th September 1833. An officer of the 
 
38 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Indian Navy, he died at Calcutta in 1873, when in command of the 
 Feroze, the yacht of the Governor-General. 
 
 Hamilton Farqnhar Holmes Burnes, fourth son of Dr. James 
 Burnes, was born at Edinburgh on the 27th November 1836. 
 Entering the army in 1855, he attained the rank of captain, and in 
 November 1868 retired from active service. He died unmarried. 
 
 Dalhousie Holmes Burnes, fifth son of Dr. James Burnes, was 
 born at Bombay on the 5th April 1839. He joined the army as an 
 officer of Engineers, and died in 1872 unmarried. 
 
 Sidney Holmes Burnes, sixth son of Dr. James Burnes, was born 
 at Bombay on the 13tli August 1841 ; he died at London in 1871. 
 
 Alexander Holmes Burnes, seventh and youngest son of Dr. 
 James Burnes, was born at Bombay on the 11th April 1843. He 
 entered the Bombay Army in 1860, and, retiring on the 14th 
 September 1867, settled in Australia. He died unmarried. 
 
 Adam Burnes, second surviving son of James Burnes, Provost of 
 Montrose, was born on the 19th February 1802. He practised as a 
 solicitor in ]\Iontrose, and there died on the 15th November 1872. 
 He married, first, 3rd September 1827, Horatia, daughter of Harry 
 Gordon, Escp, who died 2nd November 1834 ; secondly, 18th June 
 1838, Isabella, daughter of William Scott, Esq. 
 
 By his first wife Adam Burnes had two sons, Adam and Alexander 
 Horatio. Adam, the elder son, born 12th June 1832, became 
 manager of the Colonial Bank at Melbourne ; he subsequently 
 resided in New Zealand, and died at Sydney, New South Wales, on 
 the 9th June 1876. He married, with issue six sons, Adam 
 William Gray, James Henry, Napier Anderson, Alexander Plunkett, 
 Ernest Blair, and George Douglas Inglis Scott ; also a daughter, 
 Mary Inglis. 
 
 Alexander Horatio, younger son of Adam Burnes by his first 
 wife, was l)orn 19th October 1834. He married Mary Jane Harris, 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 
 
 39 
 
 with issue a daughter, Adamiiia Horatia, born October 1872. He 
 resides in New Zealand. 
 
 By his second wife Adam Burnes ]iad a son, James, born 24th 
 May 1844, died 30th April 1873 ; also two daughters, Isabelle, who 
 died 26th June 1848, aged nine years, and Annie Eliza Glegg, born 
 15th September 1842, married, 16th May 1866, John "smythe 
 M'Cay, solicitor, Londonderry, with issue. 
 
 Alexander Burnes, third surviving son of Provost James Burnes 
 was born on the 16th May 1805. After a distinguished educational 
 career at Montrose Academy, he entered the Indian Armv. Arrivino- 
 at Bombay on the 31st October 1821, he, in December 1822, was 
 apponited interpreter in Hindostanee to the First Extra Battalion at 
 Surat, and was afterwards employed by the judges of the Suddur 
 Adawlut to translate the Persian documents of that court. He 
 accompanied his regiment, the 21st Native Infantry, to Bhooj, in 
 1825, and during the disturbances at Cutch, in April of that year 
 was appointed quartermaster of brigade. A report on the statis- 
 tics of Wagur, which he presented to Government in January 1827, 
 was much commended and adecpiately acknowledged. A memoir on 
 the eastern branch of the delta of the Indus, which he published in 
 1828, was also warmly approved. On the 18th March 1828 he was 
 appointed assistant quartermaster-general. In September 1829 
 along with his brother-in-law, then Lieutenant Holland, he assisted the 
 pohtical agent at Cutch in conducting a survey of the north-west 
 frontier. In 1830 he conveyed a gift of dray-horses from William I Y 
 to Eunjeet Sing, ruler of Lahore, using the occasion to procure more 
 accurate details respecting the geography of the Indus. He com- 
 pleted a survey of the whole Indian delta. 
 
 Lieutenant Burnes conducted in 1832 an expedition into Central 
 Asia. Keturning to Bombay in January 1833, he received the 
 thanks of the Governor-General ; and, being authorized to bear his 
 
40 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 own des]3atclies to England, he experienced a cordial reception at 
 the India House. His Travels in Bokhm^a were published in 1834, 
 and the work commanded a large sale, and was translated into 
 French and German. Among various other public honours, he was 
 admitted a Fellow of the Eoyal Society. Eeturning to India in 
 1835 with the rank of captain, h& was in October despatched on a 
 mission to Hyderabad, in Scinde. In November 1836 he was 
 entrusted with a mission to Dost Mohammed, the ruler of 
 Afghanistan, with a view of entering into commercial relations 
 with him ; he reached Cabool on the 20th September 1837. Mean- 
 while ]\Iohammed, Shah of Persia, had besieged Herat with an army 
 of 60,000 men, and the Indian Government began to apprehend 
 that Persia and Russia mio-ht unite their forces with those of 
 Afghanistan to make an attack on the Indian empire. From Herat 
 the Persians were forced to retreat, but Captain Burnes requested 
 Dost Mohammed to dismiss the Russian agent Vicovitch from liis 
 court. This he refused to do, and, on the contrary, dismissed 
 Captain Burnes. Repairing to the Governor-General at Simla, 
 Captain Burnes was knighted and promoted as lieutenant-colonel. 
 From Scinde he proceeded to Beloochistan on a political mission, 
 which proved unsuccessful. When Shah Shoojah was restored to 
 the throne of Cabool, he was, in Sej)tember 1839, appointed 
 political resident at that capital, with a salary of £3000. He 
 remained at Cabool not without a sense of insecurity, and, on the 
 outbreak of an insurrection for restoring Dost Mohammed, he was 
 set upon, and, along with his brother Charles and seven other 
 officers, cruelly murdered. This sad event took place on the 2nd 
 November 1841. Sir Alexander Burnes died unmarried, at the age 
 of thirty-six. In 1842 his work entitled Cabool : being a Narra- 
 tive of a Journey to and Residence in that City in the years 
 1836-7-8, was published at London. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 41 
 
 Possessing a deep sagacity and marvellous powers of observa- 
 tion, Sir Alexander Burnes afforded promise of wide and varied 
 usefulness. He opened up the Indus, and extended his researches 
 to the shores of the Oxus, the ruins of Samarcand, and other 
 territories which became the scenes of important events. A memoir 
 of his career, published in the columns of the Bomhaij Times news- 
 paper, was reproduced by his brother. Dr. James Burnes, in his 
 Notes on the Name a7id Family of Burnes. 
 
 David Burnes, fourth surviving son of Provost James Burnes, 
 was born at Montrose on the 6th September 1806. Having studied 
 medicine and received the degree of M.D., he in 1826 entered the 
 Pvoyal Navy as a surgeon. After serving on board the Asia on the 
 Mediterranean station for several years, he in 1835 retired from the 
 navy owing to broken health. Subsequently he practised medicine 
 in London. With an enfeebled constitution, he latterly settled in 
 Montrose, and he there died on the 2nd February 1849. He 
 married, on the 20th October 1838, Harriet Anne, second daughter 
 of Alexander Anderson, M.D., surgeon E.N., London (she died 
 5th May 1873), with issue a son and daughter. The son, James 
 Anderson Burnes, born 30th January 1845, served some years as a 
 clerk in the Bank of Scotland, Dunfermline. He thereafter held 
 appointments in connexion with the Oriental Bank at Madras, Cal- 
 cutta, and the Mauritius. Since the suspension of the Bank in 
 1884, he has been in the employment, at London, of the Great 
 Indian Peninsular Eailway Company. He married, on the 14th 
 December 1875, Emma, only daughter of the Eev. P. J. Jarbo, 
 Ph.D., one of H.M. Bengal chaplains, with issue a daughter, May 
 Violet, born May 1878. Charlotte Elizabeth, only daughter of Dr. 
 David Burnes, was born 30th October 1842. She is unmarried, 
 and is resident at Portsmouth. 
 
 Charles Burnes, youngest son of James Burnes, Provost of 
 
 VOL. III. F 
 
42 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Montrose, was born on tlie 12th January 1812. When lieutenant 
 in the 17th Regiment, Bombay Native Infantry, he was murdered at 
 Cabool, along with his elder brother, Sir Alexander Burnes, on the 
 2nd November 1841 ; he died unmarried. 
 
 We return to the younger sons of Robert Burnes, tacksman of 
 Clochanhill. George, the youngest son, baptized on the 9th April 
 1729,^ died young. 
 
 Robert, the second son, born in 1719, was, we found, associated 
 with his father in February 1744 in borrowing from Provost Stuart 
 of Aberdeen a sum of money to meet pressing engagements. His 
 father being sequestrated in the autumn of 1747, lie thereafter 
 proceeded to England in quest of employment as an agricultural 
 labourer. According to a family tradition, he and his brother 
 William left Dunnottar together, and as, from a portion of rising 
 ground by the way, they looked back on a scene associated with 
 their progenitors, they were influenced by a deep emotion, as 
 they severally reflected that they might not be privileged to 
 return. At the nearest point Robert entered the stage-coach 
 which proceeded to the north of England. In reference to this 
 journey, Gilbert Burnes (son of William) wrote to Mrs. Dunlop 
 long afterwards : — 
 
 I have often heard my father describe his anguish of mind when they 
 l^arted on the top of a hill, on the confines of their native place, each going off 
 his several way in search of new adventures, and scarcely knowing whither 
 they went. 
 
 In England Robert Burnes was many years employed as a 
 gardener ; he ultimately returned to Scotland, where he settled. 
 His circumstances were considerably depressed. He died at 
 Stewarton, in Ayrshire, on the 3rd of January 1789. He married, 
 
 ' Dumiottar Parish Register. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 
 
 43 
 
 with issue two sons and a daughter. John, the elder son, died 
 young. William, the younger son, a builder by trade, died un- 
 married in 1850. Frances or Fanny, the only daughter, was, by 
 her relative the Poet, described as the smartest of her kin. She 
 married Adam Armour,' builder, Mauchline, brother of the Poet's 
 wife, with issue five sons and four daughters. Eobert, the eldest 
 son, succeeded his father as a builder in Mauchline, and died in 
 1854. By his wife, Jean Wallace, daughter of the farmer at 
 Mauchline Mains, he had several children. His son Thomas rents a 
 farm in the parish of Stair ; another son, Eobert, resides near Patna. 
 
 James, second son of Adam Armour and Frances Burnes, born 
 16th March 1793, died unmarried; Adam, third son, born 9th 
 March 1803, died unmarried; John, born 24th December 1807, 
 died young. William, the youngest son, inherited his mother's 
 vivacity ; he died unmarried. 
 
 Of the daughters, Jean, first of the name, born 4th December 
 1794, died in infancy; Jean, second of the name, born 24th 
 February 1797, died unmarried ; Fanny, third daughter, born 
 January 1801, died unmarried; Mary Smith, fourth daughter, born 
 15th October 1805, died unmarried. 
 
 William Burnes, third son of Piobert Burnes and Isabella Keith, was 
 born at Clochanhill on the 11th November 1721. After some years 
 assisting his father on the farm of Clochanhill, he was about the year 
 1740 apprenticed' to the gardener of Sir William Nicolson of Glen- 
 bervie, in whose employment he remained about five years. When 
 his father in the autumn of 1747 quitted Clochanhill, William 
 removed to Edinburgh, where, according to his son Gilbert, "he 
 wrought hard, when he could get work, passing through a variety 
 
 ' Adam Armour is the subject of the Poet's bervie, was surety on the indenture. Accord- 
 verses entitled "Adam Armour's Prayer." ing to another account, William Burnes was 
 
 - There is a family tradition that his relative, apprenticed to the gardener at Monboddo. 
 Alexander Greig, farmer at Rrackia, in Glen- 
 
44 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 of difficulties." According to tradition, he was one of the labourers 
 employed under the magistrates and town council of Edinburgh 
 in completing the drainage of the Meadows to the south of the city. 
 From Edinburgh he migrated to the neighbourhood of Ayr. The 
 cause of his proceeding thither has not been ascertained, but it is 
 not without interest to remark that families of his name were long 
 common in the district of Carrick. In the Burgh Records of A5'r, 
 John Burnes appears in 1589, in a writ at the instance of George 
 Campbell in Logan, charging him to remove from the lands of 
 Freii'land. And in the same Records, on the 24th November 1589, 
 Hew Wallace adopted certain legal measures against William 
 Burnes, his tenant at M'Knarustoun. In the Parish Registers of 
 Ayr William Burnes in Burroughford is named in 1675 and 1679 ; 
 John Burnes in Whinmoore in 1679 and 1683 ; and Robert Burnes 
 and his wife, Isobel Campbell, in 1690 and 1695. The Carrick 
 families changed their name from Burnes to Burns at a time some- 
 what antecedent to the change so made by the Poet. 
 
 Settling in the neighbourhood of Ayr, William Burnes became 
 gardener to the proprietor of Fairlie, subsequently to Mr. Crawford 
 of Doonside. At length he obtained in feu from Dr. Campbell, 
 physician in Ayr, seven acres of land at Alloway, with the view of 
 his establishing a nursery. On this portion of ground he reared 
 with his own hand a mud cottage, and thither he conducted Agnes 
 Broun, whom he wedded in December 1757. 
 
 The family of Broun is of Norman origin. Walterus le Brun 
 was one of the Scottish barons who witnessed an inquisition on the 
 Church lands of the see of Glasgow, made by Prince David in the 
 year 1116, during the reign of his brother, Alexander T. Sir David, 
 son of Walter le Brun, was one of those present at the founding of 
 Holyrood Abbey in May 1128.' 
 
 ^ M'Keilie's Lauds and their Oivners in ilaUoiray, E'linli., 5 vols., 12iiiq. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 45 
 
 Mary le Brun, daughter of Ingleram le Brun, was Queen of 
 Alexander II. The name of le Brun was borne by the Counts of 
 Lusignan and Valence in Poietou, one of whom, Hugh le Brun, 
 married Isabel of Angjouleme, widow of King- John of Eno^land. 
 David le Brun, his cousin, proceeded to Ireland in 1185, and became 
 ancestor of the Lords Oranmore and Browne in that country. From 
 his stock also derive the Lords Sligo, Kenmare, and Kilmaine.^ 
 
 Among those who swore fealty to Edward I. in 129G were 
 " William Brun de Gamelscheles, del counte de Edinl)urgh, William 
 le Broun de Laweder, del counte Berwyk, Gunnyd Brun, tenant 
 le Eoi, du counte de Edinburgh, Johan Broun, del counte de 
 Berwyk, and Eauf Broun, de counte de Berwyk."^ 
 
 During the reign of King Robert the Bruce, Robert Broun 
 forfeited the lands of Auchindrane, in Ayrshire ; and in the same 
 reign Adie Broun forfeited a portion of land in the sheriffdom of 
 Ayr. About the same period Adam Broun made a gift to St. 
 Michael in the parish church of Ayr, and Thomas Broun had the 
 grant of the foundation of an altarage in St. Nicholas' Church, Ayr.'^ 
 
 In the Burgh Records of Prestwick are named, in 1470, Alex- 
 ander Broun, as owner of a portion of land ; also along with him, 
 '' Jok Broun in stat of a porcinkle of commoun land, quhilk acht 
 yerli, at the conceptioun of our ladi, ij*^ till our ladi of Prestwic ; 
 ij'' to Sanct Nicholas lycht, and ij to St. Androis lycht in the said 
 kirk."^ 
 
 In a legal instrument dated at Irvine on the 27th January 
 1499, Adam Multrare, burgess of Irvine, becomes bound to deliver 
 to John Broune, son and heir of John Broune, burgess of Ayr, before 
 the next feast of St. John the Baptist, 300 bolls of salt, for which 
 
 ^Marshall's Ancient Scottitih Families. ^ Robertson's /ntZea: o/ Charters, 14, 100-102 ; 
 
 Privately printed at Perth, 1SS4, 4to, p. 21, 39. 
 
 129. < Records of the Burgh of Prestwick, Maitland 
 
 ■^ Ragman Rolls, Bannatyne Club, 1S34. Club, 1834, 4to, p. 6. 
 
46 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 lie was to receive 6s. 8cl. per boll, one-third part to be paid in money, 
 a third in salted hides, and a further third in cloth. ^ 
 
 In a charter of the luirgli of Ayr, dated 10th March 1454, James 
 Broun is named as one of the magistrates.^ In the Eecords of Ayr, 
 under date 12th March 1581, is entered an inquisition at the 
 instance of John Mure of Auchindrane, in which, with other tenants, 
 are named Gilbert Broun and John Broun. Gilbert Broun ajipears 
 on the 30th April 1582 as a member of the Burgh Court. On the 
 20th July of the same year he is named as protesting against an act 
 of the town council respecting his removal from certain subjects ; 
 and on the 7th November 1589, he, being present in the council, 
 was adjudged to settle a small debt; and on the 13th June 1593 
 he appears as defender in an action raised against him by Alexander 
 Lockhart of Boghall, procurator for the burgh, in which he sought his 
 removal " furth and from tlie cobill fischingis vpoun the wattir 
 of Dwn " [Boon]. 
 
 John Broun, " skinner burgess of Air," is named in the Burgh 
 Eecords under 18th June 1582; and on the 12th August 1583, 
 AVilliam and John Broun, skinners, are described as occupiers of 
 property w^ithin the burgh. On the 2nd July 1582 "John Broun, 
 skipper," was present as a member at the Burgh Court of Ayr. On 
 the 5th November 1582 the town council ordered — • 
 
 John Payue, Inglisinan, and owner of the ship Barkleys of Hippiswitch 
 [Ipswich], in Ingland, to content and pay to Johnne Broun, niaister of the 
 ship called the Swallow of Air, the sum of £10, 10s. as dampnage and skayth 
 sustenit by the said Johnne be breking of ane ankir and spilling of ane tow 
 apperteining to the said Johnne Broun's schip throw ryding thairupoun be the 
 said Johnne Payne's schip. 
 
 John Broun, skipper, is mentioned in the Ayr Records in 1584 and 
 
 • Proctocol Register of Glasgow, 1499-1513, Grampian Chib, ii. 27, 28. 
 - C'liarteis of the lUirgli of Avr. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 47 
 
 1585; he was at Michaelmas 1589 constituted one of the three 
 councillors who discharged the office of Master of Works. On the 
 15th April 1594, he appears as served by the town council heir to 
 a dwelling formerly belonging to Thomas Broun, burgess of Ayr, 
 and Margaret Kennedy, his spouse. In the same Kecords, John 
 Broun in Plenclay is named as having, on the 29th July 1583, raised 
 a summons for the recovery of a debt before the Burgh Court of 
 Ayr. 
 
 A subsequently prosperous trader in Ayr, William Broun is in 
 the Burgh Records, under the 4th February 1582-83, described as a 
 "tailor." On the 25th January 1590-91 he was created a burgess, 
 and on tlie 22nd October 1600 he is named as William Broun, 
 merchant. Elected a town councillor, he was chosen treasurer of 
 the burgh at Michaelmas 1603, and again at Michaelmas 1609. 
 In 1611 he was appointed collector of stent. He died in 1613. 
 His w411 was executed on the 16th April of that year; the list 
 of his debtors appended to it occupies six and a half pages of the 
 Commissariot Register. He is described as owning the " lands of 
 Brounhill and Newark in Carrik," and his moveable estate is 
 estimated at £2003, 13s. Id. To his mother, Agnes Wilson, he 
 provides an annuity of fifty-two merks, specifies that his [second] 
 wife, Margaret Cunningham, should retain " the money she brought 
 with her," and bec_[ueathes £40 to the poor of Ayr. He ordains his 
 son AVilliam to pay to his daughters, Mareoun, Janet, Agnes, 
 and Sara, the sum of 2500 merks, due to them at the death of 
 their mother. Failing the survival of his children, he bequeathes 
 his estate to his brother-in-law, Donald Smitli, Dean of Guild of the 
 burgh of Ayr. ^ 
 
 Janet Broun, second daughter of William Broun, and wife of 
 John Mason, town-clerk of Ayr, executed her will on the 22nd 
 
 ^ Glasgow Com. Re;;. Testaments. 
 
48 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 September 1618, and died in Octoljer following. Tlie administration 
 of her estate (valued at £343, 2s. 2d.) she committed to David 
 Garvan, her son l)y a former marriage, and Janet Dalrymple, 
 daughter of Mr. Andrew Dalrymple.^ 
 
 In the Burgh Records of Ayr are named, under the 20th May 
 1601, John Broun, merchant, and Thomas Broun, his son. On 
 the 8th May 1611, James Broun, merchant, ^vas created a burgess. 
 
 Alexander Broun, one of the magistrates of Newton-on-Ayr, 
 acted as executor-dative of James Broun, merchant burgess of 
 Ayr, who died in December 1647, and Margaret Blair, his wife, who 
 died in October 1648 ; their united free gear was valued at £2902.^ 
 
 John Broun, smith burgess of Ayr, died in October 1662; his 
 inventory was produced by his relict, Janet Schaw.^ 
 
 John Broun, shoemaker in Ayr, and Margaret Crauford, his 
 spouse, had a son, John, born on the 21st, and baptized on the 30tli 
 August 1668.* 
 
 John Broun, litster in Ayr, was admitted a burgess of the burgh 
 on the 15th November 1670.^ By his wife, Margaret Smyth, he 
 had three daughters, Margaret, born 24th April 1670; Bessie, 
 born 3rd November 1671 ; and Agnes, born 3rd April 1676.*' 
 
 Alexander Broun, litster in Ayr, had, by his wife, Janet Crau- 
 ford, a son, John, who was born 22nd September 1674.^ 
 
 Robert Broun, skipper in Ayr, married, 6th December 1699, 
 Magdalen, daughter of the late John Crauford, one of the magistrates 
 of Ayr. A son, Charles, was born at Ayr on the 19th October 
 1700 ; his baptism was witnessed by Captain Hugh Crauford, late 
 Provost of Ayr, " his granduncle," and his uncle, Hugh Broun, 
 writer in Edinburgh.^ 
 
 1 Glasgow Com. Reg. Testaments. ^ Ayr Burgh Eecords. 
 
 ^ Ibid. * Ayr Baptismal Register, 
 
 s lUd. ^ Ihid. 
 
 •* Baptismal Register of Ayr. ^ Ayr Burgh Eecords. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 
 
 49 
 
 Members of the Broun family at Ayr eifected settlements in the 
 neighbouring parishes. At Loudoun, in the province of Cunningham, 
 Hew Broun in Burneflat died in July 1604, leaving, by his wife, 
 Agnes Young, two sons. Hew and Thomas; his testament dative 
 is dated 26th July 1608/ At Loudoun, in February 1608, died 
 Jonette Broun, wife of Alexander Broun, farmer at Tounflat, leaving 
 three sons, Alexander, Hew, and John.' For being concerned in the 
 rising at Bothwell, James Broun, son of James Broun, portioner in 
 Newmilns, and Andrew Broun of Duncanziener at Cumnock, were by 
 an assize at Ayr, in June 1683, pronounced guilty of rebellion, and 
 sentenced to decapitation ; the sentence was remitted.' 
 
 Of the Cumnock branch of the family a notable member was 
 John Brown, described as ''the Christian carrier." This devoted 
 Presbyterian and ardent Covenanter resided at Priesthill, near 
 Muirkirk. By order of John Graham of Claverhouse, Brown was 
 seized while working in one of his fields, and, being borne to his 
 dwelling, was called upon to renounce his creed. As he emphatically 
 refused, he was, by Graham's own hand, shot dead in the presence of 
 his wife and children. This cruel slaughter was perpetrated on the 
 1st of May 1685.'' 
 
 At Townhead of Newmilns, in the parish of Loudoun, was born, 
 on the 19th May 1799, Hugh Brown, the author of some graphic 
 poetry.' In his poem of " The Covenanters " he has commemorated 
 the martyrdom of " the Christian carrier " in these lines :— 
 
 Far on the moor his lonely cot was placed, 
 A rude, unpolished gem upon the waste ; 
 The smoke curled lonely, 'mid the air on high, 
 A moment hung and melted in the sky ; 
 
 1 Glasgow Com. Reg. Testaments. •« Wodrow, iv. 245. 
 
 ■^*'^- * Loudoun Parish Register. 
 
 ^ Wodrow's History, 1829, 8vo, ill. 490. 
 
 VOL. in. ' n 
 
50 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 "Where the brook murmured, and the mountain frowned, 
 Through the far- stretching wilderness around ; 
 
 Summer's first morn had dawned upon the Avild, 
 And Nature's fair and lovely features smiled, 
 When pious Brown, with day's first beam, arose. 
 And called his slumbering children from repose. 
 They gathered round the cottage hearth, to raise 
 The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise ; 
 The holy, untaught melody of heart — 
 Dearer to Heaven than all the pomp of art ; 
 Unheard by human ear the cadence dies, 
 Its last faint murmurs mingling with the skies. 
 
 When, lo, a shriek ! — the startled echoes rang 
 With neighing war-steeds, and the warriors' clang 
 Woke him to earth, and drew him from the sky. 
 To clasp his weeping family and die. 
 Firm in spirit of his prayer, he stood. 
 Resigned, yet fearless, calm, but unsubdued ; 
 "Prepare !" the dark and fierce avenger cried ; 
 " Prepare ! " his language in his hour of pride. 
 
 The good man knelt upon the flowery heath, 
 Soon to be crimsoned with the tide of death ; 
 His farewell prayer of triumph and repose ; — 
 Heaven's glories dawning o'er his earthly avocs — 
 In the true martyr's spirit pled with Heaven, 
 His death, his country's wrongs might be forgiven : 
 And more than angels' eloquence imparts — 
 It touched the tearless soldiers' iron hearts. 
 AVhen loud and high, the leader's stern command 
 Rose fierce, but vain above that bloody band, 
 Though stained with slaughter's darkest, foulest hue, 
 No arm was raised, no death-winged bullet flew : — 
 The ruthless Clavers raised his hand on high. 
 Rage in his heart, and mockery in his eye ; 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 51 
 
 A moment — and the mart^'red hero lay 
 Bedewed in blood — his soul has passed away ! 
 From death and insult springing to a throne, 
 The guilt his foe's, the triumph all his own. 
 
 Robert Brown, merchant in Kilmarnock, died in January 1628. 
 He had attained considerable opulence, his free gear amounting to 
 £3866, 13s. 4d. The bulk of his estate he bestowed on his 
 wife, Jonette Schoreswood, and his two daughters, Christian and 
 Mareoune.^ Matthew Brown, merchant in Kilmarnock, who died in 
 June 1674, bequeathed one half of his estate to his wife, Janet 
 Tally or, and the other half to " his poorest friends." He also made 
 provision for his " oy," Jonette Brown ; and made bequests to the 
 children of Matthew Brown in Byr of Bankhead ; also to his 
 nephew, Thomas Brown in Quarter House, and to his nieces, Jean 
 Marion and Marscaret Brown.- 
 
 A colony of the Brown family was planted at Dunlop, in the 
 north of Ayrshire, where they were numerous during the eighteenth 
 century.^ To this parish belonged John Davidson Brown, author of 
 " The Bard of Glazert," '' Ballads founded on Ayrshire Traditions," 
 and other poems. Born at Dunlop about the year 1820, he some 
 time engaged in teaching. He afterwards emigrated to Canada. His 
 poem, " My Native Land," is composed in Burns's own strain and 
 with some measure of his power.* 
 
 A copy of the National Covenant, subscribed at Kirkoswald in 
 1639, has, by the kirk-session of that parish, been carefully 
 preserved. Among the signatures is that of John Broun, his name 
 being adhibited by a notary. From 1659 to 1694 there is a blank 
 in the Kirkoswald register. In the register John Broun is named 
 as having been ordained an elder on the 21st May 1701, and his death 
 
 ^ Glasgow Com. Reg. Testaments. ^ Dunlop Parish Register. 
 
 ^ Ihid. * Modern Scottish Poets, third series, pp. 55-59. 
 
52 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 is recorded in 1724. In 1725 Thomas Broun in Drumgarlocli and 
 Samuel Broun in Craigentoun are named as elders/ 
 
 The baptismal register of Kirkoswald is extant from 1694. In 
 that register there is, under the 5th of May 1695, an entry bearing 
 that Edward, son to Hugh Broun in Balkenran, was baptized. The 
 name Edward does not reappear, but during the first quarter of the 
 eighteenth century we find living in the parish, and there marrying 
 and obtaining baptism for their children, William Broun at Drum- 
 beg, and Thomas Broun at Jamestoun ; James Broun at Ardlochan ; 
 Samuel Broun at Craigentoun ; also Henry Broun. In 1704 
 Eobert Broun in Craigentoun is witness at a baptism. During the 
 same period there also appear as parishioners of Kirkoswald, John 
 Broun in Drummochrian ; John Broun in Drummuscan ; John 
 Broun in Drumvaine ; John Broun in Jamestoun ; John Broun 
 in Littleton ; John Broun in Ardlochan ; John Broun in Drumgar- 
 loch ; John Broun in Turnberry ; and John Broun in Craigentoun. 
 
 John Broun in Turnberry occupied a small croft near Turnberry 
 Castle. In his holding he was succeeded by his son Thomas. John 
 Broun, his grandson, became tacksman of the farm of Birniehill, in 
 the same parish. 
 
 John Brown, one of the two sons of the farmer at Birniehill, 
 engaged in merchandise at Glasgow, but, falling into social irregu- 
 larities, he ultimately retired to the hamlet of Kirkoswald, where he 
 died about the year 1850. A lover of song and ballad, he composed 
 verses of considerable merit. In a print of forty-two duodecimo 
 pages, entitled ''The Carrick Muse," he has thus celebrated "The 
 Woods of Culzean : " — 
 
 When morning, smiling fresh and fair, 
 Comes like a maid with flowing hair, 
 
 ^ Kirk-session Records of Kirkoswald. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 53 
 
 An' rosy cheek and hazel eye, 
 Enough to make her lover sigh ; 
 The woods an' glens by music riven, 
 Are singing like the choir of heaven — 
 " Excelled by few, surpassed by nane," 
 The bonny woods o' sweet Culzean. 
 
 In a poem entitled "The Kirkoswald Widow" Brown evinces 
 considerable power : — 
 
 There's Correstown and Morristown, 
 
 Merkland and Minnabae, 
 Aul' Croftingie an' Craigintown, 
 
 Drumdow and mony mae. 
 Names 'tween Corra an' Abbey Mill, 
 
 Tradonock an' the sea. 
 That's aye the same sin' I was young — 
 
 But what are names to me ■? 
 
 They're dead an' gane wha made them dear 
 
 And left me here alane, 
 A wither'd leaf upon the tree. 
 
 When a' the lave are ta'en. 
 
 The sun will rise 'yont Straiton hills ; 
 
 The heather on Craigdow 
 An' sea-pinks round auld Turnberry 
 
 "Will aye be fair to view : 
 But folks, like mist in summer morn. 
 
 Or like an April shower. 
 Are here and gane, as nought had been, 
 
 They wither like the flower. 
 
 Auld Ballochniel and Ladyburns, 
 
 They aye will join the sea ; 
 And I maun join the silent grave, 
 
 I'm auld — I'm ninety-three. 
 
54 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Jolm Brown published in 1830 "The Ploughing Humbug;" 
 some satirical verses inspired by a challenge on the part of plough- 
 men at Dailly, ventilated in a local journal. Among his unprinted 
 pieces, " an epitaph upon himself" contains the following stanza : — 
 
 He whiles did riglit, he whiles did wrang, 
 "Whiles made a poem or a sang — 
 This kept him just frae thinking lang 
 
 An' fools to fear him, 
 For whiles in rhyme a loon he'd bang 
 
 Wha dar'd to steer him. 
 
 At the close of the seventeenth century there lived at Kirk- 
 oswald three brothers, Samuel, Robert, and John Broun, who 
 succeeded jointly to the lease of John Broun, their father, in the 
 farm of Craigentoun. John, one of the brothers, married, on the 
 24th December 1675, "Jennet M'Gren," also residing at Kirk- 
 oswald, but the nuptial rite was solemnized at Girvan.^ 
 
 The family of M'Gren or M'Grean were scions of Grime or 
 Graeme, a sept belonging to the old kingdom of Strathclyde, the 
 name being derived from a Welsh word signifying strength. Prior 
 to the twelfth century the sept of Graeme or Graham had acquired 
 a settlement in that part of the western border included in the 
 counties of Dumfries and Kirkcudbright. In 1321 Peter Graham 
 appears as proprietor of the lands of Brakanwra in Annandale.'^ 
 And in the reign of Queen Elizabeth there was a powerful colony of 
 Grahams in Cumberland, including twenty head-men and their 
 retainers. By the English Government under James VI. there was, 
 on the 4th December 1603, issued a proclamation setting forth that, 
 among other borderers, the Grahams had perpetrated sundry 
 outrages, but that they were now at the king's peace, inasmuch as 
 
 1 Kirkoswald Parish Register. ^ Robertson's Index, 6, 36. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 55 
 
 they had acknowledged their offences. They had also sought the 
 king's help in being removed to other localities, so that they might 
 reform their lives. A large body of the sept were borne to Ireland.^ 
 
 A branch of the Grahams penetrated into Carrick, and, on the 
 province being disjoined from Galloway by William the Lion in 
 1186, they seem to have become known as the Grens, or M'Grens. 
 Grenan, an estate in Kirkcudbrightshire, was an early possession of 
 the clan. And within the parish of Maybole rests on the edge of 
 a sea cliff Castle Grenan, which, latterly a stronghold of the Lord 
 of the Isles, had originally accommodated a chief of the sept. 
 
 In the parish register of Ayr is, on the 13th August 1668, 
 recorded the birth of Kobert, son of William M'Grean, flesher 
 burgess of Ayr. 
 
 To William M'Grean, at Maybole, was born, on the l7th May 
 1680, a son William. 
 
 In the parish register of Ayr is recorded, under the 8th February 
 1700, the marriage of William M'Graham, "milner in Green, in the 
 
 paroch of Maybole," and Elizabeth at Alloway. And in the 
 
 parish register of Kirkoswald is entered, on the 24th November 
 1758, the marriage of Allan M'Grean and Jean Orr. 
 
 In his poem of " Hallowe'en," the Poet celebrates one of the 
 sept thus : — 
 
 Our stil)Lle-rig ^ was Rab M'Graen, 
 A clever, sturdy fallow. 
 
 John Broun seems to have remained at Girvan for several years 
 subsequent to his marriage, for his name does not reappear in the 
 Kirkoswald registers till 1706, when, as "John Broun in Craigen- 
 
 ' See The, Dtbateable Land, by T. J. Carlyle, Temple, Waterbeck, Dumfries, 1868. Privately 
 printed. 
 
 ^ Leader of the reapers. 
 
56 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 toun," ^ he is named as a witness. Under the same designation he 
 appears a witness in 1712, and again in 1717. According to the 
 family tombstone, he died at Littletoun on the 3rd March 1724, in 
 his fiftieth year ; his wife, Janet M'Grean, died on the 28th March 
 1738, at the age of sixty. Of the marriage was born, in 1708, a 
 son, Gilbert, who became lessee of the farm of Craigentomi, of which 
 the area extends to about 160 imperial acres. On the 7th May 1731 
 Gilbert Broun was contracted at Kirkoswald to "Agnes Rennie," 
 both parties being described as resident "in that parish." ^ 
 
 Rennie is, as a name, of territorial origin, derived from the 
 Gaelic Rinn, signifying a point or promontory, also a district or 
 division ; various localities in Scotland are so designated. From 
 the place styled Rhin, in Sutherlandshire, also from Rhynie, a 
 parish in Aberdeenshire, the families of Rennie, in the north of 
 Scotland, originally hailed. 
 
 In the parish of Saline, in the western extremity of Fifeshire, is 
 the farm of Rhynd. Rhind is a parish in Perthshire, at the con- 
 fluence of the Tay and Earn. The Rhind point indicates a sharp 
 curve of the Forth near Alloa, and the Rhin marks a point at the 
 confluence of the Earn and Blane in western Stirlingshire. In 
 
 1 Craigentoun, a farm occupied by the Poet's 24tli June 1811, was some time assistant to the 
 maternal ancestors for several generations, is schoolmaster of Kirkoswald ; he was after- 
 situated on the high ground about two miles wards appointed headmaster of St. Jolin's 
 to the south of Kirkoswald hamlet. school, Hamilton. He latterly became superin- 
 
 2 Janet Brown, a sister of Gilbert, born in 1715, tendeut of the Free Church School, Portobello. 
 married, 5th June 1735, Alexander Hutchison in He died on the 18th ]\Iay 1880 at Portobello, and 
 Burntown of Dalrymple. Of the marriage were a handsome monument has been erected to his 
 born two sons, Samuel and John ; also four memory by the office-bearers of the Free Church 
 daughters, Agnes, Janet, Helen, and Margaret. of that place. William, eldest son of Fullarton 
 Janet, the second daughter, born in 1761, Baird, is agent for the Clydesdale Bank at 
 married, 27th April 1786, William Baird in Portobello. Jane Baird, sister of Fullarton 
 Clachan of Dalrymple, with issue a son, Baird, was the second wife of James Paterson, 
 Samuel, born 4th February 1787. Samuel author of the History of the Ayrshire Families, 
 Baird man-ied Helen Kean. Their eldest son, and other historical works. 
 
 Fullarton Baird, born at Dalrymple on the 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. -^.^ 
 
 Stirlingshire families of the name have existed for a course of 
 centuries. On the 8th October 1436, John Barbour, burgess of 
 Stirlmg, granted to the chaplain performing divine service at the 
 altar of St. Ninian in the church of Cambuskenneth an annual rent 
 of two shillings, due to the granter from the tenement of John 
 Rayny, skinner burgess of Stirling, as described in the charter.' 
 
 A member of the Stirlingshire family purchased, about forty 
 years ago, the lands of Danevale, near Castle-Douglas. But the 
 family of Rennie, now under special consideration, has a Gallovidian 
 origin, and probably derived their name from the Rhynns, a penin- 
 sula resting between the Irish Channel and the bays of Luce and 
 Loch Ryan. A tradition obtains that the Galloway sept were 
 originally called Rhynsmen, and that they claimed descent from the 
 Stewarts of Corswall, scions of Stewart of Garlics, a family which, 
 through Sir John Stewart of Bonkill, sprang from the High Steward. 
 From the Rhynns of Galloway members of the sept of Rainie 
 or Rennie spread to the east and west. Herbert Rainie or Rayning, 
 merchant burgess and provost of Dumfries, sat in the Parliament 
 of 1572. In 1578 he represented Dumfries in the Convention of 
 Burghs. "Herbert Raynyng, younger in Dumfreis," is mentioned 
 in 1579. His daughter married Francis Irving, merchant and chief 
 magistrate of Dumfries, bringing him as dowry lands and heritages. 
 Provost Irving, who in 1617 represented Dumfries in Parliament, 
 obtained the favour of James VL, who gave him bailiary jurisdic- 
 tion over the Crown property of the district. He died on the 6th 
 November 1633. He is now represented by Wellwood Herries 
 Maxwell, Esq., of Munches.^ 
 
 John Rayning, eldest son of John Rayning, merchant in Dum- 
 
 ^ Cartulary of Cambuskenneth, edited by Sir 767 ; M'DowaU's History of Dumfries, pp 239- 
 Wilham Fraser, Grampian Club, pp. 297, 395. 244 ; M'DowaU's Memorials of St. Michael's 
 
 - .S-coms/iJrms, by R.R.Stodart, Edinburgh, Churchyard, Dumfries pn U-U 
 1880, fol. ii. 365 ; Privy Seal Register, iii. 
 VOL. III. U 
 
58 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 fries, died in October 1637. In his testament- dative are named his 
 three brothers, Thomas, George, and WiUiam.^ 
 
 Marion Rynnie, spouse to George Campbell in Aultitiber, 
 in the parish of Maybole, died in November 1625, leaving a 
 son, John.^ 
 
 In 1639 Andrew Rinnie subscribed, by the hands of a notary, 
 the National Covenant at Kirkoswald.'^ John Rynnie in Trabeoche, 
 parish of Girvan, died in December 1641, leaving "free gear" to 
 the value of £937, 8s/ To his wife, Margaret M'Fadzeane, he 
 bequeathed the lease of his farm, so long as she should remain a 
 widow, dividing the residue of his substance among his children. 
 David Rinnie, farmer at Lunnochtie, in the parish of Girvan, died in 
 November 1642, leaving free gear to the value of £477, 13s. 4d.^ 
 At Lunnochtie, Agnes Rynnie, wife of Patrick M'Alexander, died in 
 April 1643, when John Rynnie, described as her brother-in-law, 
 was appointed her executor - dative ; her gear was valued at 
 £675, Is. 4d.' 
 
 William Rainy in Alloway had by his wife, Margaret Andrew, 
 a daughter, named Susanna, born 28th September 1693." William 
 Rainy, son of the same parents, settled at Alloway. He married 
 Agnes Morton, by whom he had a daughter, Katherine, born 25th 
 February 1727. Captain John Renny, described as uncle of the 
 child, was a witness to the baptism." 
 
 William Rainy, described in the parish register as " baker in 
 Air," married, 14th June 1704, "Jean Ramsay, servitrix to Agnes 
 Boswall, widow in Air." Of this marriage a daughter, Elizabeth, 
 was born on the 28th March 1705.^ Subsequent to the birth of his 
 
 1 Com. Reg. of Dumfries, Testaments, Vol. 1, •'' Ibid. 
 
 27th September, 1638. " Barr Parish Register. 
 
 "^ Glasgow Com. Reg. Testaments. ' Ayr Parish Register. 
 
 ^ Kirkoswald Kirk-session Records. * Ibid. 
 
 * Glasgow Com. Pieg. Testaments. ^ Ibid. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 59 
 
 dauo-liter Elizabeth, William Eainy settled in Maybole, where was 
 born to him, iu 1708, a daughter, Agnes,^ who, as is believed, 
 espoused in 1731 Gilbert Broun at Craigentoun. 
 
 Agnes Rainy or Rennie, wife of Gilbert Broun, died in May 
 1742, at the age of thirty -four. She gave birth to four sons 
 and two daughters. John, the eldest son, was baptized 26th 
 September 1736; James, the second son, on the 18th February 
 1738 ; and David, the fourth son, on the 10th May 1741.' 
 
 Samuel, the third son, baptized 18th February 1739, became 
 helper on the farm of Robert Niven, miller at Ballochneil, wdiose 
 daughter Margaret he married on the 18th April 1765.^ After his 
 marriage he w^as accommodated in " the chalmer," an apartment 
 usually connected with farm - offices for the occupancy of a 
 married servant. Under his roof the Poet received his meals, 
 when receiving instruction in mensuration and geometry at the 
 parish school of Kirkoswald. Samuel Broun joined his brother-in- 
 law, John Niven, in the business of wool-broking, but unsuccessfully.* 
 Latterly he took charge of the cattle on Ballochneil farm. He died 
 in October 1811. An account for "funeral bread" used on the 
 occasion of his funeral is preserved in the family. It presents 
 these items : — 
 
 " 4 Pecks Plain Short Bread at 7s., . £18 
 
 Loaf Bread, ' . . . . 2 
 
 £1 10" 
 Samuel Broun's wife survived till 1821. Their only child, 
 
 ^ The birth is not on record. in describing Samuel Broun as having brewed 
 
 2 Kirkoswald Parish Register. and vended home-made ale ; he also inaccur- 
 
 3 Ihid. ately describes him as a widower, which he 
 * Dr. Eobert Chambers has fallen into error never was. 
 
60 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Jenny, is named by the Poet in " Hallowe'en." Baptized on the 
 12th July 1765, she married Andrew Forsyth, a small trader in 
 Maybole ; she died without issue. 
 
 Of the two daughters born to Gilbert Broun by his first wdfe, 
 Agnes Kennie, Agnes the elder became the Poet's mother ; she will 
 be noticed subsequently. Janet, the younger daughter, baptized 
 
 24th February 1734, married Rennie, a relative of her mother, 
 
 by whom she had a son, David, and a daughter, Agnes, who both 
 died unmarried, 
 
 Gilbert Broun married, secondly, 26th June 1744, Margaret 
 Blain, of the parish of Barr, and member of a family wdiich produced 
 Sir Gilbert Blane, Bart., the eminent physician. She died in June 
 1751, aged thirty-six. Of the marriage were born two sous, Andrew 
 and Hugh, also a daughter, Jean. 
 
 Andrew, the elder son, baptized 27th October 1745, became 
 landlord of the Red Lion Inn, Maybole, the scene of the celebrated 
 discussion between the Abbot of Crossraguel and John Knox. He 
 married Jean Love, with issue several sons and one daughter. 
 
 Hugh, the second son, was baptized 23rd August 1747. 
 
 Jean, only daughter of Gilbert Broun and Margaret Blain, 
 baptized 10th June 1750, married, in 1775, James Allan, a native of 
 Stewarton, and joiner on the estate of Fairlie, parish of Dundonald. 
 James Allan died in 1789, wdien his wddow removed from Fairlie to 
 the village of Old Rome, in the same neighbourhood. Her husband's 
 savings amounted to only twenty pounds, and, without encroaching 
 on this small capital, she, by a rigid frugality, contrived to maintain 
 herself and her young children. After being many years a wddow, 
 she married, secondly, Adam Baird, a native of Dundonald ; she 
 died in 1821. 
 
 By her union with James Allan, her first husband, Jean Broun 
 had four sons and three daughters. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 61 
 
 James, the eldest son, settled as a joiner in Mauchline. He 
 married, but died without issue. 
 
 Andrew, the second son, baptized at Dundonald 12th April 1778, 
 engaged in handloom weaving at Greenholm, near Newmilns. He 
 died about the year 1841, leaving considerable substance. He 
 married and had five daughters : Anne, who married James 
 Macpherson, Newmilns ; Jean, who married Andrew Jack, New- 
 milns ; Margaret, who married James Wylie ; Janet, who married 
 "William Lambie, manufacturer, Newmilns ; and Isabella, who 
 married Smith. 
 
 Alexander, third son of James Allan and Jean Broun, was 
 apprenticed to James Cunningham, shoemaker. College Wynd, 
 Kilmarnock, and afterwards served his trade with James Nisbet, 
 Loudoun Kirk. Abandoning his craft, he entered the workshop of 
 a ship-carpenter at Saltcoats, and afterwards adopted a seafaring life. 
 After a time he became captain of a sailing vessel, and subsequently 
 he commanded ships trading between Glasgow and Montreal. 
 Ultimately he laid the foundation of that great commercial under- 
 taking known as the Allan Line of steamships. He died in 1854, at 
 the age of seventy-four. By his wife, Jean Crawford, he had five sons, 
 James, Hugh, Bryce, Andrew^ and Alexander ; also three daughters, 
 
 Jean, who married Captain Greenhorn ; Margaret, who married 
 
 Service ; and , wdio married Macfie of Liverpool. 
 
 Hugh, the second son, born in 1810, emigrated to Canada in 
 1826, and there in 1835 became a partner in the firm of Messrs. 
 Millar and Edmonstone, shipowners in Montreal. In 1853 he 
 obtained the Government contract for the first line of steamers from 
 the river St. Lawrence to Liverpool. He afterwards established a 
 line to Glasgow, and became the chief owner and principal manager 
 of a large fleet of ships trading to various parts of the world. In 
 the rebellions in Canada of 1837 and 1838 he served as a volunteer, 
 
62 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 with the rank of captain. In 1871 he received the honour of 
 knighthood. Sir Hugh Allan resided at Eavenscraig, Montreal 
 He died at Edinburgh on the 9th December 1882, at the age of 
 seventy-two. 
 
 John, fourth son of James Alhm and Jean Broun, settled in 
 Newmilns as a handloom weaver; he died in 1857, at the age of 
 seventy-five. By his wife, Jean Richmond, he had eight sons and 
 a daughter, Janet, who married Hugh Morton, Townhead, New- 
 milns, and is now a widow. Of the sons survive John and 
 Alexander, w^eavers at Newmilns, and Andrew, who resides at 
 West Troy, New York. 
 
 Margaret, eldest daughter of James Allan and Jean Broun, born 
 1784, married Hugh Jack, stone-dealer, Riccarton, with issue six 
 sons, John, James, Hugh, Richard, Andrew, and Alexander; also 
 four daughters, Jean, Fairlie, Elizabeth, and Margaret. 
 
 Janet Frances, the second daughter, born in 1788, married 
 James Stevenson, church-officer at Riccarton; she died in 1840. Of 
 the marriage were born six sons and four daughters. Alexander 
 Allan, the youngest son, is lieutenant-colonel commanding the 
 Field Battery of Artillery at Montreal. 
 
 Gilbert Broun married, thirdly, IGth April 1765, Catherine 
 Moat. His banns were proclaimed in the parish church of Kirk- 
 oswald, on Sunday the 7th April 1765, at the same time that his 
 third son, Samuel, then in his twenty-sixth year, had his banns 
 proclaimed with his future wife, Margaret Niven. Of the marriage 
 of Gilbert Broun and Catherine Moat were born Margaret, baptized 
 28th January 1766 ; eJames, baptized 25th August 1768 ; Christian, 
 baptized 31st January 1771 ; and Helen, born 16th May 1772. 
 Gilbert Broun left Craigentoun prior to 1768, and resided successively 
 at Hallowshean and Broadshean in the same locality. He died on 
 the 31st October 1774, aged sixty-six. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. G3 
 
 In Kirkoswald Churchyard, a few yards westward of the ruin of 
 the old parish church, a plain upright tombstone commemorates 
 the maternal grand and great-grandparents of the national Bard. 
 It is thus inscribed : — 
 
 Here lyes the corps of John Broun in Litletown wlio died March 3d 1724 
 aged 50 and Jannet M'Grean his spouse, who died March 28 1738 aged 60 and 
 Agnes Renie who died May 1742 aged 34 and Margret Blain, who died June 
 1751 aged 36 spouses to Gilbert Broun in Craigentoun. And Agnes Stien 
 who died in 1748. Also James Broun in Riddelstown who died June 29th 
 1780 aged 65 years. Erected by John and Gilbert Broun and Robert and 
 John and Samuel and William and John Broun in Roan and Jenet Banaktin 
 his spouse. Also here lieth the body of Gilbert Broun, who died October 31 
 1774 aged 66 years.^ 
 
 Three other tombstones in Kirkoswald Churchyard commemorate 
 members of the Broun family. On one of these an uncle and 
 cousin of the Poet are named in the following inscription : — " John 
 Broun who died in 1774 aged 79 and his son Gilbert Broun, who 
 died in 1786 aged 35." 
 
 Agnes, elder daughter of Gilbert Broun, by his wife Aones 
 Eennie, was born on the 17th March 1732. Ten years old at the 
 time of her mother's death in 1742,^ she, young as she was, took 
 charge of the domestic concerns, till in 1744 her father contracted 
 a second marriage. She now permanently left her father's house 
 
 1 Consequent on a public subscription, the was visited by a sister, who, surprised to find 
 
 tombstone of the Poet's maternal ancestors her composed and cheerful, put to her the 
 
 at Kirkoswald was in August 1883 suitably question, "Are you not grieved to leave your 
 
 restored. The old stone was encased in a husband and children ? " She answered 
 
 new setting of durable sandstone, and placed meekly, "My children I leave to the care of 
 
 on an appropriate pedestal. See vol. ii. App. 3. God, and Gilbert will get another wife." This 
 
 =* When Mrs. Agnes Broun, the Poet's speech deeply impressed her daughter Ao'iies 
 
 maternal grandmother (who suffered from a who reported it to her own children, 
 pulmonary ailment) was on her deathbed, she 
 
64 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 first residing ^Yitll her maternal grandmother, and afterwards with 
 her paternal uncle, William Broun, at Maybole, then a widower, his 
 wife, Asnes Stein or Steven, whom he married at Kirkoswald on 
 25th November 1717, having died in 1748. It was to William 
 Broun that the Poet referred when writing to Mrs. Dunlop in these 
 words : — 
 
 I had an old granduncle, with whom my mother lived awhile in her girlish 
 years ; the good old man, for such he was, was long blind ere he died ; during 
 which time his highest enjoyment was to sit down and cry, while my mother 
 would sing the simple old song of "The Life and Age of Man." 
 
 At an early age Agnes Broun had become betrothed to her 
 grandmother's ploughman, but, learning that he had lapsed from 
 virtue, she renounced him. Not long afterwards William Burnes 
 met her at a Maybole fair, and afterwards offering her marriage, 
 obtained her consent. In the parish register of Ayr their 
 marriage is entered thus: — " Ayr, Dec. 2, 1757. — William Burns, 
 gardener in this parish, and Agnes Broun in Maybole, gave in 
 their names to be proclaimed in order for marriage, and after 
 proclamation, were married accordingly." The marriage was 
 solemnized on the 15 th December. 
 
 Of the marriage of William Burnes and Agnes Broun were born 
 four sons, Kobert, Gilbert, William, and John ; also three daughters, 
 Agnes, Annabella, and Isabella. 
 
 In the parish register of Ayr the birth of Agnes, the eldest 
 dauo-hter, is entered thus : — " As^nes Burns, daughter lawful of 
 William Burns, gardener in Alloway, and Agnes Broun, his spouse, 
 was born September 30, 1762. Baptized by Mr. W. Dalrymple." 
 Agnes married, in 1804, AVilliam Gait, afterwards land-steward to 
 Mr. Matthew Fortescue, on his estate in Ireland. She died, 
 without issue, at Stephenstoun, County Louth, Ireland, on the 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 65 
 
 17th October 1834, and her remains were conveyed to the church- 
 yard of St. Nicholas Presbyterian Church, Dundalk. Her grave is 
 reverently covered with a large pavement stone ; while in a con- 
 spicuous part of the churchyard an obelisk about thirty feet in 
 height has been raised to her memory. In front it presents the 
 following legend : — 
 
 As a tribute to the genius of Robert Burns, the national Bard of Scotland, 
 and in respect for the memory of his eldest sister, Agnes, whose mortal 
 remains are deposited in this churchyard, erected by the contributions of the 
 Poet's numerous admirers in Dundalk and its vicinity, 25th January 18.59. 
 " Time but the impression deeper makes. 
 As streams their channels deeper wear." 
 
 On the back of the obelisk are inscribed these words : — 
 
 Sacred to the memory of Agnes Burns, eldest sister of Robert Burns, who 
 departed this life at Stephenstown on the 17th October 1834, aged 72 years. 
 Her mortal remains lie interred in the south-east corner of this churchyard. 
 
 William Gait, husband of Agnes Burns, died on the 1st March 
 1847. 
 
 Annabella, second daughter of William Burns, was born at 
 Alio way on the 14th November 1764. She died unmarried at 
 Grant's Braes, Haddingtonshire, on the 2nd March 1832. Her 
 remains rest in the churchyard of Bolton. 
 
 Isabella, third daughter, is, in the parish register of Ayr, 
 described as " lawful daughter of William Burns, farmer." Born 
 on the 27th June 1771, she married at Mauchline, on the 9th 
 December 1793, John Begg, described in the marriage register as 
 " quarrier in Mossgiel." Mrs. Begg accompanied her husband to 
 Dinning, in the parish of Closeburn, Dumfriesshire, when he 
 became manager of that farm, in the absence of the lessee, his 
 brother-in-law, Gilbert Burns, consequent on his accepting the 
 factorship of the estate of Morham Muir, in the county of Hadding- 
 
 VOL. HI. I 
 
66 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 ton. jMr. Begg afterwards became land-steward on the estate of 
 Blackwood, Lanarkshire, the property of Mr. James Hope Yere. He 
 was killed by being thrown from his horse on tlie 26th April 1813. 
 His remains were committed to the churchyard of Lesmahagow, 
 where he is commemorated by a tombstone. 
 
 Subsecjuent to her husband's death, Mrs. Begg established her 
 residence at Ormiston, Haddingtonshire. She afterwards occupied a 
 cottage at Tranent, and in June 1843 she settled at Bridge House, 
 Alloway. There, in the month of August 1857, she was visited by 
 the present writer. She had passed her eighty-sixth birthday, but 
 her faculties were unclouded and her memory perfect. Respecting 
 the Poet she used words expressive of veneration ; she remarked that 
 " his countenance beamed with genius." She spoke of his respect for 
 religion, and of his concern that she, his youngest sister, should read 
 the Scriptures, and become familiar with tlie Shorter Catechism. 
 Mrs. Begg indulged a pleasing jocundity ; she had very dark eyes, 
 and her features indicated a superior intelligence. Mrs. Begg died 
 on the 4th December 1858, and her remains were consigned to the 
 grave in Alloway Churchyard, in which, seventy -five years before, 
 those of her father had been deposited. 
 
 Of the marriaoje of John Beo-o- and Isabella Burns were born six 
 sons, William, John, Robert Burns, Gilbert, James Hope, and 
 Edward Hamilton ; also three daughters, Agnes Brown, Jane 
 Breckenridoj'e, and Isabella. 
 
 William Begg, eldest son of John Begg and Isabella Burns, was 
 born at Mossgiel on the 29th July 1794. In 1817 he was appointed 
 parish schoolmaster of Ormiston, Haddingtonshire. This office he 
 resigned in 1833, when he sailed for Canada; he resided at Clinton, 
 Goderich, till his death, which took place on the 15th May 1864. 
 
 John Begg, second son of John Begg and Isabella Burns, was 
 born at Mossgiel on the 27th April 1796. He worked as a joiner at 
 
THE POETS [JNEAGE. 67 
 
 Kilmarnock, and there died on tlie lltli October 1867. He married, 
 14tli November 1817, Agnes Wilson (born 1795, died 1851), with 
 issue five sons and three daughters. John, the eldest son, born 
 21st March 1821, resides at Pud man Creek, New South Wales; 
 twice married, he has four sons, John, Andrew, Robert, and Neil ; 
 also a daughter, Janet. 
 
 Eobert Burns Begg, second son of John Begg and Agnes Wilson, 
 
 w^as born 9th May 1823 ; he married in 1846 Winifred , with 
 
 issue. Walter Wilson, the third son, born 16th July 1828, died in 
 infancy. William, the fourth son, born 1st April 1833, married in 
 1852, with issue three sons and five daughters. James, the fifth son, 
 born 19th September 1836, died unmarried on the 31st May 1874. 
 
 Marion Adams Beg-o; eldest dauohter of John Beo^o; and Agnes 
 AVilson, was born I7th August 1818; she married Eichard John- 
 stone, with issue a son and two daughters ; she died 7th February 
 1871. Jane Breckenridge Begg, second daughter, born 8th March 
 1826, married David Campbell, with issue; she and her husband 
 reside at Largs, in Ayrshire. Isabella Burns Begg, third daughter, 
 born 27th April 1830, married George Preston; she died 3rd 
 November 1856, leaving a son and daughter. 
 
 Robert Burns Begg, third son of John Begg and Isal)ella Burns, 
 was born in the parish of Dundonald on the 9th of May 1798, and 
 was educated at Wallace Hall Academy, parish of Closeburn. In 
 1818 he was appointed schoolmaster at Bent, on the estate of Black- 
 wood ; he afterwards assisted in the parish school of Dalmeny, and 
 in 1822 was elected schoolmaster of Kinross, an office which he held 
 for fifty-one years. He died at Kinross on the 25th July 1876. 
 He married, 27th July 1825, Grace, daughter of Bruce Beveridge, 
 and grand-daughter of James Beveridge, Esq. of Balado, with issue 
 seven sons and three daughters. 
 
 John Begg, eldest son of Robert Burns Bes-o- and Grace 
 
68 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Beveridge, born 25th May 1826, was manager and one of the 
 owners of the Kinneil Ironworks, in the county of Linlithgow. He 
 died 28th September 1878. He married, first, 10th April 1855, 
 Eliza, daughter of Andrew Vannan, distiller, Borrowstounness ; and, 
 secondly, 3rd October 1865, Elizabeth Simpson, daughter of James 
 Anderson, builder, Calcutta. He is survived by four sons, Kobert 
 Burns, Andrew Vannan, John, and James Beveridge Anderson ; also 
 by two daughters, Elizabeth Anderson and Grace Margaret. 
 
 Bruce Begg, second son of Robert Burns Begg, born 22nd 
 December 1827, died 10th December 1836. 
 
 James Beveridge Begg, third son, born 24tli October 1829, settled 
 in Virginia. He married, first, 31st August 1857, Mary Haldane ; 
 secondly, 25th July 1863, Janet Haldane. He has a son, Robert, 
 and two daughters, Isobel and Mary. 
 
 Robert Burns Begg, fourth son, born 1st May 1833, is Sheriff- 
 Clerk of the county of Kinross. He has composed a history of 
 Lochleven Castle, and is known as an antiquarian scholar. He 
 married, first, 5th November 1861, Jane Hutchison; secondly, 
 17th March 1870, Mary Leburn, with issue a son, Robert Burns. 
 
 Bruce Beveridge Begg, fifth son, born 24th June 1837, studied 
 at the University of Glasgow, and in 1865 was ordained minister of 
 Abbotshall, Fifeshire. He married, 13th December 1871, Magdalene, 
 daughter of Andrew Currie of Glassmount, with issue two sons, Robert 
 Burns and Andrew Currie ; also two daughters, Elizabeth and Grace. 
 
 William, sixth son, born 10th June 1839, settled in Newcastle 
 as a naval engineer; he died in 1888. He married, 2nd June 1869, 
 Eleanor Jane Hoo;^. 
 
 Gilbert Burns Begg, seventh son, born 17th May 1842, is a civil 
 engineer, resident at Motherwell. He married, 27th September 
 1870, Annie Cuthbertson, with issue a son, Robert Burns, and a 
 daughter, Grace. 
 
THE POETS TIN E AGE. 69 
 
 Isabella, eldest daughter of Robert Burns Begg and Grace 
 Beveridge, was born 28tli May 1831 ; she married, 9th August 
 1866, Andrew Vannan, distiller, Borrowstounness. 
 
 Jane, second daughter, born 4th January 1844, died in infancy. 
 
 Grace Jane, youngest daughter, born 12tli February 1846, is 
 unmarried, 
 
 Gilbert Begg, fourth son of John Begg and Isabella Burns, was 
 born on the 21st February 1802. Educated at Wallace Hall 
 Academy, he served as apprentice to a joiner, but subsequently 
 joined the navy. Discharged on a small pension, he was, on the 
 outbreak of the Russian war in 1854, called up for coastguard 
 service. He afterwards worked at his original trade, and when, 
 owing to the infirmities of age, he was unable longer to exercise his 
 calling, he became a boarder in the Old Men's Home at Glaso-ow. 
 Subsecpently he was received as a boarder in the Glasgow Poorhouse. 
 But in July 1882 he was, at the instance of admirers of his uncle's 
 genius, boarded at Pollokshaws. Gilbert died on the 11th January 
 1885, in his eighty-third year. His remains were deposited in the 
 Old Yennel Churchyard, Pollokshaws. 
 
 James Hope, fifth son of John Begg and Isabella Burns, was 
 born on the 2nd February 1809. He served in the 26th Regiment, 
 and died unmarried at Chusan, in China, on the 2nd November 
 1840. He held a medal for "distinguished service." 
 
 Edward Hamilton, sixth son of John Begg and Isabella Burns, 
 born 12th August 1811, died 2nd May 1824. 
 
 Agnes Brown, eldest daughter of John Begg and Isabella Burns, 
 was born on the 17th April 1800. Acute and of a strong sagacity, 
 she also indulged a generous humour. An ardent admirer of her 
 uncle's genius, she rejoiced in every effort which was put forth to 
 celebrate his memory. She died unmarried at Bridge House, 
 Alloway, on the 1st May 1883, at the age of eighty-three. 
 
70 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Jane Breckenridge, second daugliter, was born on the 16th April 
 1804 ; she died on the 7th July 1822, unmarried. 
 
 Isabella, third daughter, born 27th April 1806, died un- 
 married at Bridge House, Alio way, on the 27th December 1886, 
 at the age of eighty-one. Her remains were deposited in Alloway 
 Churchyard. 
 
 John Burnes, fourth and youngest son of William Burnes and 
 Agnes Broun, was born on the 12th July 1769. He died in his 
 fourteenth year, and his remains were interred in the churchyard of 
 Mauchline. 
 
 William Burnes, third son of William Burnes and Agnes Broun, 
 was born at Alloway on the 31st July 1767. A journeyman saddler, 
 he prosecuted his craft, first at Newcastle, and afterwards in London. 
 He died at London in July 1790, and his remains were deposited 
 in St. Paul's Churchyard ; the spot of his interment was unmarked, 
 and is now unknown. 
 
 Gilbert Burns, second son of William Burnes and Agnes Broun, 
 was born at Alloway on the 28th September 1760. Concerning 
 him, his early preceptor, Mr. Murdoch, writes : — " Gilbert always 
 appeared to me to possess a more lively imagination, and to be more 
 of the wit than Robert." 
 
 By ranking as a creditor on his father's estate for his stipulated 
 wao-es on Lochlea farm, Gilbert was, in conjunction with his brother 
 the Poet, enabled to retain a portion of farm stock, and therewith, 
 aided by the savings of other members of the family, to enter on the 
 farm of Mossgiel, near Mauchline. This farm was at first held by 
 the Poet on a sub-lease from Mr. Gavin Hamilton, who himself rented 
 the farm from the Earl of Loudoun; but in March 1784 the 
 Poet associated Gilbert with him in the lease. Three years later he 
 retired personally from the concern, while from the proceeds of the 
 second edition of his poems he granted Gilbert the loan of £180, which 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 71 
 
 enabled him to discliarge debt, and to struggle witli an ungrateful 
 soil till 1797, when he leased the farm of Dinning, in Nithsdale. 
 
 In 1800 Gilbert Burns was induced by Mrs. Dunlop to take 
 temporary charge of Morham Muir, a f^irm in the neighbourhood 
 of Haddington, which formed a part of her family estate. His own 
 farm at Dinning, which he retained till 1810, he entrusted to the 
 management of John Begg, husband of his sister Isabella. In 1804 
 he accepted the factorship of Lord Blantyre, and in the sprino- of 
 that year established his residence at Grant's Braes, near Lethington, 
 Haddingtonshire. As factor, he had, in reward of service, a free 
 house, with a salary of £100, which was subsequently raised to £140. 
 He died at Grant's Braes on the 8th April 1827, at the age of sixty- 
 seven ; his remains were deposited in the churchyard at Bolton. 
 
 Gilbert Burns facially resembled his brother the Poet, with this 
 difference, that he had an aquiline nose, while Eobert had a straio-ht 
 one. Possessed of a vigorous intelligence, and of no inconsiderable 
 literary culture, he largely assisted Dr. Currie in preparing his 
 brother's memoirs. He edited an edition of the Poet's works, 
 published in 1820 by Cadell k Davies, adding a dissertation on the 
 effect produced by Presbyterianism on the Scottish national 
 character. For this edition he received from the publishers £500, 
 which enabled him to discharge to the Poet's widow the debt of 
 £180, contracted thirty-two years previously. Gilbert Burns 
 married, 20th June 1791, Jean Breckenridge. Her mother, Janet 
 Aird, was only child of John Aird, farmer at Sorn, and latterly a 
 merchant in Kilmarnock. She married, first, James Breckenrido-e, 
 farmer, Craigie, son of James Breckenridge, parish schoolmaster of 
 Irvine, with issue a son, Thomas, and a daughter, Jean, afterwards 
 Mrs. Gilbert Burns. She married, secondly, David Sillar,' farmer, 
 
 1 Mauchline Marriage Register. Sir James Mayor and Chamberlain of tlie city of 
 Shaw, Bart., a native of Kilmarnock, Lord London, was nephew of David Sillar. Sir 
 
72 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Heiigli Mill, Symington, near Kilmarnock, by whom she had four 
 children. Jean Breckenridge, wife of Cjilbert Burns, inherited from her 
 parents certain house property in Fore Street, Kilmarnock. She 
 was born on the 6th February 1764, and died on the 6th February 
 1841 ; her remains rest in the churchyard of Erskine, Eenfrewshire. 
 
 Of the marriage of Gilbert Burns and Jean Breckenridge were 
 born six sons and five daughters. Janet, the eldest daughter, born 
 23rd May 1799, died 30tli October 1816; Agnes, second daughter, 
 born 16th November 1800, died 14th September 1815 ; Anne, 
 third daughter, born 12th September 1805, died in August 1887 ; 
 Jean, fourth daughter, born 8th June 1807, died 4th January 
 1827; Isabella, fifth daughter, born 17th May 1809, died 
 3rd July 1815. 
 
 William Burns, eldest son of Gilbert Burns and Jean Brecken- 
 ridge, was born on the 15th May 1792, and died in 1880 at Port- 
 arlington in Ireland. Settling in Dublin in 1822, he married, in 
 1824, Jane, daughter of Peter Callanan of County Galway ; she died 
 in 1858. Of their marriage were born seven children, of whom 
 four died young. Two sons, James and William, and a daughter, 
 Helen, survive, all of whom are unmarried. 
 
 James Burns, second son of Gilbert Burns, born at Mossgiel on 
 the 20th April 1794, became a writer, first at Haddington, and after- 
 wards at Glasgow, where he was also surveyor of taxes. He latterly 
 became factor to Lord Blantyre at Erskine, Renfrewshire, and 
 there died on the 22nd June 1847. 
 
 Thomas Burns, third son of Gilbert Burns, was born at Mossgiel 
 on the 10th April 1796. Having studied at the University of 
 Edinburgh, he was licensed to preach by the presbytery of 
 
 James became an efficient patron of the Burns James Glencairn was nominated to Christ's 
 
 family. Through his exertions each of the Hospital, where he received his education, and 
 
 Poet's three sons got a start in life. Robert, both he and his brother, William Nicol, 
 
 the eldest, got a post in the Stamp Office ; obtained Indian cadetships. 
 
THE POETS LINEAGE. 73 
 
 Haddington on the 3rd December 1822, and on the 13th April 
 1826 was ordained minister of Ballantrae, in the county of Ayr. 
 Translated to the parish of Monkton, in the same county, he was 
 there settled on the 18th May 1830. He joined the Free Church 
 in 1843, and, on the 25th June 1846, became minister of the Free 
 Church congregation at Portobello, near Edinburgh. Having, along 
 with Captain Cargill and others, projected the settlement of Otago, 
 New Zealand, he relinquished his charge in the autumn of 1847, 
 and, with the first body of settlers, sailed from Greenock as their 
 pastor. He ministered at Otago till his death, which took place at 
 Dunedin on the 23rd January 1871. He was D.D. of the University 
 of Edinburgh. 
 
 Dr. Thomas Burns married Clementina, daughter of the Rev. 
 James Francis Grant, rector of Merston, Sussex, son of Sir Alexander 
 Grant of Monymusk, by whom he had one son, Arthur John, and 
 six daughters. 
 
 Arthur John, only son of Dr. Thomas Burns, married 
 Sarah, daughter of Thomas Dickson, merchant, Otago, with issue 
 nine children. 
 
 Clementina, eldest daughter of Dr. Thomas Burns, married 
 Andrew J. Elles, captain of the ship Philip Laing, which in 1847 
 took out the first settlers to Otago, and of the marriage there is 
 issue three sons and one daughter. James, the eldest son, is 
 resident at Amoy, in China ; Gilbert, the second son, has settled at 
 Oporto, and Malcolm Jamieson, the third son, is resident in London. 
 The daughter, Clementina, resides with her father, who is now 
 collector of customs at Invercargill, New Zealand. 
 
 Jane, second daughter of Dr. Thomas Burns, married the Rev. 
 William Bannerman, minister of the Presbyterian Church, Otago, 
 with issue. 
 
 Anne, third, and Frances, fourth daughter, married, at Dunedin, 
 
 VOL. III. K 
 
74 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Henry and Alexander Livingstone ; both sisters have issue. Agnes, 
 fifth daughter, is unmarried. Isabella, sixth daughter, married, at 
 Dunedin, Alexander Stevenson. He died in 1876, leaving a son, 
 Douglas. 
 
 Kobert, fourth son of Gilbert Burns and Jean Breckenridge, was 
 born at Mossgiel on the 22nd November 1797. He emigrated to 
 South America in 1826, and there died about 1839. John, fifth 
 son, born 6th July 1802, became a teacher of mathematics at Edin- 
 burgh, where he died on the 26th February 1827. 
 
 Gilbert Burns, sixth and youngest son of Gilbert Burns and 
 Jean Breckenridge, ^^as born at Morham Muir, Haddingtonshire, 
 24th December 1803. He studied at the High School of Edinburgh, 
 when James Gray, formerly tutor in the Poet's family, was one of 
 the masters. By Sir James Shaw, his mother's relative, he was 
 ofi"ered an Indian cadetship, but, preferring the concerns of trade, 
 he in 1824 proceeded to Dublin, where he became assistant in a 
 merchant's ofiice. In 1834 he joined Mr. William Todd, from 
 Kinross, in establishing at Dublin the mercantile house of Todd & 
 Burns, which became largely prosperous. Gilbert Burns died at his 
 residence, Knockmaroon Lodge, Chapelizod, Dublin, on the 9th 
 October 1881. He was much reputed for his benevolence. He 
 married, in 1842, Jemima Georgiana, daughter of Alexander Ferrier, 
 Dublin, with issue two sons, Eobert and Theodore Gilbert Alexander, 
 and two daughters, Mary and Isabella, 
 
 Robert, elder son of Gilbert Burns and Jemima Ferrier, resides 
 at the Elms, Weybridge, Surrey. He married Sibylla, daughter of 
 the Rev. Phillipps Donnithorne Dayman, vicar of Poundstock, 
 Cornwall, with issue a son, Kenneth Glencairn, and a daughter, 
 Edith Donnithorne. 
 
CHAPTEK II. 
 
 BIRTH AND EARLY ENVIRONMENTS. 
 
 And love grew sweeter at his touch, for full in him there lay 
 Its melting tones and sighs, and all its soft compelling sway ; 
 He shaped its raptures of delight, for unto him was given 
 The power to wed to burning words the sweetest gift of heaven. 
 
 Alexander Anderson. 
 
 Eldest son of William Burnes, the Poet was born at Alloway on the 
 25th of January 1759. In the parish register of Ayr the event is 
 recorded thus : " Eobert Burns, son lawful to William Burns in 
 Alloway, and Agnes Broun, his spouse, was born January 25tli 
 1759. Baptized, 26th, by Mr. William Dalrymple. Witnesses — 
 John Tennant and James Young." 
 
 In the preceding chapter has been detailed, from sources of 
 information not available to the Poet himself, a narrative of his 
 ancestry ; and at this point it is proper to refer to certain family 
 traditions which the Bard at different times gave forth and insisted 
 on. In his autobiographical letter to Dr. Moore of the 2nd August 
 1787,' he writes thus : — 
 
 My forefathers rented lands of the famous noble Keiths of Marshal, and 
 had the honour to share their fate. ... I mention this circumstance because 
 it threw my Father on the world at large ; where, after many years' "wanderings 
 and sojournings, he picked up a pretty large quantity of observation and 
 experience. 
 
 ^ This letter, with others addressed by Burns sale of Mr. Peter Cunningham's effects by 
 
 to Dr. Moore, was borrowed from one of that Sotheby, London, on the 26th February 1865, it 
 
 gentleman's representatives by an editor of the constituted Lot 145, and was purchased for the 
 
 Poet's works, and was not returned. At the Trustees of the British Museum. 
 
76 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Writing to Lady Winifred Maxwell Constable, in December 
 1789, the Poet remarks : — 
 
 Though my fathers had not illustrious honors and vast properties to hazard 
 in the contest ; though they left their humble cottages only to add so many 
 units more to the unnoted crowd that followed their leaders, yet what they 
 could they did, and what they had they lost. With unshaken firmness, and 
 _ unconcealed political attachments, they shook hands with ruin for what they 
 esteemed the cause of their king and country. 
 
 And in his poetical address to William Tytler, the Bard refers to 
 the same subject in these lines : — 
 
 My fathers that name have rever'd on a throne, 
 
 My fathers have fallen to right it ; 
 Those fathers would spurn their degenerate son, 
 
 That name should he scoffingly slight it. 
 
 The fate of the Keiths, Earls Marischal, to which the Poet 
 evidently refers, consisted in the forfeiture of their estates, 
 subsequent to the rebellion of 1715. George, tenth Earl Marischal, 
 proclaimed at Aberdeen, on the 28th September 1715, the Chevalier 
 St. George as King of Great Britain. He commanded two squadrons 
 of cavalry at the battle of Sheriffmuir, and in December thereafter 
 re-proclaimed the Chevalier at the gate of his house at Fetteresso. 
 For these and other acts of rebellion he was subjected to attainder. 
 Now the Poet's progenitors were in 1715 and long subsequently 
 tenants at Glenbervie, on the estate of the Stuarts of Inchbreck. 
 And to the family of the Earls Marischal the Stuarts were nearly 
 related, while Jacobite principles were common to both. In the 
 light of the Poet's tradition, it may therefore be assumed that, in 
 compliment to the laird of Inchbreck, John Burnes, eldest son of 
 William Burnes, his tenant of Bogjorgan, served as a lieutenant in 
 
BIRTH AND EARL Y ENVIRONMENST. 77 
 
 the Jacobite army of 1715.^ But there is no evidence that the 
 family of Burnes was, in connexion with the insurrection of 1715, 
 involved in the attainder or other misfortunes of the Earl 
 Marischal. 
 
 The Poet's family tradition may be otherwise accounted for. 
 With their landlords, the Stuarts, the family of Burnes w^ere 
 privileged to maintain a degree of intimacy much in excess of 
 ordinary tenants. Younger sons of the laird of Inchbreck, John 
 Stuart was Professor of Mathematics in Marischal Colleg-e, and 
 Eobert, merchant in Aberdeen, was some time Provost of that city. 
 Now, in the register of Fetteresso parish, we find that these 
 gentlemen w^itnessed — the former in 1731, the latter in 1733 — the 
 baptisms of John and Eobert Burnes, grandsons of James Burnes, 
 tenant at Brawlinmuir, on the Inchbreck estate. And further, we 
 have found that when Robert Burnes, farmer at Clochnahill, the 
 Poet's grandfather, was involved in pecuniary straits, he, in February 
 1744, received from ex-Provost Stuart of Aberdeen a considerable 
 loan.^ 
 
 Among those who actively espoused the cause of Prince Charles 
 Edward in 1745 was Captain James Stuart, younger son of William 
 Stuart of Inchbreck, who, after serving with the royal army in 
 Holland, attached himself to I^ord Ogilvie's Regiment on behalf of 
 the Prince. He composed a journal or itinerary of the " March of 
 the Highland Army," commencing at Holyrood-house on the 11th 
 October 1745, and continuing till Monday, 21st April 1746, or five 
 days after the defeat at Culloden.^ And that record, while it does 
 not contain the names of his followers, affords evidence that by a 
 
 ^ Supra, p. 9. of the Spaldinrj Club, vol. i., Aberdeen, 1841. 
 
 ^ Supra, pp. 23, 24. After undergoing many privations. Captain 
 
 ^ " March of tlie Highland Army in the years Stuart succeeded in making his escape to 
 
 1745-6, by Captain James Stuart, of Lord France, where he was created a Knight of 
 
 Ogilvie's Regiment," included in The Miscellany St. Louis ; he died in 1776. 
 
78 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 body of adherents he was accompanied to the capital. In Ids 
 " Address to Edinburgh " the Poet writes : — 
 
 Ev'n I, who sing in rustic lore, 
 
 Haply my sires have left their shed, 
 And fac'd grim danger's loudest roar, 
 
 Bold following where your fathers led. 
 
 If these lines have any real meaning, there must be a reference 
 to the only occasion when the burghers of Edinburgh evinced a 
 disposition to support the Jacobite cause. They did so in September 
 1745, on the Prince's arrival in the city, and it may be assumed that 
 the Poet refers to his progenitors having taken part in the affair. 
 That his OTeat-ocrandfather, Robert Burnes of Clochnahill farm, was 
 somehow involved in the troubles of the Rebellion is attested by an 
 undeviating tradition. 
 
 A question arises. From his advanced age, it is obvious that the 
 farmer at Clochnahill was not personally concerned in the rising of 
 1745. Nor was his son William, the Poet's father,^ for there was 
 found among his papers, and still exists, a parochial certificate, 
 testifying that he had no concern " in the late wicked rebellion." 
 May not his uncle Robert, who was some time associated with his 
 father in the management of Clochnahill farm, and who for nearly 
 forty years worked as a gardener in England, have followed Captain 
 James Stuart to Edinburgh, and so have been the indirect cause of the 
 family impoverishment ? May not Robert's departure into England 
 be so accounted for ? 
 
 The humble abode in which Burns was born stands on the high 
 road to Maybole, and is distant about three miles from the ancient 
 
 1 While it seems beyond reasonable doubt that personally take part in rebellion against tlie 
 
 Burns's ancestors were more or less actively reigning house. He was not born till after 
 
 concerned in the Jacobite cause, and that the 1715 ; and in 1745 he was engaged as a 
 
 family fortunes suffered in consequence, it gardener in the vicinity of Edinburgh, 
 seems also clear that the Poet's father did not 
 
BIRTH AND EARL Y ENVIRONMENTS. 79 
 
 town of Ayr. The road runs close beside " Alloway's auld haunted 
 kirk," and crosses the Doon at a lovely spot where stands that 
 handsome memorial structure which has a primary claim to be 
 specially spoken of as Burns's Monument. From the new bridge 
 (by which the river is now crossed in a straighter course) a fine 
 view can be had of the "Auld Brig," the monument, and the 
 " banks and braes " of the classic stream. There, if we call to 
 mind the Poet's lines, as in Tam o' Shanter, e.g., the place seems to 
 live and move as of old at his immortalizing touch. 
 
 The " auld clay biggin'," where the Poet first saw the light, was 
 for many years used as a wayside ale-house. Now, however, it is 
 fittingly owned and cared for by the trustees of the monument. 
 The licence is dispensed with, and in the neat little hall behind the 
 cottage many interesting and valuable Burns relics are exhibited.^ 
 From all parts of our own country, and from many far-off 
 lands, the throng of pilgrims to this natal scene yearly increases ; 
 until now, in the holiday season, the visitors number thousands 
 weekly — a great and growing evidence that he who was born there 
 spoke and still is speaking straight to the hearts of men and women 
 everywhere. 
 
 A few days after the Poet's birth, the stability of the "clay 
 biggin' " was so severely tried that mother and infant were removed 
 for safety to a neighbouring dwelling — 
 
 'Twas then a blast o' Januar' wind 
 Blew hansel in on Robin 
 
 — stormy presage of his uniquely rugged and passion - swayed 
 
 1 William Burness, on leaving the neighbour- in 1847; and in 1881 the property was 
 
 hood in 1777, sold the cottage and the feu- acquired by the trustees of the monument, at 
 
 right of his adjoining seven acres to the Ayr a cost of £4000, 
 Shoemakers' Corporation. The hall was erected 
 
80 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 career. The frcail building having been repaired and strengthened, 
 mother and child returned to their home, and there the family dwelt 
 until Eobert had reached his eighth year. 
 
 Of these childhood years very little is definitely known. As 
 reo-ards general worth and intelligence, William Burness and his 
 wife were clearly above the average small farmers and cotters of their 
 time. The Poet's mother is described by one Avho knew her in- 
 timately, as a woman of great sagacity, and pleasant, easy manner, 
 havino- at her command a remarkable store of ballads and tradition- 
 ary tales, by means of w^hich she early kindled and fed the 
 imagination of her wondrou sly-gifted eldest son. In this same 
 direction, an aged relative of the family, Betty Davidson by name, 
 exercised a lasting influence on the Poet's mind. Burns himself 
 says of her : — 
 
 In my infant and boyish days, I owed much to an old woman, who resided 
 in the family, remarkable for her ignorance, credulity, and superstition. She 
 had, I suppose, the largest collection in the country, of tales and songs concern- 
 ing devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, 
 elf-candles, deadlights, wraiths, apparitions, cantraips, giants, enchanted towers, 
 dragons, and other trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of poetry ; but 
 had so strong an effect on my imagination, that to this hour, in my nocturnal 
 rambles, I sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places ; and though 
 nobody can be more sceptical than I am in such matters, yet it often takes an 
 eflfort of philosophy to shake off these idle terrors. 
 
 Also, from the earliest dawn of intelligence, he was accustomed to 
 those humble yet noble scenes of family industry, piety, and peace 
 which he has depicted, from the life, in the " Cotter's Saturday 
 Night." 
 
 In 1766, the family removed from their Alloway home, and 
 entered the farm of Mount Oliphant, two miles inland. In his sixth 
 year, Robert attended a small country school at Alloway Mill. In 
 
BIRTH AND EARLY ENVIRONMENTS. 81 
 
 May 1765, William Burness and a few of his neighbours joined in 
 starting a school nearer at hand, and employed one John JNIurdoch 
 as master. Fortunately, Murdoch, though young, was already a 
 man of well-cultured mind, and in many respects a born teacher. 
 Compared with modern systems of cramnmig, his methods seem to 
 have been far more truly educational — well suited, indeed, to draw 
 out and develop the thinking powers of the children under his 
 charge. He was a respected friend and frequent visitor of the 
 Burness family, and has left a most interesting account of the 
 school-days of his great pupil. He states that Robert and his 
 younger brother Gilbert were by for his aptest pupils. They were 
 generally at the upper end of their classes, even when competing 
 with boys much older than themselves. It is remarkable that this 
 able and worthy man then considered Gilbert the brighter of the 
 two boys. Now, judging from his correspondence, Gilbert Burns 
 was a clever, scholarly man for his station. At school he may have 
 seemed brighter than his elder brother, while in Robert's mind and 
 heart were greater, stronger thoughts and feelings — a deeper though 
 more silently-flowing stream of rich imaginings. At this early stage, 
 Murdoch was mistaken in his estimate of the youthful Poet's gifts, but 
 William Burness was not so mistaken ; he having early perceived in 
 his eldest son promise of extraordinary powers of thought and 
 feeling, which led him to say that " something wonderful would yet 
 be seen and heard of that boy." 
 
 Murdoch further tells us that, along with the usual branches of 
 elementary education, he tried to teach his pupils church music. 
 
 Here they [Robert and Gilbert] were left far behind by all the rest of the 
 
 school. Eobert's ear, in particular, was remarkably dull, and his voice untun- 
 
 able. It was long before I could get them to distinguish one tune from 
 
 another. . . . Certainly, if any person who knew the two boys had been 
 
 VOL. III. L 
 
82 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 asked which of them was the most Hkely to court the muses, he would surely 
 never have guessed that Robert had a propensity of that kind. 
 
 And yet this was he whose writings but a few years afterwards 
 proclaimed him one of the greatest and sweetest of the world's 
 song-makers. 
 
 In 1768, Robert's tenth year, Murdoch left the Alloway neigh- 
 bourhood for a time ; and now, while he ever carefully attended to 
 the home training of his family, William Burness himself undertook 
 and continued the general education of his boys. Of this period 
 Gilbert says : — 
 
 There being no school near us, and our little services being already useful 
 on the farm, my father undertook to teach us arithmetic in the winter evenings 
 by caudle-light — and in this way my two elder sisters received all the educa- 
 tion they ever received. . . . My father was for some time almost the only 
 companion we had. He conversed familiarly on all subjects with us, as if we 
 had been men ; and was at great pains, while we accompanied him on the 
 labours of the farm, to lead the conversation to such subjects as might increase 
 our knowledge or confirm us in virtuous habits. 
 
 William Burness was also at pains to place in his boys' hands 
 from time to time various volumes of a solidly educative kind ; and 
 Gilbert further states that " Robert read these books with an avidity 
 and industry scarcely to be equalled, no book being so voluminous as 
 to slacken his industry, or so antiquated as to damp his researches." 
 
 Thus for several years — he dutifully attending to the secular 
 and religious instructions of his worthy father, eagerly perusing 
 such books as were placed at his command, and, if possible, still 
 more eagerly feasting his youthful fancy on the wealth of ballad 
 and story sung and recited in the family circle — the Poet's education 
 steadily proceeded. 
 
 In his fourteenth year, Robert and Gilbert attended week about 
 during a summer quarter, for writing lessons, at Dalrymple parish 
 
BIRTH AND EARL Y ENVIRONMENTS. 83 
 
 school. About a year afterwards, Murdoch havino; returned to 
 Ayr as EngHsh master, Robert spent three weeks with him, revisino- 
 English grammar and learning French. At the three weeks' end 
 master and pupil were reluctantly parted, Robert's services being 
 required for harvesting at Mount Oliphant. During this brief term 
 of study, he manifested gigantic powers of acquirement. Not only 
 did he revise his English grammar, and learn some French, but he 
 also acquired a smattering of Latin. Considering, however, how 
 scant his ojDportunity, no one need be surprised when it is asserted 
 that Burns knew little French and less Latin. Regarding the latter 
 language he once remarked, " All I know of Latin is contained in 
 three words — Omnia vincit Amorr 
 
 Excepting the short time he afterwards spent at the Kirkoswald 
 seminary, the foregoing is all the school training he received. It 
 was not much ; but obviously it was employed by a marvellous 
 mind, with a spirit of keen inquiry and unflagging zeal. 
 
 There still lingers, in the minds of many, considerable misappre- 
 hension as to the quality and extent of Burns's education. While, 
 on the one hand, we cannot altogether agree with the statement 
 that " not a boy in Scotland was better educated ; " on the other 
 hand, we are bound to disagree with those who think our Poet's 
 education was, in things essential to his great mission, a "poor 
 indifferent affair." 
 
 His time at school was indeed brief and broken. To him the 
 doors of no academy or college were open. Almost from child- 
 hood, his was a lot taxed by anxious cares and hard, engrossino- 
 toils. Nevertheless, he enjoyed not a few advantages of the best 
 educational kind. Perhaps the first of these we take to be his 
 upbringing in a Scottish peasant home of outstanding industry, 
 intelligence, and integrity,— a home where he early imbibed his 
 characteristic love of independence, and hatred of everything 
 
84 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 that partook of uiithinking bigotry, cruel tyranny, or worldly 
 meanness. He was taught, too, under the watchful care of a 
 father of notable enlightenment, — a father who neglected no oppor- 
 tunity and grudged no trouble in cultivating the intelligence of 
 his family, and particularly the soaring mind and spirit of his 
 eldest son. Be it further remembered, the more impressionable 
 years of Burns's youth were spent in a neighbourhood where 
 " Nature's face is fair " indeed — a beautiful country-side — where, 
 as with living forms and voices, his rich imagination learned to 
 commune with hill and dale, wood and stream, fields and flowers. 
 Nor should we forget that his daily duties in the farm-yard and the 
 fields nurtured in his oreat kind heart that fellow-feelinof which 
 he has so sweetly manifested towards the humbler creation, — the 
 " ourie cattle" and "silly sheei3," the "hapless bird" and "hunted 
 hare," his "pet ewe Mailie " and his " auld mare Meg." Lastly, in 
 comparing his works with his opportunities, even the poverty and 
 the grinding toil of his boyhood and youth are not to be under- 
 valued. For by these he learned to know and sympathize with the 
 stern realities and struggles of careworn human life, wherein 
 
 Man's ijiliumanity to man 
 
 I\Iakes countless thousands mourn. 
 
 In further endeavouring to portray the early life and surround- 
 ings of the Poet, we cannot do better than follow the example of his 
 best biographers, in quoting at length from the graphic and interest- 
 ing records left by his teacher, John Murdoch, his brother Gilbert, 
 and by Burns himself. 
 
 Speaking of the time when Robert was summoned home from 
 his three weeks' term of study in Ayr, Murdoch says : — 
 
 Thus Avas I deprived of my very apt pupil, and consequently agreeable 
 companion. I did not lose sight of him, however, but was a frequent visitant 
 
BIRTH AND EARLY ENVIRONMENTS. 85 
 
 at his father's house, and very often went, accompanied by one or two persons 
 more intelligent than myself, that good William Burness might enjoy a mental 
 feast. The father and son sat down with us, when we enjoyed a conversation, 
 wherein solid reasoning, sensible remark, and a moderate seasoning of jocularity 
 were so nicely blended as to render it palatable to all parties. Robert had 
 a hundred questions to ask me about French, etc. ; and the father, who had 
 always rational information in view, had still some question to propose to my 
 more learned friends, upon moral or natural philosophy, or some such interesting 
 subject. Mrs. Burness, too, was of the party as much as possible : — 
 
 But still the house affairs would draw her thence, 
 "Which ever as she could with haste despatch. 
 She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
 Devour up their discourse, 
 
 and particularly that of her husband. At all times, and in all companies, she 
 listened to Mm with a more marked attention than to anybody else. This 
 worthy woman, Agnes Brown, had the most thorough esteem for her husband 
 of any woman I ever knew. I can by no means Avonder that she highly 
 esteemed him ; for I myself considered William Burness as by far the best 
 of the human race that ever I had the pleasure of being acquainted with — 
 and many a worthy character I have known. ... He was a tender and 
 affectionate father; he took pleasure in leading his children in the path of 
 virtue ; not in driving them, as some parents do, to the performance of duties to 
 which they themselves are averse. ... As he was at no time overbearing to 
 inferiors, he was equally incapable of that paltry, pitiful spirit which induces 
 some people to keep booing and booing in the presence of a great man. He 
 always treated superiors with a becoming respect, but he never gave the smallest 
 encouragement to aristocratical arrogance. But I must not pretend to give 
 you a description of all the manly qualities, the rational and Christian virtues of 
 the venerable William Burness. Time would fail me. I shall only add that he 
 carefully practised every known duty, and avoided everything that was criminal ; 
 or, in the apostle's words, "Herein did he exercise himself in living a life void 
 of offence towards God and towards men." ... I have often wished, for the 
 good of mankind, that it were as customary to honour and perpetuate the 
 memory of those who excel in moral rectitude, as it is to extol what are called 
 heroic actions ; then would the mausoleum of the friend of my youth overtop 
 
86 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 and surpass most of those I see in "Westminster Abbey. Although I cannot do 
 justice to the character of this worthy man, yet you will perceive, from these 
 few particulars, what kind of person had the princiiml hand in the education of 
 our Poet.^ 
 
 Regarding the family life and work at Mount Olipliant, Gilbert 
 Burness speaks clearly and fully in his communication to Dr. Currie. 
 He tells us that nothing could be more retired than their general 
 manner of living. The soil of the farm was of the very poorest 
 kind, and, for the times, too highly rented. 
 
 In consequence of this — he continues — my father soon came into difficulties 
 which were increased by the loss of several of his cattle by accidents and 
 disease. To the buffetings of misfortune we could only oppose hard labour 
 and the most rigid economy. "We lived very sparingly. For several years 
 butcher's meat was a stranger in the house, M-hile all the members of the family 
 exerted themselves to the vitmost of their strength, and rather beyond it, in the 
 labours of the farm. My brother, at the age of thirteen, assisted in threshing 
 the crop of corn, and at fifteen was the principal labourer on the farm, for we 
 had no hired servant, male or female. The anguish of mind Ave felt at our 
 tender years under these straits and difficulties was very great. To think of 
 our father growing old (for he was now above fifty), broken down by the long 
 fatigues of his life, with a wife and five other children, and in a declining state 
 of circumstances ; these reflections produced in my brother's mind and mine 
 sensations of the deepest distress. I doubt not but the hard labour and sorrow 
 of this period of his life was in a great measure the cause of that depression of 
 spirits with which Robert was so often afflicted through his whole life after- 
 wards. At this time he was almost constantly afflicted in the evenings with a 
 dull headache, which, at a future period of his life, was exchanged for a 
 palpitation of the heart, and a threatening of fainting and suffocation in the 
 night-time. 
 
 In 1787, Burns penned his famous autobiographical sketch sent 
 to Dr. Moore,- in which, as we might expect, he, best and most 
 graphically of all, recounts the story of his early life. 
 
 ^ John MuvdoL'li : see sketcli ofliis career, vol. ii. p. 107. ^ Sec vol. ii. p. 84. 
 
BIRTH AND EARL Y ENVIRONMENTS. 87 
 
 At those years— he says— I was by no means a favourite with anybody. I 
 was a good deal noted for a retentive memory, a stubborn sturdy something in 
 my disposition, and an enthusiastic idiot piety. I say idiut piety, because I 
 was then but a child. Though it cost the schoolmaster some thrashings, I 
 made an excellent English scholar, and by the time I was ten or eleven years 
 of age, I was a critic in substantives, verbs, and particles. . . . The earliest 
 composition that I recollect taking pleasure in was " The Vision of Mirza," and 
 a hymn of Addison's beginning, " How are thy servants blest, Lord ! " I 
 particularly remember one stanza which was music to my boyish ear : 
 
 For though on dreadful whirls we hung 
 High on the broken wave. 
 
 I met Avith these pieces in Mason's English CuUedion, one of my school-books. 
 The two first books I ever read in private, and which gave me more pleasure 
 than any two books I ever read since, were The Life of Hannibal and The 
 History of Sir William Wallace. Hannibal gave my young ideas such a turn 
 that I used to strut in raptures up and down after the recruiting drum and 
 bagpipe, and wish myself tall enough to be a soldier; while the story of 
 Wallace poured a Scottish prejudice into my veins, which will boil along there 
 till the flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest. . . . The farm [Mount Oliphant] 
 proved a ruinous bargain ; and to clench the misfortune, we fell into the hands 
 of a factor, Avho sat for the picture I have drawn of one in my tale of " Twa 
 Dogs."i My father was advanced in life when he married; I was the eldest 
 of seven children ; and he, worn out by early hardships, was unfit for labour. 
 My father's spirit was soon irritated, but not easily broken. There was a 
 freedom in his lease in two years more, and to weather these two years we 
 retrenched our expenses. We lived very poorly. I was a dexterous plough- 
 man for my age ; and the next eldest to me was a brother [Gilbert] who could 
 drive the plough very well, and help me to thrash the corn. A novel-writer 
 might have viewed these scenes with some satisfaction ; but so did not I. My 
 
 ^ Puir tenant bodies, scant o' cash, 
 How they maun thole a. factor's snash ; 
 He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear 
 He'll apprehend them, poind their gear ; 
 While they maun stan' wi' aspect humble, 
 An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble ! 
 
88 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 indignation yet boils at the recollection of the scoundrel factor's insolent 
 threatening letters, which used to set us all in tears. This kind of life — the 
 cheerless gloom of a hermit, with the unceasing moil of a galley-slave — brought 
 me to my sixteenth year. 
 
 We are to think of Burns, then, at Mount Olipliant, as a hard- 
 toiling farm lad, ungainly of manner, somewhat sullen of aspect, 
 with little knowledge of the world, save what he acquired in the 
 family circle, and from such books as he had by that time perused ; 
 his spirit already saddened and his bodily health impaired by the 
 unusual cares and too heavy labours of his lot. So dragged along 
 the weary years of his boyhood, until, amid his sorrows and toils, 
 he was visited by that first bright dream of woman's love which 
 warmed his care-chilled heart into song. Let the Poet himself 
 tell about this interesting episode : — 
 
 You know our country custom of coupling a man and woman together as 
 partners in the labours of harvest. In my fifteenth autumn my partner was a 
 bewitching creature a year younger than myself. My scarcity of English denies 
 me the power of doing her justice in that language, but you know the Scotch 
 idiom — she was a Lonnie, siceet, sonsie lass. In short, she altogether, un- 
 wittingly to herself, initiated me in that delicious passion, which, in spite of 
 disappointment, gin-horse prudence, and bookworm philosophy, I hold to be 
 the first of human joys, our dearest blessing here below. How she caught the 
 contagion I cannot tell ; you medical people talk much of infection from 
 breathing the same air, the touch, etc. ; but I never expressly said I loved her. 
 Indeed, I did not know myself why I liked so much to loiter behind with her 
 when returning in the evening from our labours ; Avhy the tones of her voice 
 made my heart-strings thrill like an iEolian harp ; and particularly, why my 
 pulse beat such a furious ratan, when I looked and fingered over her little hand 
 to pick out the cruel nettle-stings and thistles. Among her other love-inspiring 
 qualities she sang sweetly ; and it was her favourite reel to which I attempted 
 giving an embodied vehicle in rhyme. . . . Thus with me began Love and 
 Poetry. 
 
BIRTH AND EARL Y ENVIRONMENTS. 89 
 
 His youthful partner on the " hairst-rig " was Nellie Kilpatrick, 
 daughter of the blacksmith who lent him The Life of Wallace, and 
 the song he composed in honour of her charms was — 
 
 HANDSOME NELL. 
 TuxE — " / a??i a man unmarried." 
 
 O once I loved a bonnie lass, 
 Ay, and I love her still ; 
 
 And whilst that honour wanns my breast, 
 I'll love my handsome Nell. 
 
 As bonnie lasses I hae seen, 
 And mony full as braw ; 
 
 But, for a modest gracefii' mien. 
 The like I never saw. 
 
 A bonnie lass, I will confess. 
 
 Is pleasant to the e'e ; 
 But, without some better qualities, 
 
 She's no' the lass for me. 
 
 But Nellie's looks are blythe and sweet, 
 
 And, what is best of a', 
 Her reputation is complete. 
 
 And fair without a flaw. 
 
 She dresses aye sae clean and neat, 
 Sae modest and genteel ; 
 
 And then there's something in her gait 
 Gars ony dress look weel. 
 
 A gaudy dress and gentle air 
 
 May slightly touch the heart ; 
 
 But it's innocence and modesty 
 
 That polishes the dart. 
 VOL. III. M 
 
90 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 'Tis this in Nellie pleases me, 
 
 'Tis this enchants my soul ; 
 For absolutely in my breast 
 
 She reigns without control. 
 
 This song possesses a peculiar interest, being Burns's first. He 
 afterwards said, " I composed it in a wild enthusiasm of passion ; 
 and to this hour, I never recollect it but my heart melts, and my 
 blood sallies at the remembrance." He also spoke of it as a very 
 " puerile and silly " performance. But, calling to mind that when 
 he wrote it he was only a boy of fifteen, it may justly be considered 
 no ordinary composition, but one giving, in some of its stanzas at 
 least, rich promise of poetic grace and power. 
 
 Bearing generally on the foregoing period, and with more special reference to 
 the question of the Poet's education, the following passage from his Autobiography 
 may be quoted as showing what books, in addition to those used in school, he had 
 read up to this stage : — "What I knew of ancient story was gathered from Salmon's 
 and Guthrie's Geographical Grammars ; and the ideas I had formed of modern 
 manners, of literature and criticism, I got from the Spectator. These, with Pope's 
 Works, some plays of Shakespeare, Tidl and Dickson on AgricuUure, The Pantheon, 
 Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding, Stackhouse's History of the Bible, 
 Justice's British Gardeiier's Directory, Boyle's Lectures, Allan Ramsay's Works, 
 Taylor's Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, A Select Collection of English Songs, 
 and Hervey's Meditations, had formed tlie whole of my reading. The collection of 
 songs was my vade mecum. I pored over them driving my cart, or walking to 
 labour, song by song, verse by verse, carefully noting the true, tender, or sublime 
 from affectation or fustian. I am convinced I owe to this practice much of my 
 critic-craft, such as it is." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 FROM 1777-1784. AGE, 18-25. TAEBOLTON, KIRKOSJFALD, IRVINE. 
 
 The seven years we lived in Tarbolton parish Avere not marked by much literary 
 improvements ; but during this time the foundations were laid of certain habits in my 
 brother's character which afterwards became but too prominent, and which malice and 
 «nvy have taken delight to enlarge on. . . . Yet, I do not recollect, during these seven 
 years, to have ever seen him intoxicated ; nor was he at all given to drinking. 
 
 Gilbert Burns. 
 
 Having spent eleven years of unsuccessful toil and struggle in 
 Mount Oliphant, William Burness removed with his family to 
 Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton. The farm then consisted of 
 130 acres of very indifferent soil, and was taken at twenty shillings 
 an acre — a poor bargain, again, for the tenant. Lochlea is, in 
 itself, somewdiat bare and uninteresting, but from the hill-lands of 
 the farm the outlook is both extensive and beautiful. Landward, 
 there opens up some of the finest Ayrshire scenery ; and seaward, 
 the whole Firth of Clyde, with Arran, Cantyre, and Ailsa Craig for 
 majestic background. The place probably owes its name to the 
 little loch ^ which, though long since drained and cultivated, stood 
 a few hundred yards from the farm-steading. 
 
 " It is," says the Poet, " during the time that we lived on this 
 farm that my little story is most eventful." And, certainly, in 
 these seven years he underwent several notaI)le experiences. 
 
 ^ In 1878, when further operations for the an ancient lake-dwelling. Extensive excava- 
 
 better drainage of the site of the loch were lions were executed, and the results were duly 
 
 being carried on, a very interesting discovery noted by antiquarian experts, 
 was made. The workmen came upon traces of 
 
 91 
 
92 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 William Buriiess entered Loclilea at Wliitsunday 1777 ; and, 
 although there must have been much to do on the new farm, 
 further proof of the father's anxious desire for Robert's education 
 is found in the feet that, during this first summer, the Poet was 
 sent to study at Kirkoswald, a rural village about a dozen miles 
 south from Ayr. Of this, the last of his school-days, he says : — 
 
 A circumstance in my life which made some alteration in my mind and 
 manners was, that I spent my nineteenth summer on a smuggling coast, a good 
 distance from home, at a noted school, to learn mensuration, surveying, dialling, 
 etc., in which I made a pretty good progress ; but I made a greater progress 
 in the knowledge of mankind. The contraband trade was at this time very 
 successful, and it sometimes happened to me to fall in with those Avho carried 
 it on. Scenes of swaggering riot and roaring dissipation were till this time 
 quite new to me ; but I was no enemy to social life. Here, though I learnt to 
 fill my glass, and to mix without fear in a drunken squabble, yet I went on 
 with a high hand with my geometry, till the sun entered Virgo — a month 
 which is always a carnival in my bosom — when a charming fillctte, who lived 
 next door to the school, overset my trigonometry, and set me off at a tangent 
 from the sphere of my studies. I struggled on, however, with my sines and 
 co-sines for a few days more ; but stepping into the garden one charming noon, 
 to take the sun's altitude, there I met my angel — 
 
 " Like Proserpine gathering flowers— 
 Herself a fairer flower." 
 
 It was in vain to think of doing any more good at school. The remaining week 
 I stayed I did nothing but craze the faculties of my soul about hei', or steal out 
 to meet her. And the two last nights of my stay in the country, had sleep been 
 a mortal sin, the image of this modest and innocent girl had kept me guiltless. 
 
 The village of Kirkoswald is fully twenty miles distant from 
 Lochlea ; but two reasons may be given in explanation of Burns 
 having been sent for instruction so far from his home. First, it 
 was "a noted school"^ he attended; and, second, he was boarded 
 
 ^ Si'C vol. ii. ; Hugh Rogfr. the noted Kirkoswald teacher. 
 
KIRKOSWALD. 
 
 93 
 
 at ittle cost «itli his uncle, Samuel Browu/ at the farm of Balloeh- 
 ue,I, a mile out of the village. The parish takes up some six miles 
 of rugged, rocky Ayrshire coast, well-suited for the purposes of the 
 smuggler. Durmg last century contraband trade with the Isle of 
 Man and the Continent was largely and daringly carried on in this 
 very neighbourhood in which the Poet spent his "nmcteenth 
 summer. At such an age, to a nature like his, the secret 
 dangerous, and romantic aspects of the smuggler's career would 
 present a stirring interest. Even amongst the more settled farming 
 ctes, the question with many was, not as to whether the traffic 
 was right or wrong, but how best to share in its profits with 
 
 ""P7;*f ^ \ '"''' "'•'=™«t«»^«^. «-e can easily believe that our 
 youthful Bards impulsive spirit and keen curiosity sometimes led 
 him to accompany the midnight expedition to lonely hidin<T-places 
 among the hills or on the eaverned coast, and brought himfece to 
 face with those scenes of "swaggering riot and roaring dissipation " 
 of which he speaks. When, too, in after years, he filled the office 
 of exciseman, his experiences among the Kirkoswald smua<.lers 
 must have proved of much practical service to him. \t Kirk 
 aswaki, Burns formed a close intimacy with a young man named 
 iNiven, who.se family resided in the neighbourhood.^ The two 
 lads spent their spare time in rambling around the vilhwe and 
 engaging in friendly disputations on literary and social subjects 
 with a set view to sharpening each other's wits, and improving 
 their powers of ready debate. According to Chambers, thev asked 
 several of their companions to come and take a side in these 
 debates, but not one would do so ; they only laughed at the young 
 philosophers. The schoolmaster, hearing about these disputations! 
 resolved to put a stop to them. He therefore, before the whole 
 
 »ee \ol. n. p. 143, on the Xiven Family. 
 
04 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 school, attempted to cast ridicule upon Burns and his companion 
 on account of their pretentious debatings. The two, in answer, 
 proceeded to justify their conduct, and at length enticed Eoger to 
 take a side in discussing, in presence of the scholars, the cjuestion, 
 " Whether is a great general or a respectable merchant the most 
 valuable member of society ? " The schoolmaster confidently led 
 off by taking the side of the " great general," Burns taking the 
 opposite view. Eoger is said to have been completely w^orsted in 
 the controversy. " His hand," says Chambers, " w^as observed to 
 shake ; then his voice trembled, and he dissolved the house in a 
 state of vexation pitiable to behold." 
 
 At Scottish farmhouses it was, and still is customary, after the 
 labours of the day are over, for the sturdy youths of neighbouring 
 farms to meet and engage in sundry trials of strength and agility, 
 such as running, leaping, wrestling, etc. Burns took an active part 
 in these exercises, and proved no mean antagonist in the friendly 
 contest. Already, too, his sjDarkling wit and kindly ways made him 
 the life of such humble rustic gatherings. 
 
 During his stay in this neighbourhood, long noted for its manly 
 prowess, hard drinking, and lingering superstitions, he met with 
 those characters which he afterwards sketched in " Tam o' Shanter " 
 — Douglas Graham and his wife, tenants of Shanter Farm, " Souter 
 Johnnie" and " Kirkton Jean," "the Miller" and "the Smith." 
 
 Tam ! hadst thou but been sae wise 
 As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice ! 
 She tauld thee weel thou was a skelhim, 
 A bletherin', blusterin', drunken blelhun ; 
 That, frae Xovember till October, 
 Ae market-day thou wasna sober; 
 That ilka melder, wi' the ]\Iiller, 
 Thou sat as lang as thou had siller : 
 
KIRKOSWALD. 95 
 
 That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, 
 The Smith and thee gat roarin' fou on ; 
 That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, 
 Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till ISIonday. 
 She prophesied that late or soon 
 Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon ; 
 Or catched wi' warlocks in the mirk, 
 By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. 
 
 We have seen liow the Poet's Brief and last school-term was 
 abruptly ended. Peggy Thomson, the damsel who set him ofif at a 
 tangent from the sphere of his studies, is the heroine of his song, 
 "Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns." It is worthy of 
 remark that this love-jit was not such a passing affair as it has been 
 represented. Years afterwards he is known to have entertained the 
 idea of making Peggy his w^ife ; and, on a subsecpient meeting with 
 her, he revised this song into its published form. 
 
 I returned home — he says — very considerably improved. My reading was 
 enlarged by the very important additions of Thomson's and Shenstone's works. 
 I had seen human nature in a new phasis ; and I engaged several of my 
 school-fellows to keep up a literary correspondence with me. This improved me 
 in composition. 1 had met with a collection of letters by the wits of Queen 
 Anne's reign, and I pored over tliem most devoutly. I kept copies of any of 
 my own letters that pleased me ; and a comparison between them and the 
 compositions of most of my correspondents flattered my vanity. I carried 
 this whim so far, that though I had not three-farthings' worth of business in 
 the world, yet almost every post brought me as many letters as if I had been 
 a plodding son of day-book and ledger. 
 
 He tells us that in his " seventeenth year, to give his manners a 
 brush," he went, in defiance of his father's wish, to a country 
 dancing-school. His statement that, because of this act of dis- 
 obedience, his father took a kind of dislike to him, is contradicted 
 by his brother Gilbert, who says : — 
 
96 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 I wonder how Robert could attribute to our father that lasting resentment 
 of his going to a dancing-school, against his will, of which he was incapable. 
 I believe the truth was, that about this time he began to see the dangerous 
 impetuosity of my brother's passions, as well as his not being amenable to 
 counsel, which often irritated my father, and which he would naturally think 
 a dancing-school was not likely to correct. But he was proud of Robert's 
 genius, Avhich he bestowed more expense on cultivating than on the rest of 
 the family ; and he was equally delighted with his warmth of heart and 
 conversational powers. He had, indeed, that dislike of dancing-schools which 
 Robert mentions ; but so far overcame it during Robert's first month of attend- 
 ance, that he permitted the rest of the family, who were fit for it, to 
 accompanj' him during the second month. 
 
 In these conflicting statements, Eobert and Gilbert refer, in 
 all likelihood, to different occasions — Robert to the Mount Oliphant, 
 and Gilbert to the Lochlea, period. But, in any case, we cannot 
 help thinking that in his use of the word dislike the Poet does a 
 regrettable injury to his worthy father's memory. It is pleasing, 
 however, to know that he felt a deep and lasting sorrow for this, his 
 first act of rebellion against parental authority ; and yet, it is sad 
 to think that it is but one among so many instances in which w^e 
 see Burns's nobler nature cast down in agonizing remorse, because 
 of too easy yielding to the " witching voice " of his turbulent 
 passions. 
 
 For all that is authentically known of his life for several years 
 after his return from Kirkoswald, we are indebted to the narratives 
 left by himself and his brother. The Poet's various love entangle- 
 ments form the burden of both accounts. 
 
 My heart — says the Poet — was completely tinder, and was eternally lighted 
 up by some goddess or another. ... At plough, scythe, or reap-hook I feared 
 no competitor, and thus I set absolute want at defiance ; and as I never cared 
 further for my labours than while I was in actual exercise, I spent the evenings 
 in the way after my own heart. A country lad seldom carries on a love- 
 
TARBOL TON LASSES. 97 
 
 adventure without an assisting confidant. I possessed a curiosity, zeal and 
 intrepid dexterity that recommended me as a proper second on these occasions ; 
 and I daresay I felt as much pleasure in being in the secret of half the loves 
 of the parish of Tarbolton, as ever did statesman in knowing the intrigues of 
 half the courts of Europe. The grave sons of science, ambition, or Tvarice 
 baptize these things by the name of follies; but to the sons and daughters of 
 labour and poverty, they are matters of the most serious nature. To them the 
 ardent hope, the stolen interview, the tender farewell, are the greatest and 
 most delicious parts of their enjoyments. 
 
 After the above from his o^Yll pen, we are prepared to learn that 
 the amorous genius of Burns produced songs on nearly all the hand- 
 some girls in Tarbolton; also one song, "The Tarbolton Lasses," in 
 which he celebrates them as a body. Two courtships, however, 
 which he himself at this time carried on, call for special notice. For 
 over half a year he laid siege to the affections of the youthful house- 
 keeper at Montgomerie Castle, at the end of which time he was 
 driven off with the information that she was already betrothed to 
 another. To this girl he inscribed the attractive little song, " Mont- 
 gomerie's Peggy." He states in his Commonplace Book that he 
 began this courtship in mere love-making frolic, but soon found 
 himself holding Peggy in warm affection, and that it cost him 
 "some heartaches to get rid of the affair," — a statement which 
 pleasantly reminds us of a ^ict which can be traced throughout his 
 career, viz. that, amid all his impulsive waywardness, the heart of 
 Robert Burns ever throbbed true to deep-rooted dictates of 
 generous, manly feeling. The poet's passion for Ellison Begbie was 
 a more prolonged and earnest matter. She was the daughter of a 
 Galston farmer, and was at this time serving-maid to a family who 
 resided at Cessnock, fully two miles from Lochlea. To this damsel 
 he addressed, in 1780-81, four letters, notable for their sentiments of 
 respect and admiration, notable also as being among the earliest of 
 his^letters which have been preserved to us. She is the heroine of 
 
 VOL. III. j^ 
 
98 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 two at least of his songs written at this juncture— " The Lass o' 
 Cessnock Banks " and " Bonnie Peggy Alison." 
 
 Moved by his deep attachment to Ellison Beghie, and his 
 anxious desire to find himself in a position to marry her, if she 
 should finally accept his suit, he formed the plan of going to Irvine 
 to learn the flax-dressing business. For some time previously, he 
 and Gilbert had rented land from their father, and were growing 
 liax on their own account. The brothers hoped that, by both 
 growing the flax and dressing it for the market, they would make 
 handsome profits. It was a prudent, sensible scheme ; but it ended 
 in failure. Eobert went to Irvine to learn the trade of heckling, 
 but went in a sadly dejected and unsettled frame of mind. For 
 Ellison did not respond to his epistolary, lyrical, and personal 
 advances. She would count him as a friend ; but she would not 
 accept him as her lover and prospective husband. 
 
 The Poet's Irvine episode is best told in his own words : — 
 
 My twenty -third year was to me an important era. Partly through 
 Avhim, and partly that I wished to set about doing something in life,i I joined 
 a flax-dresser in a neighbouring town to learn his trade. This was an unlucky 
 aflair. j\Iy [here he charges his Irvine partner in trade with having defrauded 
 him] and to finish the whole, as we were giving a welcome carousal to the 
 New Year, the shop took fire and was burnt to ashes, and I was left, like a 
 true poet, not Avorth a sixpence. I was obliged to give up this scheme : the 
 clouds of misfortune were gathering thick round my father's head ; and, what 
 was Avorst of all, he Avas visibly far gone in consumption ; and to crown my 
 distresses, a heUefiUe whom 1 adored, and who had pledged her soul to meet 
 me in the field of matrimony, jilted me, with peculiar circumstances of mortifi- 
 cation. The finishing evil which brought up the rear of this infernal file was 
 my constitutional melancholy being increased to such a degree, that for three 
 months I was in a state of mind scarcely to be envied by the helpless wretches 
 who have got their mittimus — " Depart from me, ye accursed," 
 
 1 Gilbert speaks more explicitly on this point, stating that Robert's great desire at this time 
 was to be in a position to marrv. 
 
IRVINE, 99 
 
 From this adventure I learned something of a town life ; Imt the prin- 
 cipal thing -which gave my mind a turn was a friendship I formed Avith a young 
 fellow, a very noble character, but a hapless son of misfortune. . . . His 
 mind was fraught with independence, magnanimity, and every manly virtue. I 
 loved and admired him to a degree of enthusiasm, and of course strove to 
 imitate him. In some measure I succeeded. I had pride before, but he taught 
 it to flow in proper channels. His knowledge of the world was vastly superior 
 to mine, and I was all attention to learn. He was the only man I ever saw 
 who was a greater fool than myself where woman was the presiding star ; but 
 he spoke of illicit love with the levity of a sailor, which hitherto I had regarded 
 with horror. Here his friendship did me a mischief. . . . ^ 
 
 Truth to tell, the Poet's Irvine experiences seem to have had, in 
 more ways than one, a baneful influence over his mind and conduct. 
 Thither he repaired, gloomy and cast down because of disappoint- 
 ment in his ardent courtship of Ellison Begbie. Hitherto his habits 
 were frugal and temperate, his mind reverent and pure. But in 
 Irvine he was assailed by temptations on every hand ; and in his 
 dull, dejected state of mind, his principles became weakened by the 
 taint of evil surroundings. Indeed, his situation was hapless in the 
 extreme. Rejected by the idol of his love ; swindled by his partner. 
 Peacock ; driven by his own passionate melancholy, and lured by 
 boon companions into excitement and unwonted excesses ; unsuc- 
 cessful in his occupation ; and worn down ys\\h. ill health ; finding- 
 no satisfaction in the present, and seeing only darkness in the 
 future ; — little wonder that among the older people in Irvine, whose 
 grandfathers had seen and known the Poet, there lingered the 
 tradition of him as a deeply-melancholy, strangely-gifted, erratic 
 youth. 
 
 The account of Burns's stay in Irvine would be very incomplete 
 without the following beautiful and touchingly suggestive letter 
 which he, when but twenty-two years of age, penned to his father 
 
 ^ Richard Brown : see vol. ii. p. 332. 
 
100 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 four days prior to that New Year's Day carousal in which the 
 heckling-sJioiJ was burnt to the ground : — 
 
 Irvine, December 27, 1781. 
 
 Honoured Sir, — 1 have purposely delayed -writing, in the hope that I 
 should have the pleasure of seeing you on Xew Year's Day ; hut work comes so 
 hard upon us, that I do not choose to be absent on that account, as well as 
 for some other little reasons, which I shall tell you at meeting. My health 
 is nearly the same as when you were here, only my sleep is a little sounder ; 
 and, on the whole, I am rather better than otherwise, though I mend by 
 very ^ slow degrees. The weakness of my nerves has so debilitated my mind, 
 that I dare neither review past events nor look forward into futurity ; for the 
 least anxiety or perturbation in my breast produces most unhappy effects on 
 my whole frame. Sometimes, indeed, when for an hour or two my spirits are 
 a little lightened, I glimmer a little into futurity ; but my principal, and indeed 
 my only pleasurable employment, is looking backwards and forwards in a 
 moral and religious way. I am quite transported at the thought that ere 
 long, perhaps very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to all the pains, and 
 uneasinesses, and disquietudes of this weary life, for I assure you I am heartily 
 tired of it ; and, if I do not very much deceive myself, I could contentedly and 
 gladly resign it. 
 
 "The .soul, uneasy and confined at home. 
 Rests and expatiates in a life to come." 
 
 It is for this reason I am more pleased with the loth, 16th, and 17th verses 
 of the 7th chapter of Revelation^ than with any ten times as many verses in 
 the whole Bible, and would not exchange the noble enthusiasm Avith which 
 they inspire me for all that this world has to oifer. As for this world, I despair 
 of ever making a figure in it. I am not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor 
 the flutter of the gay. I shall never again be capable of entering into such 
 
 ^ 15. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serv'e him day and night in his temple ; 
 and he tliat sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. 
 
 16. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither sliall the sun light on tlieni, 
 nor any heat. 
 
 17. For the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them, and shall lead them 
 unto living fountains of waters ; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. 
 
IRVINE. 101 
 
 scenes. Indeed I am altogether unconcerned at the thoughts of this life. I 
 
 foresee that poverty and obscurity probably await nie : I am in some measure 
 
 prepared, and daily preparing to meet them. I have but just time and paper 
 
 to return you my grateful thanks for the lessons of virtue and piety you have 
 
 given me, which were too much neglected at the time of giving them ; but 
 
 which, I hope, have been remembered ere it is yet too late. Present my 
 
 dutiful respects to my mother, and my compliments to Mr. and Mrs. INIuir ; 
 
 and with wishing you a merry Xew Year's Day, I shall conclude. I am, 
 
 honoured sir, your dutiful son, 
 
 Egbert Burns. 
 
 P.5.— My meal is nearly out ; but I am going to borrow, till I get more. 
 
 The wild carousal and the blazing factory stand in strange, sad 
 contrast with the almost simultaneous writing of such a letter as 
 this. Only, the marvel is lessened, and the pity is deepened, when 
 we remember that the contrast occurs in the life of Eobert Burns. 
 
 Returning from Irvine in March 1782, the Poet manfully 
 resumed his farm - work and his wonted steady and temperate 
 manner of living. His brother states that at no period was Robert 
 more kindly and attractive in the home circle or among his humble 
 associates in daily toil. 
 
 Rhyme — he says — except some religious pieces that are in print, I had 
 given up ; but meeting with Fergusson's Scottish Poems, I strung anew my 
 wildly-sounding lyre with emulating vigour. The addition of two more authors 
 to my library gave me great pleasure ; Sterne and Mackenzie — Tristram 
 Shandy and The Man of Feeling — were my bosom favourites. ... I had 
 usually half a dozen or more pieces on hand ; taking up one or other, as it 
 suited the momentary tone of my mind, and dismissing the work as it bordered 
 on fatigue. INIy passions, when once lighted up, raged like very devils, till they 
 got vent in rhyme ; and then the conning over my verses, like a spell, soothed 
 all into quiet. 
 
 The religious pieces referred to are " Winter — a Dirge," " A Prayer 
 in the Prospect of Death," " A Prayer written under the Pressure of 
 Violent iVnguish," and paraphrases of the First Psalm and the 
 
102 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Nineteentli. These seem to have been for the most part written 
 amid his gloom and misfortunes in Irvine. We cannot refrain from 
 quoting some of those serious verses, as showing, in religious light, 
 how deeply Burns at this time abased himself because of his aber- 
 rations, and with what sterling piety his penitent spirit trembled 
 back to the God of mercy, yearned for the peace of holiness, and 
 prayed for the strength of manly faith. 
 
 A PRAYER IX THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 O Thou luiknowii, Almighty Cause 
 
 Of all my hope and fear, 
 In whose dread Presence, ere an hour, 
 
 Perhaps I must appear. 
 
 If I liave wandered in those paths 
 
 Of life I ought to shun ; 
 As something, loudly, in my breast, 
 
 Remonstrates I have done — 
 
 Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me 
 With passions wild and strong ; 
 
 And list'ning to their witching voice 
 Has often led me wrong. 
 
 "Where human weakness has come short. 
 
 Or frailty stepped aside, 
 Do Thou, ALE-GOOD— for such Thou art- 
 
 In shades of darkness hide. 
 
 AVhere with intention I have erred, 
 
 No other plea I have, 
 But, Thou art good ; and Goodness still 
 
 Delif'hteth to foririve. 
 
SERIOUS PIECES. 103 
 
 A PRAYER, WRITTEX UXDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT 
 
 AXGUISH. 
 
 O Tliou great Being ! wliat Thou art 
 
 Surpasses me to know ; 
 Yet sure I am, that known to Thee 
 
 Are all Thy works below. 
 
 Thy creature here before Thee stands. 
 
 All wretched and distrest ; 
 Yet sure those ills that wring my soul 
 
 Obey Thy high behest. 
 
 Sure Tliou, Almighty, canst not act 
 
 From cruelty or wrath ! 
 O, free my Aveary eyes from tears, 
 
 Or close them fast in death ! 
 
 But if I must afflicted be 
 
 To suit some wise design ; 
 Then man my soul with firm resolves, 
 
 To bear, and not repine ! 
 
 ^ It is notorious that several of these stanzas (particularly the 
 third stanza of the former Prayer) have been by some people loudly 
 objected to as 2:>resuniptuous, and unsound in doctrine. Now, in 
 that third stanza we do not find a " presumptuous excuse for sin " 
 on the ground of overmastering passions ; but we do find a sincere 
 acknowledgment of sin, and the calm statement of a trem.endous /c^c^ 
 of the Poet's own great keen consciousness. It is perhaps uncharit- 
 able to characterize such objections as mere narrow- viewed, sancti- 
 monious cavilling. Eather, remembering that Burns did not in 
 these verses write as a cool-blooded, systematic theologian, but as a 
 
104 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 man of hounding jjassions writhing in wretchedness and remorse on 
 account of his faults and misfortunes, the question may confidently 
 be appealed to the opinion of the more generous and enlightened of 
 the author's fellow-men, and judgment humbly left to the All- 
 knowing and All-pitiful Tribunal, to which these prayers were, we 
 venture to think, devoutly and trustfully addressed. 
 
 Who made the heart, 'tis He alone 
 
 Decidedly can try us ; 
 He knows each chord, its various tone, 
 
 Each spring, its various bias : 
 Then at the balance let's be mute, 
 
 We never can adjust it ; 
 What's done we partly may compute, 
 
 We know not what's resisted. 
 
 Moved by the fresh inspiration of which the Poet speaks, he 
 produced various pieces, the most noteworthy of which is his 
 "Death and Dying Words of poor Mailie " — a poem justly admired 
 for its quaint conception and kindly, homely humour. It is 
 probable that at this time he also gave forth in their well-known 
 finished form the three famous songs, " Corn Rigs," " My Nannie, 0," 
 and " Mary Morrison." Critics may not agree as to who were 
 the respective heroines of these songs ; but there is no question 
 about the pre-eminent power and beauty of the songs themselves. 
 Herein the matchless lyric genius of Burns already amply pro- 
 claimed itself Professor Blackie, no ordinary authority on songs 
 and song-makers, says : — 
 
 In these poems, which were composed at Tarbolton, while his father still 
 lived, and before the young lyrist had attained what the Scotch law calls the 
 perfect age of five-and-twenty, we discover all the genuine warmth, unaffected 
 simplicity, and easy grace of truthful nature, which will often be sought for 
 in vain in the lyrical productions of the most accomplished poets of the most 
 
THE BACHELORS CLUB. 105- 
 
 refined ages. Nothing conventional, nothing artificial, nothing affected or 
 overstrained, here interferes to disturb the harmonious impression made by 
 the utterance of the most finely modulated emotions, in an atmosphere and 
 amid a scenery in which they seem to repose as naturally as a child in the 
 bosom of its mother. They are a picture of rural nature, as much as they are 
 the outpouring of an impassioned singer \ they are not only eminently poetical 
 and musical, but strikingly biographical ; and stand here, therefore, as a scene 
 in the life of the greatest love-poet of modern times, with a more vivid 
 portraiture than the pen of the most finished master of descriptive eloquence 
 could achieve. 
 
 Reverting to Biirns's twenty-second year, the part he took in the 
 Tarbolton Bachelors' Club again reminds us of his eager desire for 
 social and intellectual excitement. From the record of the club's 
 proceedings, we learn that in 1780 some half-dozen youths (among 
 whom was Gilbert Burns) resolved, apparently at Robert's instiga- 
 tion, to form themselves into an association, under such rules and 
 regulations that, while they should forget their cares and labours 
 in mirth and diversion, they might not transgress the bounds of 
 innocence and decorum. 
 
 At the first meeting, held on Halloween 1780, the Poet was 
 elected president for the night, and the club proceeded to discuss 
 this question : — 
 
 Suppose a young man, bred a farmer, but without any fortune, has it in his 
 power to marry either of tAvo women, the one a girl of large fortune, but neither 
 handsome in person, nor agreeable in conversation, yet who can manage the 
 household affairs of a farm well enough ; the other of them, a girl every way 
 agreeable in person, conversation, and behaviour, but without any fortune : 
 Which of them shall he choose ? 
 
 The meetings were held monthly, and mental exercise w^as varied 
 by social entertainment of a material kind. The members' indul- 
 gence in creature comforts was very moderate, however, no member 
 
 being allowed to expend more than threepence per meeting. 
 VOL. ni. o 
 
106 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Some of tlie other questions discussed were : — 
 
 Whether is the savage man, or the peasant of a civilised country, in the 
 most happy condition 1 
 
 Whether do we derive more happiness from love or friendship % 
 Whether, between friends who have no reason to doubt each other's friend- 
 ship, there should be any reserve % 
 
 In the fixing of such themes for debate, the mind and hand of 
 Burns can be surely traced ; more particularly so in the devising of 
 Rule X, of the Club Regulations. 
 
 Rule X. — Every man proper for a member of this society must have a frank, 
 honest, open heart ; above anything dirty or mean ; and must be a professed 
 lover of one or more of the female sex. No haughty, self-conceited person, 
 who looks upon himself as superior to the rest of the club ; and especially, no 
 mean-spirited, Avorldly mortal, whose only will is to heap up money, shall upon 
 any pretence whatever be admitted. In short, the proper person for this 
 society is a cheerful, honest-hearted lad, who, if he has a friend that is true, 
 and a mistress that is kind, and as much wealth as genteely to make both ends 
 meet, is just as happy as this world can make him. 
 
 Among the Poet's papers there were found some notes showing 
 that he had been at pains to prepare for the work of the society. 
 One paper contains the heads of a speech on what several biographers 
 have characterized as the imprudent side of the debate for the open- 
 ing night. But, if we refrain, as Burns did, from attaching more 
 importance to the " large fortune " than it really deserves in 
 questions of this kind, we shall admit that, in supporting the 
 claims of the " every way agreeable " though fortuneless lass, he 
 advocated the more unselfish, unworldly, and natural choice. 
 
 To the Poet's marked social and friendly instincts, w^e may 
 also attribute his early and enthusiastic participation in the boon- 
 companionships and merry-makings of Freemasonry.^ 
 
 From the Minutes of the Bachelors' Club we learn that in May 
 
 ' See Ajipcndix : on Burns and Freemasonry. 
 
DAVID SILLARS. 107 
 
 1781 David Sillar^ was admitted a member. He was for some years 
 an intimate friend of Burns, and to him was addressed the "Epistle 
 to Davie, a Brother Poet." To Sillar's pen we owe the following 
 very interesting account of the Poet's personal appearance and 
 general way of life during the closing years of the Lochlea period : — 
 
 Mr. Kobert Burns was some time in the parish of Tarbolton prior to my 
 acquaintance with him. His social disposition easily procured him acquaint- 
 ance ; but a certain satirical seasoning, with which he and all poetical geniuses 
 are in some degree influenced, while it set the rustic circle in a roar, was 
 not unaccompanied by its kindred attendant, suspicious fear. I recollect 
 hearing his neighbours observe he had a great deal to say for himself, and that 
 they suspected his principles [meaning, we presume, his orthodoxy]. He wore 
 the only tied hair in the parish ; and in the church, his plaid, which was of a 
 particular colour, I think fillemot, he wrapped in a particular manner round his 
 shoulders. These surmises, and his exterior, had such a magical influence on 
 my ciiriositj', as made me particularly solicitous of his acquaintance. Whether 
 my acquaintance with Gilbert was casual or premeditated, I am not now certain. 
 By him I was introduced not only to his brother, but to the whole of that 
 family, where in a short time I became a frequent, and, I believe, not 
 unwelcome visitant. After the commencement of my acquaintance with the 
 Bard, we frequently met upon Sundays at church, w'hen, between sermons, 
 instead of going with our friends or lasses to the inn, we often took a walk 
 in the fields. In these walks I have frequently been struck by his facility in 
 addressing the fair sex ; and many times, Avhen I have been bashfully anxious 
 how to express myself, he would have entered into conversation with them 
 with the greatest ease and freedom ; and it was generally a deathblow to our 
 conversation, however agreeable, to meet a female acquaintance. Some of the 
 few opportunities of a noontide walk that a country life allows her laborious 
 sons he spent on the banks of the river, or in the woods in the neighbourhood 
 of Stair, a situation peculiarly adapted to the genius of a rural bard. Some book 
 (especially one of those mentioned in his letter to ]Mr. Murdoch) he always carried, 
 and read when not otherwise employed. It was likewise his custom to read at 
 table. In one of my visits to Lochlea, in time of a sowen supper, he was so 
 
 1 David Sillar : see vol. ii. p. 200. 
 
108 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 intent on reading, I think Tristram Shatidi/, that his spoon falling out of his 
 hand, made him exclaim, in a tone scarcely imitable, " Alas, poor Yorick ! " 
 Such was Burns, and such were his associates, when, in May 1781, I was 
 admitted a member of the Bachelors' Club. 
 
 It has been already noted that as early as 1782, when Robert 
 returned from Irvine, the temporal prospects of the Burness family 
 were becoming darkly clouded. The farm was not paying, and 
 times were at a low^ ebb for the upland farmer. The father, too, 
 was now quite unfit for labour, and fast breaking up. The w^oful 
 situation at Lochlea is vividly sketched by a few lines in the 
 Autohiography ;— 
 
 For four years we lived comfortably on this farm ; but, a difference 
 commencing between him [the Poet's father] and his landlord as to terms, 
 after three years tossing and whirling in the vortex of litigation, my father was 
 just saved from the horrors of a jail, by a consumption, which, after two years' 
 promises, kindly stepped in, and carried him away to " where the wicked cease 
 from troubling, and the weary are at rest." 
 
 Two letters wdiich the Poet WTote during his last year in Lochlea 
 possess, in many ways, a unique biographical interest. They are 
 addressed to his cousin, James Burness, w^riter, Montrose : — 
 
 Lochlea, 21st June 1783. 
 
 Deab Sir, — My father received your favour of the 10th current, and as he 
 has been for some months very poorly in health, and is, in his oAvn opinion 
 (and indeed in almost everybody's else), in a dying condition, he has only, 
 with great difficulty, written a few fareweU lines to each of his brothers-in- 
 law. For tliis melancholy reason, I now hold the pen for him, to thank you 
 for your kind letter, and to assure you, sir, that it shall not be my fault if 
 my father's correspondence in the north die with him. My brother writes 
 to John Caird, and to him I must refer you for the news of our family. 
 
 I shall only trouble you with a few particulars relative to the wretched 
 state of this country. Our markets are exceedingly high — oatmeal 17d. and 
 
JAMES BURN ESS, MONTROSE. 109 
 
 18d. per peck, and not to be got even at that price. We have indeed been 
 pretty well supplied with quantities of white peas from England and else- 
 where, but that resource is likely to fail us, and what will become of us 
 then, particularly the very poorest sort, Heaven only knows. This country, 
 till of late, was flourishing incredibly in the manufacture of silk, lawn, and 
 carpet-weaving ; and we are still carrying on a good deal in that way, but 
 much reduced from what it was. \Ye had also a fine trade in the shoe 
 way, but now entirely ruined, and hundreds driven to a starving condition 
 on account of it. Farming is also at a very low ebb with us. Our lands, 
 generally speaking, are mountainous and barren ; and our landholders, full of 
 ideas of farming gathered from the English and the Lothians, and other rich 
 soils in Scotland, make no allowance for the odds of the quality of land, 
 and consequently stretch us much beyond Avhat in the event we will be 
 found able to pay. "We are also much at a loss for want of proper methods 
 in our improvements of farming. Necessity compels us to leave our old 
 schemes, and few of us have opportunities of being well informed in new 
 ones. In short, my dear sir, since the unfortunate beginning of this American 
 war, and its as unfortunate conclusion, this country has been, and still is, 
 decaying very fast. Even in higher life, a couple of our Ayrshire noblemen, and 
 the major part of our knights and squires, are all insolvent. A miserable 
 job of a Douglas, Heron, & Go's bank, which no doubt you have heard of, 
 has undone numbers of them ; and imitating English and French, and other 
 foreign luxuries and fopperies, has ruined as many more. There is a great 
 trade of smuggling carried on along our coasts, which, however destructive to 
 the interests of the kingdom at large, certainly enriches this corner of it, but 
 too often at the expense of our morals. However, it enables individuals to 
 make, at least for a time, a splendid appearance ; but Fortune, as is usual 
 with her when she is uncommonly lavish of her favours, is generally even 
 with them at the last ; and happy were it for numbers of them if she would 
 leave them no worse than when she found them. 
 
 My mother sends you a small present of a cheese ; 'tis but a very little 
 one, as our last year's stock is sold ofi". . . . 
 
 I shall conclude this long letter with assuring you that I shall be very 
 happy to hear from you, or any of our friends in your country, when opportunity 
 serves. 
 
 My father sends you, probably for the last time in this world, his warmest 
 wishes for your welfare and happiness; and my mother and the rest of the 
 
110 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 family desire to enclose their kind compliments to you, Mrs. Burness, and 
 the rest of your family, along with those of, dear sir, your affectionate 
 cousin. 
 
 LocHLEA, Ylth February 1784. 
 
 Dear Cousin, — I would have returned you my thanks for your kind favour 
 of the 13th of December sooner, had it not been that I waited to give you an 
 account of that melancholy event which, for some time past, we have from day 
 to day expected. 
 
 On the 13th current I lost the best of fathers. Though, to be sure, we 
 have had long warning of the impending stroke, still the feelings of nature 
 claim their part, and I cannot recollect the tender endearments and parental 
 lessons of the best of friends and ablest of instructors, without feeling what 
 perhaps the calmer dictates of reason would partly condemn, 
 
 I hope my father's friends in your country will not let their connection 
 in this place die with him. For my part, I shall ever with pleasure, with 
 pride, acknowledge my connection with those who were allied by the ties 
 of blood and friendship to a man whose memory I shall ever honour and 
 revere. 
 
 I expect, therefore, my dear sir, you will not neglect any opportunity of 
 letting me hear from you, which will very much oblige, my dear cousin, 
 yours sincerely. 
 
 Every unprejudiced reader will gladly agree with Lockhart when 
 he says of these letters : — 
 
 They are worthy of the strong understanding and warm heart of Burns ; 
 and, besides opening a pleasing view of the manner in which domestic affection 
 was preserved between his father and the relations from whom the accidents 
 of life had separated that excellent person in boyhood, they appear to me 
 — written by a young and unknown peasant, in a wretched hovel, the 
 abode of poverty, care, and disease — to be models of native good taste and 
 politeness. 
 
 February 13, 1784, the day on which William Burness died, 
 witnessed at Lochlea a truly touching and prophetic deathbed 
 scene. 
 
DEATH OF WILLIAM BURNESS. m 
 
 Mrs. Begg [the Poet's youngest sister, tlien in her fourteenth yearl-says 
 Chambers-remembers being at her father's bedside that momin. with no 
 other con>pany besides her brother Robert. Seeing her cry bitterly at the 
 thought of partmg with her dear father, he endeavoured to speak, but could 
 only murmur a few words of eomfort, such as might be suitable to a child 
 concludmg with an injunction to her "to walk in virtue's paths, and shun 
 every v.ce ' After a pause, he said there was one of his family (or whose 
 future conduct he feared. He repeated the same expression, when the yl 
 Poet came up and sa.d, "Oh, father, is it me you mean !» The old man said 
 .t was. Robert turned to the window, with the tears streaming down h^ 
 manly cheeks, and his bosom swelling as if it would burst from the very 
 restramt he put upon himself. The father had marked his son 
 
 "Misled by fancy's meteor ray, 
 By passion driven." 
 
 All the world knows that the dying parent's fears were only 
 too well grounded. But, be it remembered, if William Burness 
 lived long enoug^, to tremble for Robert's future amid life's snares 
 and pitfalls, he also hved long enough to experience bright hope in 
 the rich promise, and joyous admiration in the actual perusal of 
 some of the unsurpassed early productions of his marvellously 
 gifted eldest son. -^ 
 
 Over the mortal remains of his beloved and venerated father 
 which were conveyed to their resting-place in Alloway Kirkyard' 
 Robert reared a simple tombstone, and for an epitaph he wrote the 
 well-known lines inscribed thereon :— 
 
 O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains, 
 
 Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend ! 
 Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, 
 
 The tender father, and the gen'rous friend ; 
 The pitying heart that felt for human woe ; ' 
 
 The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride; 
 The friend of man— to vice alone a foe : 
 
 For " even his failings lean'd to virtue's side." 
 
112 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 May we not regard Burns as herein imparting to his father a 
 share in his own deathless fame — a share well-merited, indeed, by 
 the essential w^orth of the man, and because of the unwearying 
 pains and ungrudging self-sacrifices he underwent to help Robert, 
 through training of head and heart, to be what he is, as a Poet, to 
 Scotland and the world. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FROM 1784-1786. AGE, S3-27. MOSSGIEL AND MAUCHLINE. 
 
 I mind it weel in early date, 
 
 When I was beardless, young, and blate. 
 
 And first could thresh the barn, .... 
 E'en then a wish, I mind its power, 
 A wish that to my latest hour 
 
 Shall strongly heave my breast ; 
 That I, for puir auld Scotland's sake. 
 Some useful plan or book could make. 
 
 Or sing a sang at least. 
 
 Epistle to the Guidivife o' JVaiichope House. 
 
 Shortly before the death of their father, Robert and Gilbert had 
 leased the farm of Mossgiel, situated on the parish road between 
 Tarbolton and Mauchline, distant about two miles from Lochlea and 
 one mile from Mauchline village. The farm consisted of 11 8 acres 
 of clayey upland, and, in its then undrained condition, must have 
 been a very cold and backward subject for cultivation. During the 
 latter years at Lochlea, the aifairs of William Burness were, as 
 already noticed, sorely embarrassed ; hence Mossgiel was but 
 indifferently stocked wdth what remained after settlement with the 
 creditors at Lochlea. 
 
 In March 1784, however, the family entered the new farm, 
 which was a joint concern among them, with a united determination 
 toward frugal industry, and not without considerable prospect of 
 success. Robert was strong and skilful in all kinds of farm-work ; 
 
 VOL. III. P 
 
114 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Gilbert was stead}^ and prudent in business affairs ; while Mrs. 
 Burness and her daug;hters were available for the duties of the 
 household and dairy. But, in little over a year, the family was 
 again confronted with disheartening failure and harassing poverty. 
 The Poet himself thus sketches the situation : — 
 
 I entered this farm with a full resolution — Gome., rjo to, Iivill he icise ! I read 
 farming books, I calculated crops, I attended markets ; and, in short, in spite of 
 "the devil, and the -world, and the flesh," I believe I should have been a wise 
 man ; but the first year, from unfortunately buying bad seed, and the second, 
 from a late harvest, we lost half our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and I 
 returned like "the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was washed to her 
 wallowing in the mire." My brother wanted my hare-brained imagination, as 
 well as my social and amorous madness ; but in good sense, and every sober 
 qualification, he was far my superior. 
 
 Notwithstanding these resolutions, no doubt sincere at the time, 
 it might have been suspected that, so far as success on the farm 
 depended on Robert, it rested on an unstable foundation. It is 
 indeed conceivable that such an one as he was as a poet might 
 also prove, in backward times, a drudging successful farmer on a 
 fully-rented farm such as Mossgiel. But experience has nearly 
 always pointed the other way. His gifts and destinies were 
 those of an unrivalled national poet, and for this let us be duly and 
 deeply thankful. The lives of not a few famous votaries of the 
 muse join with Burns's life in lending point to his facetious, truth- 
 laden lines — 
 
 Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man, 
 Commen' me to the bardie clan ; 
 Except it be some idle plan 
 
 0' rhymin' clink, 
 The devil hae't, that I sud ban, 
 
 They ever think. 
 
MOSSGIEL. 115 
 
 Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o' livin', 
 Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin' ; 
 But just the pouchie put the nieve in, 
 
 And while ought's there, 
 Then hiltie skiltie we gae scrievin', 
 
 And fash nae mair.^ 
 
 In this connexion, Allan Cunningham has made the following 
 appropriate remark :— 
 
 Burns was attentive as far as ploughing, sowing, harrowing, reaping, thresh- 
 ing, winnowing, and selling went : he did all this by a sort of mechanical 
 impulse ; hut sviccess in farming demands more. The farmer should know 
 Avhat is doing in his way in the world around ; he must learn to anticipate 
 demand, and, in short, to time everything. But he who pens an ode on his sheep 
 when he should be driving them forth to pasture — who sees visions on his way 
 home from market, and makes rhymes on them — who writes an ode on the horse 
 he is about to yoke, and a ballad on the girl who shows the brightest eyes 
 among his reapers — has no chance of ever growing opulent, or of purchasing the 
 field on Avhich he toils. 
 
 Burns had then — 1784 — reached his twenty-sixth year, and so 
 far, his career fully bears out his own statement, that the great 
 misfortune of his earlier years was the want of any ifixed aim in life. 
 But, though he continued to the end the same fitful, glowing, way- 
 ward being, he at length bethought him of his towering gift as poet, 
 and set himself to base thereon a distinct life-purpose. This is 
 unmistakably attested by various allusions in his letters and poems 
 of this time, and more particularly so by the following noteworthy 
 entry in his Commonplace Book : — 
 
 However I am pleased with the works of our Scotch poets, particularly the 
 excellent Ramsay, and the still more excellent Fergusson, yet I am hurt to see 
 
 1 Robert's personal expenditure at tliis period each, and that at no time during the Lochlea 
 cannot be deemed in any sense lavish ; for we and Mossgiel periods did the Poet's expenditure 
 are emphatically assured by Gilbert that his (for clothing included) exceed the above- 
 own and Robert's allowance was but £7 a year mentioned modest sum. 
 
116 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 other places of Scotland, their towns, rivers, woods, haughs, etc., immortalized 
 in such celebrated performances, while my dear native country, the ancient 
 bailieries of Carrick, Kyle, and Cunningham, famous both in ancient and 
 modern times for a gallant and warlike race of inhabitants — a country where 
 civil, and particularly religious liberty, have ever found their first support, and 
 their last asylum — a country, the birthplace of many famous philosophers, 
 soldiers, and statesmen, and the scene of many important events recorded in 
 Scottish history, particularly a great many of the actions of the glorious Wallace, 
 the saviour of his country ; yet we have never had one Scotch poet of any 
 eminence to make the fertile banks of Irvine, the romantic woodlands and 
 sequestered scenes on Ayr, and the heathy mountainous source and winding 
 sweep of Doon, emulate Tay, Forth, Ettrick, Tweed, etc. This is a complaint 
 I would gladly remedy, but, alas ! I am far unequal to the task, both in native 
 genius and education. Obscure I am, and obscure I must be, though no young 
 poet nor young soldier's heart ever beat more fondly for fame than mine — 
 
 And if there is no other scene of being 
 "Where my insatiate wish may have its fill — 
 This something at my heart that heaves for room. 
 My best, my dearest part, was made in vain. 
 
 There is a noble sublimity, a heart-melting tenderness, in some of our ancient 
 ballads, which show them to be the work of a masterly hand. And it has often 
 given me many a heartache to reflect that such glorious old bards — bards who 
 probably owed all their talents to native genius, yet have described the exploits 
 of heroes, the pangs of disappointment, and the meltings of love, with such fine 
 strokes of nature — that their very names (oh, how mortifying to a bard's 
 vanity !) are now "buried among the wreck of things which were." 
 
 Oh, ye illustrious names unknown ! who could feel so strongly, and describe 
 so well : the last, the meanest of the muse's train — one who, though far inferior 
 to your flights, yet eyes your path, and with trembling wing would sometimes 
 soar after you — a poor rustic bard unknown — pays this sympathetic pang to your 
 memory ! Some of you tell us, with all the charms of verse, that you have 
 been unfortunate in the world — unfortunate in love ; he, too, has felt the loss 
 of his little fortune, the loss of friends, and, worse than all, the loss of the 
 woman he adored. Like you, all his consolation was his muse : she taught him 
 
A STREAM OF POESY. 117 
 
 in rustic measures to complain. Happy could he have done it with your 
 strength of imagination and flow of verse ! May the turf lie lightly on your 
 bones ! — and may you now enjoy that solace and rest which this world rarely 
 gives to the heart tuned to all the feelings of poesy and love ! 
 
 The glowing aspirations thus so carefully and beautifully 
 recorded were not to remain long unfulfilled. Soon there burst 
 from him a stream of poesy, which for richness and impetuosity of 
 flow is scarcely equalled in the annals of literature. During his 
 two years' sojourn at Mossgiel, he was constantly weighted with toil, 
 worried by ill-success on the farm, distracted by his own luckless 
 conduct, and borne down by ill-health.^ .Yet against all this he 
 struggled, and triumphed in producing at this time most of those 
 poems, on which his fame at first was based, and still stands secure, 
 growing and spreading from generation to generation. 
 
 While in all likelihood Burns's friends and neighbours in those 
 days looked upon his farming prospects with shrewd misgivings, he 
 entered Mossgiel with no ordinary reputation for bookish knowledge, 
 quick powers of observation, rhyming, and debate ; and, withal, very 
 keen social and amorous tendencies. We also know that he still 
 constantly and eagerly perused whatever newspaper, periodical, or 
 book came his way ; revelling, above all, in the study of nature and 
 life. Mossgiel stands on a ridge overlooking the valley of the Ayr, 
 and from his own door the Poet commanded a wide and splendidly 
 varied landscape. The farmhouse consisted of a room and kitchen, 
 with three small garret-rooms above. The mid-attic was occupied 
 by Eobert and Gilbert as bedroom. It also served as the Poet's 
 study, where, on a little table placed beneath the small roof-light, 
 
 ^ For over a year (1784-85) he was subject to from nervous spasms, by plunging into a tub of 
 
 depressing languor and alarming fainting fits, cold water which he kept in readiness at his 
 
 arising from irregular action of the heart, and bedside, 
 had often during the night-time to seek lelief 
 
118 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 he revised and transcribed his immortal poems. His favourite 
 time for composition was when guiding the plough ; but he loved 
 to wander in solitary musing along the banks of the " gurgling 
 Ayr." 
 
 Eobert — says Gilbert — often coni posed without any regular plan. When 
 anything made a strong impression on his mind, so as to rouse it to any poetic 
 exertion, he would give way to the impulse, and embody the thought in rhyme. 
 If he hit on two or three stanzas to please him, he would then think of proper 
 introductory, connecting, and concluding stanzas ; hence the middle of a poem 
 was often first produced. 
 
 To this period belong a set of pieces of great biographical 
 interest, viz. the Poet's poetical epistles sent to various correspond- 
 ents. Through these epistles we obtain most interesting glimpses 
 into the innermost recesses of Burns's thought and feeling. Eefer- 
 ence has already been made to David Sillar, that intimate friend and 
 companion, to whom Burns addressed two rhyming letters. From 
 the first and more noteworthy of these we quote the following lines : — 
 
 It's hardly in a body's power 
 
 To keep, at times, frae being sour, 
 
 To see how things are shared ; 
 How best o' chiels are whiles in want. 
 While coofs on countless thousands rant. 
 
 And ken na how to wair't ; 
 But, Davie, lad, ne'er fash your head, 
 
 Though we hae little gear, 
 We're fit to win our daily bread, 
 As lang's we're hale and fier : 
 " Mair spier na, nor fear na," 
 Auld age ne'er mind a feg. 
 The last o't, the warst o't, 
 Is only but to beg. 
 
POETICAL EPISTLES. 119 
 
 It's no' in titles nor in rank ; 
 
 It's no' in wealth like Lon'on bank, 
 
 To purchase peace and rest ; 
 It's no' in making muckle mair ; 
 It's no' in books ; it's no' in lear, 
 
 To make us truly blest; 
 If happiness hae not her seat 
 
 And centre in the breast, 
 "We may be wise, or rich, or great, 
 But never can be blest : 
 Xae treasures nor pleasures 
 
 Could make us happy lang ; 
 The heart aye's the part aye 
 That makes us riclit or AA'rang. 
 
 Think ye, that sic as you and I, 
 
 Wha drudge and drive through wet and dry, 
 
 Wi' never-ceasing toil ; 
 Think ye, we are less blest than they, 
 Wha scarcely tent us in their way, 
 
 As hardly worth their while % 
 Alas ! how aft, in haughty mood, 
 
 God's creatures they oppress ! 
 Or else, neglecting a' that's guid, 
 They riot in excess ! 
 
 Baith careless and fearless 
 
 Of either heaven or hell ! 
 Esteeming and deeming 
 It's a' an idle tale ! 
 
 Then let us cheerf u' acquiesce ; 
 Xor make our scanty pleasures less. 
 
 By pining at our state ; 
 And even should misfortunes come, 
 I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some, 
 
 An's thankfu' for them yet. 
 
120 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 They gie the wit of age to youth ; 
 
 They let us ken oursel' ; 
 They make us see the naked truth, 
 The real guid and ill. 
 
 Though losses and crosses 
 Be lessons right severe, 
 There's wit there, ye'll get there, 
 Ye'll find nae other where. 
 
 Here we find one kind of pride — which was very marked in 
 Burns — querulously banning another form of pride in others more 
 favoured by worldly fortune, yet amid his querulous and scathing 
 complainings it is easy to note a deeper strain of kindly, noble 
 feeling. His apprehensions of worldly adversity were far from 
 groundless. He himself knew well his own erratic disposition and 
 his lack of worldly push or method ; and he gives voice to a 
 characteristic consolation in his reflection that, at the worst, he 
 could go a-hegging. 
 
 It may also be asked, AVho could better think and teach 
 " braw sober lessons " of practical philosophy and far-reaching truth 
 than he has done throughout this poem, and more especially in that 
 stanza which ends with the well-known immortal couplet — 
 
 The heart aye's the part aye 
 That makes us richt or wrang. 
 
 To this same period belong the epistles sent to John Lapraik, a 
 rhymer hailing from Muirkirk. At a rocking or social gathering 
 one evening in Mossgiel, a song, said to have been composed by 
 Lapraik, was sung in Burns's hearing, and so attracted his notice 
 that he resolved to write and compliment the author. Hence the 
 correspondence to which we owe those three poetical letters, from 
 which we quote as follows : — 
 
POETICAL EPISTLES. 121 
 
 FIRST EPISTLE TO LAPRAIK. 
 
 But first and foremost, I should tell, 
 Amaist as soon as I could spell 
 I to the crambo-jingle fell, 
 
 Though rude and rough ; 
 Yet crooning to a body's sel' 
 
 Does weel enough. 
 
 I'm nae a poet in a sense, 
 
 But just a rhymer, like, by chance, 
 
 And hae to learning nae pretence, 
 
 Yet what the matter % 
 "Whene'er my muse does on me glance, 
 
 I jingle at her. 
 
 Your critic folk may cock their nose, 
 And say, " How can you e'er propose, 
 You, wha ken hardly verse frae prose. 
 
 To mak' a sang % " 
 But, by your leaves, my learned foes, 
 
 Ye're maybe wrang. 
 
 What's a' your jargon o' your schools. 
 Your Latin names for horns and stools 1 
 If honest nature made you fools, 
 
 What sairs your grammars 1 
 Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, 
 
 Or knappin'-hammers. 
 
 A set o' dull conceited hashes, 
 Confuse their brains in college classes ; 
 They gang in stirks, and come out asses, 
 
 Plain truth to speak ; 
 And syne they think to climb Parnassus 
 By dint o' Greek. 
 VOL. III. Q 
 
122 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Gie me ae spark o' nature's fire ! 
 
 That's a' the learning I desire ; 
 
 Then though I drudge through dub and mire 
 
 At pleugh or cart, 
 My muse, though hamely in attire, 
 
 jNIay touch the heart. 
 
 Chambers says : — 
 
 Lapraik was not slow to apprehend the value of the offered corre- 
 spondence. He sent an answer by the hands of his son, who lately lived 
 to relate the circumstances attending its delivery. He found the goodman 
 of Mossgiel in a field engaged in sowing. " I'm no' sure if I ken the hand," 
 said Burns, as he took the letter ; but no sooner had he glanced at its 
 contents than, unconsciously letting go the sheet containing the grain, it was 
 not till he had finished reading that he discovered the loss he had sustained. 
 Does not the reader delight in this anecdote, so significant of the character of 
 Burns, ever ready and apt to sacrifice the worldly and the professional to the 
 spirits of poetry and of friendship ! 
 
 Students and admirers of Burns are ever offering, in speech or 
 essay, opinions regarding the secret of his power and cliarm as a 
 poet. Is not the secret revealed by Burns himself in the last 
 stanza of the above quotation ? It is by virtue of his bright pure 
 spark of " nature's fire," that he so touches and enlightens and 
 warms the heart of mankind. 
 
 Again, in the second epistle, written in reply to Lapraik, 
 Burns's deliberate estimate of the relative merits of temporal success 
 and poetic fame is thus indicated : — 
 
 Xow comes the sax-and-twentieth simmer 
 I've seen the bud upo' the timmer, 
 Still persecuted by the limmer, 
 
 Frae year to year ; 
 But yet, despite the kittle kimmer, 
 
 I, Rob, am here. 
 
POETICAL EPISTLES. 123 
 
 Do ye envy the city gent, 
 
 Behint a kist to lie and sklent, 
 
 Or, purse-proud, big wi' cent, per cent. 
 
 And muckle wame. 
 In some bit brugh to represent 
 
 A bailie's name % 
 
 Or is't the paughty feudal thane, 
 
 Wi' ruffled sark and glanciu' cane, 
 
 Wha thinks himsel' nae sheep-shank bane, 
 
 lint lordly stalks, 
 While caps and bonnets aff are taen. 
 
 As by he walks ? 
 
 O Thou wha gies us each guid gift ! 
 Gie me o' wit and se7ise a lift. 
 Then turn me, if Thou please, adrift 
 
 Through Scotland wide ; 
 Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift, 
 
 In a' their jjride ! 
 
 Were this the charter of our state, 
 " On pain o' hell be rich and great," 
 Damnation then would l)e our fate. 
 
 Beyond remead ; 
 But, thanks to Heaven, that's no' the gate 
 
 We learn our creed. 
 
 For thus the royal mandate ran. 
 When first the human race began, 
 " The social, friendly, honest man, 
 
 Whate'er he be, 
 'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, 
 
 And none but he ! " 
 
 O mandate glorious and divine ! 
 The followers o' the ragged Nine, 
 
124 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Poor thoughtless devils ! yet may shine 
 
 In glorious light, 
 While sordid sons o' Mammon's line 
 
 Are dark as night. 
 
 Then, in liis epistle to William Simpson, schoolmaster, Ochil- 
 tree (written in May 1785), the Poet gives glowing expression to 
 his love of nature in all its phases ; also to the grc wing idea of his 
 genius, and his fixed resolve to be the " patriot bard " of his 
 native land : — 
 
 Eamsay and famous Fergusson 
 Gied Forth and Tay a lift abune ; 
 Yarrow and Tweed, to monie a tune 
 
 Owre Scotland rings. 
 While Irvine, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon, 
 
 Isaebody sings. 
 
 Th' missus, Tiller, Thames, and Seine, 
 Glide sweet in mony a tunefu' line ; 
 But, Willie, set your fit to mine. 
 
 And cock your crest. 
 We'll gar our streams and hurnies shine 
 
 Up wi' the best. 
 
 We'll sing auld Coila's plains and fells, 
 Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells, 
 Her banks and bi-aes, her dens and dells, 
 
 Where glorious Wallace 
 Aft bure the gree, as story tells, 
 
 Frac Southron billies. 
 
 At Wallace' name what Scottish blood 
 But boils up in a spring-tide flood ! 
 Oft have our fearless fathers strode 
 
 By Wallace' side. 
 Still pressing onward, red-wat shod. 
 
 Or glorious died ! 
 
POETICAL EPISTLES. 125 
 
 O sweet are Coila's hauglis and woods, 
 When lintwhites chant amang the buds, 
 And jinkin' hares, in amorous whids. 
 
 Their loves enjoy, 
 While through the braes the cushat croods 
 
 With wailfu' cry ! 
 
 Even winter bleak has charms to me, 
 When winds rave through the naked tree ; 
 Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree 
 
 Are hoary grey : 
 Or blinding drifts wild furious flee, 
 
 Darkening the day ! 
 
 nature ! a' thy shows and forms 
 To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms ! 
 Whether the summer kindly warms 
 
 Wi' life and light, 
 Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 
 
 The lang, dark night ! 
 
 The muse, nae poet ever fand her, 
 Till l)y himsel' he learned to wander 
 Adown some trotting burn's meander, 
 
 And no' think lang ; 
 sweet to stray and pensive ponder 
 
 K heartfelt sang ! 
 
 The war'ly race may drudge and drive, 
 Hog-shouther, jundie, stretch, and strive ; 
 Let me fair nature's face descrive. 
 
 And I wi' pleasure 
 Shall let the busy grumbling hive 
 
 Bum owre their treasure. 
 
126 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 From yet another of this class of composition we quote these 
 
 verses : — 
 
 The sacred lowe o' weel-placed love, 
 
 Luxuriantly indulge it ; 
 But never tempt tli' illicit rove, 
 
 Though naething should divulge it : 
 I waive the quantum o' the sin, 
 
 The hazard of concealing ; 
 But oeh ! it hardens a' within, 
 
 And petrifies the feeling ! 
 
 To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, 
 
 Assiduous wait upon her \ 
 And gather gear by every wile 
 
 That's justified by honour ; 
 Not for to hide it in a hedge, 
 
 iSTor for a train-attendant, 
 But for the glorious privilege 
 
 Of being independent. 
 
 The fear o' hell's a hangman's Avhip 
 
 To baud the wretch in order ; 
 But where ye feel your honour grip, 
 
 Let that aye be your border : 
 Its slightest touches, instant pause — 
 
 Debar a' side pretences ; 
 And resolutely keep its laws. 
 
 Uncaring consecpiences. 
 
 When ranting round in pleasure's ring. 
 
 Religion may be blinded ; 
 Or if she gi'e a random sting, 
 
 It may be little minded ; 
 But when on life we're tempest-driven, 
 
 A conscience but a canker ; 
 A correspondence fixed wi' Heaven 
 
 Is sure a noble anchor. 
 
RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY. 127 
 
 Adieu, dear amiable youth ! 
 
 Your heart can ne'er be wanting ! 
 May prudence, fortitude, and truth 
 
 Erect your brow unda anting. 
 In ploughman phrase, " God send you speed " 
 
 Still daily to grow wiser, 
 And may you better reck the rede 
 
 Than ever did the adviser. 
 
 These lines from the " Epistle to a Young Friend," written in 
 May 1786, have, in addition to their own weight and beauty, a very 
 significant bearing upon the Poet's circumstances and feelings at the 
 time of writing ; for then, alas ! he was speaking straight from his 
 own bitter experiences as one who had tempted " the illicit rove," 
 and been branded as a profane person because of his contributions 
 to the religious controversy which was at that time raging in Ayr- 
 shire and the west country. 
 
 The notable part Burns played in this controversy now claims our 
 attention. The south-west of Scotland — Ayrshire in particular — is 
 well known to have been a centre of the Covenanting spirit, and an 
 outstanding stronghold of stern, unbending Calvinism. But in the 
 Poet's day a great change had taken place in the aspect of religious 
 affairs in Ayrshire. A wide divergence in belief was manifest both 
 among clergy and laity. Of course, because of their public office 
 and their education, this divergence was more distinctly marked 
 among the clergy, who had, indeed, more or less ranged themselves 
 into two parties, to which the terms Evangelical and Moderate, or 
 Auld Licht and Neiv Licht, were applied, in Burns's writings the 
 latter terms being usually employed. The "Auld Lichts" stuck to 
 Genevan theology, preached hard and fast Puritanic doctrine, and 
 gained the greater favour among the common people, because of 
 greater apparent religious zeal, more ascetic manner of life, and 
 
128 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 strong denunciation of patronage in Clmrcli affairs. On tlie other 
 hand, the " New Lichts " were more free and rational in their creed 
 and teaching, and less sour in their personal walk and conversa- 
 tion. They also approved of the law and custom of patronage. 
 Considering the mind and disposition of the Poet, we can discover 
 but one reason why he might have been expected to take the " Auld 
 Licht " side ; whereas several reasons may be adduced for his taking 
 the opposite side. It might have been expected that such an one 
 as Burns, so strongly democratic in his nature, w^ould, on the 
 question of patronage, have assisted the people to 
 
 " Join their counsel and their skills 
 To cowe the lairds." 
 
 But when we call to mind the intelligent religious teaching 
 which William Burness took pains to impart to his family, and 
 the narrowness of view and unnatural stiffness of practice which 
 characterized the "Auld Licht " party — w^hen we remember, too, that 
 the "rigid feature" and the "preaching cant" were not seldom 
 found in conjunction with, and were sometimes even a flaunting 
 hypocritical cloak for, envy, malice, pride, and uncharity, we need 
 hardly marvel that Burns — so great and full of thought, so far 
 beyond his age in perception, so social and generous of impulse, so 
 hateful of all forms of moral sham and religious pretence — should 
 have ardently espoused the "New Licht" cause. Some more personal 
 considerations are said to have influenced and embittered his bearing 
 in this remarkable controversy. 
 
 In the matter of Church discipline ^ he had come under the 
 
 ^ Soon after entering Mossgiel, a child was definite is known of tlie subsequent history of 
 born to Burns, by Elizabeth Paton, his "bonnie Elizabeth Paton. The incident was the sub- 
 Betty," who had been servant for some time in ject of the songs, " The rantin' dog, the daddie 
 Lochlea. This child, who was brought up by o't," "The Poet's Welcome to his Illegitimate 
 the Poet's mother, married a Mr. John Bishop, Child," and the " Epistle to John Kankine." 
 Polkemmet, and survived till 1817. Kothing 
 
RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY. 129 
 
 censure of Mr. Auld, minister of Mauchline, who was an uncom- 
 promising "'Auld Liclit," his elders being moved by a like spirit, 
 only with less intelligence and far more bigotry, 
 
 Gavin Hamilton, too, the Poet's landlord, patron, and genial 
 friend, had, as Burns thought, and as the Church courts at length 
 decided, been wrongously meddled with and spitefully harassed by 
 the Mauchline kirk-session, of which body "Holy Willie" was an 
 active member. 
 
 Such, in brief, were the leading circumstances amid which Burns 
 rushed into the fray. He himself says : — 
 
 The first of my poetic offspring that saw the light was a burlesque lamenta- 
 tion on a quarrel between two reverend Calvinists, both of them dramatis 
 personx in my " Holy Fair." With a certain description of the clergy, as well 
 as the laity, it met with a roar of applause. 
 
 The poem referred to is the " Twa Herds, or the Holy Tulzie," 
 through which the " New Lichts " at once recognised that in the 
 author they had found an invaluable ally, and for encouragement 
 to further effort of this kind they readily gave Burns their counten- 
 ance and applause. Then followed from the Poet's pen satire 
 after satire, in quick succession and with deadly, scathing effect — 
 as in "Holy Willie's Prayer," "An Epistle to John Goudie," "The 
 Holy Fair," " The Unco Guid," " The Ordination," etc. Now, no 
 one who reads these extraordinary satires can altogether acquit 
 Burns of the bitterness of partisanship, nor of a very daring and 
 headlong rushing upon matters of the most venerable and sacred 
 character. Still, in recollection of the times and circumstances, and 
 pleading, as we venture to do, that in him, amid all his aberrations, 
 there was a deep sense of personal religion, and an instinctive 
 admiration of all that was real and worthy in men and customs, we 
 cannot shake off the conviction that, wanting as he did, he aimed 
 not at injuring true morals or religion, but at exposing and lashing 
 
 VOL. III. li 
 
130 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 sham or hypocrisy iu human conduct and superstition or abuse in 
 religious observance. But, in any case, in view of things as they 
 then were and now^ are in the matters dealt with, if it be asserted 
 that Burns assailed with ruthless hand and unsparing voice, it may 
 be justly replied that his was the hand of a reformer, and the voice 
 of a prophet. 
 
 From allusions in several pieces written in 1784, we gather that, 
 very shortly after entering Mossgiel, Burns had formed acquaintance 
 with Jean Armour, daughter of a well-to-do Mauchline mason. On 
 their first and casual meeting, some rustic banter was exchanged, 
 and very soon they were lovers. Like most of Burns's heroines, 
 she was not reckoned a great beauty ; but was, withal, a comely, 
 sweet-natured lass, of frank, taking manner, possessed of a fine 
 musical voice, and natural taste in singing. Obviously, what her 
 lover lacked in worldly station and substance was, in her eyes, 
 more than made up by his great personal charm of manner, mind, 
 and heart. The situation in which Burns and Jean Armour found 
 themselves is briefly and delicately stated in Gilbert's narrative. 
 After alluding to the family disappointments in the farming of 
 Mossgiel during 1784-5, he says: — 
 
 It was during these years that liobert formed his connexion with Jean 
 Armour, afterwards Mrs. Burns, This connexion could no longer be concealed, 
 about the time we resolved to quit the farm. Eobert durst not engage with a 
 family in his poor, \insettled state, but was anxious to shield his partner, by 
 every means in his power, from the consequences of their imprudence. It was 
 agreed, therefore, between them, that they should make a legal acknowledgment 
 of their marriage ; that he should go to Jamaica to push his fortune, and that 
 she should remain with her father, till it might please Providence to put the 
 means of supporting a family in his power. Mrs. Burns was a great favourite 
 of her father's. The intimation of a marriage was the first suggestion he 
 received of her real situation. He was in the greatest distress, ami fainted 
 away. A husband in Jamaica appeared to him and his wife little better than 
 
JEAN ARMOUR AND MARY CAMPBELL. 131 
 
 none. . . . They therefore expressed a wish to their daughter that the written 
 papers respecting the marriage should be cancelled and the marriage thus 
 rendered void. Jean, in her melancholy state, felt the deepest remorse at having 
 brought such heavy affliction on her parents, and submitted to their entreaties. 
 
 Burns had, so far, made that amends which the ideas of the 
 times recognised in an irregular marriage ; and as we are bound to 
 consider this secret engagement an act of faithfulness and affection 
 on the Poet's part towards Jean Armour, so we can conceive how 
 the destruction of the marriage lines was to him a terrible blow, 
 under which he staggered with mingled feelings of sorrow, shame, 
 and anger. To these feelings he gave vent in " The Lament " and 
 " Despondency— an Ode," poems full of the sadness and bitterness 
 of the life of Burns, then but twenty-seven years of age. 
 
 At this point, the romantic " episode " of the Poet's attachment 
 to Highland Mary emerges as " an underplot in the drama of his 
 love." This oft-told and fascinating story is briefly narrated in 
 vol. i. of this work (see " Mary Campbell "). For aught that is 
 known to the contrary, we cling to the simple explanation and 
 charitable opinion that it was when he deemed himself cast ofl" by 
 Jean Armour and flouted and disowned by her connexions, [that 
 Burns turned away to seek consolation from his " Highland lassie — 
 a warm-hearted, charming young creature as ever blessed a man with 
 generous love." Here, in the remembrance of all the "amorous 
 madness " of his tremendously impassioned nature, — a nature how 
 different from that of ordinary mortals, — the voice of condemnation 
 may well be hushed. That Burns's love for Mary Campbell was 
 deep and true, and that his intention to make her his wife and take 
 her with him to the Indies was faithful and sincere, cannot be gain- 
 said. And so, rather than blaming, we would, in consideration of 
 all the hard, trying circumstances, plead for sympathy with our 
 hapless, distracted Bard, whose great, kind, sensitive soul cried out 
 
132 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS 
 
 so loudly, ill the chill desolation of his disappointment, for some 
 other woman's gentle heart into which he might pour the mighty 
 pent-up tide of his glowing passion. While the Poet was still in 
 gloom and difficulty, and seeing no way save to emigrate, news 
 reached him that Mary had died in Greenock on 20tli October. To 
 his troubled spirit, this sad ending of Mary's young and lovely life 
 was an added pang of misery. In all probability, her decease 
 changed the after-current of Burns's career. Had she lived on, who 
 can tell what might have resulted ? 
 
 According to his brother's narrative, the Poet's determination to 
 emigrate was taken in March or April, about which time his troubles 
 with the Armour family reached a crisis. In the Autobiography he 
 reviews his life during the ensuing months from May till August. 
 Alluding to his difficulties and disappointments in connexion with 
 his " bonnie Jean," whom, notwithstanding all that had happened, 
 he still ardently loved, ^ he says : — 
 
 This was a most melanclioly affair, which I cannot yet bear to reflect on, 
 and had very nearly given me one or two of the principal qualifications for a 
 place among those who have lost the chart and mistaken the reckoning of 
 rationality. I gave up my part of the farm to my brother, — in truth it was only 
 nominally mine, — and made what little j^reparation was in my power for Jamaica. 
 But before leaving my native country for ever, I resolved to publish my poems. 
 I weighed my productions as impartially as was in my power ; I thought they 
 had merit ; and it was a delicious idea that I should be called a clever fellow, 
 even though it should never reach my ears — a poor negro-driver ; or perhaps a 
 victim to that inhospitable clime, and gone to the world of spirits. I can truly 
 say that, 'pauvre, inconnu as I then was, I had pretty nearly as high an idea of 
 myself and of my works as I have at this moment, when the public has decided 
 in their favour. It ever Avas my opinion that the mistakes and blunders, both 
 
 1 ' ' Wliat Jean thinks of her conduct now, I did her ; and to confess a truth between you 
 
 don't know ; one thing I do know, she lias and me, I do still love her to distraction after 
 
 made me completely miserable. Never man all." (From letter to David Brice, Glasgow.) 
 loved, or rather adored, a woman, more than I 
 
RESOLVE TO EMIGRATE. 133 
 
 in a rational and religious point of view, of which we see thousands daily 
 guilty, are owing to their ignorance of themselves. To know myself had been 
 all along my constant study. I weighed myself alone — I balanced myself with 
 others — I watched every means of information, to see how much ground I 
 occupied as a man and as a poet — I studied assiduously Nature's design in my 
 formation — where the lights and shades in my character Avere intended. I was 
 pretty confident my poems would meet with some applause ; but, at the worst, 
 the roar of the Atlantic Avould deafen the voice of censure, and the novelty of 
 West Indian scenes make me forget neglect. I threw off six hundred copies, of 
 which I had got subscriptions for about three hundred and fifty. My vanity 
 was highly gratified by the reception I met with from the public ; and besides, 
 I pocketed, all expenses deducted, nearly twenty pounds. This sum came very 
 seasonably, as I was thinking of indenting myself, for want of money to 
 procure my passage. As soon as I was master of nine guineas, the price of 
 wafting me to the torrid zone, I took a steerage passage in the first ship that 
 was to sail from the Clyde ; for 
 
 "Hungry ruin had me in the wind." 
 
 In the hope of bettering his fortune, he had reluctantly made 
 up his mind to go to the Indies. But he was penniless, and money 
 was needed to carry out this plan. It was then that his friend 
 Gavin Hamilton suggested that, to overcome the difficulty, he should 
 publish by subscription a volume of his poems. The suggestion 
 readily fell in with Burns's deep-rooted yearning for fame, and his 
 clear consciousness of poetic genius. By this time he had written, 
 in addition to those already mentioned, not a few of his other more 
 noted poems, — " Death and Dr. Hornbook," " Man was made to 
 Mourn," "Hallowe'en," " The Vision," "To a Mouse," "The Cotter's 
 Saturday Night," etc. 
 
 There was thus good ground for expecting that the poems would 
 meet with considerable sale, and yield some little profit to the 
 author. Burns accordingly set eagerly to work ; and, notwith- 
 standing his distressful situation, succeeded in revising a selection 
 of pieces already produced, in composing several new pieces, and in 
 
134 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 carrying on a large amount of canvassing and correspondence in 
 connexion with the preparation and sale of the projected volume. 
 
 On 31st July 1786 the book was issued from the press of John 
 AVilson, Kilmarnock. The entire issue, consisting of 600 copies, 
 was taken up as cjuickly as the printers and binders could get 
 throuo-h the work. So scarce did the copies become, that the family 
 at Mossgiel had to wait until the Edinburgh edition was published, 
 ere they were privileged to j)eruse the poems in printed form. The 
 volume was instantly successful, and very soon the whole country- 
 side literally rang in its praise. The genius of Burns was thus 
 made widely known, and his fame enthusiastically spread. In his 
 " Memoir of Burns," the hapless Eobert Heron, speaking of the 
 reception accorded to the Kilmarnock edition, says : — 
 
 Old and young, high and low, grave and gay, learned or ignorant — all 
 were alike delighted, agitated, transported. I was at that time resident in 
 Galloway, contiguous to Ayrshire ; and I can well remember how that even 
 ploughboys and maidservants would have gladly bestowed the wages which 
 they earned the most hardly, and which they wanted for necessary clothing, if 
 they might but procure the works of Burns. A friend in my neighbourhood 
 put a copy into my hands on a Saturday evening. I opened the volume while 
 I Avas undressing to go to bed, and closed it not till a late hour on the rising 
 Sunday morn, after I had read over every syllable it contained. 
 
 Burns began his book with a short preface of fine manly tone, 
 and closed it with "The Bard's Epitaph," that startlingly vivid and 
 prophetic portraiture of his own character and career : — 
 
 Is there a whim-inspired fool, 
 
 Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, 
 
 Owre blate to seek, owre prood to snool, 
 
 Let him draw near ; 
 And owre this grassy heap sing dool, 
 
 And drap a tear. 
 
KILMARNOCK EDITION. 135 
 
 Is there a bard of rustic song, 
 
 Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, 
 
 That weekly this area throng, 
 
 Oh, pass not by ! 
 But, with a frater-feeling strong. 
 
 Here heave a sigh. 
 
 Is there a man, whose judgment clear. 
 Can others teach the course to steer, 
 Yet runs himself life's mad career, 
 
 "Wild as the wave ; 
 Here pause — and, through the starting tear. 
 
 Survey this grave. 
 
 The poor inhabitant below 
 
 Was quick to learn, and wise to know, 
 
 And keenly felt the friendly glow, 
 
 And softer flame ; 
 But thoughtless follies laid him low, 
 
 And stained his name. 
 
 Reader, attend — whether thy soul 
 Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, 
 Or darkly grubs this earthly hole. 
 
 In low pursuit ; 
 Know, prudent, cautious self-control 
 
 Is wisdom's root. 
 
 The remarkable popularity of tlie Kilmarnock volume did not, 
 however, immediately bring peace to the vexed heart of the Poet. 
 His wretchedness was too deep and complicated to be so easily or 
 quickly relieved. But at length the heavy clouds of misfortune 
 and shame, under which, for months, he had sorrowed and chafed, 
 began to clear away. At the very time when his immortal poems 
 were being issued from the press, he was lurking in concealment 
 
136 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURKS. 
 
 from the grasp of tlie law. For Jean Armour's father had out a 
 warrant against him for a large sum of money, — as security, — 
 which it was out of his power to pay. The fame of his poems, how- 
 ever, somewhat appeased the WTath of the Armours; and no longer 
 in fear from the warrant, he was at liberty to return to Mossgiel. 
 During the latter half of August he was occupied collecting the 
 subscriptions due for his volume, a task which led him into a good 
 deal of company and merrymaking with numerous admirers, and 
 served to further distract his attention from any fixed purpose. 
 It was at this period he made the acquaintance of Mrs. Dunlop of 
 Dunlop, his lifelong friend and correspondent, and of Professor 
 Dugald Stewart, then resident in his summer resort at Catrine 
 House. Professor Stew^art's description of the Poet as he appeared 
 in the autumn of 1786 runs as follows : — 
 
 His manners were then, as they continued ever afterwards, simple, manly, 
 and independent ; strongly expressive of conscious genius and worth, but 
 without anything that indicated forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He took 
 his share in conversation, but not more than belonged to him ; and listened with 
 apparent attention and deference on subjects where his want of education 
 deprived him of the means of information. If there had been a little more of 
 gentleness and accommodation in his temper, he would, I think, have been still 
 more interesting ; but he had been accustomed to give law in the circle of his 
 ordinary acquaintance, and his dread of anything approaching to meanness 
 or servility rendered his manner somewhat decided and hard. Nothing perhaps 
 was more remarkable among his various attainments than the fluency, and 
 precision, and originality of his language, when he spoke in company ; more 
 particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn of expression, and avoided, more 
 successfully than most Scotchmen, the peculiarities of Scottish phraseology. 
 At this time, Burns's prospects in life were so extremely gloomy, that he had 
 seriously formed a plan of going out to Jamaica in a very humble situation, 
 not, however, without lamenting that his want of patronage should force him to 
 think of a project so repugnant to his feelings, when his ambition aimed at no 
 higher an object than the station of an exciseman or ganger in his own 
 country. 
 
THE EXCISE. 137 
 
 With reference to the above allusion to the Poet's anxiety to 
 obtain a situation as exciseman, it is due to Burns's friends to state 
 that at this time some of them were doing what they could in the 
 direction of his desire for such an appointment. This fact may 
 in some measure explain the delay in carrying out his plan of 
 repairing to Jamaica. "The feelings of a father" also operated 
 in keeping him at home, for, in the beginning of September, Jean 
 Armour brought forth twins — " a fine boy and girl," he remarks. 
 " God bless them, poor little dears." The following notable letter, 
 written to Mr. Aiken, Ayr, early in October, casts a sad light upon 
 the Poet's sorely complicated situation and distracted state of mind 
 at this time : — 
 
 TO MR. ROBERT AIKEX. 
 
 Sir, — I was with Wilson my printer t'other day, and settled all our bygone 
 matters between us. After I had paid all demands, I made him the oflfer of the 
 second edition, on the hazard of being paid out of the first and readiest, which 
 he declines. By his account the paper of 1000 copies would cost about twenty- 
 seven pounds, and the printing about fifteen or sixteen : he offers to agree to 
 this for the printing if 1 will advance for the paper, but this, you know, is out 
 of my power j so farewell hopes of a second edition till I grow richer ! an 
 epocha which I think will arrive at the payment of the British national 
 debt. . . . 
 
 I have been feeling all the various rotations and movements within respect- 
 ing the Excise. There are many things plead strongly against it ; the uncertainty 
 of getting soon into business; the consequences of my follies, which may 
 perhaps make it impracticable for me to stay at home ; and, besides, I have for 
 some time been pining under secret wretchedness, from causes which you pretty 
 well know — the pang of disappointment, the sting of pride, with some 
 wandering stabs of remorse, which never fail to settle on my vitals like vultures, 
 when attention is not called away by the calls of society or the vagaries of the 
 muse. Even in the hour of social mirth, my gaiety is the madness of an 
 intoxicated criminal under the hands of the executioner. All these reasons 
 urge me to go abroad, and to all these reasons I have only one answer — the 
 VOL. III. S 
 
138 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 feelings of a father. This, in the present mood I am in, overbalances everything 
 that can be laid in the scale against it. 
 
 You may perhaps think it an extravagant fancy, but it is a sentiment which 
 strikes home to my very soul ; though sceptical in some points of our current 
 belief, yet I think I have every evidence for the reality of a life beyond the 
 stinted bourne of our present existence : if so, then how should I, in the 
 presence of that tremendous Being, the Author of existence, how should I meet 
 the reproaches of those who stand to me in the dear relation of children, whom 
 I deserted in the smiling innocency of helpless infancy ? Oh, thou great 
 unknown Power ! — thou Almighty God ! who hast lighted up reason in my 
 breast, and blessed me with immortality ! — I have frequently wandered from 
 that order and regularity necessary for the perfection of thy works, yet thou 
 hast never left me nor forsaken me ! 
 
 Since I wrote the foregoing sheet, I have seen something of the storm of 
 mischief thickening over my folly-devoted head. Should you, my friends, my 
 benefactors, be successful in your applications for me, perhaps it may not be in 
 my power in that way to reap the fruit of your friendly efforts. What I have 
 written in the preceding pages is the settled tenor of my present resolution ; but 
 should inimical circumstances forbid me closing with your kind offer, or enjoying 
 
 it only threaten to entail further misery 
 
 To tell the truth, I have little reason for complaint, as the world, in general, 
 has been kind to me fully up to my deserts. I was, for some time past, fast 
 getting into the pining, distrustful snarl of the misanthrope, 1 saw myself 
 alone, unfit for the struggle of life, shrinking at every rising cloud in the 
 chance-directed atmosphere of fortune, while, all defenceless, I looked about 
 in vain for a cover. It never occurred to me, at least never with the force it 
 deserved, that this world is a busy scene, and man a creature destined for a 
 progressive struggle; and that, however I might possess a warm heart and 
 inoffensive manners (which last, by the bye, was rather more than I could well 
 boast), still, more than these passive qualities, there was something to he done. 
 When all my schoolfellows and youthful compeers (those misguided few 
 excepted who joined, to use a Gentoo phrase, the " hallachores " of the human 
 race) were striking off with eager hope and earnest intent in some one or other 
 of the many paths of busy life, I was " standing idle in the market-place," or 
 only left the chase of the butterfly from flower to flower, to hunt fancy from 
 whim to whim. 
 
 You see, sir, that if to know one's errors were a probability of mending 
 
EDINBURGH PROSPECTS. 139 
 
 them, I stand a fair chance ; but, according to the reverend Westminster 
 divines, though conviction must precede conversion, it is very far from always 
 implying it. 
 
 The phenomenal success and quick disposal of his first edition 
 naturally prompted the Poet to think of issuing a second ; but, dis- 
 appointed in this proposal, and with the prospect of self-exile still 
 looming ahead, the months of September and October found him, 
 notwithstanding the fame and flattering notice he received from 
 many quarters, still restless and undecided, pining under secret 
 wretchedness, suff-ering from '' the pang of disappointment, the 
 sting of pride, and some wandering stabs of remorse." The weeks 
 of that autumn dragged along darkly and wearily for poor Burns, 
 until glad light and cheer broke upon him from an unlooked- 
 for and highly influential source. 
 
 I had— he tells us— taken the last farewell of my friends ; my chest was 
 on the road to Greenock. I had composed the last song I should ever measure 
 in Caledonia—" The gloomy night is gathering fast"— when a letter from Dr. 
 Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by opening new 
 prospects to my poetic ambition.^ The doctor belonged to a set of critics for 
 whose applause I had not dared to hope. His opinion that 1 should meet with 
 encouragement in Edinburgh for a second edition fired me so much, that away I 
 posted for that city, without a single acquaintance or a single letter of introduc- 
 tion. The baneful star that had so long shed its blasting influence in my 
 zenith, for once made a revolution to the nadir; and a kind Providence placed 
 me under the patronage of one of the noblest of men— the Earl of Glencairn. 
 Oublie moi, Grand Dieu, si jamais je I'oublie. 
 
 His arrival in -Edinburgh on the 28th of November 178G, clearly 
 marks a new phase of the Poet's career. 
 
 1 The friend here mentioned was the Rev. full account of this memorable turning-point 
 Mr. Lawrie, minister of Loudon parish. For in Burns's life, see vol. i. p. 46 and vol. u. p. 1. 
 
CHAPTER y. 
 
 IIRST WINTER IN EDINBURGH— NOVEMBER 28, 1786'MAY 5, 1787. 
 
 AGE 27-28. 
 
 Edina ! Scotia's darling seat ! 
 
 All hail thy palaces and towers, 
 Where once beneath a monarch's feet 
 
 Sat Legislation's sovereign powers ! 
 From marking wildly- scattered flowers, 
 
 As on the banks of Ayr I strayed, 
 And singing, lone, the lingering hours, 
 
 I shelter in thy honoured shade. 
 
 Address to Edinhargh 
 
 It needs no eftort of imagination to conceive what the sensations of an isolated set of 
 scholars (almost all either clergymen or professors) must have been in presence of this big- 
 boned, black-browed, brawny stranger, with his great flashing eyes, who, having forced his 
 way among them from the plough-tail at a single stride, manifested in the whole strain ot 
 his bearing and conversation a most thorough conviction that, in a society of the most 
 eminent men of his nation, he was exactly where he was entitled to be. . . . 
 
 Lockhart's Life of Burns. 
 
 Bidding a kindly good-bye to his mother and brothers and sisters, 
 and remembering, we may be sure, to leave a fond paternal kiss on 
 the cheek of the "wee image of his bonnie Betty," Burns set out 
 from Mossgiel for Edinburgh on the morning of November 27. 
 After a hard day's ride, he halted, and spent a memorable and 
 joyous night at Covington Mains (a farm in the Lanarkshire parish 
 of Covington and Thankerton), his hospitable entertainer, Mr. 
 Prentice, being an enthusiastic admirer of the Poet. 
 
ARRIVAL IN EDINBURGH. 141 
 
 According to an account written many years afterwards by a 
 son of this worthy farmer, — 
 
 It was arranged that Burns should, on his journey to Edinburgh, make the 
 farm-house at Covington Mains his resting-place on the first night. All the 
 farmers in the parish had read with delight the Poet's then published works, 
 and were anxious to see him. They were all asked to meet him at a late 
 dinner, and the signal of his arrival was to be a white sheet attached to a 
 pitchfork, and put on the top of a corn-stack in the barn-yard. The parish is a 
 beautiful amphitheatre, with the Clyde winding through it, with Wellbrae Hill 
 to the west, Tinto and the Culter Fells to the south, and the pretty, green, 
 conical hill, Quothquan Law, to the east. J\Iy father's stackyard, lying in the 
 centre, was seen from every house in the parish. At length Burns arrived, 
 mounted on apownie borrowed of Uv. Dalrymple, near Ayr. Instantly was the 
 white flag hoisted, and as instantly were seen the farmers issuing from their 
 houses, and converging to the point of meeting. A glorious evening, or rather 
 night, which borrowed something from the morning, followed, and the con- 
 versation of the Poet confirmed and increased the admiration created by his 
 writings. 
 
 Next morning, after breakfasting with a large party at the 
 neighbouring farm-house, he resumed his journey. That same 
 nio-ht, feeling very weary and lonely, and weighted with those 
 galling chains which misfortune and his own wayward conduct had 
 bound around him, yet conscious of a mighty poetic genius, with 
 many an earnest resolve toward steadier purpose, and not without 
 some gladdening hopes of brighter destiny, he entered the ancient 
 queenly city. His Mauchline friend and correspondent, John 
 Eichmond,^ law clerk, w^as then residing in Baxter's Close in the 
 Lawnmarket. Thither the way-worn Poet repaired, thankful to 
 share Richmond's humble bed and board, in that single room, 
 famous ever since as Burns's lodging-place throughout his first 
 winter in Edinburgh. 
 
 1 See vol. ii. p. 163. 
 
142 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS, 
 
 The Scottish capital, with its quaint beauty, majestic natural 
 surroundings, and grand old associations, never fails to excite the 
 interest and admiration of those who are visiting it for the first 
 time. To the keenly observant eye and patriotic spirit of Burns 
 its attractiveness must have been peculiarly great. And yet it is 
 not hard to conceive how, during the first day or two, he felt lonely 
 enough amid the city throng — all strangers to him, whose kindly 
 heart ever panted for friendly communion with his fellow-creatures. 
 In this connexion Allan Cunningham made the following likely 
 enough statement : — 
 
 Though he had taken a stride from the furrowed field into tlie land of 
 poetry, and abandoned the plough for the harp, he seemed for some days to 
 feel, as in earlier life, unfitted with an aim, and wandered about looking down 
 from Arthur's Seat, surveying the Palace, gazing at the Castle, or contemplating 
 the windows of the booksellers' shops, where he saw all works save the poems 
 of the Ayrshire Ploughman. He found his way to the lowly grave of Fergusson, 
 and, kneeling down, kissed the sod ; he sought out the house of Allan Ramsay, 
 and, on entering it, took oflf his hat ; and when he was afterwards introduced to 
 Creech, the bibliopole remembered that he had before heard him inquiring if 
 this had been the shop of the author of " The Gentle Shepherd." ^ 
 
 The Poet did not, however, hurry away to Edinburgh without 
 having some kindly and effective influence in view. During 
 
 1 Burns repeatedly expressed enthusiastic whom he counted his master in the field of 
 
 admiration of the works of "Ramsay and Scottish poesy. The following minute sets 
 
 famous Fergusson," and avowed his own in- forth his actions in this matter : — 
 debtedness to and inferiority compared with 
 
 these two authors, neither of whom possessed a Session-house ivithin the parish of Canongate, 
 
 twentieth part of his own soaring genius. Some the twenty-second day of February, one 
 
 explanation maybe found in calling to mind thousand sevenhundred eighty-seven years. 
 
 Sederunt of the Managers of the Kirk and 
 
 that, when but a youth, Burns had read and 
 
 fondly admired these writings. Further, it is ^.. , , ^ ■■ ^ ^ 
 
 ^,,^ ., , , ,, Kirkyard Funds of Canongate ; 
 
 not hard to conceive how he sorrowed so deeply ■' ^ 
 
 over the darkly - chequered career of poor Which day, the treasurer to the said funds 
 
 Fergusson, and hastened to rear a lasting produced a letter from Mr. Robert Burns, of 
 
 memorial over the lowly, neglected grave of one date the 6tli current, which was read and 
 
EDINBURGH WELCOME. 1*3 
 
 the previous autumn, the fame of his Kilmarnock edition had 
 brought him in contact with several Ayrshire men of good position, 
 vvho'had also high influence in the capital. Professor Stewart 
 and Dr. Blacklock, too, were there, and on their aid he could 
 fairly reckon. One of his Ayrshire friends was the frank, hberal- 
 minded Mr. Dalrymple of Orangefield, a gentleman having high 
 and powerful family connexions in Edinburgh. This was the man 
 whom Burns first approached, and by whom he was courteously and 
 encouragingly received. Dalrymple at once introduced Burns to 
 the Earl of Glencairn, a nobleman alike by station, culture, and 
 temperament, who so exerted himself that, in the course of a few 
 days, the doors of the highest society were thrown open to the 
 Ayrshire Peasant Bard. But still more effective on Burns s behalf 
 than the countenance of the learned and noble ones ot Edmburgh 
 was the review of his poems which appeared in 27,e Lounger of 
 December 9 In this article-written by Mr. Henry Mackenzie, 
 the elegant author of the Man of Feeling-t\^ genius of "the 
 heaven-taught ploughman " was emphatically pronounced to be of 
 
 , . .1 • A „„(• 1p«c fime —I have the honour to be, gentlemen, 
 
 appointed to be engrossed u. thexr sedeu.nt- less fam^ U ^^^^^^ ^^^^^_„ 
 
 book and of which letter the tenor follows :- your veij numu 
 
 .' To the honourable bailies of Cauongate .^ consideration 
 Edinburgh,-Gentlemen I am sorry to be told ^h refo^ ..^.^^^^^^.d motion of Mr. 
 that the remains of Robert Fergusson, the so of the landa ^^,^ ^.^^ 
 justly celebrated poet, a man whose talents for Burns ^^ ^o unanimously, grant power and 
 ages to come will do honour to our Cdedon.n ^^^^^X::^^^^^^. bLI to ere'ct a head- 
 name, lie in your churchyard among the ignoble hb^^^y ^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^ 
 dead, unnoticed and unknown. ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^-^^ 
 .-Some memorial to ^-t e ^ eps f the ^^^^'^^^^^^^^ l^,^^_ Extracted forth 
 
 lovers of Scottish song, f ^ ^.^^y;; ^a^d who of the records of the managers by 
 
 a tear over the ' narrow house of the bard wno William Spkott, Clerk. 
 
 is no more, is surely a tribute due to Fergusson s 
 
 memory-a tribute I wish to have the honour ^^ ^^,^^^^^^^^,,, this incident is known, it 
 
 of paying. c^paks in its own sweet way, of the generous 
 
 to remain an unalienable property to his death- Burns. 
 
144 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 no ordinary rank," and Scotland was called upon to recognise, and 
 welcome, and cherish in Burns a great national poet. Following up 
 his lengthened review of the Kilmarnock edition, Mackenzie went 
 on to say : — 
 
 Burns possesses the spirit as well as the fancy of a poet. That honest pride 
 and independence of soul, which are sometimes the Muse's only dower, break 
 forth on every occasion in his works. It may be, then, I shall wrong his 
 feelings while I indulge my own, in calling the attention of the public to his 
 situation and circumstances. That condition, humble as it was, in which he 
 found content and wooed the muse, might not have been deemed uncomfortable ; 
 but grief and misfortune have reached him there ; and one or two of his poems 
 hint, what I have learned from some of his countrymen, that he has been 
 obliged to form the resolution of leaving his native land, to seek, under a West 
 Indian clime, that shelter and support which Scotland has denied him. But I 
 trust that means may be found to prevent this resolution from taking place, and 
 that I do my country no more than justice when I suppose her ready to stretch 
 out her hand to cherish and retain this native poet, whose " wood-notes wild " 
 possess so much excellence. To repair the wrongs of suffering or neglected 
 merit, to call forth genius from the obscurity in which it had pined indignant, 
 and place it where it may profit or delight the world — these are exertions which 
 give to wealth an enviable superiority, to greatness and to patronage a laudable 
 pride. 
 
 So favourable a criticism from such an authoritative quarter 
 went far to exalt the name and fame of Burns beyond reach of the 
 petty meddlings of bigotry or pharisaism, and to make abundantly 
 secure the financial success of the Edinburgh edition. 
 
 Turning to the Poet's letters to his Ayrshire correspondents, 
 we extract the following passages in reference to his reception and 
 situation in Edinburgh at this stage. To Gavin Hamilton he writes 
 on December 7th : — 
 
 For my own affairs, I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as Thomas 
 a Kempis or John Bunyan ; and you may expect henceforth to see my birthday 
 inserted amon" the Avonderful events in the Poor Robin's and Aberdeen 
 
EDINBURGH WELCOME, 145 
 
 Almanacs, along with the Black Monday and the battle of Bothwell Bridge. 
 My Lord Glencaim and the Dean of Faculty, Mr. H. Erskine, have taken me 
 under their wing ; and by all probability I shall soon be the tenth worthy and 
 the eighth wise man of the world. Through my lord's influence, it is inserted 
 in the records of the Caledonian Hunt that they universally, one and all, 
 subscribe for the second edition. My subscription bills come out to-morrow, 
 and you shall have some of them next post. I have met in Mr. Dalrymple of 
 Orangefield what Solomon emphatically calls " a friend that sticketh closer than 
 a brother." The warmth with which he interests himself in my affairs is of the 
 same enthusiastic kind which you, Mr. Aiken, and the few patrons that took 
 notice of my earlier poetic days, showed for the poor unlucky devil of a poet. 
 
 And to John Ballantyne, on December ISth :— 
 
 I arrived here on Tuesday se'night, and have suffered ever since I came to 
 town, with a miserable headache and stomach complaint; but am now a good 
 deal 'better. . . . Mr. Dalrymple of Orangefield introduced me to Lord 
 Glencaim, a man whose worth and brotherly kindness to me I shall remember 
 when time shall be no more. By his interest it is passed in the Caledonian 
 Hunt, and entered in their books, that they are to take each a copy of the 
 second edition, for which they are to pay one guinea.i I have been introduced 
 to a good many of the noUe.se, but my avowed patrons and patronesses are, the 
 Duchess of Gordon — the Countess of Glencaim, with my Lord and Lady 
 Betty-the Dean of Faculty-Sir John ^Vhitefoord. I have likewise warm 
 friends among the literati : Professors Stewart, Blair, and Mr. Mackenzie, the 
 "Man of Feeling." An unknown hand left ten guineas for the Ayrshire bard 
 with Mr. Sibbald, which I got. I since have discovered my generous unknown 
 friend to be Patrick T^Iiller, Esq., brother to the Justice Clerk; and drank a 
 glass of claret with him by invitation at his own house yesternight. I am 
 nearly agreed with Creech to print my book, and I suppose I will begin on 
 
 1 However Burns was led to believe that the compliment paid to them, Mr. Haggart should 
 
 society here mentioned intended to pay a guinea be directed to subscribe for one hundred copies 
 
 a volume, he was obviously misinformed. The in their name, for which he should pay to Mr. 
 
 resolution come to by the meeting at which the Bums £25 upon the publication of 1"« book, 
 
 matter was dealt with was "that in considera- -that is to say, the volumes were to be paid 
 
 tion of his superior merit, as well as of the for at the ordinary rate to subscribers. 
 VOL. III. "^ 
 
146 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Monday. I will send a subscription bill or two next post, when I intend 
 writing my first kind patron, INIr. Aiken. I saw his son to-day, and he is very 
 well. 
 
 Dugald Stewart, and some of my learned friends, put me in the periodical 
 paper called the Lounger, a copy of which I here enclose you. I was, sir, 
 when I Avas first honoured with your notice, too obscure ; now I tremble lest I 
 should be ruined by being dragged too suddenly into the glare of polite and 
 learned observation. 
 
 The Edinburgh society into which the Poet was thus speedily 
 introduced was, in many respects, a brilliant one. Of men of letters 
 who flourished there, the following are noteworthy : — Dr. Dugald 
 Stewart, Professor of Moral Philosophy ; Dr. Hugh Blair, Professor 
 of Belles Lettres ; Dr. Blacklock, the blind poet ; Dr. Robertson, 
 the historian ; Mr. Alison, author of a famous " Essay on Taste ; " 
 and Mr. Mackenzie, the "Man of Feeling." 
 
 In the legal circle, two names stand out prominently in con- 
 nexion with Burns's career in Edinburgh, — Henry Erskine, the witty 
 and eminent advocate, and Lord Monboddo, the genial Lord of 
 Session, whose lovely daughter's charms Burns has so enthusiastically 
 celebrated both in prose and verse. ^ 
 
 Besides those men of literary and legal note, not a few persons 
 of high rank still deigned to find town-residence in Edinburgh ; 
 amongst which notables Jane, Duchess of Gordon, was the leading 
 star, 
 
 1 To this Edinburgh beauty, Burns thus refers "Heavenly Miss Burnet, daughter to Lord 
 
 in his "Address to Edinburgh:— Monboddo, at whose house I have had the 
 
 Fair Burnet strikes the adoring eye, honour to be more than once. There has not" 
 
 Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine ; been anythnig like her ui all the combinations 
 
 I see the Sire of Love on high, of beauty, grace, and goodness the gi-eat Creator 
 
 And own His work indeed divine. ^^as formed since Milton's Eve on the first day 
 
 of her existence." 
 And in a letter to Win. Chalmers, Ayr, this 
 
 glowing passage occurs : — 
 
EDINBURGH TRIUMPH. 147 
 
 We saw how within a few weeks Burns found himself lionized 
 by the highest and most learned of the city ; and we know how, by 
 virtue of his native genius and strong good sense, he managed, for 
 a time, to acquit himself nobly among the noblest and most scholarly 
 with whom he was so suddenly brought into unwonted contact. In 
 one sense, it was a marvellous achievement for him, the rustic son 
 of rustic toils and experiences, to command and fill, as he did, a 
 place in such a brilliant and cultured circle. Yet in another sense 
 it was not strange ; for in all that circle there was, after all, none 
 so great and gifted as he. 
 
 "While spending his evenings — says Chambers— with beauty, rank and talent, 
 Burns continued content with the share of John Richmond's room and bed. 
 John helped him to transcribe his poems for the press, and, when he came in at 
 night, jaded and excited, would read to him till he fell asleep. Richmond 
 testified that he kept good hours, and observed the rules of sobriety. After a 
 brief residence in town, his plain rustic garb gave way to a suit of blue and buff, 
 the livery of INIr. Fox, with buckskins and top-boots. He continued to wear 
 his hair tied behind, and spread upon his forehead, but without the pow'der 
 which was then nearly universal. On the whole, his appearance was modest 
 and becoming. It was remarked that he showed no sign of embarrassment in 
 refined society, and that he took his part in conversation with freedom and 
 energy, but without the least forwardness. The literati were surprised to find 
 in what pure English and with how much eloquence he could express his ideas, 
 and how glowing and brilliant these ideas often were. Principal Robertson 
 declared that he had "scarcely ever met with any man whose conversation 
 displayed greater vigour than that of Burns." His poems had, he acknowledged, 
 surprised him ; his prose compositions appeared even more wonderful ; but the 
 conversation was a marvel beyond all. We are thus left to understand that the 
 best of Burns has not been, and was not of a nature to be, transmitted to 
 posterity. 
 
 The unique power and charm of the Poet's conversation are 
 alluded to by many who were privileged to converse with him. 
 
148 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 strikingly, amongst others, by the witty and accomplished Duchess 
 of Gordon, who once confessed that in all her experience in the 
 most brilliant society, no conversation had ever " so set her off her 
 feet " as that of Burns. It is no great matter for surprise that he 
 was able to fascinate as he did the rustic maidens of Tarbolton and 
 Mauchline ; but to astonish and captivate those high-born ladies in 
 Edinburgh was indeed an amazing accomplishment. The secret of 
 it we take to have been the same in both cases. By nature, he, 
 with all his great passionate soul, simply worshipped the sex, and 
 freely offered his unstinted homage. To his wondrous mind and 
 imagination, his whole manner, his thrilling voice, his great dark 
 flashing eye, all lent their aid in proclaiming his adoration ; and so 
 Burns — ever gentle and deferential towards the ladies — with gleam- 
 ing wit and melting pathos, with glowing imagination and irresistible 
 power, stormed the hearts of " the lovely dears." 
 
 Various contemporary sketches of his appearances in Edinburgh 
 society afford information so thoroughly interesting and reliable as 
 to command a prominent place in his biography. 
 
 In a communication to Dr. Currie, Professor Stewart, who, it 
 will be remembered, had met with and entertained the Poet at 
 Catrine House, in October 1786, says : — 
 
 The attentions he received during his stay in town from all ranks and 
 descriptions of persons, were such as would have turned any head but his own. 
 I cannot say that I could perceive any unfavourable effect which they left on 
 his mind. He retained the same simplicity of manners and appearance which 
 liad struck me so forcibly when I first saw him in the country ; nor did he seem 
 to feel any additional self-importance froni the number and rank of his new 
 acquaintance. His dress was perfectly suited to his station, plain and un- 
 pretending, with a sufficient attention to neatness. 
 
 The variety of his engagements, while in Edinburgh, prevented me from 
 seeing him so often as I could have wished. In the course of the spring he 
 called on me once or twice, at my request, early in the morning, and walked 
 
PROFESSORS STEWART AND WALKER. 149 
 
 with me to Braid Hills, in the neighbourhood of the town, when he charmed 
 me still more by his private conversation than he had ever done in company. 
 He was passionately fond of the beauties of nature ; and I recollect once he 
 told me, when I was admiring a distant prospect in one of our morning walks, 
 that the sight of so many smoking cottages gave a pleasure to his mind, which 
 none could understand who had not witnessed, like himself, the happiness and 
 the worth which they contained. All the faculties of Burns's mind were, as far 
 as I could judge, equally vigorous; and his predilection for poetry was rather 
 the result of his own enthusiastic and impassioned nature, than of a genius 
 exclusively adapted to that species of composition. From his conversation, I 
 should have pronounced him to be fitted to excel in whatever walk of ambition 
 he had chosen to exert his abilities. 
 
 Professor's Walker's first meeting with Burns took place at 
 breakfast in the house of Dr. Blacklock. Of that meeting he 
 wrote as follows : ^ — 
 
 I was not much struck with his first appearance, as I had previously heard 
 it described. His person, though strong and well knit, and much superior to 
 what might be expected in a ploughman, was still rather coarse in its outline. 
 His stature, from want of setting up, appeared to be only of the middle size, 
 but was rather above it. His motions were firm and decided, and though 
 without any pretensions to grace, were at the same time so free from clownish 
 constraint, as to show that he had not always been confined to the society of his 
 profession. His countenance was not of that elegant cast which is most frequent 
 among the upper ranks, but it was manly and intelligent, and marked by a 
 thoughtful gravity Avhich shaded at times into sternness. In his large dark eye 
 the most striking index of his genius resided. It was full of mind, and would 
 have been singularly expressive, under the management of one who could 
 employ it with more art, for the purpose of expression. 
 
 He was plainly, but properly dressed, in a style midway between the holiday 
 costume of a farmer and that of the company with which he now associated. 
 His black hair, without powder, at a time when it was very generally worn, was 
 tied behind, and spread upon his forehead. Upon the whole, from his person, 
 
 ^ Professor Walker. See vol. ii. p. 301. 
 
150 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 physiognomy, and dress, had I met him near a seaport, and been required to 
 guess his condition, I should have probably conjectured him to be the master of 
 a merchant vessel of the most respectable class. 
 
 In no part of his manner was there the slightest degree of affectation ; nor 
 could a stranger have suspected, from anything in his behaviour or conversation, 
 that he had been for some months the favourite of all the fashionable circles of 
 a metropolis. 
 
 In conversation he was powerful. His conceptions and expression were of 
 ■ corresponding vigour, and on all subjects were as remote as possible from 
 commonplaces. Though somewhat authoritative, it was in a way which gave 
 little offence,! ^^^ ^yas readily imputed to his inexperience in those modes of 
 smoothing dissent and softening assertion which are important characteristics of 
 polished manners. After breakfast I requested him to communicate some of his 
 unpublished pieces, and he recited his farewell song to the " Banks of Ayr," 
 introducing it with a description of the circumstances in which it was com- 
 posed, more striking than the poem itself. I paid particular attention to his 
 recitation, which was plain, slow, articulate, and forcible, but without any 
 eloquence or art. He did not always lay the emphasis with propriety, nor did 
 he humour the sentiment by the variations of his voice. He was standing, 
 during the time, with his face towards the window, to which, and not to his 
 auditors, he directed his eye ; thus depriving himself of any additional effect 
 which the language of his composition might have borrowed from the language 
 of his countenance. In this he resembled the generality of singers in ordinary 
 company, who, to shun any charge of affectation, withdraw all meaning from 
 
 ^ Burns certainly did give offence in one in- passages which he thonght exceptionable. He 
 
 cident narrated by Cromek : — At a private break- made several attempts to quote the poem, but 
 
 fast party, in an Edinburgh literary circle, the always in a blundering, inaccurate manner, 
 
 conversation turned on the poetical merit and Burns bore all this for a good while with his 
 
 pathos of Gray's Ekgy, a poem of which he usual good-natured forbearance, till at length, 
 
 was enthusiastically fond. A clergyman pre- goaded by the fastidious criticisms and wretched 
 
 sent, remarkable for his love of paradox and quibblings of his opponent, he roused himself, 
 
 for his eccentric notions upon every subject, and, with an eye flashing contempt and indig- 
 
 distinguished himself by an injudicious and nation, and with great vehemence of gesticula- 
 
 ill-timed attack on this exquisite poem, which tion, he thus addressed the cold critic : "Sir, I 
 
 Burns, with generous warmth for the reputa- now perceive a man may be an excellent judge 
 
 tion of Gray, manfully defended. As the of poetry by square and rule, and after all be a 
 
 gentleman's remarks were rather general than d blockhead. " 
 
 specific, Burns urged him to bring forward the 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 151 
 
 their features, and lose the advantage by which vocal performers on the stage 
 augment the impression and give energy to the sentiment of the song. 
 
 In a letter written to Lockliart some forty years after the event, 
 Sir Walter Scott embodied his reminiscences of that single occasion 
 on which he met with Burns. A special interest attaches to what 
 the world - famed novelist tells us about him whose name stands 
 alongside his own at the head of the roll of Scottish literary 
 greatness. 
 
 As for Burns, I may truly say, Virgilium vidi tantum. I was a lad of fifteen 
 in 1786-87, when he came first to Edinburgh, but I had sense and feeling 
 enough to be much interested in his poetry, and would have given the world to 
 know him. ... As it was, I saw him one day at the late venerable Professor 
 Fergusson's, where there were several gentlemen of literary reputation, among 
 whom I remember the celebrated Dr. Dugald Stewart. Of course we youngsters 
 sat silent, looked, and listened. The only thing I remember which was remark- 
 able in Burns's manner M'as the effect produced upon him by a print of Bunbury's, 
 representing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting in misery on one 
 side — on the other his widow, with a child in her arms. These lines were 
 written underneath : — 
 
 Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, 
 Perhaps that parent wept her soldier slain — 
 Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew. 
 The big drops mingling with the milk he drew, 
 Gave the sad presage of his future years. 
 The child of misery baptized in tears. 
 
 Burns seemed much aifected by the print, or rather the ideas which it suggested 
 to his mind. He actually shed tears. He asked whose the lines were, and it 
 chanced that nobody but myself remembered that they occur in a half-forgotten 
 poem of Langhorne's, called by the unpromising title of " The Justice of Peace." 
 I whispered my information to a friend present, who mentioned it to Burns, 
 who rewarded me with a look and a word which, though in mere civility, I then 
 received, and still recollect, with great pleasure. His person was strong and 
 robust ; his manners rustic, not clownish ; a sort of dignified plainness and 
 
152 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 simplicity, which received part of its effect perhaps from one's knowledge of his 
 extraordinary talents. His features are represented in Mr. Nasmyth's picture ; 
 but to me it conveys the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. 
 I think his countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the portraits. 
 I would have taken the Poet, had I not knovm what he was, for a very sagacious 
 country farmer of the old Scotch school ; that is, none of your modern agri- 
 cultvirists, who keep labourers for their drudgery, but the douce gudeman who 
 held his own plough. There was a strong expression of sense and shrewdness 
 in all his lineaments : the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character 
 and temperament. It was large, and of a cast which glowed (I say literally 
 glowed) when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye 
 in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time. 
 His conversation expressed perfect self-confidence, without the slightest pre- 
 sumption. Among the men who Avere the most learned of their time and 
 country, he expressed himself with perfect firmness, but without the least 
 intrusive forwardness. ... I have only to add that his dress corresponded with 
 his manner. He was like a farmer dressed in his best to dme with the laird. 
 I do not speak in malern partem when I say 1 never saw a man in company 
 with his superiors in station and information, more perfectly free from either 
 the reality or the affectation of embarrassment. I was told, but did not observe 
 it, that his address to females was extremely deferential, and always with a 
 turn either to the pathetic or humorous, which engaged their attention particu- 
 larly. I have heard the late Duchess of Gordon remark this. I do not know 
 anything I can add to these recollections of forty years since. 
 
 No student of Burns need fail to gather from the above a pretty- 
 clear idea of how the Poet looked and played what may be termed 
 his more public part among the eminent literati and the social 
 grandees of that time in Edinburgh. We turn now to look at 
 him as he walked and talked on a somewhat lower social plane, 
 more in the way of private acquaintance and boon-companionship. 
 Early in 1787 a personal intimacy was formed between Burns and 
 Alexander Nasmyth,^ the young artist who, in expression of his 
 admiration, gratuitously executed the famous painting of the 
 
 ' Alexander Xasmyth. See vol. ii. p. 121. 
 
PORTRAIT BY NASMYTH. 153 
 
 Poet.^ The preparation of this work brought Burns and Nasmyth 
 a o-ood deal tosjether. From reliable information, which he person- 
 ally fell in with, Chambers tells us that — 
 
 After the sittings for that original, Mr. Nasmyth and the Poet would take a 
 ramble together, not uufrequently to the King's Park, where Burns delighted to 
 climb Arthur's Seat, and, lying on the summit, gaze at its grand panorama of 
 twelve of the principal Scottish counties. Having one night transgressed the 
 rules of sobriety, and sat up till an early hour in the morning, they agreed not 
 to go home at all, but commence an excursion to the Pentland Hills. Passing a 
 cottage a few miles out of town, they heard a frightful noise within, and, going 
 up to learn what was the matter, found that the sounds proceeded from a poor 
 man whose reason had given way. Mr. Nasmyth used afterwards to describe in 
 thrilling terms the appalling exclamations of the lunatic, and the effect which 
 they had upon Burns. The two friends afterwards continued their walk to the 
 hills, had a fine morning ramble, and, having thus cleared off the effects of their 
 dissipation, came down to Roslin to breakfast. Burns, who was now extremely 
 hungry, found in Mrs. David Wilson's little inn such ample solacement, that in 
 a fit of gratitude he scrawled a couple of verses on the reverse side of a wooden 
 pktteii- : — 
 
 My blessings on ye, honest wife, 
 I ne'er was here before ; 
 
 Ye've wealth o' gear for spoon and knife — 
 Heart could not wish for more. 
 
 Heaven keep you clear of sturt and strife, 
 
 Till far ayont fourscore ; 
 And by the Lord o' death and life, 
 
 I'll ne'er gae by your door ! ^ 
 
 Another associate with whom the Poet was necessarily brought 
 into contact was William Smellie,^ printer, to whom the typography 
 
 1 From Nasmyth's painting there was taken my iphh done by an eminent engraver, and if it 
 
 (also gratuitously) by John Beugo the engrav- can be ready in time, I shall appear in my book, 
 
 ing which was reproduced in the Edinburgh looking like other fools, to my title-page." 
 
 edition. In his letter to John Ballantyne of - See Vol. ii. p. 123. 
 
 February 24, the Poet refers to this excellent ^ See Vol. ii. p. 239. 
 and generally accepted likeness ; " I am getting 
 
 VOL. Ill, U 
 
154 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 of the Edinburgh edition was entrusted. Burns spent a good deal 
 of time revising his proof-sheets at SmelUe's place of business, and 
 some amusing anecdotes are told of his appearances there. He 
 used to walk up and down the composing-room, vigorously crack- 
 ing a whip which he often carried with him ; and when in the office 
 working at his proofs, he insisted on occupying a particular seat, 
 which came to be known in the place as " Burns's Stool." 
 
 Burns was introduced by Smellie to the Crochallan Fencibles, 
 a convivial club of a kind then common enough in the city. 
 There the Poet met with company more on his own social level, 
 and found a species of entertainment more to his liking, unfortun- 
 ately, than among his learned and noble patrons. 
 
 In such-like jovial spheres, he made the acquaintance of Heron, 
 Dunbar, Nicol, Ainslie, and others ; for it seems beyond doubt that 
 the Poet mingled a good deal in the tavern-revels of middle-class 
 tradesmen, writers, and kindred Edinburgh cronies. 
 
 Meanwhile, notwithstanding so many new and hazardous social 
 distractions, he had pushed forward with his second edition, which 
 was at length issued by Creech, the noted publisher, on the 21st of 
 April. Three well-known poems, which had been withheld from the 
 Kilmarnock edition, now appeared in this — " The Address to the 
 Unco Gude," " The Ordination," and " Death and Doctor Hornbook." 
 
 Among other new pieces, there appeared the "Address to 
 Edinburgh," " Tam Samson's Elegy," and the " Twa Brigs." The 
 Kilmarnock Preface was displaced by the Author's Dedication, — 
 " To the Noblemen and Gentlemen of the Caledonian Hunt," — which 
 is here reproduced in full : — 
 
 My Lords and Gentlemen — A Scottish bard, proud of the name, and 
 whose higliest ambition is to sing in his country's service — where shall he so 
 properly look for patronage as to the illustrious names of his native land, tliose 
 who bear the honours and inherit the virtues of their ancestors % The poetic 
 
EDINBURGH EDITIONS. 155 
 
 genius of my country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha, at the 
 plough, and threw her inspiring mantle over me. She bade me sing the loves, 
 the joys, the rural scenes and rural pleasures of my native soil, in my native 
 tongue. I tuned my wild, artless notes as she inspired. She whispered me 
 to come to this ancient metropolis of Caledonia, and lay my songs under your 
 honoured protection. I now obey her dictates. 
 
 Though much indebted to your goodness, I do not approach you, my Lords 
 and Gentlemen, in the usual style of dedication, to thank you for past favours ; 
 that path is so hackneyed by prostituted learning, that honest rusticity is 
 ashamed of it. Xor do I present this address with the venal soul of a servile 
 author, looking for a continuation of those favours — I was bred to the plough, 
 and am independent. I come to claim the common Scottish name with you, 
 my illustrious countrymen, and to tell the world that I glory in the title. I 
 come to congratulate my country that the blood of her ancient heroes still runs 
 uncontaminated, and that from your courage, knowledge, and public spirit, she 
 may expect protection, wealth, and liberty. In the last place, I come to proffer 
 my warmest wishes to the great Fountain of honour, the IMonarch of the 
 Universe, for your welfare and happiness. 
 
 When you go forth to awaken the echoes, in the ancient and favourite 
 amusement of your forefathers, may pleasure ever l)e of your party, and may 
 social joy await your return ! "When harassed in courts or camps with the 
 justlings of l)ad men and bad measures, may the honest consciousness of injured 
 worth attend your return to your native seats ; and may domestic happiness, 
 with a smiling welcome, meet you at your gates ! May corruption shrink at 
 your kindling, indignant glance ; and may tyranny in the ruler, and licentious- 
 ness in the people, equally find you an inexorable foe ! I have the honour to 
 be, with the sincerest gratitude and highest respect, my Lords and Gentlemen, 
 your most devoted, humble servant, Egbert Burns. 
 
 Edinburgh, April 4, 1787. 
 
 In the volume there also appeared a list of the subscribers, 
 covering thirty-eight pages, showing fifteen hundred subscribers, 
 taking up two thousand eight hundred copies, and containing the 
 names of many persons of the highest literary and social status in 
 the country. 
 
 With the issuing of this second edition of his poems, the Poet's 
 
156 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 avowed mission to Edinburgh was accomplished. Early in the 
 ensuing month of May he left the city for a tour in the Border 
 country. But ere we pass from this strange eventful period, — the 
 hey-day of Burns's lifetime, — let us try to gather, from his own pen, 
 some further idea of what he himself thought about his bright 
 adventure and its probable results. That he all along considered 
 that his Edinburgh blaze of popularity would not and could not 
 last, is made very evident by various letters penned by him in the 
 midst of that " meteoric glow." 
 
 As early as January 1 5 he wrote to Mrs, Dunlop as follows : — 
 
 You are afraid I shall groAv intoxicated with my prosperity as a poet. Alas ! 
 madam, I know myself and the world too well. I do not mean any airs of 
 affected modesty ; I am willing to helieve that my abilities deserve some notice ; 
 but in a most enlightened, informed age and nation, when poetry is, and has 
 ])een, the study of men of the first natural genius, aided with all the powers of 
 j^iolite learning, polite books, and polite company — to be dragged forth to the 
 full glare of learned and polite observation, wath all my imperfections of 
 awkward rusticity and crude, unpolished ideas on my head — I assure you, 
 madam, I do not dissemble when I tell you I treml)le for the consequences. 
 The novelty of a poet in my obscure situation, without any of those advantages 
 which are reckoned necessary for that character, at least at this time of day, 
 has raised a partial tide of public notice which has borne me to a height where 
 I am absolutely, feelingly certain, my abilities are inadequate to support me ; 
 and too surely do I see that time when the same tide will leave me, and recede 
 perhaps as far below the mark of truth. I do not say this in the ridiculous 
 affectation of self-abasement and modesty. I have studied myself, and know 
 Avhat ground I occupy ; and, however a friend or the world may differ from me 
 in that particular, I stand for my own opinion, in silent resolve, with all the 
 tenaciousness of property. I mention this to you once for all, to disburden my 
 mind, and I do not wish to hear or say more about it. But, 
 
 " AVhen proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes," 
 
 you will bear me witness, that when my bubble of fame was at the highest, I 
 stood unintoxicatcd, with the inebriating cup in my hand, looking forw^ard with 
 
LEAVES EDINBURGH. 157 
 
 rueful resolve to the hagteiiing time when the blow of calumny should dash it 
 to the gromid with all the eagerness of vengeful triumph. 
 
 In a similar strain he wrote to the Eev. Mr. Lawrie, of Loudon, 
 on February 5th ; and on the eve of his departure from the city, he 
 sent the following to Dr. Blair : — 
 
 I leave Edinburgh to-morrow morning, but could not go without troubling 
 you with half a line, sincerely to thank you for the kindness, patronage, and 
 friendship you have shown me. I often felt the embarrassment of my singular 
 situation : drawn forth from the veriest shades of life to the glare of remark, 
 and honoured by the notice of those illustrious names of my country whose 
 works, while they are applauded to the end of time, will ever instruct and mend 
 the heart. However the meteor-like novelty of my appearance in the world 
 might attract notice, and honour me Avith the acquaintance of the permanent 
 lights of genius and literature, those who are truly benefactors of the immortal 
 nature of man, I knew very well that my utmost merit was far unequal to the 
 task of preserving that character when once the novelty was over : I have 
 made up my mind that abuse, or almost even neglect, Avill not surprise me in my 
 quarters. 
 
 It is impossible to read these passages, written in the shadows of 
 that bright public glare, without feeling deeply for poor Burns, 
 haunted, amid so splendid an outward show, by such gloomy fore- 
 bodings, and still inly writhing from the " wandering stabs of 
 remorse." Making large allowance, however, for his situation in 
 Edinburgh (so terribly trying in many a way), it must be admitted 
 that the results of that time of fame might have been far different 
 from what they turned out to be, had he succeeded better in 
 exercising that " prudent, cautious self-control " of which he else- 
 where speaks. Scanning his own ways in Edinburgh, Burns clearly 
 saw and fully acknowledged all this, and more : witness, e.g., that 
 remarkable letter, with its sad, heart-searching allegory, which he 
 wrote in February to the Earl of Buchan : — 
 
158 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The honour your lordship has done me, by your notice and advice in yours 
 of the 1st instant, I shall ever gratefully remember — 
 
 " Praise from thy lips 'tis mine with joy to boast, 
 They best can give it who deserve it most." 
 
 Your lordship touches the darling chord of my heart, Avhen you advise me to 
 fire my muse at Scottish story and Scottish scenes. I wish for nothing more 
 than to make a leisurely pilgrimage through my native country ; to sit and 
 muse on those once hard-contended fields, where Caledonia, rejoicing, saw her 
 bloody lion borne through broken ranks to victory and fame ; and, catching the 
 inspiration, to pour the deathless names in song. But, my lord, in the midst of 
 these enthusiastic reveries, a long-visaged, dry, moral-looking phantom strides 
 across my imagination, and pronounces these emphatic words :— 
 
 " I, Wisdom, dwell with Prudence. Friend, I do not come to open the ill- 
 closed Avounds of your follies and misfortunes, merely to give you pain : I Avish 
 through these Avounds to imprint a lasting lesson on your heart. I Avill not 
 mention how many of my salutary advices you have despised ; I have given 
 you line upon line, and precept upon precept ; and while I Avas chalking out to 
 you the straight Avay to wealth and character, Avith audacious effrontery you 
 have zig-zagged across the path, contemning me to my face. You knoAv the 
 consequences. It is not yet three months since home Avas so hot for you, that 
 you were on the wing for the Avestern shore of the Atlantic, not to make a 
 fortune, but to hide your misfortune. 
 
 " IS'ow that your dear-loved Scotia puts it in your poAver to return to the 
 situation of your forefathers, Avill you follow these will-o'-Avisp meteors of fancy 
 and whim, till they bring you once more to the brink of ruin % I grant that the 
 utmost ground you can occupy is but half a step from the veriest poverty ; but 
 still it is half a step from it. If all that I can urge be ineffectual, let her Avho 
 seldom calls to you in vain, let the call of pride prevail with you. You know 
 how you feel at the iron gripe of ruthless oppression : you know how you bear 
 the galling sneer of contumelious greatness. I hold you out the conveniences, 
 the comforts of life, independence, and character, on the one hand ; I tender 
 you servility, dependence, and wretchedness on the other. I will not insult 
 your understanding by bidding you make a choice." 
 
 This, my lord, is unanswerable. I must return to my humble station, and 
 woo my rustic muse in my Avonted way, at the plough-tail. Still, my lord, 
 
NEW PIECES. 159 
 
 while the drops of life warm my heart, gratitude to that dear-loved country in 
 which I boast my birth, and gratitude to those her distinguished sons who have 
 honoured me so much with their patronage and approbation, shall, while stealing 
 through my humble shades, ever distend my bosom, and at times, as now, draw 
 forth the swelling tear. 
 
 It need occasion little or no surprise that, during these five 
 months, Burns produced very little poetry. He had his new edition 
 to complete and supervise for publication, and endless social engage- 
 ments to engross his time and tax his powers. Besides, he wrote a 
 goodly number of letters (some of them of outstanding excellence), 
 and began his second Commonplace Book.^ 
 
 Among the few poetical pieces composed in Edinburgh, the 
 following may be noted— "Epistle to the Gudewife of Wauchope 
 House," " Address to Edinburgh," and the original and more ballad- 
 like version of " Ye Banks and Braes " : — 
 
 Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, 
 
 How can ye bloom sae fair % 
 How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
 
 And I sae fu' o' care ? 
 
 Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird, 
 
 That sings upon the bough ; 
 Thou minds me o' the happy days 
 
 When my fause luve was true. 
 
 Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird, 
 
 That sings beside thy mate \ 
 For sae I sat, and sae I sang, 
 
 And wistna o' my fate. 
 
 Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, 
 To see the woodbine twine. 
 
 For Burus's Commonplace Books, see Appendix. 
 
160 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 And ilka bird sang o' its luve ; 
 And sae did I o' mine. 
 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 
 
 Frae aff its thorny tree ; 
 But my fause luver staw the rose, 
 
 And left the thorn wi' me. 
 
CHAPTER YI. 
 
 BORDER, WEST HIGHLAND, NORTHERN, AND DEVON VALLEY ToURS^ 
 MAY 5-OCTOBER 20, 1787. AGE 28. 
 
 We'll sing auld Coila's plains and fells, 
 Her moors red-brown wi heather bells, 
 Her banks and braes, her dens and dells, 
 
 Where glorious Wallace 
 Aft bare the gree, as story tells, 
 
 Frae Southron billies. 
 
 O sweet are Coila's hauglis an' woods, 
 When lintwhites chant among tlie buds, 
 And jinkin' hares, in amorous whids, 
 
 Their loves enjoy ; 
 While thro' the braes the cushat croods 
 
 With wailfu' cry. 
 
 Epistle to JJ'illiuin Simpson. 
 
 Admiring nature in her wildest grace. 
 
 These northern scenes with weary feet I trace. 
 
 Here Poesy might wake her heaven-taught lyre 
 And look through nature with creative fire. 
 
 Lines 2Jencilled at Kenmore, Taymouth. 
 
 Escaping from the wearino- strain of society eiigao-ements and club 
 convivialities, Burns set out on 5tli May, in company with Mr. 
 Robert Ainslie' for a tour in the Border country,- and arrived that 
 
 ^ See vol. i. p. 9. tliat name, of whom tradition states that she 
 
 ^ Throughout this tour, Burns rode his famous threw her stool at the head of the clergyman 
 mai'e "Jenny Geddes," so called by him in who, in 1637, first attempted to read the 
 memory of the plucky old Scotch worthy of obnoxious Liturgy in St. Giles' Cathedral. 
 VOL. in. -"^ 
 
1G2 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 same (Saturday) evening at Ainslie's home at Berrywell, near 
 Dunse. Next clay he went with the family to church, where, in 
 course of the sermon, the minister having quoted Scripture in stern 
 denunciation of the sinful, according to a good old custom Miss 
 Ainslie hastened to search out the passage quoted. On observing 
 this, Burns, taking pencil and paper, wrote off-hand and presented 
 to Miss Ainslie the following neat little product of his extraordinary 
 impvoiTifptii gift : — 
 
 Fair maid, j'ou need not take the hint 
 
 Nor idle texts pursue, 
 'Twas guilty sinners that he meant, 
 
 Not angels sucli as you. 
 
 On Monday the travellers passed on to Coldstream, and there 
 crossing the Tweed, Burns set foot for the first time on English 
 soil. The occasion strono-ly excited in the breast of Scotland's great 
 national Bard those deep-rooted feelings of patriotism which he ever 
 cherished for the land of his birth. From an account of the scene, 
 communicated many years afterwards by Ainslie, C^hambers gives 
 an interesting passage : — 
 
 "When they arrived at Coldstream, where the dividing line lietween England 
 and Scotland is the Tweed, Mr. Ainslie suggested going across to the other side 
 of the river by the Coldstream bridge, that Burns might be enabled to say he 
 had been in England. They did so, and w^ere pacing slowl}' along on English 
 ground, enjoying their Avalk, when Mr. Ainslie was surprised to see the Poet 
 throw away his hat, and, thus xnicovered, kneel down with uplifted hands, and 
 apparently rapt in a fit of enthusiasm. Mr. Ainslie kept silence, uncertain what 
 was next to be done, when Burns, with extreme emotion, and an expression of 
 countenance which his companion could never forget, prayed for and blessed 
 Scotland most solemnly, by pronouncing aloud, in tones of the deepest devotion, 
 the two concluding stanzas of the " Cotter's Saturday Night " : — 
 
 O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 
 
 For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent ! 
 Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 
 
BORDER TOUR. 163 
 
 Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content ! 
 
 And ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent 
 From luxury's contagion, -weak and vile ! 
 
 Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
 A virtuous populace may rise the while, 
 And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle. 
 
 Thou ! who poured the patriotic tide 
 
 That streamed through Wallace's undaunted heart, 
 "Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 
 
 Or nobly die, the second glorious part, 
 
 (The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art. 
 His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward I) 
 
 never, never Scotia's realm desert ; 
 But still the patriot, and the patriot bard, 
 In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard I 
 
 The next places visited were Kelso and Jedburgh, at the latter 
 of which towns he carried on a lively flirtation with a certain Miss 
 Lindsay, to whom he presented his likeness, and of whom he thus 
 (in his Diary) takes farewell :— " Sweet Isabella Lindsay, may peace 
 dwell in thy bosom, uninterrupted, except by the tumultuous 
 throbbings of love ! That love-kindling eye must beam on another, 
 not on me — that graceful form must bless another's arms, not 
 
 mine 1 
 
 Spending Sunday, 13th May, at Selkirk, he wrote (enclosing that 
 racy panegyric entitled "Willie's Awa',") to his publisher, Creech, then 
 on a visit to London. Monday he spent at Innerleithen, and "saw 
 Elibanks and Elibraes, on the other side of the Tweed." Eeturning 
 to Berrywell on Tuesday, he sojourned there until Friday, when he 
 set out for Berwick. On Saturday, he and Ainslie were admitted 
 Royal Arch Masons of St. Abbs' Lodge, Eyemouth. Dunbar was 
 next visited ; then Berrywell and Kelso again. 
 
164 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 His Diary shows tliis note of Tliursday (24tli May) : — 
 
 I am taken extremely ill with strong feverish symptoms, and take a servant 
 of Mr. Hood's [at whose house Burns dined that evening] to watch me all night. 
 Embittering remorse scares my fancy at the gloomy forebodings of death. I 
 am determined for the future to live in such a manner as not to be scared at 
 the approach of death. I am sure I could meet him with indifference, but for 
 "the something beyond the grave." 
 
 Having quickly recovered from tliis sharp illness, he again 
 crossed the Border, and in course of the ensuing few days saw 
 Alnwick, AVarkworth, Morpeth, Newcastle, Hexham, Longtown, and 
 Carlisle. From Carlisle he returned by the coast to Annan ; thence 
 on to Dumfries, where he stayed about a week, and visited Dal- 
 swinton, the estate of Mr. Patrick Miller, who had already expressed 
 a wish to have the Poet as tenant of one of his farms. On 9th June, 
 after nearly five weeks' sight-seeing, he arrived, quite unlooked for, 
 at Mossgiel. It is said that his mother welcomed him with the 
 simple, heart-full exclamation, " Oh, Robbie ! " When six months 
 before, he rode away to Edinburgh, his fortunes were low, and his 
 prospects, to say the least, very uncertain ; but he now returned 
 home with the laurels of high poetic fame on his brow, and with 
 the ]3all of bright fortune apparently at his foot. It is needless to 
 speculate on the feelings of the Mossgiel family at such a return. 
 These may be in some measure imagined, but can in no adequate 
 way be put into words. Our thoughts on this subject, however, 
 may be pleasantly helped by remembering that, notwithstanding 
 his passionate errors, Burns had ever borne himself to his mother 
 and brothers and sisters, as an affectionate, generous-hearted son 
 and brother. 
 
 On the evening of the day on which he arrived at Mossgiel, he 
 went to Mauchline to visit his more intimate associates. Calling at 
 Jean Armour's home, ostensibly to see his infant daughter, he seems 
 
AT MOSSGIEL. 165 
 
 to have been received in an almost fawning way by Jean's father 
 and mother. Recollecting the fugse xvarrant of the preceding 
 summer, the altered reception irritated his proud spirit, as we gather 
 from a letter written at Mauchline, on 11th June, to Mr. James 
 Smith, Linlithgow, in which the following passage occurs : — 
 
 If anything had been wanting to disgust me completely at Armour's family, 
 their mean, servile compliance would have done it. Give me a spirit like my 
 favourite hero, Milton's Satan — 
 
 Hail ! horrors, hail ! 
 Infernal world ! and thou profoundest hell 
 Receive thy new possessor ! one who brings 
 A mind not to be changed by place or time ! 
 
 I cannot settle to my mind. Farming — the only thing of which I know 
 anything, and Heaven knows but little do I vmderstand even of that — I cannot, 
 dare not risk, on farms as they are. If I do not fix, I will go for Jamaica. 
 Should I stay in an unsettled state at home, I would only dissipate my little 
 fortune, and ruin what I intend shall compensate my little ones for the stigma 
 I have brought on their names. 
 
 As also from that written to William Nicol,^ in which still more 
 of this chafing pride and bitterness appear : — 
 
 I never, my friend, thought mankind very capable of anything generous ; 
 but the stateliness of the patricians in Edinburgh, and the civility of my 
 plebeian brethren (who perhaps formerly eyed me askance) since I returned 
 home, have nearly put me out of conceit altogether with my species. I have 
 bought a pocket Milton, which I carry perpetually about with me, in order to 
 study the sentiments, the dauntless magnanimity, the intrepid, unyielding 
 independence, the desperate daring, and noble defiance of hardship, in that 
 great personage, Satan. 'Tis true I have just now a little cash ; but I am afraid 
 the star that hitherto has shed its malignant, purpose-blasting rays full in my 
 zenith ; that noxious planet, so baneful in its influences to the rhyming tribe, I 
 
 1 See vol. ii. p. 128. 
 
166 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 much dread is not yet beneath my horizon. ^Misfortune dodges the path of 
 human life \ the poetic mind finds itself miseral)ly deranged in, and unfit for, 
 the walks of business ; add to all, that thoughtless follies and harebrained whims, 
 like so many irjiies fatui eternally diverging from the right line of sober discretion, 
 sparkle Avith step-bewitching blaze in the idly-gazing eyes of the poor heedless 
 bard, till pop, " he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again." God grant this may 
 be an unreal picture with respect to me ! 
 
 It has already been mentioned that even in his angriest mood 
 against the Armour family in general, he never lost notion of bonnie 
 Jean in particular. So now, when back to his " rural shades," 
 though during the bygone winter and spring he had been smiled 
 upon by so many high-born beauties, his heart glowed afresh with 
 the old love for that simple-mannered, warm-hearted, sweet-tempered 
 country lass. Their intimacy was renewed as formerly, and, as it 
 transpired, with a like result. 
 
 Towards the end of the month, he went on a short trip to the 
 West Highlands. On his way he visited Glasgow, from whence he 
 sent to his mother aud three sisters a present of silk sufficient to 
 make dresses and cloaks for them all. At Inverary, his entertain- 
 ment not proving quite to his liking, drew from him the petulant 
 and somewhat irreverent epigram : — 
 
 Whoe'er he be that sojourns here, 
 
 I pity much his case. 
 Unless he come to wait upon 
 
 The Lord their God — his Grace. 
 There's naething here but Highland pride, 
 
 And Highland scab and hunger ; 
 If Providence has sent me here, 
 
 'Twas surely in an anger. 
 
 Before this trip was over, however, he made some amends for 
 
WEST HIGHLAND TOUR. 167 
 
 the above by penning that other more just and kindly estimate of 
 Highland hospitality : — 
 
 When death's dark stream I ferry o'er — 
 ' A time that surely shall come — 
 
 In heaven itself I'll ask no more, 
 Than just a Highland welcome. 
 
 Returned home, he wrote on 30th June a long letter to James 
 Smith, describing a few of his West Highland experiences, and 
 making: mention of a certain love affair with an Ayrshire lady, 
 whose identity has to this day remained a mystery. After telling 
 of a very merry all-night entertainment at some hospitable High- 
 land mansion, and of a day spent on Loch Lomond, the letter goes 
 on to say : — 
 
 We dined at another good fellow's house, and consequently pushed the 
 bottle; when we went out to mount our horses, we found ourselves "No vera 
 fou, but gaylie yet." My two friends and I rode soberly down the loch side, 
 till by came a Highlandman at the gallop, on a tolerably good horse, but which 
 had never known the ornaments of iron or leather. We scorned to be out- 
 galloped by a Highlandman, so off we started, whip and spur. My companions, 
 though seemingly gaily mounted, fell sadly astern; but my old mare, Jenny 
 Geddes, one of the Rosinante family, strained past the Highlandman in spite of 
 all his efforts with the hair-halter. Just I was passing him, Donald wheeled 
 his horse, as if to cross before me, to mar my progress, when down came his horse, 
 and threw his breekless rider in a dipt hedge ; and down came Jenny Geddes 
 over all, and my hardship between her and the Highlandman's horse. Jenny 
 Geddes trode over me with such cautious reverence, that matters were not so 
 bad as might well have been expected ; so I came off with a few cuts and bruises, 
 and a thorough resolution to be a pattern of sobriety for the future. 
 
 I have yet fixed on nothing with respect to the serious business of life. I 
 am, just as usual, a rhyming, mason-making, raking, aimless idle fellow. How- 
 ever, I shall somewhere have a farm soon. I was going to say a wife too ; but 
 that must never be mv blessed lot. I am but a younger son of the house of 
 
1G8 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Parnassus, and, like other younger sons of great families, I may intrigue, if I 
 clioose to run all risks, but must not marry. 
 
 I am afraid I have almost ruined one source, the principal one, indeed, of 
 my former happiness— that eternal propensity I always had to fall in love. My 
 heart no more glows Avith feverish rapture. I have no paradisiacal evening 
 interviews stolen from the restless cares and prying inhahitants of this weary 
 
 world. I have only . This last is one of your distant acquaintances, has a 
 
 fine figure and elegant manners, and, in the train of some great folks whom you 
 know, has seen the politest quarters in Europe. I do like her a good deal ; but 
 what piques me is her conduct at the commencement of our acquaintance. I 
 
 frequently visited her when I was in ; and after passing regularly the 
 
 intermediate degrees between the distant formal bow and the familiar grasp 
 round the waist, I ventured, in my careless way, to talk of friendship in rather 
 
 ambiguous terms ; and after her return to , I wrote to her in the same 
 
 style. Miss, construing my words further, I suppose, than even I intended, 
 flew off in a tangent of female dignity and reserve, like a mounting lark in an 
 April morning ; and wrote me an ansAver which measured me out very com- 
 pletely what an immense way I had to travel before I could reach the climate 
 of her favour. But I am an old hawk at the sport ; and wrote her such a cool, 
 deliberate, prudent reply, as brought my l)ird from her aerial towerings pop 
 down at my foot like Corporal Trim's liat. 
 
 During tlie month of July, which he spent at Mossgiel, he com- 
 posed his elegy on Mr, John M'Leod of Raasay, and drew up for 
 Dr. Moore the famous Autobiographical Sketch, from which we 
 have repeatedly quoted in former chapters. On the 7th of August 
 he returned to Edinburgh. There were accounts to settle with his 
 publisher, Wm. Creech ; besides, he purposed making the city his 
 starting-point on a tour to the north. Share of John Richmond's 
 room not being at this time available, he took up quarters with 
 William Nicol. A matter of a very disagreeable nature now de- 
 manded urgent attention — a matter which may go a good way to 
 explain those gloomy, self-upbraiding passages which we find in some 
 of his letters of this period. In brief, a woman, named Jenny Clow, 
 
NORTHERN TOUR. 169 
 
 then " under a cloud " on liis account, had taken out an in meditatione 
 fugse warrant against him. On 15th August he furnished the 
 necessary security, and was thus free from apprehension. Ten days 
 afterwards, he set out on his tour in the north country, in company 
 with Nicol. They travelled in a chaise, the dominie being but an 
 indifferent horseman. From the journal which Burns kept, we 
 gather that the tour comprised visits to (among other places) 
 LinHthgow, Falkirk, Stirling, Baunockburn, Devon Valley, Harvie- 
 ston Castle, Crieff, Taymouth, Dunkeld, Aberfeldy, Blair Castle, 
 Inverness, Gordon Castle, Cullen, Banff, Duff House, Aberdeen, 
 Stonehaven, Laurencekirk, Arbroath, Dundee, and Kinross ; thence, 
 via Queensferry, back to Edinburgh. The Poet's notes of this 
 extensive tour show that, though the time was short for so much 
 travelling, he contrived to see a great variety of Scotland's finest 
 inland scenery, and to personally visit, with set purpose and peculiar 
 delight, many places identified with ancient Scottish warfare and 
 romance, tradition, and song. 
 
 Before passing from this tour, more particular notice must be 
 taken of some of its outstanding incidents. 
 
 On the windows of the room which Burns occupied at Stirling 
 he inscribed these lines reflecting on the then reigning dynasty : — 
 
 Here Stuarts once in glory reigned, 
 
 And laws for Scotland's weal ordained ; 
 
 But now unroofed their palace stands, 
 
 Their sceptre's SAvayed by other hands. 
 
 The injured Stuart line is gone, 
 
 A race outlandish fills their throne — 
 
 An idiot race, to honour lost ; 
 
 Who know them best, despise them most. 
 
 To this imprudent action he was tempted on viewing the 
 neglected state of the old hall at the castle, where, in Stuart times, 
 
 VOL. HI. Y 
 
170 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 the Parliament of Scotland sometimes assembled. The rude, harsh 
 satire gave rise to considerable comment, from which the Poet 
 suffered for a time. 
 
 Standing on the field of Bannockburn, his fancy took a nobler, 
 happier flight. 
 
 Here — he wrote in his Diary — no Scot can pass uninterested. I fancy to my- 
 self that I see my gallant, heroic countrymen, coming o'er the hill and do-wn upon 
 the plunderers of their country, the murderers of their fathers ; noble revenge 
 and just hate glowing in every vein, striding more and more eagerly as they 
 approach the oppressive, insulting, bloodthirsty foe ! I see them meet in 
 gloriously- triumphant congratulation on the victorious field, exulting in their 
 lieroic royal leader, and rescued liberty and independence ! 
 
 — which glowing prose might be set as a preface w^orthy of his 
 grandest of all patriotic w^ar-songs, " Scots wha hae." 
 
 From Stirling he went on his first visit to Harvieston Castle, 
 where resided Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Chalmers (relatives of Gavin 
 Hamilton) and their lovely daughters Charlotte Hamilton ' and 
 Peggy Chalmers,^ with whom he afterwards carried on a peculiarly 
 interesting correspondence. 
 
 Of his two days' sojourn at Blair Athole, an admirable sketch by 
 Professor Walker is again available. The Professor, who was at 
 this period tutor to the ducal family, and spent most of that Satur- 
 day and Sunday in the Bard's company, says : — 
 
 On reacliing Blair, he sent me notice of his arrival (as I had been previously 
 acquainted with him), and I hastened to meet him at the inn. The Duke, to 
 whom he brought a letter of introduction, was from home ; but the Duchess, 
 being informed of his arrival, gave him an invitation to sup and sleep at Athole 
 House [Blair]. He accepted the invitation ; but as the hour of supper was at 
 some distance, begged I would, in the interval, be his guide through the 
 grounds. It was already growing dark ; yet the softened though faint and 
 
 1 See vol. i. 304. - See vol. i. 94. 
 
AT BLAIR A THOLE, 171 
 
 uncertain view of their beauties, which the moonlight afforded us, seemed 
 exactly suited to the state of his feelings at the time. I had often, like others, 
 experienced the pleasures which arise from the sublime or elegant landscape, 
 but I never saw those feelings so intense as in Burns. When we reached a 
 rustic hut on the river Tilt, where it is overhung by a woody precipice, from 
 Avhich there is a noble waterfall, he threw himself on the heathy seat, and gave 
 himself up to a tender, abstracted, and voluptuous enthusiasm of imagination. 
 I cannot help thinking it might have been here that he conceived the idea of 
 the following lines, which he afterwards introduced into his poem on Bruar 
 "Water, when only fancying such a combination of objects as were now present 
 to his eye : — 
 
 Or, by the reajDer's nightly beam. 
 
 Mild-chequering through the trees, 
 Rave to my darkly-dashing stream, 
 
 Hearse-swelling on the breeze. 
 
 It was with much difficulty I prevailed on him to quit this spot, and to T)e 
 introduced in proper time to supper. 
 
 My curiosity was great to see how he would conduct himself in company so 
 different from what he had been accustomed to. His manner was unem- 
 barrassed, plain, and firm. He appeared to have complete reliance on his own 
 native good sense for directing his behaviour. He seemed at once to perceive and 
 to appreciate what was due to the company and to himself, and never to forget 
 a proper respect for the separate species of dignity belonging to each. He did 
 not arrogate conversation, but, when led into it, he spoke with ease, propriety, 
 and manliness. He tried to exert his abilities, because he knew it was ability 
 alone gave him a title to be there. The Duke's fine young family attracted 
 much of his admiration ; he drank their healths as honest men and bonnie lasses, 
 an idea which was much applauded by the company, and with which he has 
 very felicitously closed his poem. 
 
 This visit, which Burns looked upon as one of the happiest he 
 had ever made, was cut short by Nicol's imperious desire to hurry- 
 forward. Short as it was, however, he was fortunate enough then 
 to make the acquaintance of Mr. Graham of Fintry, who afterwards 
 
172 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 proved, in connexion with Excise and other matters, a friend kind 
 and true. 
 
 At Castle Gordon, too, the Poet was received with the greatest 
 cordiality by the Duke and Duchess. His note on this point 
 says: — "The Duke makes me happier than ever great man did; 
 noble, princely, yet mild and condescending and affable, gay and 
 kind. The Duchess, charming, witty, kind, and sensible. God bless 
 them ! " 
 
 In such pleasant circumstances, Burns naturally wished to 
 prolong his stay. But here again his travelling companion marred 
 his happiness, and rudely broke up his visit. Quite inadvertently, 
 the irascible Nicol had not been invited to dine at the castle ; 
 and, though the omission was at once corrected by a pressing invita- 
 tion, his wrath was not appeased. To back up the invitation, 
 Burns himself accompanied the Duke's messenger. They found 
 Nicol in a towering passion at what he regarded as a deadly affront 
 to his pedagogic majesty. Explanation and apology availed not. 
 He had already ordered out the horses, and was stamping up and 
 down in front of the village inn, rudely chiding the grooms for 
 delaying to carry out his commands. The Poet had to choose 
 between prolonging his auspicuous visit to Castle Gordon, or at 
 once proceeding on the journey with his highly-incensed fellow- 
 traveller. He adopted the latter alternative. Driving away from 
 Fochabers, his experience of Nicol's temper would fully justify the 
 remark that travelling in such company was like " travelling with a 
 loaded blunderbuss, full cock, at one's head." 
 
 From the narrative of one who, as a boy of thirteen, accompanied 
 Burns and Nicol on a drive from Banff to Duff House, we reproduce 
 the following : — 
 
 In driving through the park, Mr. Xicol asked me whether I was aware that 
 the gentleman who was speaking to me about the park was the author of the 
 
AT D UFF HO USE. 1 73 
 
 poems I had no doubt heard of. "Yes," I replied.- "Then have you read the 
 poems'?" "Oh yes ! I was glad to do that," was my reply. "Then which of 
 them did you like best % " Kicol asked. I said, " I was much entertained with 
 the 'Twa Dogs,' and 'Death and Dr. Hornbook;' but I like best by far the 
 * Cotter's Saturday Night,' although it made me greet when my father had me 
 to read it to my mother." 
 
 Burns, with a sort of sudden start, looked in my face intently, and, patting 
 my shoulder, said, " Well, my callant, I don't wonder at your greeting at read- 
 ing the poem ; it made me greet more than once when I was writing it at my 
 father's fireside." 
 
 I recollect very well that while Mr. Nicol loitered in the library, looking at 
 the fine collection of old classics there. Burns, taking me Avith him for a guide, 
 went a second time through some of the rooms to look at the old paintings, 
 with the catalogue in liis hand, and remarked particularly those of the Stuart 
 family in the great drawing-room, on which he seemed to look with intense 
 interest, making some remarks on them to his &o?/-guide, which the man fails to 
 recollect. But the face and look of Robert Burns were such as, either boy or 
 man, I never could forget. 
 
 In the neiglibourhood of Montrose the Poet found himself among 
 his paternal relations, concerning whom he wrote to his brother 
 Gilbert in a letter which may fitly close our notes on this north- 
 country tour : — 
 
 Edinburgh, \1th Sejjtemher 1787. 
 
 I arrived here safe yesterday evening, after a tour of twenty-two days, and 
 travelling nearly six hundred miles, windings included. My farthest stretch was 
 about ten miles beyond Inverness. I went through the heart of the Highlands, 
 by Crieff, Taymouth, the famous seat of Lord Breadalbane, down the Tay, 
 among cascades and Druidical circles of stones, to Dunkeld, a seat of the Duke 
 of Athole ; thence across Tay, and up one of his tributary streams to Blair of 
 Athole, another of the Duke's seats, where I had the honour of spending nearly 
 two days with his Grace and family \ thence many miles through a wild country, 
 among cliffs grey with eternal snows and gloomy, savage glens, till I crossed 
 Spey, and went down the stream through Strathspey, so famous in Scottish 
 music, Badenoch, etc., till I reached Grant Castle, where I spent half a day 
 with Sir James Grant and family ; and then crossed the country for Fort- 
 
174 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 George, but called by the way at Cawdor, the ancient seat of Macbeth ; there I 
 saw the identical bed in which tradition says King Duncan was murdered ; 
 lastly, from Fort-George to Inverness. 
 
 I returned by the coast, through Nairn, Forres, and so on, to Aberdeen, 
 thence to Stonehive [Stonehaven], where James Burnes, from Montrose, met 
 me by appointment. I spent two days among our relations, and found our 
 aunts, Jean and Isabel, still alive, and hale old women. John Caird, though 
 born the same year with our father, walks as vigorously as I can. They have 
 had several letters from his son in !N^ew York. William Brand is likewise a 
 stout old fellow. But further particulars I delay till I see you, which will be in 
 two or three weeks. The rest of my stages are not worth rehearsing : warm as 
 I was from Ossian's country, where I had seen his very grave, what cared I for 
 fishing-towns or fertile carses ? I slept at the famous Brodie of Brodie's one 
 night, and dined at Gordon Castle next day with the Duke, Duchess, and famil3^ 
 I am thinking to cause my old mare to meet me, by means of John Eonald, at 
 Glasgow ; but you shall hear further from me before I leave Edinburgh. My 
 duty and many compliments from the north to my mother ; and my brotherly 
 compliments to the rest. I have been trying for a berth for "William,^ but am 
 not likely to be successful. Farewell. 
 
 After speuding a few weeks in Edinburgh, Burns made his final 
 excursion in October. His companion on this occasion was a young 
 doctor, James ^M'Kittrick Adair,^ who had requested the Poet to 
 introduce him to the family group at Harvieston, and who, it may 
 be remarked, made such effective use of his introduction that in a 
 short time Charlotte Hamilton consented to become Mrs. Adair. 
 On the way to Harvieston, Stirling was revisited, when Burns 
 summarily smashed the pane on which he had scrawled the revolu- 
 tionary lines already referred to. Eight or ten days were joyously 
 spent at Harvieston Castle, amid the splendid scenery of the wind- 
 ing vale of Devon ; Bumbling Brig, Cauldron Linn, and weird old 
 gloomy Castle Campbell being notable among the places visited. 
 
 ' William Burns, the Poet's younger brother, a saddler to trade. 
 * See vol. i. p. 1. 
 
DEVON VALLEY TOUR. 175 
 
 But above and beyond all else that charmed the Poet in and around 
 Harvieston was the fascination of his sweet, kindly, accomplished 
 friend and correspondent, Peggy Chalmers. 
 
 Going on from Harvieston, he was warmly welcomed and enter- 
 tained by Mr. Ramsay of Auchertyre, on the Teith, and by Sir 
 William Murray of Auchertyre, in Strathearn. In a communication 
 to Dr. Currie, the first-named gentleman gave his impressions of 
 Burns as he saw and conversed with him at Auchertyre : — 
 
 I have been in the company of many men of genius, some of them poets, 
 but never witnessed such flashes of intellectual brightness as from him— the 
 impulse of the moment, sparks of celestial fire ! I never was more delighted, 
 therefore, than with his company for two days, tete-a-tete. ... I not only pro- 
 posed to him the writing of a play similar to the "Gentle Shepherd," qualem 
 decet esse sororem, but Scottish Georgics, a subject which Thomson has by 
 no means exhausted in his "Seasons." What beautiful landscapes of rural 
 life and manners might not have been expected from a pencil so faithful and 
 forcible as his, which could have exhibited scenes as familiar and interesting as 
 those in the "Gentle Shepherd," which every one who knows our swains in 
 their unadulterated state instantly recognises as true to nature ! But to have 
 executed either of these plans, steadiness and abstraction from company were 
 wanting, not talents. When I asked him whether the Edinburgh literati had 
 mended his poems by their criticisms, "Sir," said he, "these gentlemen remin.l 
 me of some spinsters in my country who spin their thread so fine that it is 
 neither fit for weft nor woof." 
 
 A o-rotesquely interesting incident occurred at Clackmannan 
 Tower, then tenanted by a Mrs. Bruce, who claimed royal descent 
 from Robert the Bruce. Wielding the sword of her great ancestor 
 (so she maintained), this Jacobite dame of ninety years conferred 
 on the Poet and Adair the honour of Scottish knighthood, remarking 
 that she had a better right to do so than some people. Her after- 
 dinner toast, "Hooi Uncos'' {away with the strangers), greatly 
 interested Burns, who, essaying to respectfully kiss the hand of this 
 
176 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 eccentric and worthy old lady at parting, was met by the question 
 " What ails thee at my lips, Robin ? " 
 
 In the old churchyard at Dunfermline the travellers reverently 
 viewed the grave of the Bruce ; and in the Abbey Church they 
 irreverently made a mock of a well-known, and, in its time, salutary 
 form of Church discipline. Adair mounted the cutty stool, assuming 
 the character of a penitent for fornication ; while Burns from the 
 pulpit addressed to him a ludicrous reproof and exhortation, by 
 way of a parody on what the Poet had undergone in the kirk at 
 Mauchline. 
 
 Returning to Edinburgh on 20th October, he took up his abode 
 with William Cruikshank, who was, like Nicol, a teacher in the 
 High School. 
 
 The desirability of settling down as farmer seems to have been 
 occupying the Poet's mind at this time ; for on the very day of his 
 return to Edinburgh he wrote on this suJ^ject to Mr. Miller of 
 Dalswinton : — 
 
 X want — the letter goes on to say — to be a fanner in a small farm, about 
 a plough-gang, in a pleasant country, under the auspices of a good landlord. I 
 have no foolish notion of being a tenant under easier terms than another. To 
 find a farm where one can live at all, is not easy — I only mean living soberly, 
 like an old-style farmer, and joining personal industry. The banks of the Nith 
 are as sweet poetic ground as any I ever saw ; and besides, sir, it is but justice 
 to the feelings of my own heart and the opinion of my best friends, to say that 
 I would wish to call you landlord sooner than any landed gentleman I know. 
 
 But, though he viewed and reviewed the Dalswinton lands, and 
 thought and wrote a good deal during this winter about taking one 
 of Mr. Miller's farms, not till March of the ensuing year did he 
 finally make up his mind and close the bargain for Ellisland. 
 
 During his first winter in the capital, he had made the acquaint- 
 ance of James Johnson, engraver, who was then editing the Scots 
 
SONG ENTHUSIASM. 177 
 
 Musical Museum, a collection of songs, old and new, with appropri- 
 ate melodies set for instrumental accompaniment. To this work 
 our Poet heartily lent his unrivalled services. To him such a task 
 was naturally a most congenial one. With what loving eagerness 
 he entered into co-operation with Johnson is seen, e.g., in his 
 correspondence with the venerable Eev. John Skinner, author of 
 " Tullochgorum," " The Ewie wi' the Crookit Horn," and other 
 popular songs. We give Burns's letter to Mr. Skinner, of date 
 25th October, 1787 :— 
 
 Reverend and Venerable Sir, — Accept in plain, dull prose my most 
 sincere thanks for the best poetical compliment I ever received. I assure you, 
 sir, as a poet, you have conjured up an airy demon of vanity in my fancy, which 
 the best abilities in your other capacity would be ill able to lay. I regret, and 
 while I live I shall regret, that when I was in the north I had not the pleasure 
 of paying a younger brother's dutiful respect to the author of the best Scotch 
 song ever Scotland saw — " TuUochgorum's my delight ! " The world may think 
 slightingly of the craft of song-making if they please ; but, as Job says, " Oh 
 that mine adversary had written a book ! " Let them try. There is a certain 
 something in the old Scotch songs, a wild happiness of thought and expression, 
 which peculiarly marks them, not only from English songs, but also from the 
 modern effects of song-wrights in our native manner and language. The only 
 remains of this enchantment, these spells of the imagination, rest with you. 
 Our true brother, Ross of Lochlee, was likewise "owre cannie " — "a wild war- 
 lock" — but now he sings among the " sons of the morning." 
 
 I have often wished, and will certainly endeavour, to form a kind of common 
 acquaintance among all the genuine sons of Caledonian song. The world, busy 
 in low, prosaic pursuits, may overlook most of us ; but " reverence thyself." 
 The world is not our^ee?'S, so we challenge the jury, "We can lash that world, 
 and find ourselves a very great source of amusement and happiness independent 
 of that world. 
 
 There is a work going on in Edinburgh just now which claims your best 
 
 assistance. An engraver in this town has set about collecting and publishing 
 
 all the Scotch songs, with the music, that can be foimd. Songs in the English 
 
 language, if by Scotchmen, are admitted, but the music must all be Scotch. 
 
 VOL. HI. Z 
 
178 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Drs. Beattie and Blacklock are lending a hand, and the first musician in town 
 presides over that department. I have been absolutely crazed about it, collect- 
 ing old stanzas, and every information remaining respecting their origin, authors, 
 etc., etc. This last is but a very fragment business ; but at the end of his 
 second number — the first is already published — a small account will be given of 
 the authors, particularly to preserve those of latter times. Your three songs, 
 " Tullochgorum," "John of Badenyon," and "Ewie wi' the Crookit Horn," go 
 in this second number. I was determined, before I got your letter, to write you, 
 begging that you would let me know where the editions of these pieces may be 
 found, as you would wish them to continue in future times ; and if you would 
 be so kind to this undertaking as send any songs, of your own or others, that 
 you would think proper to publish, your name will be inserted among the other 
 authors — " jS^ill ye, will ye." One-half of Scotland alreadj' give your songs to 
 other authors. Paj^er is done. I beg to hear from you ; the sooner the better, 
 as I leave Edinburgh in a fortnight or three weeks. I am, with the warmest 
 sincerity, sir, your obliged humble servant. 
 
 In this connection. Chambers most appropriately and justly 
 observes : — 
 
 The zeal of Burns for the collection, illustration, and extension of the body 
 of Scottish song was at this season a cons2:)icuous feelmg in his bosom. He 
 entered into the views of Johnson with an industry and earnestness which 
 despised all money considerations, and which money could not have purchased. 
 The character of our Bard is seen strongly here. He adored his native muse, 
 and held the codex of her effusions as a sacred volume. He was also wholly 
 above the idea of mercenary verse. Numbers he gave forth because "the 
 numbers came." Though he had published a volume of these, and consented 
 to realize a profit by it, he had no idea of composing either poems or songs with 
 a view to a pecuniary recompense for them. Above all, he was incapable of 
 writing a song directly for money. There may have been something of over- 
 fastidiousness in this feeling of Burns ; and yet it was, on the whole, in high 
 consonance with the poetical character which he bore. 
 
 As in the preceding chapter, so in this — the actual poetic results 
 must again be described as meagre. Still, in these hurried tours 
 
NEW PIECES. 179 
 
 the Poet sought and found rich springs of inspiration for that grand 
 song-making enthusiasm which was destined to henceforth almost 
 entirely engross his muse, and under which he gave to mankind the 
 many priceless fruits of his peerless lyric genius. Among the dozen 
 or so of pieces produced during this period of hard, fatiguing travel, 
 hasty sight-seeing, and widely varied, unsettling experiences, these 
 may be specially noted : — " Lines at Kenmore," " Bruar Water," 
 " Macpherson's Farewell," " The Banks of Devon," and, best of all, 
 that lovely, lightsome lyric, " The Birks o' Aberfeldy." 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 MORE EDINBURGH LIFE. CLARINDA. EXCISE APPOINTMENT. 
 MARRIAGE. OCTOBER 1787-JUNE 17S8. AGE 28-29. 
 
 Had we never loved so kindly, 
 
 Had we never loved so blindly, 
 Never met or never parted. 
 
 We had ne'er been broken-bearted. 
 
 Burns to Clarinda. 
 
 Without claiming for 'Burns the praise of perfect sagacity, we must say 
 that his Excise and farm scheme does not seem to us a very unreasonable one ; 
 that we should be at a loss, even now, to suggest one decidedly better. ... It 
 reflects credit on the manliness and sound sense of Burns, that he felt so early 
 on what ground he was standing, and preferred self-help, on the humblest scale, 
 to dependence and inaction, though with hope of far more splendid possibilities. 
 
 Carlyle. 
 
 Had Burns deserted her (Jean Armour), he had merely been a heartless 
 villain. In making her his lawful wedded wife, he did no more than any other 
 man, deserving the name of man, would have done, and had he not, he would 
 have walked in shame before men, and in fear and trembling before God. 
 
 Professor Wilson. 
 
 AVhat is known as the Poet's Second Winter in Edinburgh began 
 on his return, October 20, from the Devon Valley excursion. He 
 found a pleasant lodgment at the house of William Cruikshank, in 
 St. James's Square. Cruikshank was a genial, cultured man, for 
 whom Burns cherished a deep regard. That is an attractive scene 
 in which we see the Poet seated beside his landlord's lovely young 
 
EDINBURGH AGAIN. 181 
 
 daughter, — the Rosebud, — listening with keenest enjoyment to her 
 masterly playing of the old Scotch airs he loved so well/ 
 
 After his return from that summer's touring, his absorbing 
 devotion to the cause of Scottish minstrelsy becomes more and more 
 clearly marked. During these winter months, what time remained 
 after meeting his varied social engagements was chiefly spent in this, 
 to him, most congenial pursuit — collecting old songs and melodies, 
 improving and supplementing what he found rude or fragmentary, 
 and enriching with his own finished contributions our unsurpassed 
 heritage of national song. 
 
 Robert Ainslie, the Poet's travelling companion in his Border 
 tour, w\as still his intimate friend and associate. In connection with 
 this intimacy, Chambers recounts, on Ainslie's authority, an incident 
 most creditable to the Poet : — 
 
 Mr. Ainslie at this time had a lodging on the north side of the same 
 square, so that the two friends were very ready to each other's call. ... On 
 Burns calling for him one afternoon, Ainslie proposed that they should spend 
 the afternoon over a bottle ; but Burns said, " No, my friend— we'll have no 
 wine to-day — to sit dozing in the house on such a fine afternoon as this would 
 be insufferable. Besides, you know that you and I don't require wine to 
 sharpen our wit, nor its adventitious aid to make us happy. No ; we'll take a 
 ramble over Arthur's Seat, to admire the beauties of nature, and come in to a 
 late tea." The two friends adopted this plan ; and Mr. Ainslie used to declare 
 that he had never known the Poet's conversation so amusing, so instructive, and 
 altogether delightful, as during the cheerful stroll they had over the hill, and 
 during the sober tea-drinking which followed. 
 
 During this period, too, Burns seems to have derived great 
 pleasure from his acquaintance with the Harvieston family — an 
 acquaintance which he cultivated by a series of letters to Miss 
 Chalmers,^ noteworthy among all his epistolary eff'usions for their 
 
 1 The Cruikshanks : see vol. i. p. 143. page 61 of liis Kilmarnock edition :— [" It does 
 
 '^ Mr. Scott Douglas gives the following at not appear from Burns's letters that he ever 
 
182 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 fine style, sense, and feeling. Though it is not clear whether he ever 
 admired this lady as an actual lover, it is abundantly clear, from 
 various letters and poems, that he held her in the very highest 
 esteem as a friend and confidant. To her he more freely and 
 simply unbosomed himself than to any other of his correspondents, 
 save, perhaps, Mrs, Dunlop. 
 
 Meantime, the season wore on into mid- winter, yet the avowed 
 object of his second sojourn in Edinburgh — settlement with Creech 
 the publisher — was still vexatiously delayed. Chafing under this 
 delay, and, doubtless, at the altered manner of his reception by the 
 society of the city, — an alteration for which, however, he himself 
 was not entirely irresponsible,— he became more and more moody in 
 spirit and unsettled in purpose. Turning serious thoughts towards 
 the future, he at length resolved to bid farewell to Edinburgh early 
 in December, But the carrying out of this resolve was frustrated 
 through his sustaining a severe injury in the leg, occasioned by his 
 being thrown from a coach driven by a drunken coachman. At 
 this point the famous " Clarinda episode " in his career emerges ; 
 an account of which is given in the preceding volume of this work,^ 
 Careful and candid study of this remarkable incident points to the 
 conclusion that, though the position which Burns and Clarinda took 
 up tow^ards each other w^as, to say the least, an equivocal and 
 dangerous one, it passed off" free from actual moral stain, Clarinda's 
 letters, being much pervaded by an unquestional)ly earnest religious 
 tone, drew from Burns sundry statements of his ideas on religion. 
 We reproduce one passage in particular : — 
 
 I am delighted, charming Clarinda, with your honest enthusiasm for 
 religion. Those of either sex, but particularly the female, who are lukewarm in 
 
 formally proposed marriage to Miss Margaret actually made a serious proposal to her." — Note 
 
 Chalmers, afterwards Mrs. Lewis Hay ; yet the of Dr. Carrathers to the Editor.] 
 
 late Thomas Campbell, the poet, told me that ' See vol. ii. p. 46 : Agnes M'Lehose. 
 
 the lady herself informed him that Burus 
 
CLARIXDA. 183 
 
 that most important of all things, " my soul, come not thou into their 
 secrets ! " I feel myself deeply interested in your good opinion, and Mall lay 
 before you the outlines of my belief. He who is our Author and Preserver, and 
 will one day be our Judge, must be (not for His sake in the way of duty, but 
 but from the native impulse of our hearts) the object of our reverential awe and 
 grateful adoration : He is Almighty and all-bounteous, we are weak and de- 
 pendent ; hence prayer and every other sort of devotion. — " He is not willing 
 that any should perish, but that all should come to everlasting life ; " conse- 
 quently it must be in every one's power to embrace His offer of " everlasting 
 life ; " otherwise He could not, in justice, condemn those who did not. A mind 
 pervaded, actuated, and governed by purity, truth, and charity, though it does 
 not merit heaven, yet is an absolutely necessary pre-requisite, without which 
 heaven can neither be obtained nor enjoyed ; and, by divine promise, such a 
 mind shall never fail of attaining " everlasting life : " hence the impure, the 
 deceiving, and the uncharitable, extrude themselves from eternal bliss, by their 
 unfitness for enjoying it. The Supreme Being has put the immediate adminis- 
 tration of all this, for wise and good ends known to Himself, into the hands of 
 Jesus Christ — a great personage, whose relation to Him we cannot comprehend, 
 but whose relation to us is a Guide and Saviour ; and who, except for our OAvn 
 obstinacy and misconduct, will bring us all, through various Avays, and by 
 various means, to bliss at last. 
 
 These are my tenets, my lovely friend ; and which, I think, cannot be well 
 disputed. My creed is pretty nearly expressed in the last clause of Jamie 
 Dean's grace, an honest weaver in Ayrshire : " Lord, grant that we may lead a 
 gude life ! for a gude life mak's a gude end ; at least it helps weel ! " 
 
 Side by side with his many rapturous outpourings to Clarinda, 
 we find letters containing perhaps the most terrible expressions of 
 unrest and self-upbraiding which even he ever penned. On the 
 1 2th December he wrote to Miss Chalmers : — 
 
 I am here under the care of a surgeon, with a bruised limb extended on a 
 cushion ; and the tints of my mind vying with the livid horror preceding a mid- 
 night thunderstorm. A drunken coachman was the cause of the first, and 
 incomparably the lightest evil ; misfortune, bodily constitution, hell, and myself, 
 have formed a " quadruple alliance " to guarantee the other. 
 
184 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Again, a little later, to tlie same lady : — 
 
 Now for that wayward, -unfortunate thing, myself. I have broke measures 
 ■with Creech, and last week I wrote him a frosty, keen letter. He replied in 
 terms of chastisement, and promised me upon his honour that I should have the 
 account on Monday ; but this is Tuesday, and yet I have not heard a word from 
 him. God have mercy on me ! a poor damned, incautious, duped, unfortunate 
 fool ! The sport, the miserable victim of rebellious pride, hypochondriac 
 imagination, agonising sensibility, and bedlam passions ! 
 
 "I wish that I were dead, but I'm no' like to die !" I had lately "a hair- 
 breadth 'sca^^e in th' imminent deadly breach " of love too. Thank my stars, I 
 got off heart-whole, " waur fleyed than hurt." 
 
 I have this moment got a hint. I fear I am somethmg like — undone — but I 
 hope for the best. Come, stubborn pride and unshrinking resolution, accom- 
 pany me through this, to me, miserable world ! You must not desert me. 
 Your friendship I think I can count on, though I should date my letters from a 
 marching regiment. Early in life, and all my life, I reckoned on a recruiting 
 drum as my forlorn hope. Seriously, though, life presents me with but a 
 melancholy path ; but — my limb will soon be sound, and I shall struggle on. 
 
 And on the 21st January to Mrs. Dunlop : — 
 
 After six weeks' confinement, I am beginning to walk across the room. 
 They have been six horrible weeks ; anguish and low spirits made me unfit to 
 read, write, or think. 
 
 I have a hundred times wished that one could resign life as an officer resigns 
 a commission ; for I would not take in any poor ignorant wretch by selling out. 
 Lately I was a sixpenny private, and, God knows, a miserable soldier enough ; 
 now I march to the campaign, a starving cadet — a little more conspicuously 
 wretched. 
 
 I am ashamed of all this ; for though I do want bravery for the warfare of 
 life, I could wish, like some other soldiers, to have as much fortitude or cunning 
 as to dissemble or conceal my cowardice. 
 
 A comparison of these passages with the contemporaneous 
 Clarinda correspondence once more shows, in a strong light, what 
 
JEAN ARMOUR. 185 
 
 tumultuous and incongruous elements combined to make up the 
 great, impassioned, erratic nature of the immortal Bard — " so miser- 
 ably open," as he himself has put it, " to the incursions of a mis- 
 chievous, light-armed, well-mounted banditti, under the banners of 
 imagination, whim, caprice, and passion." 
 
 In the enforced and painful seclusion caused by his accident, 
 turning his thoughts to the serious business of life, rightly estimating 
 his want of steady aim and application in temporal affairs, and seeing 
 no bright, assured, or settled prospect, he arrived at the bitter con- 
 clusion — and we ought to honour him for his honest admission of it 
 — that, however much or little others might be to blame in their 
 treatment of him, he, through many passionate follies, had been his 
 own worst enemy. At the very period of which we are speaking, he 
 must have been aware of the fresh trouble in which his previous 
 summer's renewed intimacy with Jean Armour had involved him. 
 At any rate, early in 1788, he received definite news from Mauchline 
 on this score — news which could not fail to bring him feelings of 
 keenest sorrow and shame ; for he now learnt that Jean was a 
 disgraced and hapless outcast from her home, on his account again. 
 Though Burns's clamorous passions might and did lead him into 
 many a scrape, it was not in his nature, we believe, to be wittingly 
 heartless. Accordingly, we find him making haste to shield his too- 
 confiding Jean, by securing for her a temporary refuge at the house 
 of his friend AVilliam Muir, of Tarbolton (Willie's) Mill. This press- 
 ing claim upon his responsibility having been thus far attended to, 
 his intimacy and correspondence with Clarinda went on as before, 
 apparently under the belief that, after the burning of the marriage 
 lines and his disownment by the Armours, Jean had no legal claim 
 upon him as her husband. 
 
 The idea of obtaining a situation in the Excise had, as we have 
 seen, been before Burns's mind for years. To this matter of so great 
 
 VOL. III. 2 A 
 
186 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 importance in his after-life he now definitely addressed himself by- 
 sending an application to the Commissioners, which application he 
 supported by privately writing to Mr, Graham of Fintry, and to 
 Lord Glencairn. From these letters we get the most reliable idea 
 of the Poet's motives and views at this juncture. 
 To Mr. Graham he wrote — 
 
 Sir, — "When I had the honour of being introduced to you at Athole House, 
 I did not think so soon of asking a favour of you. When Lear, in Shakespeare, 
 asked old Kent why he wished to be in his service, he answers : " Because you 
 have that in your face which I would fain call master." For some such reason, 
 sir, do I now solicit your patronage. You know, I daresay, of an application I 
 lately made to your Board to be admitted an officer of Excise. I have, according 
 to form, been examined by a supervisor, and to-day I gave in his certificate, 
 with a request for an order for instructions. In this affair, if I succeed, I am 
 afraid I shall but too much need a patronizing friend. Propriety of conduct as 
 a man, and fidelity and attention as an officer, I dare engage for ; but with any- 
 thing like business, except manual labour, I am totally unacquainted. 
 
 I had intended to have closed my late appearance on the stage of life in the 
 character of a country farmer ; but after discharging some filial and fraternal 
 claims, I find I could only fight for existence in that miserable manner which 
 I have lived to see throw a venerable parent into the jaws of a jail ; whence 
 death, the poor man's last and often best friend, rescued him. 
 
 I know, sir, that to need your goodness is to have a claim on it ; may I, there- 
 fore, beg your patronage to forward me in this affair, till I be appointed to a 
 division — where, by the help of rigid economy, I will try to support that in- 
 dependence so dear to my soul, but which has been too often so distant from 
 my situation. 
 
 And to Lord Glencairn : — 
 
 My Lord, — I know your lordship will disaj^prove of my ideas in a request 
 I am going to make to you ; but I have weighed, long and seriously weighed, 
 my situation, my hopes, and turn of mind, and am fully fixed to my scheme, if 
 I can possibly effectuate it. I wish to get into the Excise : I am told that your 
 lordship's interest will easily procure me the grant from the Commissioners ; and 
 
THE EXCISE. 187 
 
 3'^our lordship's patronage and goodness, which have ah'eady rescued me from 
 obscurity, wretchedness, and exile, embolden me to ask that interest. You 
 have likewise put it in my power to save the little tie of home that sheltered an 
 aged mother, two brothers, and three sisters, from destruction. There, my 
 lord, you have bound me over to the highest gratitude. 
 
 My brother's farm is but a wretched lease, but I think he will probably 
 weather out the remaining seven years of it ; and after the assistance which I 
 have given, and will give him, to keep the family together, I think, by my guess, 
 I shall have rather better than two hundred pounds ; and instead of seeking, 
 what is almost impossible at present to find, a farm that I can certainly live by, 
 with so small a stock, I shall lodge this sum in a banking-house, a sacred 
 deposit, excepting only the calls of uncommon distress or necessitous old age. 
 
 These, my lord, are my views : I have resolved from the maturest delibera- 
 tion ; and, now I am fLxed, I shall leave no stone unturned to carry my resolve 
 into execution. Your lordship's patronage is the strength of my hopes ; nor 
 have I yet applied to anybody else. Indeed, my heart sinks within me at the 
 idea of applying to any other of the great who have honoured me with their 
 countenance. I am ill qualified to dog the heels of greatness with the imper- 
 tinence of solicitation, and tremble nearly as much at the thought of the cold 
 promise as the cold denial ; but to your lordship I have not only the honour, 
 the comfort, but the pleasure of being your lordship's much obliged and deeply 
 indebted humble servant. 
 
 The speedy granting of his application was due, in great measure, 
 to the warm interest taken in his behalf by his medical attendant. 
 Dr. Alexander Wood. That genial and popular citizen personally 
 brought the Poet's case before the notice of the chairman, Mr. 
 Graham, with the result that the name of Robert Burns was entered 
 for an appointment in due course. 
 
 A great deal has been said, in a kindly-meant but deprecating 
 spirit, regarding this turn in the Poet's career. In remarking upon 
 it, not a few seem to have assumed that there was something very 
 degrading in the office of exciseman — an office honourable in itself 
 and necessary to the trade and finance of the country. But apart 
 
188 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 from this unwarrantable assumption, it lias often been asked, " Could 
 something; better than this not have been done for such an one as 
 Burns ? " To which it may be readily answered, Yes ! But here 
 again it may in all fairness and tenderness be asked, " Might not 
 Burns have acted otherwise than he did for his own interest ? " 
 which further question must also be answered in the affirmative. 
 Moreover, however lacking in steadiness and force of will Burns 
 might be, he did not lack in searching perception of his own erratic 
 conduct, or in clear estimate of his temporal circumstances and 
 prospects. So, on this much-debated and delicate subject, it is 
 better to refrain from strongly judging either the marvellously 
 constituted Bard or his influential contemporaries ; and to pass on, 
 paying due heed to Burns's own statements on the point, as seen in 
 the letters above quoted and in others, e.g. that to Miss Chalmers, 
 in which he says : — 
 
 You will condemn me for the next step I have taken : I have entered into 
 the Excise, I stay in the Avest about three weeks, and then return to Edin- 
 burgh for six weeks' instructions ; afterwards, for I get employ instantly, I go 
 ou il plait a Dieu — et mon roi. I have chosen this, my dear friend, after mature 
 deliberation. The cjuestion is not at what door of fortune's palace shall we 
 enter in, but what doors does she open to us ? I was not likely to get anything 
 to do. I wanted un hut, which is a dangerous, an unhappy situation. I got 
 this without any hanging on, or mortifying solicitation : it is immediate bread ; 
 and though poor in comparison of the last eighteen months of my existence, 'tis 
 luxury in comparison of all my preceding life : besides, the Commissioners are 
 some of them my acquaintances, and all of them my firm friends. 
 
 On the 18th February, 1788, Burns left Edinburgh for Ayrshire. 
 Travelling by Glasgow, he there met his Irvine friend, Eichard 
 Brown ; thence by Paisley to Dunlop House, where he spent a day 
 or two ; thence home to Mossgiel. From Mossgiel, he once more 
 
AT MAUCHLINE. 189 
 
 went to inspect Ellisland, for which farm, if any, he now made up 
 his mind to negotiate with Mr, Miller. 
 
 In a letter to Robert Ainslie, written about this time at 
 Mauchline, he reveals what perplexities and complications he found 
 himself involved in between farming and Excise, Jean Armour and 
 Clarinda : — 
 
 I am just returned from Mr. Miller's farm. ISfy old friend whom I took 
 with me was highly pleased with the bargain, and advised me to accept of it. 
 He is the most intelligent, sensible farmer in the county, and his advice has 
 staggered me a good deal. I have the two plans before me : I shall endeavour 
 to balance them to the best of my judgment, and fix on the most eligible. On 
 the whole, if I find Mr. Miller in the same favourable disposition as when I 
 saw him last, I shall in all probability turn farmer. 
 
 I have been through sore tribulation, and under much buffeting of the 
 Wicked One, since I came to this country. Jean I found banished like a 
 martyr — forlorn, destitute, and friendless. I have reconciled her to her mother. 
 I have taken her a room ; I have taken her to my arms ; I have given her a 
 mahogany bed ; I have given her a guinea. But (as I always am on every 
 ocaasion) I have been prudent and cautious to an astonishing degree. I swore 
 her solemnly and privately never to attempt any claim on me as a husband — 
 even though anybody should persuade her she had such a claim, which she had 
 not — neither during my life, nor after my death. She did all this like a good 
 girl. . . . 
 
 I shall be in Edinburgh the middle of next week. My farming ideas I shall 
 keep private till I see. I got a letter from Clarinda yesterday, and she tells me 
 she has got no letter of mine but one. Tell her that I wrote to her from Glas- 
 gow, from Kilmarnock, from Mauchline, and yesterday from Cumnock, as I 
 returned from Dumfries. Indeed, she is the only person in Edinburgh I have 
 written to. 
 
 On the 10th March he returned to Edinburgh. Soon after his 
 arrival, he concluded the bargain for Ellisland, and at last obtained 
 a provisional settlement with Mr. William Creech, who, though he 
 had been very dilatory, seems to have been very faithful in bis 
 
190 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 management of tlie Edinburgh edition. So far as can be gathered 
 from various conflicting statements, the Poet had something near 
 £400 to the good after payment of his publishing, travelling, and 
 lodging expenses. 
 
 Leaving Edinburgh on the 24th March, he went to Dumfries to 
 attend to urgent matters connected with his farming project. On 
 his return home, he at once advanced about £200 to aid his brother 
 Gilbert in the struggle to make ends meet at Mossgiel. Regarding 
 this transaction he afterwards wrote to Dr. Moore : — 
 
 I give myself no airs on this, for it was mere selfishness on my part. I 
 was conscious that the wrong scale of the balance was pretty heavily charged, 
 and I thought that the ' throwing a little filial piety and fraternal affec- 
 tion into the scale in my favour might help to smooth matters at the grand 
 reckoning. 
 
 The oflicial order for his instructions in the practical duties of 
 an exciseman having been issued on the 31st March, anxious to have 
 this preliminary training over before Whitsunday, Burns set to work 
 immediately, under Mr. James Findlay, ofiicer at Tarbolton. Mean- 
 time, Jean Armour had been (about the middle of March) again 
 delivered of twins — daughters — both of whom died a day or two 
 after birth. Jean, however, was left the unfortunate object of her 
 father's wrath and of the scandal of the country-side ; but also, we 
 rejoice to think, the object of the Poet's love and care. For some 
 time in April he took a humble room in Mauchline for Jean and 
 himself, and publicly acknowledged her as his wife. 
 
 In the following August this irregular marriage was regularly 
 confirmed in accordance with the annexed minute of Mauchline Kirk- 
 Session — 
 
 Compeared Robert Burns with Jean Armour, his alleged spouse. They 
 both acknowledged their irregular marriage, and their sorrow for that irregu- 
 larity, desiring that the session will take such steps as may seem to them 
 
MARRIAGE. 191 
 
 proper in order to the solemn confirmation of said marriage. The session, 
 
 taking this affair under their consideration, agree that they both be rebuked for 
 
 this acknowledged irregularity, and that they be taken solemnly engaged to 
 
 adhere faithfully to one another as husband and wife all the days of their life. 
 
 And in regard the session had a title in law to some fine for behoof of the poor, 
 
 they agree to refer to Mr. Burns his own generosity. The above sentence was 
 
 accordingly executed, and the session absolved the said parties from any scandal 
 
 on this account. 
 
 (Signed) William Auld, Moderator. 
 
 ( „ ) Robert Burns. 
 
 ( „ ) JexVN Armour. ^ 
 
 Mr. Burns gave a guinea note for behoof of the poor. 
 
 Thus were the various ups and downs in the Poet's relations 
 with Jean Armour at length consummated by regular marriage. It 
 is a consummation devoutly rejoiced in by all who cherish a whole- 
 some regard for the name and fame of Burns. Calling to mind of 
 what disposition he was, the manner of his birth and upbringing, 
 the humble social sphere which appeared to await him, and the 
 dilemma in which he found himself, we are compelled to think that 
 this alliance not only lay in the path of moral duty and manly 
 honour, but was also in the whole circumstances most expedient. 
 
 Whatever Jean Armour's frailties may have been, Burns must be 
 regarded as a largely responsible partner in her faults. From all 
 that had happened between them, none had so great a claim upon 
 him as Jean, whom he passionately loved, we believe, in spite of all 
 he had experienced. And, after all, what kind of wife would some 
 high-bred lady have been to him ? And, what kind of husband 
 would he have made to such as Miss Chalmers, Miss Hamilton, or 
 even Clarinda ? The answer must indeed be a doubtful one. It is 
 very far from certain that his marriage with a person of high rank, 
 culture, and sensibility would have proved so satisfactory as that 
 
 ^ The signature "Jean Armour " is unmistakably in Burns's handwriting. 
 
192 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 with his industrious, homely, long-suffering, devoted Jean turned 
 out in the main to be. The Poet's own expressed reflections on this 
 subject are of commanding interest. To Miss Chalmers he wrote : — 
 
 I have married my Jean. I had a long and much-loved fellow-creature's 
 happiness or misery in my determination, and I durst not trifle with so import- 
 ant a deposit ; nor have I any cause to repent it. If I have not got polite 
 tittle-tattle, modish manners, and fashionable dress, I am not sickened and dis- 
 quieted with the multiform curse of boarding-school affectation ; and I have 
 got the handsomest figure, the sweetest temper, the soundest constitution, and 
 the kindest heart in the country. 
 
 To Mrs. Dunlop he wrote :— 
 
 Your surmise, madam, is just; I am indeed a husband. ... To jealousy 
 or infidelity I am an equal stranger. My preservative from the first is the most 
 thorough consciousness of her sentiments of honour, and her attachment to me ; 
 my antidote against the last is my long and deep-rooted affection for her. 
 
 In housewife matters, of aptness to learn and activity to execute, she is 
 eminently mistress ; and during my absence in Nithsdale, she is regularly and 
 constantly apprentice to my mother and sisters in their dairy and other rural 
 business. 
 
 The Muses must not be offended when I tell them the concerns of my wife 
 and family will, in my mind, always take the -pas ; but I assure them their 
 ladyships will ever come next in place. 
 
 You are right that a bachelor statewould have insured me more friends ; but, 
 from a cause you will easily guess, conscious peace in the enjoyment of my own 
 mind, and unmistrusting confidence in approaching my God, would seldom have 
 been of the number. 
 
 I found a once much-loved and still much-loved female literally and truly 
 cast out to the mercy of the naked elements \ but I enabled her to purchase a 
 shelter — there is no sporting with a fellow-creature's happiness or misery. 
 
 The most placid good-nature and sweetness of disposition ; a warm heart, 
 gratefully devoted with all its powers to love me ; vigorous health and sprightly 
 cheerfulness, set off to the best advantage by a more than commonly handsome 
 figure ; these, I think, in a woman, may make a good wife, though she should 
 
JOHNSON'S ''MUSICAL MUSEUMr 193 
 
 never have read a page but the Scriptures of the Old and Xew Testament, nor 
 have danced in a brighter assembly than a penny pay wedding. 
 
 Part of an entry made in his Common-place Book, on the 1 5th June 
 at Ellisland, runs in the same strain on the subject of his marriage : — 
 
 \Yedlock— the circumstance that buckles me hardest to care, if virtue and 
 religion were to be anything with me but names — was what in a few seasons I 
 must have resolved on ; in my present situation it was absolutely necessary. 
 Humanity, generosity, honest pride of character, justice to my own happiness 
 for after-life, so far as it could depend (which it surely will a great deal) on 
 internal peace ; all these joined their warmest suffrages, their most powerful 
 solicitations, with a rooted attachment, to urge the step I have taken. Jfor 
 have I any reason on her part to repent it. I can fancy how, but have never 
 seen where, I could have made a better choice. Come, then, let me act up to 
 my favourite motto, that glorious passage in Young — 
 
 " On reason build resolve, 
 That column of true majesty in man ! " 
 
 It is with feelings of intense gratification we dwell upon the 
 thought of his having calmly penned such worthy, and, we believe, 
 heartfelt reflections as these ; even as, on the other hand, we should 
 have been forced to regard his desertion of Jean Armour as an 
 ineffticeable stain on his memory ; as, indeed, an act of most callous 
 inhumanity. 
 
 During the period dealt with in this chapter, though Burns 
 produced very few new poems, he managed to perform a great 
 work by his enthusiastic co-operation with Johnson, the editor 
 of the Musical Museum. In this pursuit his genius revelled in 
 spite of many worries and perplexities. The second volume of the 
 Museum, published in the middle of February 1788, contained no 
 fewer than thirty-five songs by Burns, not to speak of the inestim- 
 able services he rendered in the general preparation of the work. 
 
 VOL. III. 2 B 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 ELLISLAND—JUXE 17SS-DECEMBER 1791. AGE, 29-32. 
 
 In the affaii' of a livelihood, I think myself tolerably secure ; I have good hopes of my 
 farm ; but shoi;ld they fail, I have an Excise commission, which, on my simple petition, 
 will at any time procure me bread. There is a certain stigma affixed to the character of 
 an Excise officer, but I do not pretend to borrow honour from my jsrofession ; and though 
 the salary be comparatively small, it is luxury to anything that tlie first twenty-five years of 
 my life taught me to expect. — Letter to Bislinp Geddes, 
 
 To make a happy fireside clime 
 
 To weans and wife. 
 That's the true pathos and sublime 
 
 Of human life. 
 
 Epistle to Dr. Blachlock. 
 
 However disappointed and chagrined Burns may have felt over liis 
 second winter in Edinburgh, with his fresh farming project in view 
 he left the city and returned to Mauchline as happy as " a mayfrog 
 leaping across the newly harrowed ridge, enjoying the fragrance of 
 the refreshed earth after the long-expected shower." In June 1788, 
 he entered into residence and duty at Ellisland, by far the most 
 picturesque and romantic for situation of all his farm homes. The 
 lands of Ellisland lie on the western side of the Nith, which here 
 flows through a vale of richly-varied loveliness. Up and down the 
 river the views are scarcely surpassed in Scottish lowland scenery, 
 while on the opposite bank the meads and forests of old Dalswinton 
 spread themselves out in majestic beauty. The farmhouse stands 
 close by the river-side, on the brow of a steep bank clad with trees 
 and whins, among which there winds the secluded path where the 
 
L ON EL Y FEELINGS, 1 9 5 
 
 Poet loved to stray and muse in leisure liours. It bad been open to 
 him to become tenant of a more fertile farm on the Dalswinton side 
 of the Nith. His fixing upon Ellisland is said to have called forth 
 the remark of the Dalswinton land-steward : " Mr. Burns, you have 
 made a poet's, not a farmer's choice ; " and the result of his three 
 years' tenancy fully bore out Mr. Cunningham's experienced obser- 
 vation. To Ellisland, however, Burns repaired, with inadequate 
 capital indeed, — less than £300, — but with more peace of mind and 
 better hopes than he had known for many a day. The form was in 
 wretched condition, and, in accordance with his bargain, the Poet 
 had also to begin the laborious task of erecting a new dwelling-house 
 and offices. Meantime, he took up his residence in an outlying 
 hovel on the farm, in which miserable tumble-down abode he describes 
 himself to Mrs. Dunlop, as 
 
 A solitary inmate of an old smoky spence, far from every object I love or 
 by whom I am beloved, nor any acquaintance older than yesterday, except 
 Jenny (Jeddes — the old mare I ride on — while uncoutli cares and novel plans 
 hourly insult my awkward ignorance and bashful inexperience. 
 
 And again, in his " Epistle to Hugh Parker," Kilmarnock : — 
 
 Here, ambush'd by the chimla cheek, 
 
 Hid in an atmosphere of reek, 
 
 I hear a wheel thrum i' the neuk, 
 
 I hear it — for in vain I leuk. 
 
 The red peat gleams, a fiery kernel, 
 
 Enhusked by a fog infernal : 
 
 Here, for my wonted rhyming raptures, 
 
 I sit and count my sins by chapters ; 
 
 For life and spunk like ither Christians, 
 
 I'm dwindled doon to mere existence. 
 
 In fact, he had so many cares and drudgeries to face at the 
 very outset, that it need occasion no surprise to find such a nature 
 
196 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 as his frettino- under weary feeliiigs of loneliness and miso;ivino;. 
 He was, for a time, literally a solitary stranger in a strange country- 
 side. His suffering, however, in this lonely situation, proved great 
 gain to the realm of song. His " Bonnie Jean" could not yet find a 
 home at Ellisland, and to her his thoughts oft turned with ardent 
 longings, to which he gave undying voice in the well-known song, 
 " 0' a' the airts the wind can blaw," and in that other glowing lyric, 
 " Oh, were I on Parnassus' Hill," which, we fancy, is not so widely 
 known and admired as it deserves to be : — 
 
 Oh, were I on Parnassus' hill ! 
 Or had of Helicon my fill ; 
 That I might catch poetic skill 
 
 To sing how dear I love thee ! 
 But Nith maun be my muse's well, 
 My muse maun be thy bonnie sel' ; 
 On Corsincon I'll glower and spell,^ 
 
 And write how dear I love thee. 
 
 Then come, sweet muse, inspire my laj' ! 
 For a' the lee-lang simmer's day 
 I couldna sing, I couldna say, 
 
 HoAv much, how dear I love thee. 
 I see thee dancing o'er the green. 
 Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean, 
 Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een — 
 
 By heaven and earth I love thee ! 
 
 By night, by day, a-field, at hanie, 
 The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame ; 
 And aye I muse and sing thy name — 
 I only live to love thee. 
 
 ^ Corsincon Hill, standing at tlie head of Nithsdale, on tlic way to Mauchline, where dwelt the 
 absent idol of his love. 
 
RESTLESS MOVEMENTS. 197 
 
 Though I were doomed to wander on, 
 Beyond tlie sea, beyond the sun, 
 Till my last weary sand was run ; 
 Till then — and then I'd love thee. 
 
 During this busy summer he frequently traversed the five-and- 
 forty miles which separated him from his wife and from the family 
 circle at Mossgiel, only to hasten, after a brief visit, back again to 
 his farming and building toils and cares. Jean's absence in Ayrshire, 
 it is true, called forth from the ivearying husband those two grand 
 songs ; but, apart from this, it would have been better in many 
 ways for Burns if the dwelling-house at Ellisland had been ready to 
 at once receive him and his household into quiet, settled home life. 
 His solitary worries caused him to fret a good deal, and separation 
 from his much-loved and devoted wife made him more than usually 
 restless in his movements. 
 
 He was — says Mr. Cunningham — ever on the move, on foot or on horseback. 
 In the course of a single day he might be seen holding the plough, angling in 
 the river, sauntering, with his hands beliind his back, on the banks, looking at 
 the running water, of which he was very fond, walking round his buildings or 
 over his fields ; and if you lost sight of him for an hour, perhaps you might see 
 him returning from Friar's Carse, or spurring his horse through the hills to 
 spend an evening with such friends as chance threw in his Avay. 
 
 His journey ings to and from Mauchline made further serious 
 demands on his time and energy ; and, worst of all, dragged him 
 into company and indulgences which greatly interfered with his 
 resolutions of this time towards industry and self-control. How 
 worthy and sincere these resolutions were may be gathered from a 
 letter to Kobert Ainslie, dated 30th June 1788 : — 
 
 There is a great degree of folly in talking unnecessarily of one's private 
 affairs. I have just now been interrupted by one of my new neighbours, who 
 
198 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 has made himself absohitely contemptible in my eyes by his silly, garrulous 
 pruriency. I know it has been a fault of my own too ; but from this moment I 
 abjure it as I would the service of hell ! Your poets, spendthrifts, and other 
 fools of that kidney, pretend, forsooth, to crack their jokes on prudence ; but 
 'tis a squalid vagabond glorying in his rags. Still, imprudence respecting money 
 matters is much more pardonable than imprudence respecting character. I have 
 no objection to prefer prodigality to avarice in some few instances ; but I appeal 
 to your observation if you have not met, and often met, with the same disin- 
 genuousness, the same hollow-hearted insincerity and disintegrative depravity of 
 principle, in the hackneyed victims of profusion as in the unfeeling children of 
 parsimony. I have every possible reverence for the much-talked-of world beyond 
 the grave, and I wish that which piety believes and virtue deserves may be all 
 matter of fact. But in things belonging to and terminating in this present 
 scene of existence, man has serious and interesting business on hand. Whether 
 a man shall shake hands with welcome in the distinguished elevation of respect, 
 or shrink from contempt in the alyect corner of insignificance ; whether he shall 
 wanton under the tropic of plenty — at least enjoy himself in the comfortable 
 latitudes of easy convenience — or starve in the arctic circle of dreary poverty ; 
 whether he shall rise in the manly consciousness of a self-apj^roving mind, or 
 sink beneath a galling load of regret and remorse — these are alternatives of the 
 last moment. 
 
 Mention has above been made of Friar's Carse, a picturesque 
 little estate, owned by Captain Riddel ^ of Glen riddel, a man of 
 genial temperament and literary tastes, with whom the Poet now 
 formed a pleasant and interesting intimacy. In the romantic grounds 
 which closely adjoined the fields of Ellisland, Captain Riddel had 
 formed a shady retreat known as " The Hermitage," and there Burns 
 was privileged to wander and muse amid a scene of great natural 
 beauty and suggestive solitude. In his " Lines written in Friar's 
 Carse Hermitage," under the assumed character of the hermit or 
 bedesman of the place, we again discover his mind running on in a 
 
 ^ See vol. ii. p. 175. 
 
IN SERIOUS MOOD. ' 199 
 
 strain of most prudent and deeply pious reflection. Burns subse- 
 quently revised and extended this poem as follows : — 
 
 Thou whom chance may hitlier lead, 
 Be thou clad in russet weed, 
 Be thou deckt in silken stole, 
 Grave these counsels on tliy soul. 
 
 Life is but a day at most, 
 Sprung from night, in darkness lost ; 
 Hope not sunshine every hour, 
 Fear not clouds will always lower. 
 
 As youth and love, with sprightly dance, 
 
 Beneath thy morning star advance, 
 
 Pleasure with her siren air 
 
 ]May delude the thoughtless pair ; 
 
 Let Prudence bless Enjoyment's cup. 
 
 Then raptured sip, and sip it up. 
 
 As thy day grows warm and high. 
 
 Life's meridian flaming nigh. 
 
 Dost thou spurn the humble vale % 
 
 Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale 1 
 
 Check thy climbing step, elate, 
 
 Evils lurk in felon wait : 
 
 Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold. 
 
 Soar around each cliffy hold, 
 
 While cheerful peace, with linnet song 
 
 Chants the lowly dells among. 
 
 As the shades of evening close, 
 
 Beck'ning thee to long repose ; 
 
 As life itself becomes disease, 
 
 Seek the chimney-nook of ease ; 
 
 There ruminate with sober thought, 
 
 On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought ; 
 
200 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 And teach the sportive younkers round, 
 Saws of experience, sage and sound. 
 Say, Man's true, genuine estimate, 
 The grand criterion of his fate, 
 Is not, Art thou high or low ? 
 Did thy fortune ebb or flow 1 
 Did many talents gild thy span 1 
 Or frugal nature grudge thee one % 
 Tell them, and press it on their mind. 
 As thou thyself must shortly find, 
 The smile or frown of awful Heav'n 
 To virtue or to vice is given. 
 Say, to be just, and kind, and wise, 
 There solid self -enjoyment lies; 
 That foolish, selfish, faithless ways 
 Lead to be wretched, vile, and base. 
 
 Thus resigned and ([uiet, creep 
 
 To the bed of lasting sleep ; 
 
 Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake. 
 
 Night, where dawn shall never break, 
 
 Till future life, future no more, 
 
 To light and joy the good restore, 
 
 To light and joy unknown before. 
 
 Stranger, go ! Heav'n be thy guide ! 
 Quod the Bedesman of Xithside ! 
 
 Building operations at Ellisland proving much more tedious 
 than he had anticipated, Burns would wait no longer in homeless 
 solitude. Finding temporary quarters at " The Isle " ^ about a mile 
 down the Nith from Ellisland, he there took up house in December. 
 The advent of his Jean afforded him feelings of lively satisfaction, 
 
 1 " The Isle," so called from the fact that at ruins of an ancient stronghold, and the farm- 
 one time the water of the Nith formed a kind of house in which the poet lived, 
 island of the ground on which there stood the 
 
A FAMOUS LETTER. 201 
 
 and he celebrated the event in the jaunty little song, " I hae a wife 
 o' my ain." A letter of this time to Mrs. Dunlop is notable for the 
 same happy tone, and still more so on account of its enclosing the 
 world-renowned "Auld Lang Syne," and that other famous song, 
 " Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine." 
 
 It is, however, in the famous letter written to the same lady 
 on New Year's Day morning, 1789, that we now find the Bard at 
 his best and happiest : — 
 
 This, dear madam, is a morniiigof wishes, and would to God that I came 
 under the Apostle James's description — the prayer of a righteous man availeth 
 much. In that case, madam, you should welcome in a year full of blessings : 
 everything that obstructs or disturbs tranquillity and self-enjoyment should be 
 removed, and every pleasure that frail humanity can taste should be yours. I 
 own myself so little a Presbyterian, that I approve set times and seasons of more 
 than ordinary acts of devotion, for breaking in on that habituated routine of life 
 and thought which is so apt to reduce our existence to a kind of instinct, or 
 even sometimes, and with some minds, to a state very little superior to mere 
 machinery. 
 
 This day — the first Sunday of May ; a breezy, blue-skied noon some time 
 about the beginning, and a hoary morning and calm sunny day about the end, 
 of autumn — these, time out of mind, have been with me a kind of holiday. 
 
 I believe I owe this to that glorious paper in the Spectator, " The Vision 
 of Mirza," a piece that struck my young fancy before I was capable of fixing an 
 idea to a word of three syllables : " On the fifth day of the moon, which, 
 according to the custom of my forefathers, I always lieep holy, after having 
 washed myself and offered up my morning devotions, I ascended the high hill 
 of Bagdad, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer." 
 
 We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the substance or structure of our 
 souls, so cannot account for those seeming caprices in them that one should be 
 particularly pleased with this thing, or struck with that, which, on minds of a 
 different cast, makes no extraordinary impression. I have some favourite flowers 
 in spring, among which are the mountain daisy, the harebell, the foxglove, the 
 wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and 
 hang over with particular delight. I never hear the loud, solitary whistle of the 
 VOL. IK. 2 C 
 
202 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 curlew in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of grey plovers 
 in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm 
 of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing? 
 Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the -5^^olian harp, passive, takes the 
 impression of the passing accident? Or do these workings argue something 
 within us above the trodden clod % I own myself partial to such proofs of those 
 awful and important realities — a God that made all things — man's immaterial 
 and immortal nature — and a world of weal or woe beyond death and the grave ! 
 
 Though, during the first week or two of his sojourn at Ellisland, 
 Burns was left to fret in almost utter loneliness, he soon found 
 ample opportunity for indulging his imperious passion for social cheer 
 and excitement ; indeed, he was almost immediately made w^elcome 
 to the festive board, not only by neighbours of his own station, but 
 by such families as the Millers of Dalswinton, the Riddels, etc. 
 
 And so, still busy with his building operations, writing many 
 letters and not a few poems, finding time for a good deal of social 
 enjoyment, and also for exerting himself in the laudable work of 
 founding and furnishing a parish library in Dunscore, the spring 
 of 1789 was laboriously yet pleasantly spent. At length, about 
 midsummer, the steading at Ellisland being ready for occupation, 
 he removed his household thither from "The Isle." Poet-like, he 
 followed the quaint custom observed on such occasions. With his 
 wife on his arm, and preceded by the maidservant, Betty Smith, 
 who carried the family Bible and a bowl of salt, he entered his 
 new abode. As soon as things were set in order, a company of 
 neighbours assembled to celebrate the house-heating, and drank, 
 with enthusiasm, " Luck to the roof-tree of the house of Burns." 
 The dwelling-house at Ellisland stands to-day almost as the Poet 
 designed and constructed it : — 
 
 "to 
 
 A neat cottage, about fifty feet long, placed near the edge of the scaur or 
 broken bank overhanging the Nith. The sitting-room, in the east end, had 
 
THE NEW DWELLING-HOUSE. 203 
 
 a window looking down the valley, and commanding beautiful peeps of the 
 stream. Another room, at the west end, was the sjience, or room reserved for 
 important occasions. A small kitchen ami a bedroom lay between, while in 
 the garret was accommodation for domestics. The whole structure, while 
 marking in some degree the taste of the Poet, is yet perfectly suitable in its 
 modesty to the frugal life of a farmer of a hundred acres. On the bank below 
 was a spring of pure water. Assisted by his brother-in-law, Armour, who 
 helped to build the house. Burns fashioned this into a well for the supply of 
 his household. Running back from the house in two lines of building were 
 a barn, terminating in a stackyard, and a cow-house and stable. Such was the 
 simple establishment in which the great Poet of Scotland designed to spend 
 the remainder of his life in industrious and frugal state. 
 
 The above is Chambers' brief description, the exactness of which 
 can be seen by any one who affords himself the pleasure of a visit 
 to this sweetly-situated classic homestead. 
 
 This summer of 1789 was the happiest stretch Burns had 
 enjoyed for a good many years, or, indeed, was ever to know again. 
 On June 8th he wrote in joyous key to Ainslie : — 
 
 With respect to my welfare, a subject in which you once warmly and 
 effectively interested yourself, — I am here in my old way, holding my plough, 
 marking the growth of my corn or the health of my dairy, and at times 
 sauntering by the delightful windings of the Nith, — on the margin of which I 
 have built my humble domicile, — praying for seasonable weather, or holding an 
 intrigue with the muses, the only gipsies with Avhom I have now any inter- 
 course. As I am entered into the holy state of matrimony, I trust my face is 
 turned completely Zionward ; and, as it is a rule with all honest fellows to 
 repeat no grievances, I hope that the little poetic licences of former days will, 
 of course, fall under the oblivious influence of some good-natured statute of 
 celestial prescription. In my family devotion — which, like a good Presby- 
 terian, I occasionally give to my household folks — I am extremely fond of the 
 psalm, "Let not the errors of my youth," etc., and that other, "Lo, children 
 are God's heritage,"' etc., in which last Mrs. Burns — who, by the bye, has a 
 glorious " wood-note wild " at either old song or psalmody — ^joins me with the 
 pathos of Handel's "Messiah." 
 
204 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 It is pleasant to think of Burns as douce gudeman, keeping up 
 the hallowed exercise of family prayer, and as a regular attender at 
 worship in Dunscore Kirk, to which he had to trudge fully three 
 miles over the hills. Mr. Kirkpatrick, then minister of Dunscore, 
 was a strict Calvinist, and, of course, the narrow, dogmatic nature 
 of his doctrine was very far from harmonizing with the Poet's views. 
 To this circumstance we owe the following letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 
 wherein, be it observed, he again solemnly avows his belief in God, 
 and human accountability now and in a world to come ; also his 
 belief in the special divinity of Christ's mission ; concluding with a 
 beautiful statement of the practical humanity of all true religion : — 
 
 I have just heard Mr. Kirkpatrick jireach a sermon. He is a man famous 
 for his benevolence, and I revere him ; but from such ideas of my Creator, 
 good Lord, deHver me ! Religion, my honoured friend, is surely a simple 
 business, as it equally concerns the ignorant and the learned, the poor and the 
 rich. That there is an incomprehensible Great Being, to wliom I owe my 
 existence, and that He must be intimately acquainted with the operations and 
 progress of the internal machinery, and consequent outward deportment, of this 
 creature which He has made, — these are, I think, self-evident propositions. 
 That there is a real and eternal distinction between virtue and vice, and 
 consequently that I am an accountable creature ; that from the seeming 
 nature of the human mind, as well as from the evident imperfection — nay, 
 positive injustice — in the administration of affairs, both in the natural and 
 moral worlds, there must be a retributive scene of existence beyond the grave, 
 — must, I think be allowed by every one who will give himself a moment's 
 reflection. I will go further, and affirm that from the sublimity, excellence, 
 and purity of His doctrine and precepts, unparalleled by all the aggregated 
 wisdom and learning of many preceding ages, though, to appearance, He 
 Himself was the obscurest and most illiterate of our species — therefore Jesus 
 Christ was from God. 
 
 AVhatever mitigates the woes or increases the happiness of others, this is 
 my criterion of goodness; and whatever injures society at large, or any 
 individual in it, this is my measure of iniquity. 
 
APPOINTMENT AS GAUGER. 205 
 
 On the 18th August 1789, his wife presented him with a son, 
 whom he named Francis Wallace, in honour of his most deeply 
 respected friend and correspondent, Mrs. Dunlop. 
 
 Following close upon this domestic event came his application 
 for active employment in the Excise. He was prompted to take 
 this step, it seems, by the present and prospective increase of his 
 family, and on account of the comparative failure of his first year's 
 crops and the poor promise of the coming harvest. Again, through 
 the influence of his good friend, Mr. Graham, his application was 
 granted, and he was there and then appointed to perform the 
 duties of ganger in a wide district, comprising ten parishes around 
 Ellisland. 
 
 That Burns's pride was somewhat w^ounded by this turn in his 
 affairs is evident from numerous allusions — mostly facetious in form, 
 it is true — both in prose and verse. We quote on this point part 
 of his letter of the 1st November, to Robert Ainslie : — 
 
 I know not how the word exciseman, or the still more opprobrious ganger, 
 will sound in your ears. I, too, have seen the day when my auditory nerves 
 would have felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife and children are 
 things which have a wonderful power in blunting these kind of sensations. 
 Fifty pounds a year for life, and a provision for widows and orphans, is, you 
 will allow, no bad settlement for a x>oet. 
 
 To the same effect he penned an epigram on beginning his 
 duties as exciseman : — 
 
 Searching auld wives' barrels, 
 
 Och, hon ! the day ! 
 That clarty barm should stain my laurels; 
 
 But — what'll ye say ! 
 These movin' things ca'd wives and weans, 
 Wad move the very hearts o' stanes ! 
 
206 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 In the spirit of tlie above, which indicate a most creditable 
 motive on the Poet's part, he entered manfully on his laborious 
 task, and carried out, from the first, his not seldom disagreeable 
 duty in a conscientious yet kindly way. Towards those who 
 carried on an oro-anized and extensive contraband traffic he was 
 severe ; but many incidents are recorded of his forbearance towards 
 those who only indulged in an occasional or trifling breach of the 
 revenue regulations. The strong good sense and kindly nature of 
 the Poet kept him, in these cases, from officiously or tyrannically 
 riding on the top of his commission. 
 
 Allan Cunningham tells, e.g., how the Poet and a brother excise- 
 man one day suddenly entered a widow woman's shop in Dunscore, 
 and made a seizure of smuggled tobacco. 
 
 " Jenny," said the Poet, " I expected this would he the upshot. Here, 
 Lewars, take note of the numher of rolls as I count them. Now, Jock, did 
 ye ever hear an auld wife numbering her threads before check-reels were 
 invented ? Thou's ane, and thou's no ane, and thou's ane a' out — listen." 
 As he handed out the rolls, he went on with his humorous enumeration, but 
 dropping every other roll into Janet's lap. 
 
 And Professor Gillespie, who happened to be in Thornhill Fair in 
 1793, gives an account of another such incident. A certain Kate 
 Watson was doing a little business in the shebeening way that 
 day :— 
 
 I saw — says the Professor — the Poet enter her door, and anticipated 
 nothing short of an immediate seizure of a certain greybeard and barrel, which, 
 to my personal knowledge, contained the contraband commodities our Bard was 
 in quest of. A nod, accompanied by a significant movement of the forefinger, 
 brought Kate to the doorway or trance, and I was near enough to hear the 
 following words distinctly uttered : — " Kate, are you mad 1 Don't you know 
 that the supervisor and I will be in upon you in the course of forty minutes % 
 Good-bye t'ye at present." Burns was in the street and in the midst of the 
 
FARM-WORK NEGLECTED. 207 
 
 crowd in an instant, and I had access to know that the friendly hint was not 
 neglected. 
 
 " We see," Chambers remarks, in recording a few such anec- 
 dotes, " in these homely facts the same benevolent nature which 
 shines in the verses to the Mouse and the Mountain Daisy." 
 
 From the time of his appointment as exciseman, however, 
 Burns seems to have more and more neglected his duties on the 
 farm. What work he now did on Ellisland was done with little 
 method or interest. Increasing evidence of failure only served to 
 increase his disgust at the necessary drudgeries of husbandry. 
 Truth to tell, he had enough to do in thoroughly carrying out, as 
 he did, his official duty, which compelled him to ride on an average 
 over thirty miles a day, and also led him into many temptations 
 most trying to one of his temperament. 
 
 On the authority of a youthful contemporary and great admirer 
 of the Poet, Mr. David M'Culloch, Lockhart says : — 
 
 Burns, in his perpetual perambulations over the moors of Dumfriesshire, 
 had every temptation to encounter which bodily fatigue, the blandishments of 
 hosts and hostesses, and the habitual manners of those who acted along with 
 him in the Excise could present. . . . From the castle to the cottage, every 
 door flew open at his approach ; and the old system of hospitality, then 
 flourishing, rendered it difficult for the most soberly-inclined guest to rise from 
 any man's board in the same trim that he sat down to it. The farmer, if Burns 
 were seen passing, left his reapers, and trotted by the side of " Jenny Geddes " 
 until he could persuade the Bard that the day was hot enough to demand an 
 extra libation. If he entered an inn at midnight, after all the inmates were in 
 bed, the news of his arrival circulated from the cellar to the garret, and ere ten 
 minutes had elapsed, the landlord and all his guests were assembled round the 
 ingle, the largest punch-bowl was produced, and 
 
 " Be ours this night ; who knows what comes to-morrow ? " 
 
 Avas the language of every eye in the circle that welcomed him. 
 
208 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Moreover, liis famous poetic and social gifts brought him a good 
 deal of distraction and expense in the form of numerous visitors to 
 Ellisland. "Lion-gazers," says Lockhart, "from all quarters beset 
 him ; they ate and drank at his cost, and often went away to 
 criticise him and his ftire, as if they had done Burns and his 
 black bowl great honour in condescending to be entertained for 
 a single evening with such company and such liquor." Of 
 a certain afternoon's entertainment Dr. Currie gives the following 
 graphic account, based on information furnished by one of the 
 party :— 
 
 In the summer of 1791, two English gentlemen, who had before met with 
 him in Edinburgh, paid a visit to him at Ellisland. On calling at the house, 
 they were informed that he had walked out on the banks of the river ; and, 
 dismounting from their horses, they proceeded in search of him. On a rock 
 that projected into the stream they saw a man employed in angHng, of a 
 singular appearance. He had a cap made of a fox's skin on his head, a loose 
 greatcoat fixed round him by a belt, from which depended an enormous High- 
 land broadsword. It was Burns. He received them with great cordiality, and 
 asked them to share his humble dinner — an invitation which they accepted. 
 On the table they found boiled beef, with vegetables and barley broth, after 
 the mamier of Scotland, of which they partook heartily. After dinner, the 
 Bard told them ingenuously that he had no wine to oflfer them — nothing better 
 than Highland whisky, a bottle of which Mrs. Burns set on the board. He 
 produced at the same time his punch-bowl, made of Inverary marble ; and, 
 jnixing the spirit with water and sugar, filled their glasses, aiid invited them 
 to drink. The travellers were in haste, and, besides, the flavour of the whisky 
 to their suthron palates was scarcely toleraljle ; but the generous Poet offered 
 them his best, and his ardent hospitality they found it impossible to resist. 
 Burns was in his happiest mood, and the charms of his conversation were 
 altogether fascinating. He ranged over a great variety of topics, illuminating 
 whatever he touched. He related the tales of his infancy and of his youth ; 
 he recited some of the gayest and some of the tenderest of his poems : in the 
 wildest of his strains of mirth he threw in some touches of melancholy, and 
 spread around him the electric emotions of his powerful mind. 
 
A SERVANTS STATEMENT. 209 
 
 Id recollection of the ungenerous and inconsiderate curiosity 
 which actuated many of the class of visitors referred to in the 
 above, it is with feelings of sorrow not unmixed with indignation 
 that we think of Burns being so drawn on to ' make sport for the 
 Philistines,' wasting his time and substance, and, worst of all, dissi- 
 pating his glorious gifts of head and heart. 
 
 In makmg up our view of the Poet as he appeared at Ellisland, 
 the statement, as given by Chambers, of AVilliam Clark, who was 
 ploughman with Burns for six months of this period, must not be 
 omitted : — 
 
 Burns kej^t two men and two women servants ; but he invariably, when at home, 
 took his meals with his wife and family in the little parlour. Clark thought he 
 was as good a manager of land as the generality of the farmers in the neighbour- 
 hood. The farm of Ellisland was said to be moderately rented, and was susceptible 
 of much improvement, had improvement been in repute. Burns sometimes visited 
 the neighbouring farmers, and they returned the compliment ; but that way of 
 spending time and exchanging civilities was not so common then as now, and, 
 besides, the most of the people thereabouts had no expectation that Burns's 
 conduct and writings would be so much noticed afterwards. Burns kept nine 
 or ten milch cows, some young cattle, four liorses, and several pet sheep : of 
 the latter he was very fond. During the winter and spring-time, when he -was 
 not engaged with the Excise business, he occasionallj' held the plough for an 
 hour or so for him (AVilliam Clark), and was a fair workman, though the mode 
 of ploughing now-a-days-is much superior in many respects. During seed-time. 
 Burns might be frequently seen, at an early hour, in the fields with his sowing- 
 sheet ; but, as business often required his attention from home, he did not sow 
 the whole of the grain. He was a kind and indulgent master, and spoke 
 familiarly to his servants, both in the house and out of it, though, if anything 
 put him out of humour, he was gey guldcrsnme for a vee icldle : the storm was 
 soon over, and there was never a word of tqycast afterwards. Clark never saw 
 him really angry but once, and it was occasioned by the carelessness of one of 
 the woman-servants, who had not cut potatoes small enough, which brought one 
 of the cows into danger of being choked. His looks, gestures, and voice on that 
 
 VOL. III. 2d 
 
210 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 occasion were terrible : W. C. was glad to be out of his sight, and when they 
 met again, Burns was perfectly calm. If any extra work was to be done, the 
 men sometimes got a dram ; but Clark had lived with masters who were more 
 flush in that way to their servants. Clark, during the six months he spent at 
 Ellisland, never once saw Ms master intoxicated w incapable of managing his 
 oivn business. . . . Burns, when at home, usually wore a broad blue bonnet, a 
 blue or drab long-tailed coat, corduroy breeches, dark blue stockings, and 
 cuoti'kens, and in cold weather a black-and-white checked plaid wrapped round 
 his shoulders. ]\Irs. Burns was a good and prudent housewife, kept everything 
 in neat and tidy order, was well liked by the servants, for whom she provided 
 abundance of wholesome food. At parting. Burns gave Clark a certificate of 
 character, and, besides paying his wages in full, gave him a shilling for a 
 fairing. 
 
 We liave seen how, almost from the first, Burns's expectations 
 regarding success in the working of his farm were very meagre, and 
 now, during the last summer of his tenancy, w^e find his farming 
 prospect growing more and more hopeless, and his spirit more and 
 more sad and embittered, Traces of his growing melancholy and 
 vexation frequently appear in the letters of this season, most 
 strikingly, perhaps, in that terrible outburst of angry, troubled 
 discontent which he penned in his letter of 11th June to Mr. 
 Cunningham : — 
 
 God help the children of dependence ! Hated and persecuted by their 
 enemies, and too often, alas ! almost unexceptionably, received by their friends 
 with disrespect and reproach, under the thin disguise of cold civility and 
 humiliating advice. O to be a sturdy savage, stalking in the pride of his 
 independence, amid the solitary wilds of his deserts, rather than in civilised life 
 helplessly to tremble for a subsistence, precarious as the caprice of a fellow- 
 creature ! Every man has his virtues, and no man is without his failings ; and 
 curse on that privileged plain-dealing of friendship which, in the hour of my 
 calamity, cannot reach forth the helping hand without at the same time pointing 
 out those failings, and apportioning them their share in procuring my present 
 distress. My friends — for such the world calls ye, and such ye think yourselves 
 to be — pass by my virtues if you please, but do also spare my follies : the first 
 
GLOOM AND TROUBLE. 211 
 
 ■will witness in my breast for themselves, and the last will give pain enough to 
 the ingenuous mind without you. And since deviating more or less from the 
 paths of propriety and rectitude must be incident to human nature, do thou, 
 Fortune, put it in my power, always from myself and of myself, to bear the 
 consequence of those errors ! I do not want to be independent that I may sin, 
 Init I want to be independent in my sinning. 
 
 It must not be assumed, however, that want of success as a 
 farmer was the sole cause of this gloomy and exasperated state of 
 mind. Nor can it with fairness be set down to the self-upbraid- 
 ings either of indolence or intemperance. What with his farming 
 and Excise duties, his social engagements and correspondence, and, 
 not least, his various poetical efforts, he must have been, in the 
 main, a busy man ; and although yielding overmuch, at times, to 
 those festive excitements which had for him at all times so great a 
 charm, he was by no means the victim of habitual or regardless 
 excess. Nor could he complain of lack of recognition of his then 
 unrivalled genius ; of this he received a great deal from many of the 
 best of his contemporaries. But whether or not these things moved 
 him to any great extent, it is to be suspected that he was, for one 
 thing, deeply wounded and troubled by the consequences of that 
 passionate folly in a certain direction which had more than once 
 before caused him keenest mental pain ; and it may have been in a 
 vain endeavour to escape from bitter reflections on his own way- 
 wardness, and to blunt the tooth of remorse, that he gave expression 
 to such tirades of bitter, stormy feeling as the above. It should be 
 further remarked that, about this time, he was subjected to a good 
 deal of severe and ill-natured criticism from various quarters. That 
 this rancorous meddling greatly annoyed him is clear from his 
 " Third Epistle to ]Mr. Graham," where, e.g., he writes : — 
 
 Critics ! — appalled I venture on the name, 
 Those cut-throat bandits in the path of fame : 
 
212 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Bloody di.ssectors, worse than ten ]\Iunroe8 ! 
 
 He hacks to teach, they mangle to expose. 
 
 His heart by causeless, wanton malice wrung, 
 
 By blockheads' daring into madness stung ; 
 
 His well-won bays, than life itself more dear. 
 
 By miscreants torn, who ne'er one sprig must wear : 
 
 Foiled, bleeding, tortured, in the unequal strife. 
 
 The hapless poet flounders on through life ; 
 
 Till fied each hope that once his bosom- fired. 
 
 And fled each muse that glorious once inspired, 
 
 Low sunk in squalid, unprotected age, 
 
 Dead, even resentment, for his injured page, 
 
 He heeds or feels no more the ruthless critic's rage ! 
 
 So, by some hedge, the generous steed deceased. 
 For half-starved snarling curs a dainty feast, 
 By toil and famine worn to skin and bone. 
 Lies senseless of each tugging bitch's son. 
 
 'OD^ 
 
 It lias also been surmised that it was while his })roud and sensi- 
 tive nature was wincing under the attack of some contemptible 
 criticism, he penned the following extraordinary page : — 
 
 Thou eunuch of language : thou Englishman, who never was south the 
 Tweed : thou servile echo of fashionable barbarisms ; thou quack, vending the 
 nostrums of empirical elocution : thou marriage- maker between vowels and 
 consonants, on the Gretna Green of caprice : thou cobbler, botching the flimsy 
 socks of bombast oratory : thou blacksmith, hammering the rivets of absurdity : 
 thou butcher, imbruing thy hands in the bowels of orthography : thou arch- 
 heretic in pronunciation : thou pitch-pipe of afi"ected emphasis : thou carpenter, 
 mortising the awkward joints of jarring sentences : thou squeaking dissonance 
 of cadence : thou pimp of gender : thou Lion Herald to silly etymology : thou 
 antipode of grammar : thou executioner of construction : thou brood of the 
 speech-distracting builders of the Tower of Babel : thou lingual confusion worse 
 confounded : thou scape-gallows from the land of syntax : thou scavenger of 
 mood and tense : thou murderous accoucheur of infant learning : thou iqnis 
 
FAREWELL TO ELLISLAND. 213 
 
 fatuii^i, misleading the steps of benighted ignorance : thou pickle-herring in the 
 puppet show of nonsense : thou faithful recorder of barbarous idiom : thou 
 persecutor of syllabication : thou baleful meteor, foretelling and facilitatiu" the 
 rapid approach of j!^ox and Erebus. 
 
 The Eliisland scene of the Poet's strange, sad career — a scene 
 which opened full of promise — was soon to close in almost complete 
 temporal loss and disappointment. Seeing that he could no longer 
 remain in his farm, Burns relinquished his lease, sold off his crops, 
 and having timeously secured a transference to Excise duty in 
 Dumfries, in December 1791 he bade farewell to lovely Eliisland, 
 leaving there, as Cunningham with quaint force observes, " nothing 
 but a putting-stone with which he had loved to exercise his strength, 
 a memory of his musings which can never die, and £300 of his 
 money sunk beyond redemption in a speculation from which all had 
 augured happiness." 
 
 In summing up what is, after all, the most important matter in 
 Burns's stay at Eliisland, viz. the poetical results, in addition to 
 those already mentioned, it is our most pleasant duty now to speak 
 of not a few songs and poems of imperishable interest, power, and 
 beauty. On the 2nd February 1790, the third volume of Johnson's 
 Musical Museum was issued, containing no fewer than forty songs 
 by Burns. Several of these are noticed elsewhere in this chapter ; 
 and here may be enumerated some others of the more popular songs 
 — " John Anderson, my Jo," " Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes," " Tam 
 Glen," "The Braes o' Ballochmyle," "A man's a man for a' that," 
 " The day returns, my bosom burns," " I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen," 
 and " Whistle o'er the lave o't," each one of which is a priceless 
 poetic gift. 
 
 Of other pieces may be noted a series of four epistles addressed 
 to Mr. Graham of Fintry, who earned immortal honour l)y con- 
 
2] 4 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 tinning to he the poet's steadfast friend and generous piitron — his 
 "stay in worldly strife," of whom Professor Wilson has well and 
 justly said : — 
 
 Of all Burns's friends, the most efficient was Mr. Graham of Fintry. To 
 him he owed exciseman's diploma, settlement as a ganger when he was gude- 
 man at Ellisland : translation as ganger to Dumfries ; support against insidious 
 foes . . . vindication at the Excise Board ; a temporary supervisorship ; and, 
 though he knew not of it, security from dreaded degradation on his death-bed. 
 
 In these and a few other poems, acting on the suggestion of one 
 or two friendly critics, Burns adopted the English style, in which he 
 does not show to advantage, but rather hampered and out of his 
 proper element. Fortunately his own good sense and keen poetic 
 feeling prevented him from following to any considerable extent 
 this well-meant but mistaken advice, and called him back to his 
 unexampled command and employment of the national Doric. 
 Another of his English efforts is the " Address to a Wounded 
 Hare," in sending which piece to Alexander Cunningham, he 
 says : — 
 
 I have just put the last hand to a little poem, which I think will be some- 
 thing to your taste. One morning lately, as I was out pretty early in the fields, 
 sowing some grass seeds, I heard the burst of a shot from a neighbouring 
 plantation, and presently a poor little wounded hare came crippling by me. 
 You will guess my indignation at the inhuman fellow Avho could shoot a hare 
 at this season, when all of them have young ones. Indeed, there is something 
 in that business of destroying for our sport individuals in the animal creation 
 that do not injure us materially, which I could never reconcile to my ideas of 
 virtue. 
 
 That beautiful sympathy, amounting almost literally to fellow- 
 feeling, which formed so great a part of Burns's nature, and to 
 which he has so often given tenderest expression, may be once more 
 
NEW POEMS. 215 
 
 admired in this little poem, which we give as it at first left the Poet's 
 hands : — 
 
 Inhuman man ! curse on tliy barb'rous art, 
 
 And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye ! 
 
 May never pity sootlie thee with a sigh, 
 Nor ever pleasure glad th}' cruel heart ! 
 
 Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field, 
 The bitter little that of life remains : 
 No more the thickening brakes or verdant plains 
 
 To thee a home, or food, or pastime yield. 
 
 Seek, mangled innocent, some wonted form ; 
 
 That wonted form, alas ! thy dying bed ! 
 
 The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head. 
 The cold earth with thy blood-stain'd bosom warm. 
 
 Perhaps a mother's anguish adds its woe ; 
 
 The playful pair crowd fondly by thy side ; 
 
 Ah ! helpless nurslings, who will now provide 
 That life a mother only can bestow 1 
 
 Oft as by winding Kith I, musing, wait 
 
 The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, 
 
 I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn. 
 And curse the ruthless wretch, and mourn thy hapless fate. 
 
 Close upon the foregoing we find him writing, in quite the 
 opposite vein and style, his inimitable descriptive " Address to the 
 Toothache," reading which has helped many victims of this painful 
 ailment to grimly smile in spite of its 
 
 venom'd stang 
 That shoots the tortured gums alang, 
 And through the lugs gies mony a twang, 
 AVi' gnawing vengeance, 
 
 and so on, as in the well-known realistic lines. 
 
216 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 In the summer of 1789 he also wrote his famous satire, "The 
 Kirk's Alarm." Doctor M'Gill, collegiate minister of Ayr, having 
 ventured to publish an essay supposed to contain heretical doctrine 
 regarding the death of Christ, was made the object of a fierce heresy- 
 hunt. In and around the " auld toun o' Ayr " the case was exciting 
 keen controversy, w^hen Burns took in hand to champion the cause 
 of Dr. M'Gill, whom he regarded as a man of worth and ability, 
 cruelly harassed because of his enlightenment and courage of opinion. 
 Enclosing the poem to John Logan, the author says : — 
 
 I have, as you will shortly see, finished " The Kirk's Alarm ; " but, now that 
 it is done, and that I have laughed once or twice at the conceits in some of the 
 stanzas, I am determined not to let it get into the public ; so I send you this 
 copy, the first that I have sent to Ayrshire, except some few of the stanzas 
 which I wrote off in embryo for Gavin Hamilton, under the express provision 
 and request that you will only read it to a few of us, and do not on any account 
 give or permit to be taken any copy of the ballad. If I could be of any service 
 to Dr. M'Gill I would do it, though it should be at a much greater expense than 
 irritating a few bigoted priests ; but I am afraid serving him in his present 
 emharras is a task too hard for me. I have enemies enow, God knows, though 
 I do not wantonly add to the number. 
 
 The keynote of the satire is struck in these lines from the second 
 stanza, which embody, in fewest words possible, a daring " conceit " 
 at which Burns may well have "laughed once or twice": — 
 
 To join faith and sense 
 Upon any pretence, 
 Is heretic, damnable error.^ 
 
 The autumn of this same year, 1789, was a very productive 
 season, witnessing the composition of over half a dozen poems, 
 
 1 Chambers's painstaking identification of, satirized should he consulted as an aid to the 
 and notes concerning the different personages full enjoyment of this noted production. 
 
OF BOON COMPANIONSHIP. 217 
 
 several of which are of outstanding literary merit and of rich 
 biographical interest. 
 
 As a song of jovial boon-companionship, " Willie brewed a 
 peck o' maut" may be said to stand without a rival. Willie 
 (Nicol), Allan (Masterton), and the Poet formed the ever-memorable 
 party, as may gathered from Burns's note to the song : — 
 
 The air is jMasterton's, the song mine. The occasion of it was this : — 
 Mr. William Nicol, of the High School, Edinburgh, during the autumn 
 vacation, being at Moffat, honest Allan (who was at that time on a visit to 
 Dalswinton) and I went to pay Nicol a visit. We had such a joyous meeting 
 that Mr. Masterton and I agreed, each in our own way, that we should 
 celebrate the business. 
 
 Writing in 1799, Currie feelingly remarked, "These three honest 
 fellows — all men of uncommon talents — are now all under the 
 turf;" and in 1821, John Struthers, himself a man of no mean 
 genius, gave forth a poetic wail over the "three merry boys" of 
 the great song : — 
 
 Nae mair in learning Willie toils, nor Allan makes the melting lay. 
 Nor Rab, wi' fancy-witching wiles, beguiles the hour o' daw'ing day ; 
 For tho' they werena very fou, that wicked " wee drap in the e'e " 
 Has done its turn ; untimely now the green grass waves o'er a' the three. 
 
 Another of the productions of this season is " The Whistle," to 
 which convivial ballad the author supplied the following note : — 
 
 In the train of Ann of Denmark, when she came to Scotland with our 
 James VI., there came over also a Danish gentleman of gigantic stature and 
 great prowess, and a matchless champion of Bacchus. He had a little ebony 
 whistle, which at the commencement of the orgies he laid on the table, and 
 whoever was the last able to blow it, everybody else being disabled by the 
 potency of the bottle, was to carry off the whistle as a trophy of victory. 
 The Dane produced credentials of his victories, without a single defeat, at 
 the courts of Copenhagen, Stockholm, Moscoav, Warsaw, and several of the 
 VOL. III. 2 E 
 
218 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 petty courts in Germany ; and challenged the Scots Bacchanalians to the 
 alternative of trying his prowess, or else of acknowledging their inferiority. 
 After many overthrows on the part of the Scots, the Dane was encountered 
 by Sir Eohert Lawrie of Maxwelton, ancestor of the present worthy baronet 
 of that name ; who, after three days' and three nights' hard contest, left the 
 Scandinavian under the table, 
 
 *' And blew on the whistle his requiem shrill." 
 
 Sir Walter, son to Sir Robert before mentioned, afterwards lost the whistle to 
 Walter Riddel, of Glenriddel, who had married a sister of Sir Walter's. 
 
 Captain Eiddel of Friar's Carse, wlio at this time held the 
 trophy, appointed Friday, 16th October, as the day on which a 
 drinking contest for the " whistle " championship should be held 
 between Mr. Ferguson of Craigdarroch, Sir Eobert Lawrie of Max- 
 welton, and himself. Burns was invited to attend, but whether 
 or not he was actually present on the occasion, as Poet Laureate 
 of the event he penned this highly dramatic poem, wherein is 
 celebrated the victory (?) of Craigdarroch. 
 
 Four days after the mighty drinking contest at Friar's Carse, 
 we find the Bard in completely altered mood and strain, on 
 Tuesday, 20th October, the anniversary of Highland Mary's death, 
 penning his immortal lines, " To Mary in Heaven," — a poem which 
 is by universal assent regarded as peerless in its combined tender- 
 ness and sublimity of feeling and beauty of form, " the noblest of 
 all his ballads " — 
 
 Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray. 
 
 That lov'st to greet the early morn, 
 Again thou usher'st in the day 
 
 My Mary from my soul was torn. 
 Mary ! dear departed shade ! 
 
 AVhere is thy place of blissful rest ? 
 See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? 
 
 Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? 
 
TO MARY IN HE A VEN. 219 
 
 That sacred hour can I forget ? 
 
 Can I forget the hallowed grove, 
 Where by the winding Ayr we met, 
 
 To live one day of parting love % 
 Eternity will not efface 
 
 Those records dear of transports past ; 
 Thy image at our last embrace — 
 
 Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! 
 
 Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, 
 
 O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green ; 
 The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar. 
 
 Twined am'rous round the raptured scene ; 
 The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 
 
 The birds sang love on every spray — 
 Till too, too soon, the glowing west 
 
 Proclaim'd the speed of wingM day. 
 
 Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, 
 
 And fondly broods with miser care ! 
 Time but th' impression stronger makes, 
 
 As streams their channels deeper wear. 
 My Mary ! dear departed shade ! 
 
 Where is thy place of blissful rest 1 
 See'st thou thy lover lowly laid 1 
 
 Hear'st tliou the groans that rend his breast 1 
 
 Keen and interesting discussion has been held regarding the 
 exact circumstances in which Burns conceived and penned this 
 o-rand, sweet ode. We find no sufficient reasons adduced, however, 
 for losing faith in the time-honoured, affecting account as given 
 by Lockhart in 1828 :— 
 
 This celebrated poem was, it is on all hands admitted, composed by 
 Burns in 1789, on the anniversary day of the death of his early love, Mary 
 Campbell. Mrs. Burns . . gave the following account to ]\Ir. M'Diarmid 
 
220 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 concerning the composition of this remarkable production. Burns spent that 
 day, though labouring under a cold, in the usual work of his harvest, and 
 apparently in excellent spirits. But as the twilight deepened, he appeared 
 to grow " very sad about something," and at length wandered out into the 
 barnyard, to which his wife, in her anxiety, followed him, entreating him in 
 vain to observe that frost had set in, and to return to the fireside. On being 
 again and again requested to do so, he promised compliance ; but still remained 
 where he was, striding up and down slowly, and contemplating the sky, which 
 was singularly clear and starry. At last Mrs. Burns found him stretched on 
 a mass of straw, with his eyes fixed on a beautiful planet "that shone like 
 another moon," and prevailed on him to come in. He immediately, on 
 entering the house, called for his desk, and wrote exactly as they now stand, 
 with all the ease of one copying from memory, these sublime and pathetic 
 verses. 
 
 Tn the almost simultaneous production of pieces so entirely 
 different in subject-matter and style, we find one more striking 
 illustration of the swiftly-varying moods and feelings which swayed 
 Burns hither and thither ; as also of the amazing range of his mighty 
 genius, which could turn so easily from the extreme of joyous 
 revelry to the opposite pole of soul-melting pathos, and touch 
 each, as occasion offered, with the master-hand and spirit. 
 
 In the summer of this same year the poet made the acquaintance 
 of Captain Grose, the antiquary. His intimacy with this " fine, 
 fat, fodgel weight " is interesting, as calling forth the poem " On 
 the late Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland," and, 
 above all, memorable in connection with the production of " Tam 
 o' Shanter"^ — the result, it is said, of one days deep musing by 
 the riverside at Ellisland."^ 
 
 ' See vol. i. p. 258. some of her children — [there were then only 
 
 - Speaking again on the authority of Mrs. two]. He was busily croonhig to himseV, and 
 
 Burns, Lockhart says : — " The Poet spent most Mrs. Burns, perceiving that her presence was 
 
 of the day on his favourite walk by the river, an interruption, loitered behind with her little 
 
 ■where, in the afternoon, she joined him with ones among the broom. Her attention was 
 
ELECTION BALLADS. 221 
 
 In 1789-90, on the occasion of a keen contest for the honour 
 of representing the Dumfries district of burghs, in espousing the 
 cause of Sir James Johnston of Westerhall, Burns wrote three 
 election ballads, " The Laddies by the Banks o' Nith," " The Five 
 Carlines," and " Fintry, my stay in worldly strife"— the first of 
 which pieces commands special admiration for its apt personifica- 
 tions and splendid minstrel tone. Burns was incited to this tilt 
 in the political arena, not so much by any feeling of strong 
 partisanship, as by the local and temporary excitements of the 
 campaign.^ In the closing stanzas of the last of the above- 
 mentioned ballads, he avows a humble yet independent position 
 in party strife, and ends with this hearty, wild note of the deep- 
 rooted patriotism of his nature : — 
 
 Now for my friends' and brethren's sakes, 
 And for my dear-loved Land o' Cakes, 
 
 I pray with holy fire : 
 Lord, send a rough-shod troop o' hell 
 O'er a' wad Scotland buy or sell, 
 
 To grind them in the mire. 
 
 During the winter of 1789-90, the Poet occasionally found his 
 way to the theatre in Dumfries, apparently in quest of some 
 entertainment likely to lighten the burden of melancholy and 
 nervous depression which from time to time sat so heavily upon 
 him. For Mr. Sutherland, the manager of the company then 
 acting in Dumfries, he dashed off a couple of prologues, one of 
 
 presently attracted by the strange and wild " Now Tani , Tam ! had thae been queans, 
 
 gesticulations of the bard, who, now at some A' plump and strappin' in their teens ;" 
 
 distance, was aqonized with an ungovernable 
 
 ' . „ .^. 1 1 J and so on. 
 
 access of joy. He was reciting very loud, and 
 
 with the tears rolling down his cheeks, those ^ Perhaps Burns might be politically described 
 
 animated verses which he had just conceived— in present-day phrase as a Tory Democrat. 
 
222 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 which was spoken on the evening of 1st January, 1790, the other, 
 shortly afterwards, on Mr. Sutherland's benefit night. 
 
 Tlie latter half of the Ellisland period further produced several 
 pieces of the "In Memoriam" order — "Elegy on Captain Matthew 
 Henderson,"^ "Elegy on Miss Burnet of Monboddo,"^ and " Lament 
 for James, Earl of Glencairn " — a magnificent tribute of grateful 
 admiration and sorrowing affection, gushing warm from the Poet's 
 great sobbing heart. In poems after this manner, we know of 
 nothing to excel these closing stanzas : — 
 
 Awake thy last sad voice, my harp ! 
 
 The voice of woe and wild despair ! 
 Awake ! resound thy latest lay — 
 
 Then sleep in silence evermair ! 
 And thou, my last, best, only friend, 
 
 That fillest an untimely tomb, 
 Accept this tribute from the bard 
 
 Thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom. 
 
 In poverty's low barren vale, 
 
 Thick mists, obscure, involved me round ; 
 Though oft I turned the wistful eye, 
 
 Nae ray of fame was to be found : 
 Thou found'st me, like the morning suu 
 
 That melts the fogs in limjiid air, 
 The friendless bard and rustic song 
 
 Became alike thy fostering care. 
 
 why has worth so short a date. 
 
 While villains ripen grey with time ? 
 Must thou, the noble, generous, great, 
 
 Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime ! 
 
 1 Vol. i. p. 309. 
 
 ^ The lady celebrated by Burns in liis "Address to Edinburgh." See vol. ii. p. 335 
 
LAMENT AND ELEGY. 223 
 
 Why did I live to see that day % 
 
 A day to me so full of woe ! 
 Oh, had I met the mortal shaft 
 
 Which laid my benefactor low ! 
 
 The bridegroom may forget the bride 
 
 Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; 
 The monarch may forget the crown 
 
 That on his head an hour has been ; 
 The mother may forget the child 
 
 That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; 
 But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, 
 
 And a' that thou hast done for me ! 
 
 How deeply Burns mourned the loss and revered the memory 
 of this amiable, noble friend and benefactor we further learn from 
 his letter, enclosing the " Lament," to the Lady Cunningham, the 
 deceased Earl's sister, wherein he says : — 
 
 As all the world knows my obligations to the late Earl of Glencairn, I 
 would wish to show, as openly, that my heart glows, and shall ever glow, 
 with the most grateful sense and remembrance of his lordship's goodness. The 
 sables I did myself the honour to Avear to his lordship's memory were not the 
 " mockery of Avoe." Nor shall my gratitude perish with me ! If among my 
 children I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to his 
 child as a family honour and a family debt, that my dearest existence I owe 
 to the noble house of Glencairn ! 
 
 When, in February 1789, the Poet paid a hurried visit to Edin- 
 burgh, to receive from Creech some £50, — the balance due for 
 further sales of the Edinburgh edition, — he did not on that occasion 
 see Clarinda. The estrangement, caused by his marrying Jean 
 Armour, passed off, however, and the correspondence with Clarinda 
 was to some extent renewed. Learning that this lady was about 
 to set out for Jamaica to rejoin her errant husband, Burns repaired 
 
224 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 to Edinburgh about the end of November 1791, to say " Good-bye." 
 Moved by this crisis in Clarinda's sadly romantic life, he wrote 
 the well-known exquisite songs, " Behold the hour, the boat 
 arrive," " Here awa', there awa','' " My Nannie's awa'," and those 
 intensely glowing lines, which have been well described as " the 
 alpha and omega of feeling, containing the essence of an existence 
 of pain and pleasure distilled into one burning drop " : — 
 
 Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ! 
 
 Ae fareweel, and then for ever ! 
 
 Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, 
 
 Warring sighs and groans I'U wage thee. 
 
 Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, 
 While the star of hope she leaves him % 
 Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me ; 
 Dark despair around benights me, 
 
 I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, 
 Naething could resist my Nancy ; 
 But to see her was to love her ; 
 Love but her, and love for ever. 
 
 Had we never loved sae kindly. 
 Had we never loved sae blindly. 
 Never met — or never parted, 
 We had ne'er been broken-hearted. 
 
 Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest ! 
 Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest ! 
 Thine be ilka joy and treasure, 
 Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure ! 
 
 Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ; 
 
 Ae fareweel, alas ! for ever ! 
 
 Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, 
 
 Warrins siuhs and groans I'll wage thee. 
 
LAST ELLISLAND SONG. 225 
 
 Merely observing the fact that those three years yielded various 
 songs and minor poems which are not noticed here, we close this 
 chapter with Burns's last poetical composition at Ellisland, his 
 " Song of Death," a poem in some respects worthy to take rank 
 with " Scots wha hae," by virtue of its inspiring ring of patriotic 
 bravery. In his letter to Mrs. Dunlop, of 17th December 1791, 
 he thus embodied this spirited ode : — 
 
 I have just finished the following song, which, to a lady, the descendant 
 of Wallace, and many heroes of his truly illustrious line — and herself the 
 mother of several soldiers — needs neither j^reface nor apology. 
 
 SONG OF DEATH. 
 
 Air — Oran an Aoig. 
 
 Scene — A Field of Battle. Time of the day — Evening. The wounded and dying of the victorious 
 army are supposed to join in the following song : — 
 
 Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, 
 
 Now gay with the bright setting sun ; 
 Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties — 
 
 Our race of existence is run ! 
 
 Thou grim King of Terrors, thou life's gloomy foe ! 
 
 Go, frighten the coward and slave ; 
 Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant ! but know 
 
 No terrors hast thou to the brave ! 
 
 Thou strik'st the dull peasant — he sinks in the dark. 
 
 Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name ; 
 Thou strik'st the young hero — a glorious mark ! 
 
 He falls in the blaze of his fame ! 
 
 In the field of proud honour — our swords in our hands. 
 
 Our king and our country to save — 
 While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, 
 Oh, who would not die with the brave ? 
 VOL. III. 2 F 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DUMFRIES, 1792-1795. AGE, 33-36. 
 
 But, oh ! thou bitter stepmother and hard 
 
 To thy poor, fenceless, naked child — the Bard ! 
 
 In naked feeling and in aching pride 
 
 He bears the unbroken blast from every side. 
 
 Third Epistle to Mr. Graham. 
 
 From this time, his wit became more gloomy and sarcastic, and his conversation and 
 writings began to assume a misanthropical tone, by which they had not been before, in any 
 eminent degree, distinguished. But, with all his failings, his was still that exalted mind 
 which had raised itself above the depression of its original condition with all the energy of 
 the lion painng to free his hinder limbs from the yet encumbering earth. 
 
 Memoir of Bur7is, by his contemporary, Robert Heron. 
 
 In thus far tracing the life-story of Burns, every sympathetic 
 student must experience, side by side with constant admiration of 
 that amazing poetic genius, many a feeling of keen pain and sorrow 
 at the vexing record of aberration, disappointment, and care, — a 
 record only now and then lightened by a few evanescent gleams of 
 joyous hope appearing amid the prevailing unrest of a swiftly 
 alternating and almost equally saddening glare and gloom. And 
 now, from the time of his enforced departure from Ellisland until he 
 is laid to rest in the tomb, the story darkens as to the terrible close 
 of a great, sad tragedy. The record of these few last years — apart, 
 indeeed, from their rich harvest of deathless song — is simply 
 heartrendiiig. 
 
SOCIAL LIFE IN DUMFRIES. 227 
 
 Towards the end of December 1791, leaving Ellisland, Burns 
 became tenant of a humble abode in the " Wee Yennel " (now known 
 as Bank Street), Dumfries ; where " the father no longer saw the 
 sun rise over the beautiful river, the little ones ^ had no longer the 
 gowaned sod to sport over, and the mother found that every article 
 of household necessity had to be purchased." The dwelling consisted 
 of three apartments— parlour and kitchen, mth a small room or 
 bed-closet between, which last served as the Poet's study. Eegard- 
 ing his career now, there was cause for grave apprehension in the 
 state of things which subsisted in Dumfries one hundred years ago. 
 There he had to encounter, of course on a smaller scale, but in no 
 less alluring form, nearly all the temptations of city life ; and also 
 some that are peculiar to a provincial town — a small capital in its 
 way — such as Dumfries then was : — 
 
 The curse of country towns— says Chambers, whose earlier years reached 
 back to the times in question— is the partial and entire idleness of large classes 
 of the inhabitants. There is always a cluster of men living on competencies, 
 and a greater number of tradesmen whose shop-duties do not occupy half their 
 time. Till a very recent period, dissipation in greater or less intensity was the 
 rule and not the exception amongst these men ; and in Dumfries, sixty years 
 ago, this rule held good. In those days, tavern enjoyments were in vogue 
 among men who do not now enter a public place of entertainment once in a 
 twelvemonth. The weary waste of spirits and energy at these soaking evening 
 meetings was deplorable. Insipid toasts, petty raillery, empty gabble about 
 trivial occurrences, endless disputes on small questions of fact, where an ahnanac 
 or a dictionary would have settled all, these, reheved by a song when it was to 
 be had, formed the staple of convivial life as I remember it in such places in 
 
 ^ In March 1791, his family circle was in- named Elizabeth. The story of Mrs. Burns 
 
 creased by the advent of an illegitimate daughter taking home this child of shame, and rearing it 
 
 bom at the Globe Tavern ; and in April by the as her own, is one of most affecting interest, 
 
 birth of a son who was named William Nicol, This pitiful irregularity on Burns's part is said 
 
 after the Poet's friend and quondam travelling to have occurred during his faithful, patient 
 
 companion. The daughter here referred to was, Jean's absence on a visit to her home and 
 
 in common with the Poet's other two daughters, kindred at Mauchline. 
 
228 • THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 my own younger days. It was a life without progress, or profit, or any gleam 
 of a tendency to moral elevation. The only redemption to be hoped for it was 
 in such scintillations of wit and eloquence as a man like Burns could give. For 
 him, on the other hand, to do so was to sacrifice the bread of angels before 
 blocks and dolts. 
 
 Burns came into this society a comparatively pure man, for, though the 
 contrary has been asserted, there is no evidence that he had as yet acquired 
 over-convivial habits. His own inclination was to shun rather than to court 
 the bacchanalian revel, and there was a literal truth in what he told the 
 Countess of Glencairn as to bringing his punch-bowl from its dustij corner on 
 her ladyship's birthday. Burns, however, does not seem ever to have aimed at 
 systematically resisting the temptations of convivial society. He yielded to 
 them when they came, and it depended on the frequency of occasion or oppor- 
 tunity whether he was to be much or little in merry company. Now that he 
 was thrown into Dumfries, it was of course to be feared that he would become 
 much more a victim to such indulgences than formerly. 
 
 Tlie truth of the foregoing remarks finds ample illustration in 
 country towns even now, where many a one who has withstood the 
 allurements of city social life is seen to fall an unsuspecting victim 
 to the half-idle, gossiping, drinking ways of some village or small 
 town clique or coterie. While it cannot be shown that prior to 
 this Dumfries period, the Poet was habitually intemperate, it cannot 
 be for a moment denied that he had indulged in many a night's 
 hard drinking amid the revelries of hard-drinking company in a 
 hard-drinking age. It seems to have been while suffering the 
 consequences of one of these carousal nights that he self-accusingly 
 wrote to Ainslie, in December 1791 : — 
 
 Can you minister to a mind diseased? — can you, amid the horrors of 
 penitence, regret, remorse, headache, nausea, and all the rest of the hounds of 
 hell that beset a poor wretch who has been guilty of the sin of drunkenness — 
 can you speak peace to a troubled soul ? 
 
 Miserable perdu that I am ! I have tried everything that used to amuse 
 me, but in vain : here must I sit, a monument of the vengeance laid up in store 
 
HASTY UTTERANCES. 229 
 
 for the wicked, slowly counting every click of the clock as it slowly, slowly 
 numbers over these lazy scoundrels of hours, . . . every one with a burden of 
 anguish on his back, to pour on my devoted head — and there is none to pity 
 me. My wife scolds me, my business torments me, and my sins come staring 
 me in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his fellow. 
 
 It was tlius he bitterly upbraided himself for those occasional 
 excesses which his sojourn in Dumfries soon multiplied and 
 aggravated. This state of things, again, is not to be altogether 
 accounted for by the greater temptations of his new place of residence 
 and fresh sphere of duty and companionship. The bitterness of 
 failure and disappointment had much to do with it. He left his 
 farm an impoverished and embittered man ; and although he had 
 received what we may now consider a substantial increase of salary ^ 
 on coming to the town, he was not there long, till, from one cause 
 and another, his hopes of advancement in the Excise service were 
 almost entirely blasted. This unhappy result was mainly brought 
 about by his carelessly and daringly avowed sympathy with the 
 French Eevolution movement. In toast and epigram and speech, 
 he gave open expression to sentiments which were easily construed 
 into dangerous disaffection towards the Government and Constitution 
 of the country, and turned upon him many watchful and suspicious 
 eyes. 
 
 On one occasion, e.g., in a public company, when the health of 
 the Premier, William Pitt, was about to be proposed. Burns (a 
 Government official, be it remembered) recklessly insisted that the 
 toast should be " the health of a greater and a better man, George 
 
 ^ [" I am on the list, as we call it, for a £70 per annum." — Letter to Ainslie.] Being 
 
 supervisor, and will be called out by and by to now relieved of the expenses of keeping a horse 
 
 act as one ; but at present I am a simple gauger, to carry him on his duties, his income may be 
 
 though t'other day I got an appointment to an estimated, independent of chance additions, as 
 
 Excise division of £25 per annum better than equal to a present-day salary of about £120. 
 the rest. My present income, down money, is 
 
230 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Washino'ton." Languao;e of this kind could not fail to bring the 
 Poet into hazardous notoriety in that time of excitement and 
 distrust. 
 
 A still more daring act of seeming disloyalty falls to be recorded, 
 — an act which is said to have at length impelled the Excise 
 Commissioners to institute searching inquiry into the Jacobinical 
 speech and conduct of " Exciseman Robert Burns." This extra- 
 ordinary incident in the Poet's life is thus set forth by Lockhart : — 
 
 At that period [1792] a great deal of contraband traffic, chiefly from the Isle 
 of Man, was going on along the coasts of Galloway and Ayrshire, and the whole 
 of the revenue officers from Gretna to Dumfries were placed under the orders of 
 a superintendent residing in Annan, who exerted himself zealously in intercepting 
 the descent of the smuggling vessels. On the 27tli of February, a suspicious- 
 looking brig was discovered in the Solway Firth, and Burns was one of the 
 party whom the superintendent conducted to watch her motions. She got into 
 shallow water the day afterwards, and the officers were enabled to discover that 
 her crew were numerous, armed, and not likely to yield without a struggle. 
 Lewars, a brother exciseman, an intimate friend of our Poet, was accordingly 
 sent to Dumfries for a guard of dragoons ; the superintendent himself, Mr. 
 Crawford, proceeded on a similar errand to Ecclefechan, and Burns was left 
 with some men under his orders, to watch the brig, and to prevent landing or 
 escape. From the private journal of one of the excisemen — now in my hands — 
 it appears that Burns manifested considerable impatience while thus occupied, 
 being left for many hours in a wet salt-marsh, with a force which he knew to 
 be inadeqiTate to the purpose it was meant to fulfil. One of his comrades 
 hearing him abuse his friend Lewars in particular, for being slow about his 
 journey, the man answered that he also wished the devil had him for his pains, 
 and that Burns in the meantime Avould do well to indite a song upon the 
 sluggard : Burns said nothing ; but, after taking a few strides by himself among 
 the reeds and shingle, rejoined his party, and chanted to them the well-known 
 ditty — 'The Deil's awa' wi' the Exciseman.' 
 
 Lewars arrived shortly after with his dragoons ; and Burns, putting himself 
 at their head, waded sword in hand to the brig, and was the first to board her. 
 The crew lost heart and submitted, though their numbers were greater than 
 
IN TROUBLE WITH EXCISE BOARD. 231 
 
 those of the assailing force. The vessel Avas condemned, and, with all her arms 
 and stores, sold next day at Dumfries; upon which occasion Burns, whose 
 conduct had been highly commended, thought fit to purchase four carronades by 
 way of trophy. 
 
 But his glee went a step further ; — he sent the guns, with a letter, to the 
 French Convention, requesting that body to accept of them as a mark of his 
 admiration and respect. The present and its accompaniment were intercepted 
 at the Custom-house at Dover ; and here, there appears little room to doubt, 
 was the principal circumstance that drew on Burns the notice of his jealous 
 superiors. 
 
 Notwithstanding the ftxct that a good deal has been written, not 
 altogether unsuccessful^, in extenuation of the Poet's conduct, it 
 still remains, taken in conjunction with his other sayings and doings 
 of the same tendency, an act of, to say the least, impulsive, reckless 
 folly on the part of any one situated as he then was. " We were 
 not, it is true," as Lockhart remarks, " at war with France ; but every 
 one knew and felt that we were to be so ere long ; and nobody can 
 pretend that Burns was not guilty, on this occasion, of a most 
 absurd and presumptuous breach of decorum." Every one rejoices 
 in that glowing passion which the Bard ever cherished towards 
 whatever made for the cause of liberty and humanity. At the same 
 time, it may justly be regretted that his enthusiasm led him in this 
 instance to continue to so emphatically sympathize with a movement 
 which nominally avowed the principles expressed by the formula, 
 "LiBEETY, Fraternity, Equality," but which, almost from the 
 first, manifested itself as a combination of mob-force, terror, and 
 blood-guiltiness— a terrible menace to the peace and real progress 
 of Europe and mankind. 
 
 From the Poet's own writings,— and all we know for certain 
 must there be looked for,— it is evident that, like his Jacobitism, 
 his sympathy with the Revolution movement sprang from no rooted 
 feelings of disaffection or disloyalty towards the British Constitution, 
 
232 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 but rather he was, by his bounding love of all forms and names of 
 liberty, and by the stirring excitements of those days, drawn into 
 unguarded situations and expressions, which, in calmer moments, 
 he heartily and loyally repudiated. But before passing from this 
 unfortunate crisis, it is well, in defence of Burns, to let Burns speak 
 for himself, as he does so nobly in one or two letters on the matter 
 in hand. 
 
 On learning, in December 1792, that the Commissioners of 
 Excise were bestirring themselves against him, he wrote to his 
 friend, Mr. Graham, as follows : — 
 
 Sir, — I have been surprised, confounded, and distracted by Mr. IMitcbell, 
 the collector, telling me that he has received an order from your Board to 
 inquire into my political conduct, and blaming me as a person disaffected to 
 Government. 
 
 Sir, you are a husband and a father. You know what you would feel to 
 see the much-loved wife of your bosom, and your helpless, prattling little ones, 
 turned adrift into the world, degraded and disgraced from a situation in which 
 they had been respectable and respected, and left almost without the necessary 
 support of a miserable existence. Alas ! sir, must I think that such soon will 
 
 be my lot ! and from the d dark insinuations of hellish, groundless envy, 
 
 too ! I believe, sir, I may aver it, and in the sight of Omniscience, that I 
 would not tell a deliberate falsehood, no, not though even worse horrors, if 
 worse can be, than those I have mentioned, hung over my head ; and I say 
 that the allegation, whatever villain has made it, is a lie ! To the British 
 Constitution, on revolution principles, next after my God, I am most devoutly 
 attached. You, sir, have been much and generously my friend — Heaven knows 
 how warmly I have felt the obligation, and how gratefully I have thanked 
 you. Fortune, sir, has made you powerful, and me impotent — has given you 
 patronage, and me dependence. I would not, for my single self, call on your 
 humanity ; were such my insular, unconnected situation, I would despise the 
 tear that now swells in my eye — I could brave misfortime, I could face ruin, 
 for at the worst "Death's thousand doors stand open;" but, good God! the 
 tender concerns that I have mentioned, the claims and ties that I see at this 
 moment, and feel around me, how they unnerve courage and wither resolution ! 
 
ON HIS DEFENCE, 233 
 
 To your patronage, as a man of some genius, you have allowed me a claim ; and 
 your esteem, as an honest man, I know is my due. To these, sir, permit me to 
 appeal ; by these may I adjure you to save me from that misery which threatens 
 to overwhelm me, and w^hich — with my latest breath I will say it — I have not 
 deserved. 
 
 The danger which at this juncture menaced the unlucky Bard 
 was so grave that it was even currently reported that he had been 
 dismissed. Erskine of Mar, on hearing this report, wrote to 
 Riddel of Friar's Carse, sympathizing with BurnSj and generously 
 offering to head a subscription on his behalf. Hence the Poet's 
 magnificent letter to Mr. Erskine, which, notwithstanding its length, 
 we reproduce in all its passionate, truth-laden, pathetic power. 
 
 Sir, — Degenerate as human nature is said to be, — and in many instances 
 Avorthless and unprincipled it is, — still there are bright examples to the 
 contrary ; examples that, even in the eyes of superior beings, must shed a lustre 
 on the name of man. 
 
 Such an example have I now before me, when you, sir, came forward to 
 patronize and befriend a distant obscure stranger, merely because poverty had 
 made him heljjless, and his British hardihood of mind had provoked the 
 arbitrary wantonness of power. ]My much-esteemed friend, Mr. Riddel of 
 Glenriddel, has just read me a paragraph of a letter he had from you. Accept, 
 sir, of the silent throb of gratitude ; for words would but mock the emotions 
 of my soul. 
 
 You have been misinformed as to my final dismission from the Excise ; I am 
 still in the service. Indeed, but for the exertions of a gentleman who must be 
 known to you, Mr. Graham of Fintry, — a gentleman who has ever been my 
 warm and generous friend, — I had, without so much as a hearing, or the slightest 
 previous intimation, been turned adrift with my helpless family to all the 
 horrors of want. Had I had any other resource, probably I might have saved 
 them the trouble of a dismission ; but the little money I gained by my publi- 
 cation is, almost every guinea, embarked to save from ruin an only brother, who, 
 though one of the worthiest, is by no means one of the most fortunate of men. 
 
 In my defence to their accusations I said, that, whatever might be my 
 VOL. III. 2 G 
 
234 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 sentiments of republics, ancient or modern, as to Britain I abjured the idea — 
 that a CoNSTiTUTiox which, in its original principles, experience had proved to 
 be every way fitted for our happiness in society, it woi:ld be insanity to sacrifice 
 to an untried visionary theory — that, in consideration of my being situated in a 
 department, however humble, immediately in the hands of people in power, I 
 had forborne taking any active part, either personally or as an author, in the 
 present business of reform ; but that, where I must declare my sentiments, I 
 would say there existed a system of corruption between the executive power and 
 the representative part of the legislature, which boded no good to our glorious 
 Constitution, and which every patriotic Briton must wish to see amended. 
 Some such sentiments as these I stated in a letter to my generous patron, Mr. 
 Graham, which he laid before the Board at large, where, it seems, my last 
 remark gave great offence ; and one of our supervisors-general, a ilr. Corbet, 
 was instructed to inquire on the spot, and to document me — that my business 
 was to act, not to think ; and that, whatever might be men or measures, it was 
 for me to be sUent and obedient. 
 
 Mr. Corbet was likewise my steady friend ; so between Mr. Graham and 
 him I have been partly forgiven : only I understand that all hopes of my 
 getting officially forward are blasted. 
 
 Now, sir, to the business in which I would more immediately interest you. 
 The partiality of my countrymen has brought me forward as a man of genius, 
 and has given me a character to support. In the poet I have avowed manly 
 and independent sentiments, which I trust will be found in the man. Reasons 
 of no less weight than the support of a wife and family, have pointed out as 
 the eligible, and, situated as I Avas, the only eligible line of life for me, my 
 present occupation. Still my honest fame is my dearest concern ; and a 
 thousand times have I trembled at the idea of those degrading epithets that 
 malice or misrepresentation may affix to my name. I have often, in blasting 
 anticipation, listened to some future hackney scribbler, with the heavy malice 
 of savage stupidity, exulting in his hireling paragraphs — " Burns, notwith- 
 standing the fanfaronade of independence to be found in his works, and after 
 having been held forth to public view and to public estimation as a man of 
 some genius, yet quite destitute of resources within himself to support his 
 borrowed dignity, he dwindled into a paltry exciseman, and slunk out the rest 
 of his insignificant existence in the meanest of pursuits, and among the vilest 
 of mankind." 
 
 In your illustrious hands, sir, permit me to lodge my disavowal and defiance 
 
ON HIS DEFENCE. 235 
 
 of these slanderous falsehoods. Burns was a poor man from birth, and an 
 exciseman by necessity ; but—/ icUl say it— the sterling of his honest worth 
 no poverty could debase, and his independent British mind oppression might 
 bend, but could not subdue. Have not I, to me, a more precious stake in my 
 country's welfare than the richest dukedom in it ? I have a large family of 
 children, and the prospect of many more. I have three sons, who, I see 
 already, have brought into the world souls ill qualified to inhabit the bodies of 
 SLAVES. Can I look tamely on, and see any machination to wrest from them 
 the birthright of my boys— the little independent Britons, in whose veins runs 
 my own blood % ^o\ \ will not, should my heart's blood stream around my 
 attempt to defend it ! 
 
 Does any man tell me, that my full efforts can be of no service, and that it 
 does not belong to my humble station to meddle with the concern of a nation ! 
 
 I can tell him that it is on such individuals as I that a nation has to rest, 
 both for the hand of support and the eye of intelligence. The uninformed 
 MOB may swell a nation's bulk ; and the titled, tinsel, courtly throng may be its 
 feathered ornament ; but the number of those who are elevated enough in life 
 to reason and to reflect, yet low enough to keep clear of the venal contagion of 
 a court — these are a nation's strength ! 
 
 I know not how to apologize for the impertinent length of this epistle ; but 
 one small request I must ask of you further— When you have honoured this 
 letter with a perusal, please to commit it to the flames. Burns, in whose 
 behalf you have so generously interested yourself, I have here, in his native 
 colours, drawn as he is; but should any of the people in whose hands is the 
 very bread he eats, get the least knowledge of the picture, it would ruin the 
 poor Bard for ever. 
 
 Any comment of ours must appear stiff and feeble beside this 
 glowing eloquence. For our own part, pondering such utterances 
 as these, we can put away all doubt regarding Burns's thorough 
 deep-rooted loyalty, and anew learn to admire and venerate his 
 native nobility of mind and spirit. 
 
 Very soon after coming to Dumfries, the Poet made the acquain- 
 tance of Mr. and Mrs. Walter Eiddel, of Woodley Park. Walter 
 Riddel, younger brother of the laird of Friar's Carse, was a genial, 
 
236 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 sociable man ; and his wife, Maria Woodley/ then under twenty years 
 of age, was a person of bright, glowing temperament, and already an 
 authoress of no mean note. Having a marked poetic turn of mind, 
 she warmly cultivated the friendship of the Exciseman Bard, who 
 in turn greatly esteemed her company, and often enjoyed the 
 hospitalities of Woodley Park ; but to this acquaintanceship we 
 shall again refer. Another of Burns's heroines of this first year in 
 Dumfries was Miss Lesley Baillie, the theme of his lays in " Saw ye 
 Bonnie Lesley " and " Blithe hae I been on yon hill," which latter 
 song he describes as " one of the finest songs ever I made in my life." 
 
 Blithe hae I been on yon hill, 
 
 As the lambs before pie ; 
 Careless ilka thought and free, 
 
 As the breeze flew o'er me ; 
 !Now nae longer sport and play, 
 
 Mirth or sang can please me ; 
 Lesley is sae fair and coy, 
 
 Care and anguish seize me, 
 
 Heavy, heavy is the tas'k. 
 
 Hopeless love declaring j 
 Trenibling, I dow nocht but glower, 
 
 Sighing, diimb, despairing I 
 If she winna ease the thraws 
 
 In my bosom swelling. 
 Underneath the grass-green sod^ 
 
 Soon maun be my dwelling. 
 
 Of this new "vision of beauty" he also wrote (rapturously as 
 was his wont on such a theme) to Mrs. Dunlop : — 
 
 Do you know that I am almost in love with an acquaintance of yours ? 
 Almost ! said 1 — I am in love, souse over head and ears, deep as the most 
 
 ^ See vol, ii. p. 175. 
 
MISS LESLEY BAIL LIE. 237 
 
 unfathomable abyss of the boundless ocean ! — but the word love, owing to the 
 intermingledoms of the good and the bad, the pure and the impure, in this 
 world, being rather an equivocal term for expressing one's sentiments and 
 sensations, I must do justice to the sacred purity of my attachment. Know 
 then, that the heart-struck awe ; the distant, humble approach ; the delight we 
 should have in gazing upon and listening to a messenger of heaven, appearing 
 in all the unspotted purity of his celestial home, among the coarse, polluted, far 
 inferior sons of men, to deliver to them tidings that make their hearts swim in 
 joy, and their imaginations soar in transport — such, so delighting and so pure, 
 were the emotions of my soul on meeting the other day with Miss Lesley 
 Baillie, your neighbour at M. Mr. B., with his two daughters, accompanied 
 by Mr. H, of G., passing through Dumfries a few days ago, on their way to 
 England, did me the honour of calling on me ; on which I took my horse- 
 though, God knows, I could ill spare the time— and accompanied them fourteen 
 or fifteen miles, and dined and spent the day with them. 'Twas about nine, I 
 think, when I left them, and riding home, I composed the following ballad, of 
 which you will probably think you have a dear bargain, as it will cost you another 
 groat of postage. You must know that there is an old ballad beginning with— 
 " My bonnie Lizzie Baillie, 
 I'll rowe thee in my plaidie," etc. 
 So I parodied it as follows, which is literally the first copy, "unanointed, 
 unannealed," as Hamlet says : — 
 
 BONNIE LESLEY. 
 
 O saw ye bonnie Lesley, 
 
 As she gaed ower the Border ? 
 She's gane, like Alexander, 
 
 To spread her conquests farther. 
 
 To see her is to love her, 
 
 And love but her for ever ; 
 For nature made her what she is, 
 
 And never made anither ! 
 
 Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, 
 
 Thy subjects we, before thee ; 
 Thou art divine, fair Lesley, 
 
 The hearts o' men adore thee. 
 
238 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The deil he couldna scaith thee, 
 
 Or aught that wad belang thee ; 
 He'd look into thy bonnie face, 
 
 And say, " I canna wrang thee ! " 
 
 The powers aboon will tent thee ; 
 
 Misfortune sha' na steer thee ; 
 Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely, 
 
 That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. 
 
 Return again, fair Lesley, 
 
 Return to Caledonie ! 
 That we may brag, we hae a lass 
 
 There's nane again sae bonnie. 
 
 In August 1792, the fourth volume of Johnson's Musical 
 Museum was issued, containing some fifty songs by Burns ; and in 
 the following month the Bard began his correspondence with Mr. 
 George Thomson,^ the gifted and enthusiastic editor of a select 
 collection of Scottish songs and melodies, issued with accompani- 
 ments by many of the first musicians of the day. We here give 
 the letters with which this extensive and delightful correspondence 
 opened : — 
 
 THOMSON TO BURNS. 
 
 Edinburgh, September 1792. 
 Sir, — For some years past 1 have, with a friend or two, employed many 
 leisure hours in selecting and collating the most favourite of our national 
 melodies for publication. We have engaged Pleyel, the most agreeable 
 composer living, to put accompaniments to these, and also to compose an 
 instrumental prelude and conclusion to each air, the better to fit them for 
 concerts, both public and private. To render this work perfect, we are desirous 
 to have the poetry improved wherever it seems unworthy of the music ; and 
 that it is so in many instances is allowed by every one conversant with our 
 musical collections. The editors of these seem in general to have depended on 
 
 1 See vol. ii. p. 275. 
 
SONG ENTHUSIASM. 239 
 
 the music proving an excuse for the verses ; and hence some charming melodies 
 are united to mere nonsense and doggerel, while others are accommodated with 
 rhymes so loose and indelicate as cannot be sung in decent company. To 
 remove this reproach would be an easy task to the author of the " Cotter's 
 Saturday Night ; " and, for the honour of Caledonia, I would fain hope he may 
 be induced to take up the pen. If so, we shall be enabled to present the 
 public with a collection infinitely more interesting than any that has yet 
 appeared, and acceptable to all persons of taste, whether they wish' for correct 
 melodies, delicate accompaniments, or characteristic verses. We will esteem 
 your poetical assistance a particular favour, besides paying any reasonable price 
 you shall please to demand for it. Profit is quite a secondary consideration 
 with us, and we are resolved to spare neither pains nor expense on the 
 publication. Tell me frankly, then, whether you will devote your leisure to 
 writing twenty or twenty-five songs suited to the particular melodies which I 
 am prepared to send you. A few songs, exceptionable only in some of their 
 verses, I will likewise submit to your consideration, leaving it to you either to 
 mend these or make new songs in their stead. It is superfluous to assure you 
 that I have no intention to displace any of the sterling old songs ; those only 
 will be removed which appear quite silly or absolutely indecent. Even these 
 shall be all examined by Mr. Burns, and if he is of opinion that any of them 
 are deserving of the music, in such cases no divorce shall take place. 
 
 G. Thomson. 
 
 BURNS TO THOMSON. 
 
 Dumfries, 16^^ Sept. 1792. 
 Sir, — I have just this moment got your letter. As the request you make to 
 me will positively add to my enjoyments in complying with it, I shall enter 
 into your undertaking with all the small portion of abilities I have, strained to 
 their utmost exertion by the impulse of enthusiasm. Only, don't hurry me — 
 " Deil tak' the hindmost " is by no means the cri de guerre of my muse. Will 
 you, as I am inferior to none of you in enthusiastic attachment to the poetry 
 and music of old Caledonia, and, since you request it, have cheerfully promised 
 my mite of assistance — will you let me have a list of your airs, with the first 
 line of the printed verses you intend for them, that I may have an opportunity 
 of suggesting any alteration that may occur to me 1 You know 'tis in the way 
 
240 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 of my trade ; still leaving you, gentlemen, the undoubted right of publishers to 
 approve or reject, at your pleasure, for your own publication. Apropos, if you 
 are for English verses, there is, on my part, an end of the matter. Whether in 
 the simplicity of the ballad, or the pathos of the song, I can only hope to please 
 myself in being allowed at least a sprinkling of our native tongue. English 
 verses, particularly the works of Scotsmen that have merit, are certainly very 
 eligible. "Tweedside;" "Ah! the poor shepherd's mournful fate ! " "Ah! Chloris, 
 could I now but sit," etc., you cannot mend ; but such insipid stuff as " To Fanny 
 fair could I impart," etc., usually set to "The Mill, Mill, O !" is a disgrace to 
 the collections in which it has already appeared, and would doubly disgrace a 
 collection that will have the very superior merit of yours. But more of this in 
 the further prosecution of the business, if I am called on for my strictures and 
 amendments — I say amendments, for I will not alter except where I myself, at 
 least, think that I amend. 
 
 As to any remuneration, you may think my songs either above or below 
 price ; for they shall absolutely be the one or the other. In the honest 
 enthusiasm with which I embark in your undertaking, to talk of money, wages, 
 fee, hire, etc. would be downright prostitution of soul I A proof of each of the 
 songs that I compose or amend I shall receive as a favour. In the rustic phrase 
 of the season, " Gude speed the wark ! " I am, sir, your very humble servant, 
 
 R. Burns. 
 
 Into tliis new scheme the Poet entered with loving and unselfish 
 enthusiasm ; and, till very near the close of his life, he continued to 
 pen to Thomson letter after letter, pregnant with his own matchless 
 songs, accompanied by scarcely less delightsome notes and criticisms 
 ranginoj over the entire field of national sono-, ballad, and tradition.^ 
 
 ' Of the Poet's unwearying critical and at the beginning what fiddlers call a starting- 
 pioneer labours in this field, part of one of a "ote, is often a rub to us poor rhymers, 
 multitude of such letters to Mr. Thomson may « There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes, 
 here suffice as an example :— That wander through the blooming heather, " 
 
 I have yours, my dear sir, this moment. I yQ^ u^a,y alter to 
 shall answer it and your former letter, in my 
 
 desultory way of saying whatever comes upper- ' ' ^''^^^' ^''^^^ ^^^^^ °" ^'^''''"^ '^'■^^«' 
 
 most. ^^ wander," etc. 
 
 The business of many of our tunes, wanting My song, "Here awa', there awa',''as amended 
 
TA VERN AND THE A TRE. 
 
 241 
 
 In November 1792, Mrs. Burns brought forth a daughter, who 
 was named Elizabeth Riddel, out of respect to Mrs. Riddel of 
 Friar's Carse. Of this infant daughter Burns is said to have been 
 very fond, not scorning to be seen nursing her at his own door in 
 the Wee Vennel, or carrying her about on the green by the river- 
 side. The protracted illness and early death of this child proved a 
 painful wrench to his great kind heart. About this same time we 
 find him patronizing the little theatre in Dumfries, and writing an 
 "Address on the Rights of AVoman," to be recited by a Miss 
 Fontenelle on her benefit-night, November 26th. Of other forms 
 of enjoyment, too, — social entertainments whereof boon-companion- 
 ship and free use of stimulating liquors were the leading features, — 
 he had enough, nay, more than enough, it is painful to relate. The 
 winter seemed to be passing, though laboriously, yet withal 
 pleasantly and contentedly ; but anon, we meet with startling 
 
 by Mr. Erskiue, I entirely approve of, and 
 return you. 
 
 Give me leave to criticise your taste in the 
 only thing in which it is, in my opinion, repre- 
 hensible. You know I ought to know some- 
 thing of my own trade. Of pathos, sentiment, 
 and point you are a complete judge ; but there 
 is a quality more necessary than either in a 
 song, and which is the very essence of a ballad 
 — I mean simplicity ; now, if I mistake not, 
 this last feature you are a little apt to sacrifice 
 to the foregoing. 
 
 Ramsay, as every other poet, has not been 
 always equally happy in his pieces; still, I 
 cannot approve of taking such liberties with an 
 author as Mr. W. proposes doing with ' ' The 
 last time I came o'er the moor." Let a poet, 
 if he chooses, take up the idea of another, and 
 work it into a piece of his own ; but to mangle 
 the works of the poor bard whose tuneful 
 tongue is now mute for ever in the dark and 
 narrow house — by Heaven, 'twould be sacrilege ! 
 I grant that Mr. W.'s version is an improve- 
 ment ; but I know Mr. W. well, and esteem 
 VOL. \\\. 2 
 
 him much ; let him mend the song, as the 
 Highlander mended his gun — he gave it a new 
 stock, a new lock, and a new barrel. 
 
 I do not by this object to leaving out im- 
 proper stanzas, where that can be done without 
 spoiling the whole. One stanza in " The Lass 
 o' Patie's Mill " must be left out : the song will 
 be nothing worse for it. I am not sure if we 
 can take the same liberty with "Corn-rigs are 
 Bonnie." Perhaps it might want the last 
 stanza, and be the better for it. "Cauld Kail 
 in Aberdeen" you must leave with me yet 
 awhile. I have vowed to have a song to that 
 air on the lady whom I attempted to celebrate 
 in the verses, " Puirtith cauld and restless 
 love." At any rate, my other song, "Green 
 grow the Rashes," will never suit. That song 
 is current in Scotland under the old title, and 
 to the merry old tune of that name, which of 
 course would mar the progress of your song to 
 celebrity. Your book will be the standard of 
 Scots songs for the future ; let this idea ever 
 keep your jmhjment on the alarm. 
 
 H 
 
242 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 expressions of tlie now seldom-absent feverish unrest and bitter 
 self - upbraiding. One great cause of this renewed outburst of 
 gloomy repining was the blighting of his prospect of advancement 
 in the Excise ; in fact, at the time of which we speak, his trouble in 
 that connexion was at its worst. But another obvious cause was 
 his increasing indulgence in the dissipations of Dumfries social and 
 tavern life. What these dissipations were, and with what terrible 
 temptations they assailed the ever social Bard, may be best 
 gathered from a notable passage by Chambers, from which we 
 venture to give a somewhat lengthy but most appropriate quotation. 
 
 Dumfries was then a great stage on the road from England to the north of 
 Ireland ; the Caledonian Hunt occasionally honoured it with their meetings ; 
 and the county gentlemen were necessarily often within its walls. Its hotels 
 were consequently well frequented ; and when a party of strangers found them- 
 selves assembled there, with no other means of passing an evening, they were 
 very apt to make an effort to obtain the company of Burns, the brilliant 
 intellectual prodigy of whom fame spoke so loudly. Now it certainly was a 
 most nnreasonable thing for such persons to expect that they were to draw 
 Burns away from his humble home, and his wife and little ones, to bestow his 
 time, strength, and spirits, merely for the amusement of a set of people whom 
 he probably never saw before and was never to see again. Equally absurd was 
 it for Burns to yield to such invitations, and render himself up a voluntarily- 
 enslaved Samson to make sport for such a set of Philistines. Yet so it is, that 
 gentlemen, or what were called such in those days, would send messages for 
 Burns, bidding him come to the " King's Arms," the " George," or the " Globe," 
 as it might be, and there drink with them. And equally true it is, though 
 most lamentable, that Burns did not feel called upon by any principle, either of 
 respect to himself or regard for his gentle wife and innocent children, to reject 
 these unworthy invitations. Sure was he to answer on the spur of the moment 
 in some such good-humoured terms as these — 
 
 The king's most humble servant, I 
 
 Can scarcely spare a minute ; 
 But I'll be with you by and by, 
 
 Or else the devil's in it. 
 
SOCIAL PASSION AND YIELDING WILL. 243 
 
 And sure \vas he in time to make his appearance before the strangers, 
 meditating at first, of course, only a social hour, but certain to be detained for 
 hour after hour, till perhaps the cock had given his first, if not his second 
 accusing crow. 
 
 According to all accounts, it was not a love of debauchery for its own sake 
 that rendered Burns the victim of this system. Nor can we doubt that he felt 
 himself in error in giving way to such temptations. Why, then, could he not 
 resist them 1 Xeed we answer that the first grand cause was his social, fervent 
 temperament, his delight in that ideal abnegation of the common selfish policy 
 of the world which arises amongst boon- companions over the bowl ? He could 
 not but know the hoUowness of convivial friendship ; yet he could not resist 
 the pleasing deceit. Burns, moreover, though a pattern of modesty amongst 
 poets, was not by any means so insensible to flattery as his more ardent 
 admirers w^ould in general represent him. He would have been more than 
 mortal if he had been beyond all sensibility to distinction on account of his 
 extraordinary intellect. Notwithstanding, then, his great pride, and the 
 powerful self-assertion which he had sometimes shown, he certainlj' felt no 
 small pleasure in being so signalised by these gentlemen strangers, and in seeing 
 himself set up amongst them as a luminary. It was the ready compensation for 
 that equality with common functionaries, and that condemnation to a constant 
 contact with the vulgar, in which his professional fate condemned him to spend 
 the most of his time. A vigorous will might have saved him from falling 
 under this influence ; but here again our Poet was sadly deficient. And yet he 
 was occasionally sensible that his course was a wrong one. Of this there is 
 proof in a very interesting anecdote preserved by the family of his neighbour, 
 George Haugh. One summer morning, this worthy citizen had risen somewhat 
 earlier than usual to work : Burns soon after came up to his shop-door, on his 
 way home from a debauch in the "King's Arms." The Poet, though excited 
 by the liquor he had drunk, addressed his neighbour in a sufficiently collected 
 manner. " Oh, George," said he, " you are a happy man ; you have risen from a 
 refreshing sleep, and left a kind wife and children, while I am returning a self- 
 condemned wretch to mine." 
 
 On 2nd January 1793, lie liad written to Mrs. Dnnlop : "Occa- 
 sional hard drinkicg is the devil to me ; against this I have again 
 and again set my resolution, and have greatly succeeded." Yet 
 
244 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 only three days after this — so greatly a prey to passionate impulse 
 was Burns — we find him addressing the same lady in the entirely 
 opposite vein of bacchanalian bravado : — 
 
 Your cup,i my dear madam, arrived safe. I had two worthy fellows dining 
 with me the other day, when I with great formality produced my whigmaleerie 
 cup, and told them that it had been a family-piece among the descendants of 
 William "Wallace. This roused such an enthusiasm that they insisted on 
 bumpering the punch round in it; and by and by never did your great 
 ancestor lay a mdhron more completely to rest than for a time did your cup. 
 
 Regarding this drinking scene, further information was forth- 
 coming from the Rev. Mr. M'Morine, minister of Caerlaverock. 
 The Poet, being then out of touch wdth ecclesiastical authority in 
 Dumfries, had secured the services of the friendly Mr. M'Morine for 
 the baptism of the infant Elizabeth Riddel. Proceeding to Burns's 
 abode early in the forenoon, the minister discovered the afore- 
 mentioned hout still in progress, the party having to all appearance 
 been at it all night. Doubtless this debauch took place a day or 
 two after the new year had come, and there is some extenuation for 
 the Poet on the ground of the custom of excessive drinking at this 
 season — a custom which has Ions; been a curse and shame to 
 Scotland, but which is now being rapidly superseded by more 
 rational and innocent forms of social enjoyment. It is, never- 
 theless, most sad to think of Burns as at this time giving way 
 more and more to the allurements of hard-drinking company and 
 its attendant debasements. The marvel is how he managed to 
 attend so efficiently as he did to his duties as exciseman, and to 
 proceed so enthusiastically and effectively with his song-making 
 task. As for the latter, it would seem that he lost no opportunity 
 of official leisure, or of freedom from social duties and dissipations, 
 
 ^ A family heirloom gifted by Mrs. Dunlop to Burns. 
 
A NEW EDITION. 245 
 
 but, taking his matchless lyre in hand, he would bring forth an 
 immortal lay ; or, finding some fragment of an old song, he would 
 expand and round it off in his own great way. It was then and 
 thus he contrived to bestow to his country and the world such fruits 
 of his wondrous genius as "Duncan Gray," "The Lea Eig," "Ye 
 banks and braes and streams around," " Puirtith Cauld," " The 
 Soldier's Eeturn," and so on. 
 
 He had also been attending to the preparation of the new 
 edition of his poems which was issued in April 1793. From this 
 edition, which was in two volumes, the Bard reaped little, if any, 
 pecuniary advantage. In presenting copies to various friends, he 
 made some characteristic remarks. To the youthful Lord Glencairn 
 he says : — 
 
 I know, my lord, such is the vile, venal contagion which pervades the world 
 of letters, that professions of respect from an author, particularly from a poet to 
 a lord, are more than suspicious. I claim my by-past conduct, and my feelings 
 at this moment, as exceptions to the too just conclusion. Exalted as are the 
 honours of your lordship's name, and unnoted as is the obscurity of mine, with 
 the uprightness of an honest man, I come before your lordship, with an offering, 
 however humble, 'tis all I have to give, of my grateful respect ; and to beg of 
 you, my lord, 'tis all I have to ask of you, that you will do me the honour to 
 accept of it. 
 
 And to Mr. M'Murdo, of Drumlanrig House : — 
 
 Will Mr. M'Murdo do me the favour to accept of these volumes % a trifling 
 but sincere mark of tlie very high respect I bear for his worth as a man, his 
 manners as a gentleman, and his kindness as a friend. However inferior now, 
 or afterwards, I may rank as a poet, one honest virtue to which few poets can 
 pretend, I trust I shall ever claim as mine — to no man, whatever his station in 
 life, or his power to serve me, have I ever paid a compliment at the expense of 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 The Author. 
 
246 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Very characteristic, too, is the letter he at this time penned to 
 Clarinda on hearing of her return from Jamaica : — 
 
 I suppose, my dear madam, that by your neglecting to inform me of your 
 arrival in Eurojoe — a circumstance that could not be indifferent to me, as indeed 
 no occurrence relating to you can — you meant to leave me to guess and gather 
 that a correspondence I once had the honour and felicity to enjoy is to be no 
 more. Alas ! what heavy-laden sounds are these — " No more ! " The wretch 
 who has never tasted pleasure has never known woe ; what drives the soul to 
 madness is the recollection of joys that are " no more ! " But this is not 
 language to the world : they do not understand it. But come, ye few — the 
 children of Feeling and Sentiment ! — ye whose trembling bosom-chords ache to 
 unutterable anguish as recollection gushes on the heart ! — ye who are capable of 
 an attachment keen as the arrow of Death, and strong as the vigour of immortal 
 
 being — come ! and your ears shall drink a tale But, hush ! I must not, 
 
 cannot tell it ; agony is in the recollection, and frenzy in the recital ! 
 
 But, madam, to leave the paths that leads to madness, I congratulate your 
 friends on your return ; and I hope that the precious health, which Miss P. 
 tells me is so much injured, is restored or restoring. There is a fatality attends 
 Miss Peacock's correspondence and mine. Two of my letters, it seems, she 
 never received ; and her last came while I was in Ayrshire, was unfortunately 
 mislaid, and only found about ten days or a fortnight ago, on removing a desk 
 of drawers. 
 
 I present you a book : may I hope you will accept of it. I daresay you will 
 have brought your books with you. The fourth volume of the Scots Songs is 
 published j I will presume to send it you. Shall I hear from you 1 But first 
 hear me. No cold language — no prudential documents. I despise advice and 
 scorn control. If you are not to write such language, such sentiments as you 
 know I shall wish, shall delight to receive, I conjure you, by wounded pride, by 
 ruined peace, by frantic, disappointed passion, by all the many ills that 
 constitute that sum of human woes, a broken heart ! ! ! — to me be silent for 
 ever. 
 
 At Whitsunday of 1793 the Poet removed from the Wee Vennel 
 to a more commodious dwelling in Mill Vennel, now known as 
 Burns Street. This new house is of two storeys, containing kitchen, 
 
PROUD UNSELFISH BURNS. 247 
 
 parlour, and several bedrooms. On the front of the adjoining 
 house, which is now used as a ragged school, a small bust of Burns 
 was placed by the late Mr. Ewart, Member for the Dumfries district 
 of Burghs ; also a tablet bearing this inscription : — 
 
 IN THE ADJOINING HOUSE, 
 
 TO THE NORTH, 
 
 LIVED AND DIED THE POET OF HIS COUNTRY AND OF MANKIND, 
 
 EGBERT BUR^s^S. 
 
 The occupation of a larger, higher-rented house meant increased 
 expense ; and, without exaggerating our idea of the Bard's poverty, 
 we may justly infer that at this juncture money was not plentiful 
 with him. It is indeed probable that, during these war times, his 
 income was greatly curtailed by a decrease of chance fees and 
 perquisites owing to the prevailing stagnation of trade. Be this as 
 it may, however, we now meet with one of the most striking of all 
 the many manifestations of his sturdy, almost stu])born, independ- 
 ence and unselfishness of spirit. 
 
 On July 1st 1793, Mr. Thomson wrote the Poet as follows:— 
 
 I cannot express how much I am obliged to you for the exquisite new sonas 
 you are sending me ; but thanks, my friend, are a poor return for what you 
 have done— as I shall be benefited by the publication, you must suff"er me to 
 enclose a small mark of my gratitude, and to repeat it afterwards when I find it 
 convenient. Do not return it, for, by Heaven ! if you do, our correspondence 
 is at an end; and though this would be no loss to you, it would mar the 
 publication, which, under your auspices, cannot fail to be respectable and 
 interesting.^ 
 
 To which Burns sent this reply, truly great and prophetic : — 
 
 I assure you, my dear sir, that you truly hurt me with your jjecuniary 
 parcel. It degrades me in my own eyes. However, to return it would savour 
 
 ^ Five pounds was the sum enclosed. 
 
248 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 of affectation ; but, as to any more traffic of that debtor and credit(jr kind, I 
 swear, by that Honour which crowns the upright statue of Robert Burns's 
 Integrity — on the least motion of it, I will indignantly spurn the bypast 
 transaction, and from that moment commence entire stranger to you ! Burns's 
 character for generosity of sentiment and independence of mind will, I trust, 
 long outlive any of his wants which the cold, unfeeling ore can supply ; at least 
 I will take care that such a character he shall deserve. 
 
 In the usual way of publishing his poems, the Bard was willing, 
 though never in a narrow, screwing way, to reap some much-needed 
 pecuniary reward for his poetic labours. But he could not brook 
 the idea of being an hireling, writing with a direct view to making- 
 money thereby. In fact, we have here only one of many evidences ^ 
 that he nobly counted his genius as, first of all, a gift to be 
 employed in singing the loves and joys and sorrows of humanity — 
 that he felt it in his spirit to do what in him lay towards bringing 
 gladness and courage and harmony into the hearts and homes of liis 
 countrymen and his kind. And thus it is that, spite of all his 
 grievous faults and follies, " Burns's character for generosity of 
 sentiment and independence of mind " still essentially stands and 
 brightens as generations come and pass away. 
 
 Having now reached a middle point of time in Burns's four 
 and a half years in Dumfries, we again pause to view him in his 
 solitary musings, and in his daily routine of Excise duty and social 
 
 ^ On this point the following note is given success, and showing the advantage that would 
 
 Ly Chambers : — accrue to his family from it. His answer was : 
 
 In a brief anonymous memoir of Burns, pub- " Xo ; if a friend desires me, and if I'm in tlie 
 
 lished in the Scots Magazine for January 1797, mood for it, I'll write a poem, but I'll be d 
 
 and which appears to have been the composition if ever I write for money." ' 
 of one who knew him and had visited him at Here, too, it will be remembered how, with 
 
 Ellisland, it is stated that he considered it the utmost self- disinterestedness, the Poet, 
 
 below him to be an author by profession. ' A though not seldom I'emonstrated with for doing 
 
 friend,' adds the writer, 'knowing his family so, continued to gice away, right and left, his 
 
 to be in great want [an exaggeration, certainly], most valued compositions to those whom in the 
 
 urged the propriety, and even necessity, of warmth of his generous nature he sacriliced to 
 
 publishing a few poems, assuring him of tbeh- as his friends. 
 
FAVOURITE WALKS. 249 
 
 engagements. Allan Cunningliam says that during the Dumfries 
 period — 
 
 Burns had three favourite walks : on the Dock Green by the river-side, 
 among the ruins of Lincluden College, and towards the Martingdon Ford, on 
 the north side of the Nith. This latter place was secluded, commanded a view 
 of the distant hills, and the romantic towers of Lincluden, and afforded soft 
 greensward banks to rest upon, and the sight antl sound of the stream. Here 
 he composed many of his finest songs. As soon as he was heard to hum to 
 himself, his wife saw that he had something in his mind, and was prepared to 
 see him snatch up his hat, and set silently off for his musing-ground. When 
 by himself, and in the open air, his ideas arranged themselves in their natural 
 order — words came at will, and he seldom returned without having finished a 
 song. In case of interruption, he set about completing it at the fireside ; he 
 balanced himself on the hind-legs of his arm-chair, and, rocking to and fro, 
 continued to hum the tune, and seldom failed of success. When the verses 
 were finished, he passed them through the ordeal of Mrs. Burns's voice ; listened 
 attentively when she sang ; asked her if any of the words were difficidt ; and 
 when one happened to be too rough, he readily found a smoother — but he never, 
 save at the resolute entreaty of a scientific musician, sacrificed sense to sound. 
 The autumn was his favourite season, and the twilight his favourite hour of 
 study. 
 
 While the foreo-oing statement regardino- the Poet's musing;- 
 haunts and manner of composition commends itself by its distinct 
 air of probability, it further closely agrees with Burns's own account 
 in one of his letters to Thomson : — 
 
 Until I am complete master of a tune, in my own singing (such as it is), 
 I can never compose for it. My way is : T consider the poetic sentiment 
 correspondent to my idea of the musical expression ; then choose my theme ; 
 begin one stanza. When that is composed, which is generally the most difficult 
 part of the business, I walk out, sit down now and then, look out for objects in 
 nature around me that are in unison and harmony with the cogitations of my 
 fancy, and workings of my bosom, humming every now and then the air with 
 the verses I have framed. When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to 
 the solitary fireside of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper, 
 VOL. III. 2 I 
 
250 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 swinging at intervals on the hind-legs of my elbow-chair, by way of calling forth 
 my own critical strictures as my pen goes on. Seriously, this, at home, is 
 almost invariably my way. 
 
 It is easy to conjecture, apart from any definite information on 
 the point, that the fine old ruins of Lincluden Abbey, set on a 
 knoll at the junction of the Cluden with the Nith, — a lovely, 
 romantic spot, — would often attract the Poet, and inspire his 
 musings. One grand ballad, at least, clearly fixes this as the 
 scene of its conception, We give the opening lines : — 
 
 As I stood by yon roofless tower. 
 
 Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air, 
 
 AVhere th' howlet mourns in her ivy bower, 
 And tells the midnight moon her care. 
 
 The winds were laid, the air was still, 
 
 The stars they shot alang the sky \ 
 The fox Avas howling on the hill. 
 
 And the distant echoing glens reply. 
 
 The stream, adown its hazelly path, 
 
 Was rushing by the ruined wa's, 
 Hasting to join the sweeping Nith, 
 
 Whose distant roaring swells and fa's. 
 
 And so on, in the glowing stanzas of his piece, entitled "A Vision." 
 But of the Exciseman Bard, in his home-circle, on his business 
 rounds, and in his social hours. Chambers has drawn a sketch so 
 graphically interesting and life-like as to call for its almost full 
 insertion here : — 
 
 So existence flows on with Burns in this pleasant southern town. He has 
 daily duties in stamping leather, gauging malt-vats, noting the manufacture of 
 candles, and granting licences for the transport of spirits. These duties he 
 performs with fidelity to the king, and not too much rigour to the subject. As 
 he goes about them in the forenoon, in his respectable suit of dark clothes, and 
 
DAILY ROUTINE IN DUMFRIES. 251 
 
 with his little boy Robert perhaps holding by his hand and conversing with 
 him on his school exercises, he is beheld by the general public with respect, as 
 a person in some authority, the head of a family, and also as a man of literary 
 note ; and people are heard addressing him deferentially as Mr. Burns — a form 
 of his name which is still prevalent in Dumfries. At a leisure hour before 
 dinner, he will call at some house where there is a piano, — such as INIr. Newall, 
 the writer's,— and there have some young miss to touch over for him one or two 
 of his favourite Scotch airs, such as the " Sutor's Daughter," in order that he may 
 accommodate to it some stanzas that have been humming through his brain for 
 the last few days. For another half hour, he will be seen standing at the head 
 of some cross street with two or three young fellows, bankers' clerks, or " writer 
 chiels " commencing business, whom he is regaling with sallies of his bright but 
 not always innocent wit— indulging there, indeed, in a strain of conversation so 
 different from what had passed in the respectable elderly writer's mansion, that, 
 though he were not the same man, it could not have been more different. 
 Later in the day, he takes a solitary walk along the Dock Green by the river- 
 side, or to Lincluden, and composes the most part of a new song ; or he spends 
 a couple of hours at his folding-down desk, between the fire and window in his 
 parlour, transcribing in his bold round hand the remarks which occur to him 
 on Mr, Thomson's last letter, together with some of his own recently composed 
 songs. As a possible variation upon this routine, he has been seen passing 
 along the old bridge of Devorgilla Balliol, about three o'clock, with his sword- 
 cane in his hand, and his black beard unusually Avell shaven, being on his way 
 to dine with John Syme at Ryedale, where young Mr. Oswald of Auchincruive 
 is to be of the party— or maybe in the opposite direction, to partake of the 
 luxuries of John Bushby, at Tinwald Downs. But we presume a day when no 
 such attraction invades. The evening is passing quietly at home, and pleasant- 
 natured Jean has made herself neat, and come in at six o'clock to give him his 
 tea— a meal he always takes. At this period, however, there is something 
 remarkably exciting in the proceedings of the French army under Pichegru ; or 
 Fox, Adam, or Sheridan is expected to make an onslaught upon the ministry 
 in the House of Commons. The post comes into Dumfries at eight o'clock at 
 night. There is always a group of gentlemen on the street, eager to hear the 
 news. Burns saunters out to the High Street, and waits among the rest. The 
 intelligence of the evening is very interesting. The Convention has decreed the 
 annexation of the Netherlands — or the new treason bill has passed the House of 
 Lords, with only the feeble protest of Bedford, Derby, and Lauderdale. These 
 
252 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 things merit some discussion. The trades-lads go off to strong ale in the closes ; 
 the gentlemen slide in little groups into the King's Arms Hotel or the George, 
 As for Burns, he will just have a single glass and a half-hour's chat beside John 
 Hyslop's fire, and then go quietly home. So he is quickly absorbed in the 
 little narrow close where that vintner maintains his state. There, however, one 
 or two friends have already established themselves, all with precisely the same 
 virtuous intent. They heartily greet the Bard. Meg or John bustles about to 
 give him his accustomed place, which no one ever disputes. And, somehow, 
 the debate on the news of the evening leads on to other chat of an interesting 
 kind. Then Burns becomes brilliant, and his friends give him the applause of 
 their laughter. One jug succeeds another, mirth abounds, and it is not till 
 Mrs. Hyslop has declared that they are going beyond all bounds, and she 
 positively will not give them another drop of hot water, that our bard at length 
 bethinks him of returning home, where Bonnie Jean has been lost in peaceful 
 slumber for three hours, after vainly wondering " what can be keeping Robert 
 out so late the nicht." Burns gets to bed a little excited and worn out, but not 
 in a state to provoke much remark from his amiable partner, in whom nothing 
 can abate the veneration with which she has all along regarded him. And 
 though he beds at a latish hour, most likely he is up next morning between 
 seven and eight, to hear little Robert his day's lesson in Csesar, or, if the season 
 invites, to take a half -hour's stroll before breakfast along the favourite Dock Green. 
 Thus existence moves on, not unenjoyed, and not without its labours both 
 for the present and future ; and yet it is an unsatisfactory life, as compared with 
 what might have been expected by those who saw Burns in his first flush of 
 fame at Monboddo's suppers or the reunions of Dr. Ferguson. 
 
 During the closing days of July, the Poet enjoyed an excursion 
 through part of Galloway and Wigton, his travelling companion 
 being Mr. John Syme ^ of Ryedale, one of his most intimate associates 
 in Dumfries. Mr. Syme afterwards communicated to Dr. Currie the 
 following account of this brief but lively tour : — 
 
 I got Burns a grey Highland shelty to ride on. We dined the first day, 
 27th July 1793, at Glendonwyne's of Parton — a beautiful situation on the 
 
 ^ See vol. ii. p. 257. 
 
GALLOWA Y EXCURSIONS. 253 
 
 banks of the Dee. In the evening, we walked out, and ascended a gentle 
 eminence, from which we had as fine a view of Alpine scenery as can well be 
 imagined. A delightful soft evening showed all its wilder as well as its grander 
 graces. Immediately opposite, and M'ithin a mile of us, we saw Airds, a 
 charming, romantic place, where dwelt Lowe, the author of " Mary, weep no 
 more for me." This was classical ground for Burns. He viewed " the highest 
 hill which rises o'er the source of Dee ; " and would have stayed tiU " the 
 passing spirit " had appeared, had we not resolved to reach Kenmure that night. 
 We arrived as INIr. and Mrs. Gordon were sitting down to supper. 
 
 Here is a genuine baron's seat. The castle, an old building, stands on a 
 large natural moat. In front the river Ken winds for several miles tlii'ough the 
 most fertile and beautiful l\olm, till it expands into a lake twelve miles long, 
 the banks of which, on the south, present a fine and soft landscape of green 
 knolls, natural wood, and here and there a grey rock. On the north, the aspect 
 is great, wild, and, I may say, tremendous. In short, I can scarcely conceive a 
 scene more terribly romantic than the Castle of Kenmure. Burns thinks so 
 highly of it, that he meditates a description of it in poetry. Indeed, I believe 
 he has begun the work. We spent three days with Mr. Gordon, whose polished 
 hospitality is of an original and endearing kind. Mrs. Gordon's lap-dog. Echo, 
 was dead. She would have an epitaph for him. Several had been made. 
 Burns was asked for one. This was setting Hercules to his distaflf. He disliked 
 the subject, but, to please the lady, he would try. Here is what he produced — 
 
 In wood and wild, ye warbling throng. 
 Your heavy loss deplore ! 
 • Xow half extinct your powers of song, 
 Sweet Echo is no more. 
 
 Ye jarring, screeching things around. 
 
 Scream your discordant joys ! 
 Now half your din of tuneless song 
 
 With Echo silent lies. 
 
 We left Kenmure and went to Gatehouse. I took him the moor road, 
 where savage and desolate regions extended wide around. The sky was 
 sympathetic Avith the wretchedness of the soil ; it became lowering and dark. 
 The hoUow winds sighed, the Hghtnings gleamed, the thunder rolled. The 
 Poet enjoyed the awful scene. He spoke not a word, but seemed rapt in 
 
254 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 meditation. In a little while rain began to fall ; it poured in floods u^wn us. 
 For three hours did the wild elements "rumble their belly full" upon our 
 defenceless heads. " Oh ! oh ! /twas foul." We got utterly wet ; and, to 
 revenge ourselves, Burns insisted at Gatehouse on our getting utterly drunk. 
 
 From Gatehouse, we went next day to Kirkcudbright, through a fine 
 country. But here I must tell you that Burns had got a pair of jemmy boots 
 for the journey, which had been thoroughly Avet, and which had been dried in 
 such manner that it was not possible to get them on again. The brawny Poet 
 tried force, and tore them to shreds. A whiffling vexation of this sort is more 
 trying to the temper than a serious calamity. We were going to St. Mary's Isle, 
 the seat of the Earl of Selkirk, and the forlorn Burns was discomfited at the 
 thought of his ruined boots. A sick stomach and a headache lent their aid, 
 and the man of verse was quite accahU. I attempted to reason with him. 
 Mercy on us, how he did fume and rage ! Xothing could reinstate him in 
 temper. I tried various expedients, and at last hit on one that succeeded. I 
 showed him the house of Garlieston, across the bay of Wigton. Against the 
 Earl of Galloway, with whom he was offended, he expectorated his spleen, and 
 regained a most agreeable temper. He was in a most epigrammatic humour 
 indeed ! He afterwards fell on humbler game. There is one whom he does 
 not love. He had a passing blow at him — 
 
 When , deceased, to the devil went down, 
 
 'Twas nothing would serve him but Satan's own croAVn ; 
 Thy fool's head, quoth Satan, that crown shall wear never, 
 I grant thou'rt as wicked, but not quite so clever. 
 
 Well, I am to bring you to Kirkcudbright along with our Poet without 
 boots. I carried the torn ruins across my saddle in spite of his fulminations, 
 and in contempt of appearances ; and, what is more. Lord Selkirk carried them 
 in his coach to Dumfries. He insisted they Avere worth mending. 
 
 We reached Kirkcudbright about one o'clock. I had promised that we 
 should dine with one of the first men in our country, J. Dalzell. But Burns 
 was in a wild and obstreperous humour, and swore he would not dine where he 
 should be under the smallest restraint. We prevailed, therefore, on Mr. Dalzell 
 to dine with us in the inn, and had a very agreeable party. In the evening we 
 set out for St. Mary's Isle. Robert had not absolutely regained the milkiness of 
 good temper, and it occurred once or twice to him, as he rode along, that 
 
SCOTS WHA HAE. 255 
 
 St. Mary's Isle was the seat of a lord ; yet that lord was not an aristocrat, at 
 least in his sense of the word. "We arrived about eight o'clock, as the family 
 were at tea and coffee. St. Mary's Isle is one of the most delightful places that 
 can, in my opinion, be formed by the assemblage of every soft but not tame 
 object which constitutes natural and cultivated beauty. But not to dwell on its 
 external graces, let me tell you that we found all the ladies of the family (all 
 beautiful) at home, and some strangers ; and, among others, who but Urbani. 
 The Italian sang us many Scottish songs, accompanied with instrumental music. 
 The two young ladies of Selkirk sang also. "VVe had the song of "Lord 
 Gregory," which I asked for, to have an opportunity of calling on Burns to 
 recite liis ballad to that tune. He did recite it ; and such was the effect, that a 
 dead silence ensued. It was such a silence as a mind of feeling naturally 
 preserves when it is touched with that enthusiasm which banishes every other 
 thought but the contemplation and indulgence of the sympathy produced. 
 Burns's "Lord Gregory" is, in my opinion, a most beautiful and affecting 
 ballad. The fastidious critic may perhaps say some of the sentiments and 
 imagery are of too elevated a kind for such a style of composition ; for instance 
 "Thou bolt of heaven that passest by," and " Ye mustering thunders," etc. ; but 
 this is a cold-blooded objection, which will be said rather than felt. 
 
 "VYe enjoyed a most happy evening at Lord Selkirk's. We had, in every 
 sense of the word, a feast, in Avhich our minds and our senses were equally 
 gratified. The Poet was delighted with his compan}', and acquitted himself to 
 admiration. The lion that had raged so violently in the morning was now as 
 mild and gentle as a lamb. Next day we returned to Dumfries ; and so ends 
 our peregrination. I told you that, in the midst of the storm, on the wilds of 
 Kenmure, Burns was rapt in meditation. What do you think he was about 1 
 He was charging the English army, along with Bruce, at Bannockburn. He 
 was engaged in the same manner on our ride home from St. Mary's Isle, and I 
 did not disturb him. Next day, he produced me the following address of Bruce 
 to his troops : — 
 
 Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled, etc. 
 
 The reader will here observe with regret the Poet's growino- 
 bitterness of spirit and arrogant irritability of temper, as also the 
 ominous statement, " Burns insisted at Gatehouse on our gettino- 
 utterly drunk." It is, however, in connexion with the conception 
 
256 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS, 
 
 of " Scots wlia bae " that this excursion is most memorable. In 
 September the Poet wrote to Thomson : — 
 
 You know that my pretensions to musical taste are merely a few of nature's 
 instincts, untaught and untutored by art. For this reason many musical 
 compositions, particularly where much of the merit lies in counterpoint, however 
 they may transport and ravish the ears of your connoisseurs, affect my simple 
 lug no otherwise than merely as melodious din. On the other hand, by way of 
 amends, I am delighted with many little melodies, which the learned musician 
 despises as silly and insipid. I do not know whether the old air, " Hey, tuttie 
 tattie," may rank among this number ; but well I know that it has often filled 
 my eyes with tears. There is a tradition, Avhich I have met with in many 
 places in Scotland, that it was Robert Brace's march at the battle of Bannock- 
 burn. This thought, in my yesternight's evening walk, warmed me to a pitch 
 of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty and independence, which I threw into a 
 kind of Scottish ode, fitted to the air, that one might suppose to be the gallant 
 royal Scot's address to his heroic followers on that eventful morning. 
 
 Then follows the song in its finished and well-known form, to 
 which the author appended the prayer, " So may God ever defend 
 the cause of truth and liberty as He did that day ! Amen." 
 
 The divergence between this and Mr. Syme's account may be 
 reasonably enough got over by believing, as is most probable, that, 
 in midst of the storm on the wilds of Kenmure, the first idea or 
 outline of this sublimest lay of Scottish patriotism and prowess 
 shaped itself in the Poet's glowing imagination, responsive to the 
 raging tempest, the gleaming lightning, and rattling thunder. But 
 whatever the exact circumstances, we shall remember with grateful 
 pride that it was Burns who wrote " Scots wha hae," than which 
 the world possesses no grander, more inspiring war-song. 
 
 When the threatening cloud of his trouble with the Excise 
 authorities had passed away, Burns expressed his resolution to put 
 " a seal upon his lips " so far as political questions were concerned. 
 As time went by, however, he again began to involve himself by 
 
RASH UTTERANCES. 257 
 
 the darino; and stinoinCT utterance of democratic sentiments wliicli, 
 in that suspicion-laden, unsettled war-time, could not be lightly 
 passed over. A single instance must here suffice. One evening, in 
 a comjDany which had been drinking freely, Burns proposed as a 
 toast, " May our success in the present war be equal to the justice 
 of our cause." A military officer present angrily resented this as a 
 quibble veiling a sentiment of marked disloyalty, and a quarrel 
 ensued, the nature of which can be gathered from the humiliating 
 letter which the Poet, reflecting on his conduct of the previous 
 evening, and on his humble, dependent position under the Govern- 
 ment, next morning forced himself to pen, with a view to having 
 the unfortunate occurrence hushed up. 
 
 TO MR. STEPHEN CLARKE, JUX., DUMFRIES. 
 
 Sunday Morning. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I was, I know, drunk last night, but I am sober this morning. 
 
 From the expressions Capt. made use of to me, had I had nobody's 
 
 welfare to care for but my own, we should certainly have come, according to 
 the manners of the world, to the necessity of murdering one another about the 
 business. The words were such as generally, I believe, end in a brace of 
 pistols ; but I am still pleased to think that I did not ruin the peace and 
 welfare of a wife and family of children in a drunken squabble. Further, you 
 know that the report of certain political opinions being mine, has already once 
 before brought me to the brink of destruction. I dread lest last night's business 
 may be misrepresented in the same way. You, I beg, will take care to prevent 
 it. I tax your wish for Mrs. Burns's welfare with the task of waiting, as soon 
 as possible, on every gentleman who was present, and state this to him, and, as 
 you please, show him this letter. 
 
 Such unguarded ebullitions of democratic sentiment seem to 
 have been at this juncture by no means infrequent on Burns's 
 part, with the result that, in the terror and esjnonage which 
 overspread the country, he became more than ever a marked 
 
 VOL. III. 2 K 
 
258 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 man. That tins was so, and that he himself knew his suspected 
 situation, is evident from various measures of precaution which, 
 on calmer after-thoughts, he adopted to disarm suspicion ; e.g., 
 having in his possession Paine's Common Sense and Rights 
 of Man, he, in alarm, was constrained to ask his former neighbour 
 in the Wee Vennel — George Haugh, the blacksmith — to take charge 
 of these writings, lest their being found in his possession should 
 bring him into serious trouble with the watchful emissaries of 
 Government. How, in such circumstances, he continued to indulge 
 from time to time in thus implicating himself, we learn from his 
 own pen, the fact being that his unguarded speech and conduct 
 emanated from intoxication^ in which state, alas ! the nights of 
 1793 frequently found him. 
 
 To this same lamentable cause must also be attributed his 
 unfortunate estrano-ements from some of his warmest admirers and 
 kindest friends. As before mentioned, he was often entertained by 
 the Riddels at Woodley Park, and one evening there, the bottle 
 having, as usual, been going round rather freely. Burns indulged to 
 excess, and in drunken frolic committed towards Mrs. Piddel a gross 
 breach of decorum. In sober recollection of his rudeness to this lady, 
 for whom he entertained a high admiration, he hastened to send 
 her the following apology of agonized wretchedness and remorse : — 
 
 Madam, — I dare say tliat this is the first epistle you ever received from this 
 nether world. I write you from the regions of hell, amid the horrors of 
 
 the . The time and manner of my leaving your earth I do not exactly 
 
 know, as I took my departure in the heat of a fever of intoxication, contracted 
 at your too-hospitable mansion ; but, on my arrival here, I was fairly tried, and 
 sentenced to endure the purgatorial tortures of this infernal confine for the 
 space of ninety-nine years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days, and all on 
 account of the impropriety of my conduct yesternight under your roof. Here 
 am T, laid on a bed of pitiless furze, with my aching head reclined on a pillow of 
 ever-piercing thorn, while an infernal tormentor, Avrinkled, and old, and cruel, — 
 
BREACH OF DECORUM. 259 
 
 his name, I think, is Recollection — with a whip of scorpions, forbids peace or 
 rest to approach me, and keeps anguish eternally awake. Still, madam, if I 
 could in any measure be reinstated in the good opinion of the fair circle whom 
 my conduct last night so much injured, I think it would be an alleviation to my 
 torments. For this reason, I trouble you with this letter. To the men of the 
 company I will make no apology. Your husband, who insisted on my drinking 
 more than I chose, has no right to blame me ; and the other gentlemen were 
 partakers of my guilt. But to you, madam, I have much to apologize. Your 
 good opinion I valued as one of the greatest acquisitions I had made on earth, 
 
 and I was truly a beast to forfeit it. There was a Miss I , too, a woman of 
 
 fine sense, gentle and unassuming- manners — do make, on my part, a miserable 
 
 wretch's best apology to her. A Mrs. G , a charming woman, did me 
 
 the honour to be prejudiced in my favour ; this makes me hope that I have not 
 outraged her beyond all forgiveness. To all the other ladies, please present my 
 humblest contrition for my conduct, and my petition for their gracious pardon. 
 O all ye powers of decency and decorum ! whisper to them that my errors, 
 though great, were involuntary — that an intoxicated man is the vilest of beasts 
 — that it was not in my nature to be brutal to any one — that to be rude to a 
 woman, when in my senses, was impossible with me — but — 
 
 Regret ! Eemorse ! Shame ! ye three hell-hounds that ever dog my steps 
 and bay at my heels, spare me ! spare me ! 
 
 Forgive the offences, and pity the perdition of, madam, your humble slave. 
 
 Also, to Mr. Eidclel he sent these entreating lines : — 
 
 The friend whom wild from wisdom's way, 
 
 The fumes of wine infuriate send 
 (Not moony madness more astray) — 
 
 Who but deplores that hapless friend % 
 
 Mine was th' insensate, frenzied part, 
 
 Ah ! why should I such scenes outlive % — 
 
 Scenes so abhorrent to my heart ! 
 'Tis thine to pity and forgive. 
 
 And though he again and yet again wrote Mrs. Riddel in apolo- 
 getic strain, it was in vain he pled for forgiveness — the Riddels 
 
2G0 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 remained silent and unrelenting. This, however, cannot justify the 
 Poet in turning round, as he did, and lashing Mrs. Eiddel in 
 sundry cruel satires. Alas ! how unlike the real Burns ! His 
 treatment of this lady, whom he had deeply offended, and who had 
 so greatly admired and kindly treated him, was shameful in the 
 extreme, and can only be accounted for by thinking that he wrote 
 these abusive pieces in the frenzy of drink, which, at times, seems 
 to have utterly perverted his great, kind, passionate nature, kindling 
 his mind into baleful fire, and setting him at fearful war even with 
 himself. 
 
 In this quarrel, the Riddels of Friar's Carse, as was to be 
 expected, took the side of their relatives, and turned against Burns ; 
 and about this same time occurred the estrangement between the 
 unhappy Bard and his noted good friend, John Bushby ^ of Tinwald 
 Downs, lawyer and banker in Dumfries. 
 
 It was in the midst of this, the gloomiest and most miserable 
 time of all his fitful, deeply-vexed career, that he turned to Alex- 
 ander Cunningham, his Edinburgh friend of brighter days, and 
 poured into his sympathetic ear that piercing wail of a great 
 disappointed life, and, it would seem, of an almost broken heart, 
 crying " out of the depths " for the consolations of religion, and the 
 
 vision and peace of God. 
 
 2Uh February 1794. 
 Canst thou minister to a mind diseased 1 Canst thou speak peace and rest 
 to a soul tost on a sea of troubles, without one friendly star to guide her course, 
 and dreading that the next surge may overwhelm her 1 Canst thou give to a 
 frame, trembling under the tortures of suspense, the stabihty and hardihood 
 of tlie rock that braves the blast*? If thou canst not do the least of these, why 
 AVdulilst thou disturb me in my miseries with thy inquiries after me? 
 
 For these two months I have not been able to lift a pen. My constitution 
 and frame Avere, ah origine, blasted witli a deep, incurable taint of hypochondria, 
 
 1 See vol. i. p. 78. 
 
A MAGNIFICENT LETTER. 261 
 
 wliicli poisons my existence. Of late, a number of domestic vexations, and some 
 
 pecuniary share in the ruin of these d d times, — losses which, though 
 
 trifling, were yet what I could ill bear, — have so irritated me that my feelings 
 at times could only be envied by a reprobate spirit listening to the sentence 
 that dooms it to perdition. 
 
 Are you deep in the language of consolation 1 I have exhausted in reflection 
 every topic of comfort. A heart at ease would have been charmed with my 
 sentiments and reasonings ; but, as to myself, I was like Judas Iscariot 
 preaching the gospel : he might melt and mould the hearts of those around 
 him, but his own kept its native incorrigibility. 
 
 Still, there are two great pillars that bear us up amid the wreck of misfor- 
 tune and misery. The one is composed of the difi'erent modifications of a 
 certain noble, stubborn something in man, known by the names of courage, 
 fortitude, magnanimity. The other is made up of those feelings and senti- 
 ments which, however the sceptic may deny them, or the enthusiast disfigure 
 them, are yet, I am convinced, original and component parts of the human soul ; 
 those senses of the mind — if I may be allowed the expression — which connect 
 us with, and link us to, those awful obscure realities— an all-powerful and 
 equally beneficent God, and a world to come, beyond death and the grave. 
 The first gives the nerve of combat while a ray of hope beams on the field ; 
 the last pours the balm of comfort into the wounds which time can never cure. 
 
 I do not remember, my dear Cunningham, that you and I ever talked on 
 the subject of religion at all. I know some who laugh at it, as the trick of the 
 crafty few to lead the undiscerning many; or, at most, as an uncertain obscurity, 
 which mankind can never know anything of, and with which they are fools if 
 they give themselves much to do. Nor would I quarrel with a man for his 
 irreligion, any more than I would for his want of a musical ear. I would 
 regret that he was shut out from what, to me and to others, were such super- 
 lative sources of enjoyment. It is in this point of view, and for this reason, 
 that I will deeply imbue the mind of every child of mine with religion. If my 
 son should happen to be a man of feeling, sentiment, and taste, I shall thus add 
 largely to his enjoyments. Let me flatter myself that this sweet little fellow, 
 who is just now running about my desk, will be a man of a melting, ardent, 
 glowing heart, and an imagination delighted with the painter, and rapt with the 
 poet. Let me figure him wandering out in a sweet evening to inhale the balmy 
 gales, and enjoy the growing luxuriance of the spring ; himself the while in 
 the blooming youth of life. He looks abroad on all nature, and through nature 
 
262 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 up to nature's God. His soul, by swift, delighting degrees, is rapt above this 
 sublunary sphere, until he can be silent no longer, and bursts out into the 
 glorious enthusiasm of Thomson, — 
 
 These, as they change, Almighty Father, these 
 Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
 Is full of Thee ;— 
 
 and so on, in all the spirit and ardour of that charming hymn. These are no 
 ideal pleasures — they are real delights ; and, I ask, what of the delights among 
 the sons of men are superior, not to say equal, to them % And they have this 
 precious, vast addition, that conscious virtue stamps them for her own, and lays 
 hold on them to bring herself into the presence of a witnessing, judging, and 
 approving God. 
 
 In quoting the above, Lockhart remarks : " They who have 
 been told that Burns was ever a degraded being, — who have 
 permitted themselves to believe that his only consolations w^ere 
 those ' the opiate guilt applies to grief,' — will do well to pause over 
 this noble letter, and judge for themselves." Most heartily would 
 we seek to commend the fine, true feeling of this remark, but we 
 must, most reluctantly indeed, point out that this period of 
 -excessive indulgence and maddening misery had, for the time being, 
 a very pernicious influence on the Poet's essentially noble nature, 
 else he could not have permitted himself, during the first half of 
 1794, to make that collection of obscene and ribald doggerel known 
 as the "Merry Muses." It is pitiful beyond expression to recall 
 that dark time in Burns's career when drink and revelry held such 
 strong sway over so great a life, and brought that other demon of 
 impurity to madden and debase. 
 
 The touching incident, communicated to Lockhart by Mr. 
 M'Culloch of Ardwell,^ falls to be recorded at this stage : — 
 
 Mr. M'Culloch told Lockhart that he was seldom more grieved than when, 
 riding into Dumfries one fine summer evening, to attend a county ball, he saw 
 
 1 See vol. ii. p. 344. 
 
IN SHADOW. 263 
 
 Burns walking alone on the shady side of the principal street of the town, 
 while the opposite side was gay with successive groups of ladies and gentlemen, 
 all drawn together for the festivities of the night, not one of whom appeared 
 willing to recognise him. The horseman dismounted, and joined Burns, who, 
 on his proposing to him to cross the street, said, " Nay, nay, my young friend — 
 that's all over now ;" and quoted, after a pause, some verses of Lady Grizel 
 Baillie's pathetic ballad : — 
 
 His bonnet stood ance fu' fair on his brow ; 
 His auld ane looked better than mony ane's new ; 
 But now he lets 't wear ony gate it will hing. 
 And casts himsel' dowie upon the corn-bing. 
 
 Oh, were we young, as we ance hae been, 
 "We sud hae been galloping down on yon green, 
 And linking it ower the lily-white lea — 
 Ami icerena my heart light I icad die. 
 
 It was little in Burns's character to let his feelings on certain subjects 
 escape in this fashion. He, immediately after reciting these verses, assumed 
 the sprightliness of his most pleasing manner, and, taking his young friend 
 home with him, entertained him very agreeably until the hour of the ball 
 arrived, with a bowl of his usual potation, and Bonnie Jean's singing of some 
 verses which he had recently composed. 
 
 Out of this abysmal condition Burns gradually emerged, how- 
 ever, during the latter half of 1794. In June he paid a visit to 
 Ardwell and other places in its neighbourhood. From Castle- 
 Douglas he wrote to Mrs. Dunlop, expressing fears that his con- 
 stitution was beginning to suffer seriously " from the follies of his 
 youth." At this same place and time he penned his last communi- 
 cation, so far as we know, to Clarinda. As such, the letter is 
 uniquely interesting, and we give one or two of its passages : — 
 
 Before you ask me why I have not written you, first let me be informed by 
 you how I shall write you. " In friendship," you say ; and I have many a 
 
264 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 time taken up my pen to tr}' an epistle of " friendship " to you, but it will not 
 do ; 'tis like Jove grasping a pop-gun after having wielded his thunder. "\ATien 
 I take up the pen, recollection ruins me. Ah, my ever dearest Clarinda ! 
 Clarinda ! "\Miat a host of memory's tenderest offspring crowd on my fancy at 
 that sound ! But I must not indulge that subject ; you have forbid it. 
 
 I am extremely happy to learn that your precious health is re-established, 
 and that you are once more fit to enjoy that satisfaction in existence which 
 health alone can give us. My old friend Ainslie has indeed been kind to you. 
 Tell him that I envy him the power of serving you. I had a letter from him 
 awhile ago, but it was so dry, so distant, so like a card to one of his clients, that 
 I could scarce bear to read it, and have not yet answered it. He is a good, 
 honest fellow, and can write a friendly letter which would do equal honour 
 to his head and liis heart, as a whole sheaf of his letters which I have by me 
 w^ill witness ; and though Fame does not blow her trumpet at my approach now 
 as she did tlien, when he first honoured me with his friendship, yet I am as 
 proud as ever ; and, when I am laid in my grave, I wish to be stretched at my 
 full length, that I may occupy every inch of ground I have a right to. 
 
 You would laugh were you to see me where I am just now. Would to 
 Heaven yon were here to laugh with me, though I am afraid that crying 
 Avould be our first employment ! Here am I set, a solitary hermit, in the 
 solitary room of a solitary inn, with a solitary bottle of wine by me, as grave 
 and as stupid as an owl, but, like that owl, still faithful to my old song, in 
 confirmation of which, my dear Mrs. Mac, here is your good health ! May the 
 hand-waled benisons o' Heaven bless your bonnie face ; and the wratch wha 
 skellies at your welfare, may the auld tinkler ded get him to clout his rotten 
 heart ! Amen. 
 
 You must know, my dearest madam, that these now many years, wherever 
 I am, in whatever company, when a married lady is called as a toast, I con- 
 stantly give you, but, as your name has never passed my lips, even to my most 
 intimate friend, I give you by the name of Mrs. ISIac. This is so well known 
 among my acquaintances, that, when any married lady is called for, the toast- 
 master will say, " Oil, we need not ask him who it is ; here's Mrs. Mac ! " I have 
 also, among my convivial friends, set on foot a round of toasts, which I call a 
 round of Arcadian Shepherdesses — that is, a round of favourite ladies, under 
 female names celebrated in ancient song; and then you are my Clarinda. So, 
 my lovely Clarinda, I devote this glass of wine to a most ardent wish for your 
 happiness. 
 
EMERGING. 265 
 
 This short trip seems to have cheered and reinvigorated the 
 Poet. For some months previous his lyric muse had cowered her 
 wing, and almost hushed her voice. This autumn, however, she 
 again soared aloft, and sang as sweetly as ever. Burns had met 
 Jean Lorimer,^ the " lassie wi' the lint-white locks," who, under the 
 poetic name of " Chloris," was the theme of many of this productive 
 season's songs. For Mr. Thomson's collection, too, he wrought 
 industriously, his correspondence with that gentleman being at this 
 period full of charming interest. Also, ere the year was out, he 
 began to be somewhat reconciled to those friends from whom he 
 had been so regrettably estranged. So, on the 29th December, we 
 find him writing to Mrs. Dunlop in a more cheerful and happy 
 strain : — 
 
 Since I began this letter I liave l)een appointed to act in the capacity of 
 supervisor here; and, I assure you, what with the load of business, and what 
 with that business being new to me, I could scarcely have commanded ten 
 minutes to have spoken to you had you l^een in town, much less to have 
 written you an epistle. This appointment is only temporary, and during the 
 illness of the present incumbent ; but I look forward to an early period when 
 I shall be appointed in full form — a consummation devoutly to l)e wished ! 
 My political sins seem to be forgiven me. 
 
 This is the season (Xew Year's Day is now my date) of wishing ; and 
 mine are most fervently offered up for you ! May life to you be a positive 
 blessing while it lasts, for your own sake ; and that it may yet be greatly 
 prolonged is my wish, for my own sake and for the sake of the rest of your 
 friends ! What a transient business is life ! Very lately I was a boy ; but 
 t'other day I was a young man ; and I already l)egin to feel the rigid fibre and 
 stiffening joints of old age coming fast o'er my frame. With all my follies of 
 youth, and, I fear, a few vices of manhood, still I congratulate myself on having 
 had, in early days, religion strongly impressed on my mind. I have nothing to 
 say to any one as to which sect he belongs to or what creed he believes ; but 
 I look on the man who is firmly persuaded of infinite wisdom and goodness 
 
 ^ For Jean's tragic history, see vol. ii. p. 20. 
 VOL. III. 2 L 
 
266 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 superintending and directing every circumstance that can happen in his lot — 
 I felicitate such a man as having a solid foundation for his mental enjoyment 
 — a firm prop and sure stay ua the hour of difficulty, trouble, and distress — and 
 a never-failing anchor of hope when he looks beyond the grave. 
 
 And then lie heralds the opening days of 1795 with ^Yo^ld-resounding 
 trumpet- tones, in " A Man's a Man for a' that." Now, too, when 
 the Revolution alarms began to subside, the political atmosphere 
 at home was greatly cleared of suspicious unrest, and Burns was 
 rapidly regaining popular confidence and social favour. Passing 
 on, we note that during this springtime, on the occasion of a contest 
 for the representation of the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, he once 
 more rushed into the political arena, and dashed off several keen, 
 satirical ballads in favour of the AVhig candidate, Mr. Heron ^ of 
 Kerroughtree. Learning that this gentleman had expressed a w^arm 
 desire to employ his influence in obtaining for the Poet some pro- 
 motion in the Excise, Burns wrote him a letter, to which we have 
 seen the epithets "cringing" and "grovelling" applied; to w^hich, 
 however, in the whole circumstances, w^e deem the terms " frank," 
 "sensible," and "prudent" much more appropriate. But here is 
 the letter : — 
 
 Sir, — I enclose you some copies of a couple of political ballads, one of 
 which, I believe, you have never seen. Would to Heaven I could make you 
 master of as many votes in the Stewartry — but — - 
 
 AVho does the utmost that he can, 
 Does well, acts nobly — angels could no more. 
 
 In order to bring my humble efforts to bear with more effect on the fo©, 
 I have privately printed a good many copies of both ballads, and have sent 
 them among friends all about the country. 
 
 To pillory on Parnassus the rank reprobation of character, the utter derelic- 
 tion of all principle, in a profligate junto, which has not only outraged virtue, 
 
 1 See vol. ii. p. 342. 
 
POLITICS AND PROSPECTS. 267 
 
 but violated common decency, spurning even hypocrisy as paltry iniquity below 
 their daring — to unmask their flagitiousness to the broadest day — to deliver 
 such over to their merited fate — is surely not merely innocent but laudable ; is 
 not only propriety, but virtue. You have already, as your auxiliary, the sober 
 detestation of mankind on the heads of your opponents ; and I swear by the 
 lyre of Thalia to muster on your side all the votaries of honest laughter and 
 fair, candid ridicule. 
 
 I am extremely obliged to you for your kind mention of my interests in a 
 letter which Mr. Syme showed me. At present my situation in life must be 
 in a great measure stationary, at least for two or three years. The statement 
 is this : I am on the supervisors' list, and, as we come on there by precedency, 
 in two or three years I shall be at the head of that list, and be appointed of 
 course. Then a friend might l)e of service to me in getting me into a place 
 of the kingdom which I would like. A supervisor's income varies from about 
 a hundred and twenty to two hundred a year, but the business is an incessant 
 drudgery, and would be nearly a complete bar to every species of literary 
 pursuit. The moment I am appointed supervisor, in the common routine, 
 I may be nominated on the collectors' list ; and this is always a business 
 purely of political j^atronage. A collectorship varies much, from better than 
 two hundred a year to near a thousand. They also come forward by precedency 
 on the hst, and have, besides a handsome income, a life of complete leisure. A 
 life of literary leisure, with a decent competency, is the summit of my wishes. 
 It would be the prudish aifectation of silly pride in me to say that I do not 
 need, or would not be indebted to, a political friend; at the same time, sir, 
 I by no means lay my affairs before you thus, to hook my dependent situation 
 on your benevolence. If, in my progress of life, an opening should occur where 
 the good offices of a gentleman of your public character and political conse- 
 quence might bring me forward, I shall petition your goodness with the same 
 frankness as I now do myself the honour to subscribe myself, etc. 
 
 Mr. Heron was successful in the contest, and he might have 
 found a way, as he had kindly intentions, of advancing the Poet's 
 interests. But the bright prospect on which Burns dwells in his 
 letter was, as every one knows, doomed to disappointment. His 
 time on earth was not to be long enough for the realization of his 
 
268 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS, 
 
 natural and reasonable expectation. This fresh hope, however, 
 served to cheer, in some measure, a few months of the one remaining 
 year of ups and downs which was eventually to close his life in 
 tragic sorrow. 
 
 Now from this electioneering episode we turn with unmixed 
 pleasure to survey the Bard as a member of the Dumfries Volunteers 
 — a force which was constituted in the spring of 1795. It was at 
 length more and more evident that, as we have already held, Burns's 
 imputed disloyalty was not the outcome of real deep-rooted feeling, 
 but rather an impulsive, romantic product of his ardent love of 
 everything that seemed to make for freedom and the dignity of 
 man. At any rate, along with his friends, Syme and Dr. Maxwell,^ 
 the Poet had himself enrolled among the volunteers — none so 
 intelligently loyal or so instinctively and intensely patriotic as he. 
 
 Allan Cunningham tells us he remembered distinctly the Poet's 
 appearance in the ranks, " his very swarthy face, his ploughman 
 stoop, his large dark eyes, and his indifferent dexterity in handling 
 his arms." 
 
 But though Burns may not have been an adept at handling his 
 sword and musket, he could, wielding his mighty pen, become the 
 unrivalled poet-laureate of the loyal band, and kindle the heart of 
 the nation into new patriotic flame. Apropos, w^e quote his w^ell- 
 known song of loyalty, written at this exciting time : — 
 
 THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS. 
 
 Does haughty Gaul invasion threat? 
 
 Then let the loons beware, sir ; 
 There's wooden walls upon our seas, 
 
 And volunteers on shore, sir. 
 
 See vol. ii. p. 43. 
 
A LOYAL VOLUNTEER. 269 
 
 The I^ith shall run to Corsincon, 
 
 And Criffel sink in Solway, 
 Ere Ave permit a foreign foe 
 
 On British ground to rally ! 
 
 Oh, let us not like snarling tykes 
 
 In wrangling be divided ; 
 Till, slap, come in an unco loon, 
 
 And wi' a rung decide it. 
 Be Britain still to Britain true, 
 
 Among oursel's united \ 
 For never but by British hands 
 
 Maun British wrangs be righted. 
 
 The kettle o' the Kirk and State, 
 
 Perhaps a clout may fail in't ; 
 But deil a foreign tinkler loon 
 
 Shall ever ca' a nail in't. 
 Our fathers' blude the kettle bought, 
 
 And wha wad dare to spoil it ; 
 By Heaven, the sacrilegious dog 
 
 Shall fuel be to boil it. 
 
 The Avretch that wad a tyrant own. 
 
 And the wretch, his true-born brother, 
 AVh' 'ould set the mob aboon the throne. 
 
 May they be damned together ! 
 "Who will not sing "God save the King," 
 
 Shall hang as high's the steeple ; 
 But while we sing " God save the King," 
 
 We'll ne'er forget the People. 
 
 Of this composition, so stirring in itself and so applicable to that 
 time of threatened French invasion, Cunningham says, " It hit the 
 taste and suited the feelings of the humbler classes, who added to 
 it ' The Poor but Honest Sodger,' the ' Song of Death,' and ' Scots 
 wha hae.' Hills echoed with it ; it was heard in every street ; it 
 
270 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 did more to right the mind of the rustic part of the population 
 than did all the speeches of Pitt and Dundas or the chosen 
 Five-and-Forty. 
 
 And yet for services such as no other Poet ever rendered to our 
 country and constitution in such time of need, Burns received no 
 pension or reward such as those in authority might easily have 
 bestowed — might, indeed, have counted it an honour to bestow. 
 But, letting "the dead past bury its dead," may we the more fondly 
 enshrine the name of Burns in ever-grateful and admiring memory. 
 
 In course of this year, his trusty friend, Graham of Fintry, had 
 been renewing his efforts on the Poet's behalf. A scheme was on 
 foot to promote him to higher office in Leith, at a salary of £200 ; 
 but, from whatever cause, he was left to drudge on in Dumfries, 
 — earning only a bare competency, yet standing well again in 
 popular estimation, reconciled to his friends, spending perhaps too 
 many of his evenings in the Globe Tavern, yet constantly sending 
 to Thomson his priceless lyric effusions, accompanied by an abounding 
 fund of uniquely valuable notes and criticisms on Scottish songs 
 and song-makers. 
 
 Before entering upon our narrative of the last sad year, we 
 here pause to notice a few more of the noted productions of these 
 four years in Dumfries. In November 1792, the sixth anniversary 
 of Mary Campbell's death, he wrote his " Highland Mary," a piece 
 hardly inferior to his " Address to Mary in Heaven," written exactly 
 three years before. In connexion with the career and tempera- 
 ment of the Bard, these two noble strains must ever exert the most 
 strangely romantic and fascinating interest : — 
 
 Ye banks, and braes, and streams around 
 
 The castle o' Montgomery, 
 Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, 
 
 Your waters never drumlie ! 
 
HIGHLAND MARY. 271 
 
 There simmer first unfauld her robes, 
 
 And there the langest tarry ; 
 For there I took the last fareweel 
 
 O' my s^yeet Highland Mary. 
 
 How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk, 
 
 How rich the hawthorn's blossom, 
 As underneath their fragrant shade 
 
 I clasped her to my bosom ! 
 The golden hours, on angel wings, 
 
 Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
 For dear to me as light and life 
 
 "Was my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 Wi' mony a vow and locked embrace 
 
 Our parting was fu' tender ; 
 And, pledging aft to meet again, 
 
 We tore oursel's asunder : 
 But, oh ! fell death's untimely frost, 
 
 That nipt my flower sae early ! 
 Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, 
 
 That wraps my Highland Mary ! 
 
 pale, pale now those rosy lips 
 
 I aft hae kissed sae fondly ! 
 And closed for aye the sparkling glance 
 
 That dwelt on me sae kindly : 
 And mouldering now in silent dust 
 
 That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! 
 But still within my bosom's core 
 
 Shall live my Highland Mary. 
 
 On sending this grand, sweet song to Thomson, the Poet says : — 
 
 The foregoing song pleases myself ; I think it is in my happiest manner ; 
 you will see at first glance that it suits the air. The subject of the song is one 
 of the most interesting passages of my youthful days, and I own that I should 
 
272 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 be much flattered to see the verses set to an air which would ensure celebrity. 
 Perhaps, after all, 'tis the still glowing prejudice of my heart that throws a 
 borrowed lustre over the merits of the composition. 
 
 Commencing his enthusiastic and entirely disinterested labours 
 for Thomson's collection in the autumn of 1792, ere the close of the 
 year he produced several new songs, among which may be noted, 
 " Duncan Gray," " My ain kind Dearie," and " Here's a health to 
 them that's awa." Then, in 1793, he wrote, amongst others " Braw, 
 braw lads," " Had I a cave," " Puirtith Cauld," " Whistle, and I'll 
 come to ye, my lad," " Logan Braes," " Scots wha hae," and " When 
 wild war's deadly blast was blawn," a ballad of consummately 
 dramatic power, and full of the sweetest natural pathos : — 
 
 "When wild war's deadly blast was blawn, 
 
 And gentle peace returning, 
 AVi' mony a sweet babe fatherless 
 
 And mony a widow mourning ; 
 I left the lines and tented field, 
 
 Where lang I'd been a lodger. 
 My humble knapsack a' my wealth, 
 
 A poor but honest sodger. 
 
 A leal, light heart was in my breast, 
 
 My hand unstained wi' plunder ; 
 And for fair Scotia, hame again, 
 
 I cheery on did wander. 
 I thought upon the banks o' Coil, 
 
 I thought upon my Nancy, 
 I thought upon the witching smile 
 
 That caught my youthful fancy. 
 
 At length I reached the bonnie glen 
 
 Where early life I sported ; 
 I passed the mill, and trysting thorn, 
 . Where Xancy aft I courted : . . 
 
SOA^GS OF BRIGHTER TIME. 273 
 
 Wha spied I but my ain dear maid 
 
 Down by lier mother's dwelling ! 
 And turned me round to hide the flood 
 
 That in my een was swelling. 
 
 Wi' altered voice, quoth I, " Sweet lass, 
 
 Sweet as yon haM'thorn's blossom, 
 O happy, happy may he be, 
 
 That's dearest to thy bosom ! 
 My purse is light, I've far to gang, 
 
 And fain would }>3 thy lodo-er • 
 I've served my king and country lang— 
 
 Take pity on a sodger ! " 
 
 And so on in other four as exquisite stanzas as these.' 
 
 We saw how, during the first dark half of 1794, his muse was 
 almost silent, giving forth only one or two pieces of bitter personality 
 against his offended friends ; and how, i„ the brightening time, he 
 touched anew his sweetly - sounding lyre with unabated skill 
 
 C '"M 'on "'' '™"'"'™ '"'"^ '°"°^' °f "•^'<='> --^ f-thei- 
 lote. My Chlons, mark how sweet the groves," " Contented wi' 
 
 MtJe, an cantie wi' mair," " She says she loes me best o' a' " "My 
 
 Nannie s awa," and " A Man's a Man for a that." 
 
 'Cuiniinglamremarks: "BumsivasazealoiB house and l,.ll I „,-.l, ,i • 
 
 lover or his country, and has sUmped hi, wit -s 1 ha L LV""", r, "l^' 
 
 patriotic feelings in many a lastine TCrse Hi, »J -Ti , , „ 'Song of Death,' 
 
 ■Poor but honest Sojger,' laid hold al „™ ZL , 'T"? '"'°' '"""''»'' """V- 
 
 on the publie feeling, and it was ve.lhere n" t T " r^""^°'■'.'= " '""= »' <=<"""■■? ""J a 
 
 .=ng .ith an enth J.n, which o^i'y'r^::';: Z^ tTZT ^Tt tef ^ 
 
 tr„„d:d"iS::":,:e^;:::iiif"o,r sri:i"""T'°°r''""""^" 
 
 fries, which sent L many of her ons to t^o we , 'J"'-!"'''"-''"^ in.perishaUe lyrics 
 
 wars, rang with it fro. pLt t^'^rTran'; tt :7wsir e::f.^^."" ^'"""-'°" '"^ "^ 
 f oet, wherever he went, heard it echoing from 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 2 M 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CLOSING YEAR, JULY 17 95- JULY 1796. AGE 36-37. 
 
 Three gates of deliverance, it seems to us, -were open for Burns : clear poetical 
 activity ; madness ; or death. The first, with longer life, was still possible, though not 
 
 probable The second was still less proliable, for his mind was ever among 
 
 the clearest and firmest. So the milder third gate was opened for him : and he passed 
 not softly, yet speedily, into that still country, where the hail-storms and fire-showers do 
 not reach, and the heaviest laden wayfarer at length lays down his load . 
 
 Carbjle on Burns. 
 
 Oh, Robert Burns ! by tempest tossed, 
 Storm-swept, by cruel whirlwinds crossed ; 
 Thy prayers, like David's psalms of old. 
 Make all our plaints and wailings cold. 
 
 We know but this : his living song 
 Protects the weak and tramples wrong ; 
 Refracting radiance of delight. 
 His prismed genius, clear and bright. 
 
 Illumes all Scotland far and wide, 
 And Caledonia throbs with pride 
 To hear her grand old Doric swell 
 From Highland crag to Lowland dell ; 
 
 To find, where'er her children stray. 
 Her " Auld Lang Syne," her " Scots wha hae," 
 And words of hope which proudly span 
 The centuries vast — "A man's a man." 
 
 Then welcome. Burns, from shore to shore ! 
 All hail, our Robin, evermore ! ^ 
 
 A STRANGER visiting Dumfries in the summer of 1795, and 
 inquiring about the Poet's way of life at that time, would gather 
 
 ^From poem recited by the author, Mr. Wallace Bruce, "U.S. Consul, Edinburgh, at the unveil- 
 ing of the Ayr Burns Statue, on 8th July 1891. 
 
FAITHFUL AS EXCISEMAN. 275 
 
 from the ^ more intelligent and liberal-minded townspeople that 
 "Mister"^ Burns was regarded as altogether an extraordinary man, 
 who, wliile paying zealous lieed to his duties as exciseman, spent 
 much of his time in company of one degree and another, and, 
 notwithstanding his official labours and social distractions, managed 
 every now and then to produce some lovely song or clever po^m. 
 It might also be remarked that he would have passed his leisure 
 hours more at his own fireside, but for folks coming about and 
 enticmg him away to the Globe Tavern, to hear his glowing 
 utterances as the toast and song went round; and that, as he was 
 then lookmg far from well, it was doubtful whether he would long 
 withstand his wearing worries and jovial excitements. Indeed, we 
 fancy that, among those who knew Burns well, there prevailed a 
 distmct opinion that his great, restless, fiery life would ere long 
 burn Itself out. In what manner and to what extent the Bard 
 mdulged in tavern excitements during this summer, there is now 
 no exact means of knowing. Moreover, the question is not one 
 upon which there need be minute or set discussion. We therefore 
 turn to survey the brighter side. Regarding Burns's industry and 
 efficiency as gauger, from a statement by ]\Ir. Alexander Findlater ^ 
 supervisor in the Dumfries district, we learn that he was most 
 vigdant and exemplary in attention to duty; that, in this respect, 
 no falling ofi^was discernible till near the end, when he was assailed 
 by pain and sickness; that, in business hours, he was always able 
 for his work ; and that he never indulged in drinking in the 
 forenoon, nor, at any time, in drinking apart from company. The 
 testimony of another highly respectable and competent witness here 
 deserves to be quoted at length, and will be read with grateful 
 
 sJk^of r ° "''V)" I""''" '^'"'^'' '''' "^^^^^it^°t« °f Dumfries and its neighbourhood always 
 spoke ol hmi as Mister Burns. ■^ 
 
 - See vol. i. p. 194. 
 
276 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 pleasure. Mr. James Gray,i then Rector of Dumfries Grammar 
 School, and afterwards a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, 
 knowing the Poet intimately (and speaking from his own observa- 
 tion, as he emphatically reminds us), says : — 
 
 It is not my intention to extenuate Burns's errors, "because they were 
 combined with genius; on that account they were only the more dangerous, 
 because the more seductive, and deserve the more severe reprehension ; but I 
 shall likewise claim that nothing may be said in malice against him. It came 
 under my own view, professionally, that he superintended the education of his 
 children with a degree of care that I have never seen surpassed by any parent 
 in any rank of life whatever. In the bosom of his family, he spent many a 
 delightful hour in directing the studies of his eldest son, a boy of uncommon 
 talents. I have frequently found him explaining to this youth, then not more 
 than nine years of age, the English poets, from Shakespeare to Gray, or storing 
 his mind with examples of heroic virtue, as they live in the pages of our most 
 celebrated English historians. I would ask any person of common candour, if 
 employments like these are consistent with habitual drunl-ennpss. It is not 
 denied that he sometimes mingled with society unworthy of him. He was of a 
 social and convivial nature. He was courted by all classes of men for the 
 fascinating powers of his conversation, but over his social scene uncontrolled 
 passion never presided. Over the social bowl, his wit flashed for hours together, 
 penetrating whatever it struck, like the fire from heaven ; but, even in the hour 
 of thoughtless gaiety and merriment, I never knew it tainted by indecency. It 
 was playful or caustic by turns, following an allusion through all its windings ; 
 astonishing by its rapidity, or amusing by its wild originality and grotesque, 
 yet natural combinations, but never, within my observation, disgusting by its 
 grossness. In his morning hours, I never saw him like one suffering from the 
 effects of last night's intemperance. He appeared then clear and unclouded. 
 He was the eloquent advocate of humanity, justice, and political freedom. 
 From his paintings, virtue appeared more lovely, and piety assumed a more 
 celestial mien. While his keen eye was pregnant with fancy and feeling, and 
 his voice attuned to the very passion which he wished to communicate, it Avould 
 hardly have been possible to conceive any being more interesting and delightful. 
 
 1 See vol. i. p. 251. 
 
A PLEASANT TESTIMONY. 277 
 
 I may likewise add, that, to the very end of his life, reading was his favourite 
 amusement. I have never known any man so intimately acquainted with the 
 elegant English authors. He seemed to have the poets by heart. The prose 
 authors he could quote either in their own words, or clothe their ideas in 
 language more beautiful than their own. Xor was there ever any decay in any 
 of the powers of his mind. To the last day of his life, his judgment, his 
 memory, his imagination, Avere fresh and vigorous, as when he composed the 
 " Cotter's Saturday Night." The truth is, that Burns was seldom intoxicated. 
 The drunkard soon becomes besotted, and is shunned even by the convivial. 
 Had he beeii so, he could not long have continued the idol of every party. It 
 will be freely confessed, that the hour of enjoyment vras often prolonged beyond 
 the limit marked by prudence ; but what man will venture to affirm that, in 
 situations where he was conscious of giving so much pleasure, he could at all 
 times have listened to her voice % 
 
 The men with whom he generally associated were not of the lowest order. 
 He numbered among his intimate friends many of the most respectable 
 inhabitants of Dumfries and the vicinity. Several of those were attached to 
 him by ties that the hand of calumny, busy as it was, could never snap asunder. 
 They admired the Poet for his genius, and loved the man for the candour, 
 generosity, and kindness of his nature. His early friends clung to him through 
 good and bad report, with a zeal and fidelity that prove their disbelief of the 
 malicious stories circulated to his disadvantage. Among them were some of the 
 most distinguished characters in this country, and not a few females, eminent 
 for delicacy, taste, and genius. They were proud of his friendship, and 
 cherished him to the last moment of his existence. He was endeared to them 
 even by his misfortunes, and they still retain for his memory that affection and 
 veneration which virtue alone inspires. 
 
 Of the Poet's care and anxiety in the cultivation of the minds of 
 his family, Mr. Gray's further testimony, addressed to Gilbert Burns, 
 is reproduced at p. 253 of vol. i. 
 
 Such accounts as those given by Mr. Findlater and the Rev. James 
 Gray command all respect and credence as proceeding from raen 
 ivlio ivrote on no hearsay evidence, and who, it is justly remarked, 
 were altogether incapable of wilfully stating what they knew to be 
 
278 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 untrue. Setting this fairer presentment alongside the darker one liy 
 Dr. Currie, Professor Walker, Robert Heron, etc., while we marvel 
 not a little at the wide divergence of statement, we find some 
 explanation thereof by calling to mind what great and strangely 
 discordant elements combined to make up the character and career 
 of Burns, and we do not wrong the Poet's memory by thinking with 
 Lockhart that probably " truth lies between." 
 
 Resuming our narrative, we find that, up till the beginning of 
 August 1795, the Bard's notable song-correspondence with George 
 Thomson continued with no marked intermission, except that of 
 the troubled songless half of 1794. But now there is another 
 ominous blank, wherein his lyre is silent, no friendly correspond- 
 ence is found, and almost nothing is known of his experiences 
 for several months. We discover, however, one pleasant incident 
 which occurred in September, and of which an attractive account 
 remains by Mr. John Pattison, son of Burns's friend, Mr. 
 Pattison of Kelvin Grove. This gentleman, accompanied by his 
 son, happening to be in Dumfries, accidentally encountered the 
 Poet, and cordially invited him to come to dinner at the inn, and 
 bring their mutual friend, Dr. Maxwell, with him. 
 
 At the hour named my father sat down at the head of the table, Dr. 
 Maxwell at the foot, and the grammar-school boy (John Pattison) opposite 
 Burns. Upwards of half a century has passed away ; but the recollection of 
 that day is as fresh and green in my memory as if the events recorded had 
 occurred yesterday. It was, in fact, a new era in my existence. I had never 
 before sat after dinner ; but now I was chained to my chair till late at night, 
 or rather early in the morning. Both Dr. Maxwell and my father were highly- 
 gifted, eloquent men. The Poet was in his best vein. I can never forget the 
 animation and glorious intelligence of his countenance, the rich, deep tones of 
 his musical voice, and those matchless eyes, which absolutely appeared to flash 
 fire, and stream forth rays of living light. It was not conversation I heard ; 
 
SERIOUS ILLNESS. 279 
 
 it was an outburst of noble sentiment, brilliant wit, and a flood of sympathy 
 and good-will to fellow-men. Burns repeated many verses that had never seen 
 the light, chiefly political; no impure or obscene idea was uttered, or I believe 
 tliought of : it was altogether an intellectual feast. A lofty, pure, and trans- 
 cendent genius alone could have made so deep and lasting an impression on a 
 mere boy, who had read nothing, and who does not remember to have heard 
 Burns named till that day. 
 
 It has already been observed that, though in youth and earlier 
 manhood Burns was possessed of great physical strength, his was 
 a highly-strung constitution and temperament— quickly excited and 
 easily disordered. Further, it is well known that, all along, he 
 suffered more or less from a certain nervous depression, and at 
 times from alarming palpitation of the heart, brought on and 
 aggravated, it is believed, by the straining toil and weary care of 
 his boyhood days. 
 
 Of later years, too, he had otherwise suffered from several sharp 
 though short attacks of illness. Nor will it be denied that many 
 a time he was far from careful of his health. Allusion has been 
 made to his letter of 2^5 th June, 1794, to Mrs. Dunlop, in which 
 he states that he had been for some time in poor health, and 
 threatened with " flying gout." We now learn that the late autumn 
 of 1795 brought a more serious and prolonged illness than any 
 he had yet experienced. " For over a year before his death there 
 was,'' according to Dr. Currie's account, ''an evident decline in our 
 Poet's personal appearance; and though his appetite continued 
 unimpaired, he was himself sensible that his constitution was 
 sinking." From October 1795 to the January following, an 
 accidental complaint "confined him to the house." During' this 
 illness, however, he was able to employ his pen a little. About 
 the beginning of December he wrote another "Address," to be 
 spoken by Miss Fontenelle of the Dumfries Theatre on her benefit 
 
280 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 night, 4th December; and on 15th December he thus wrote to 
 Mrs. Dunlop : — 
 
 i\lY DEAR Friend, — As I am in a complete Decemberisli humour, gloomy, 
 sullen, stuj^id, as even the Deity of Dulness herself could wish, I shall not 
 drawl out a heavy letter with a number of heavier apologies for my late silence. 
 Only one I shall mention, because I know you will sympathize in it : these 
 four months, a sweet little girl, my youngest child, has been so ill, that every 
 day, a week or less threatened to terminate her existence. There had much 
 need be many pleasures annexed to the states of husband and father, for, God 
 knows, they have many peculiar cares. I cannot describe to you the anxious, 
 sleepless hours these ties frequently give me. I see a train of helpless little 
 folks ; me and my exertions all their stay ; and on what a brittle thread does 
 the life of man hang ! If I am nipt off at the command of fate, even in all 
 the vigour of manhood, as I am — such things happen every day — Gracious 
 God ! what would become of my little flock ? 'Tis here that I envy your 
 people of fortune. A father on his death-bed, taking an everlasting leave of 
 his children, has indeed woe enough ; but the man of competent fortune leaves 
 his sons and daughters independency and friends ; while I — But I shall run 
 distracted if I think any longer on the subject ! 
 
 To leave talking of the matter so gravely, I shall sing with the old Scots 
 
 ballad — 
 
 that I had ne'er been married, 
 
 I would never had nae care ; 
 
 Now I've gotten wife and bairns. 
 
 They cry crowdie evermair. 
 
 Crowdie ance, crowdie twice, 
 
 Crowdie three times in a day ; 
 An ye crowdie ony mair, 
 
 Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away. 
 
 This letter he continues on the 24th, and again on Christmas 
 morning ; and at the close of the year he penned the following 
 smart little epistle to his kind-hearted friend, Excise -Collector 
 Mitchell, showing the author in a 'pinch for want of a single guinea 
 of ready cash, and also in resolute mood towards better care of his 
 
IN WANT OF MONEY. 281 
 
 liealth which had been so seriously impaired, but was now in the 
 way of improvement : — 
 
 Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, 
 ^Vlia, wanting thee, might beg or steal ; 
 Alake, alake, the meikle deil 
 
 Wi' a' his witches 
 Are at it, skelpin' jig and reel, 
 
 In my poor pouches ! 
 
 I modestly fu' fain wad hint it. 
 That one-pound-one, I sairly want it ; 
 If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it. 
 
 It would be kind ; 
 And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted, 
 
 I'd bear't in mind. 
 
 So may the auld year gang out moaning 
 To see the new come laden, groanino- 
 \\ i' double plenty o'er the loanin 
 
 To thee and thine : 
 Domestic peace and comforts crowning 
 
 The hale design. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Ye've heard this while how I've been licket, 
 And by fell death was nearly nicket ; 
 Grim loon ! he got me by the fecket, 
 
 And sair me sheuk ; 
 But by gude luck I lap a wicket, 
 
 And turned a neuk. 
 
 But by that health, I've got a share o't, 
 
 And by that life, I'm promised mair o't, 
 
 My hale and weel I'll tak' a care o't, 
 
 A tentier way ; 
 
 Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't. 
 
 For ance and aye ' 
 VOL. III. 2 x\ 
 
282 ' THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 At the beginning of the New Year, he was again able to go 
 about a little ; but, pitiful to relate, one evening in the middle of 
 January he was allured to join a jovial party at the Globe Tavern, 
 and to tarry long over the wine-cup. Returning home at an early 
 hour of the morning, which was bitterly cold, with snow on the 
 ground, becoming overpowered by the effects of the liquor, he 
 fell asleep upon the icy street. 
 
 In these circumstances — says Chambers — and in the peculiar condition 
 to which a severe medicine had reduced his constitution, a fatal chill 
 l^enetrated to his bones ; he reached home with the seeds of rheumatic fever 
 in possession of his already weakened frame. In this little accident — adds 
 Chambers — and not in the pressure of poverty or disrepute, or wounded 
 feeHngs or a broken heart, truly lay the determiiiing cause of the sadly 
 shortened days of our great national Poet. 
 
 Burns seems now to have lain prostrate for about a week. On 
 20th January he managed to pen a short note to Mrs. Riddel, 
 whom he could again address as a sympathetic friend. " The 
 health you wished me in your morning's card is, I think, flown 
 from me for ever. I have not been able to leave my bed to-day 
 till about an hour ago." On 28th January he was so far recovered 
 as to be present at a meeting of the masonic lodge ; and on the 
 31st he sent the following letter to Mrs. Dunlop, his ever deeply- 
 respected friend and long-trusted correspondent, who had, however, 
 for over a year maintained, to him, a painful silence, leaving his 
 letters totally unanswered : — 
 
 These many montlis you have been two packets in my debt — what sin of 
 ignorance I have committed against so highly valued a friend, I am utterly at 
 a loss to guess. Alas ! madam, ill can I afford, at this time, to be deprived of 
 any of the small remnant of my pleasures. I have lately drunk deep of the cup 
 of affliction. The autumn robbed me of my only daughter and darling child,^ 
 
 ^ Elizabeth Riddel, who died at Mauchline in September 1795. 
 
DEEPENING SHADOWS. 283 
 
 and that at a distance, too, and so rapidh*, as to put it out of my power to 
 pay the last duties to her. I had scarcely begun to recover from that shock, 
 when I became myself the victim of a most severe rheumatic fever, and long 
 the die spun doubtful ; until, after many weeks of a sick-bed, it seems to 
 have turned up life, and I am beginning to crawl across my room, and once 
 indeed have been before my own door in the street. 
 
 When pleasure fascinates the mental sight. 
 
 Affliction purifies the visual ray, 
 Religion hails the drear, the untried night, 
 
 And shuts, for ever shuts ! life's doubtful day. 
 
 This letter tells its own sad tale of woe. Poor afflicted Burns, 
 crying out in the restless misery of remorse and pain and care, 
 his desolation darkened by the reflection that even Mrs. Dunlop, 
 whose steadfast friendship he had so fondly valued and counted 
 upon, had turned against him! 
 
 And now — observes Currie — his appetite began to fail ; his hand shook, 
 and his voice faltered on any exertion or emotion. His pulse became weaker 
 and more rapid, and pain in the larger joints, and in the hands and feet, 
 deprived him of the enjoyment of refreshing sleep. Too much dejected in his 
 spirits, and too well aware of his real situation to entertain hopes of recovery, he 
 was ever musing on the approaching desolation of his family, and his spirits 
 sank into a uniform gloom. 
 
 Nevertheless, a gleam of the old grim humour darts through the 
 serious view of his situation in the answer which he at this time 
 returned to Colonel de Peyster,^ his commanding officer in the 
 Dumfries Volunteers, who had sent a kind inquiry regarding the 
 Poet's health : — 
 
 My honored Colonel, deep I feel 
 Your interest in the Poet's weal : 
 
 ^ See vol. ii. p. 155. 
 
284 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Ah ! now sma' heart hae I to sped 
 The steep Parnassus, 
 
 Surroiinded thus by bolus pill 
 
 And potion glasses. 
 
 what a canty warld were it, 
 
 "Would pain and care and sickness spare it ; 
 
 And fortune favor worth and merit, 
 
 As they deserve ! 
 And aye a rowth roast beef and claret ; 
 
 Syne, wha wad starve ■? 
 
 Dame Life, though fiction out may trick her, 
 And in paste gems and frippery deck her ; 
 Oh ! flickering, feeble, and unsicker 
 
 I've found her still. 
 Aye wavering, like the willow-wicker, 
 
 'Tween good and ill. 
 
 Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan, 
 Watches like baudrons by a rattan. 
 Our sinfu' soul to get a claut on 
 
 Wi' felon ire ; 
 Syne, whip ! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on — 
 
 He's aff like fire. 
 
 Ah, Nick ! ah, Nick ; it isna fair. 
 First showing us the temptin' ware. 
 Bright wines an' bonnie lassies rare. 
 
 To put us daft. 
 Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare, 
 
 0' hell's damned waft. 
 
 Poor man, the flee, aft bizzes by. 
 And aft, as chance he comes thee nigh. 
 Thy auld damned elbow yeuks wi' joy 
 
 And hellish pleasure ; 
 Already in thy fancy's eye. 
 
 Thy sicker treasure ! 
 
A MOST EXCELLENT SONG. 285 
 
 Soon, heels-o'er-gowdie ! in he gangs, 
 And like a sheep-head on a tangs, 
 Tliy girning laugh enjoys his pangs 
 
 And murdering wrestle, 
 As, dangling in the wind, he hangs, 
 
 A gibbet's tassel. 
 
 But lest you think I am uncivil, 
 
 To plague you with this draunting drivel. 
 
 Abjuring a' intentions evil, 
 
 I quat my pen : 
 The Lord preserve us frae the devil ! 
 
 Amen ! Amen ! 
 
 About this time, the wife of his old neighbour, Haugh the black- 
 smith, in the Wee Vennel, meeting Burns in the street, kindly and 
 seriously talked with him about his health. She distinctly remem- 
 bered one remark he made to her : — " I find that a man may live 
 like a fool, but he will scarcely die like one I " 
 
 On February 5 th, Thomson wrote : — 
 
 The pause you have made, my dear sir, is awful ! Am I never to hear 
 from you again ? I know, and I lament how much you have been afflicted of 
 late ; but I trust that returning health and spirits will now enable you to resume 
 the pen, and delight us with your musings. I have still about a dozen Scotch 
 and Irish airs Avhich I wish "wedded to immortal verse." 
 
 In answer, the Bard nerved himself to produce " Hey for a lass 
 wi' a tocher," a song remarkable, in the circumstances, for its 
 liveliness and vigour : — " A most excellent song," Thomson rightly 
 acknowledged it to be, adding, " and with you the subject is 
 something new indeed " : — 
 
 Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, 
 The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms : 
 gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, 
 gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. 
 
286 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey for a lass wi' a tocher ; 
 Then hey for a lass Avi' a tocher — the nice yellow gumeas for me. 
 
 Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, 
 And withers the faster, the faster it grows : 
 But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes. 
 Ilk spring they're new Jeckit wi' bonnie white yowes. 
 
 And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, 
 The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when possest ; 
 But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest. 
 The langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest. 
 
 This same month of February, we find the Poet writing to Mr. 
 James Clarke, teacher in Forfar, requesting repayment of money (a 
 considerable sum, it seems) which he had lent Clarke at the time of 
 his troubles with the educational authorities in Moffat.^ 
 
 During the spring of 1796, owing to the failure of the preceding 
 harvest, food was scarce and costly ; and, besides having to meet 
 those additional expenses which illness usually occasions, Burns was 
 apprehensive that he would only receive reduced (ofi'-duty) salary. 
 It was in these circumstances he at length applied to Mr. Clarke for 
 something of his own. We give the letter w^hich came in answer. 
 
 My dear Friend, — Your letter makes me very unhappy, the more so as I had 
 heard very flattering accounts of your situation some months ago. A note 
 [•20s.] is enclosed ; and if such partial payments will be acceptable, this shall 
 soon be followed by more. My appointment here has more than answered 
 my expectations; but furnishing a large house, etc., has kept me still very 
 
 poor ; and the persecution I suffered from that rascal Lord H , brought me 
 
 into expenses Avhich, Avith all my economy, I have not yet rubbed off. Be so 
 kind as Avrite me. Your disinterested friendship has made an impression 
 which time cannot efface. Believe me, my dear Burns, yours in sincerity, 
 
 James Clarke. 
 
 1 It will be remembered that, in 1791, Burns generously exerted himself on behalf of Clarke, 
 whom he considered a deserving man suffering under spiteful persecution. 
 
A GRATIFYING INCIDENT. 2^7 
 
 That the Bard's income was not reduced at this time, thanks 
 and honour are due to a young Excise officer named Stobbie, who 
 gratuitously performed the duties, thus enabling Burns to draw the 
 full emolument of his office. 
 
 Pertaining to this swiftly-darkening time, a gratifying incident 
 is noted by Chambers as follows : — 
 
 ]\Iiss Grace Aiken, a very young lady, the daughter of Burns's early 
 patron, Mr. Robert Aiken of Ayr, had occasion during spring to pass through 
 Dumfries, on her way to pay a visit in Liverpool. In walking along the street 
 towards the residence of her friend, Mrs. Copeland, she passed a tall, slovenly- 
 looking man, of sickly aspect, who presently uttered an exclamation which 
 caused her to turn about to see who it was. It was Burns ; but so changed from 
 his former self, that she could hardly have recognised him, except for the 
 sound of his voice in addressing her. On her asking hnn playfully, if he had 
 been going to pass her without notice, he spoke as if he had felt that it was 
 proper for him, now-a-days, to leave his old friends to be the first to hold forth 
 the hand of friendship. At her pressing request, he accompanied her to the 
 house of Mrs. Copeland ; ho even yielded, but not till after much entreaty, to go 
 home and put himself in order, that he might return at four to dinner. He 
 spent the evening cheerfully in their temperate society, and retired about 
 midnight. The circumstance is worthy of notice, because neither Mrs. Copeland 
 nor any of her friends — all members of the best society in Dumfries — had any 
 objection to entertaining or meeting Burns. The hostess had not seen him for 
 a considerable time, but from no cause aflecting the reputation of the Poet — 
 only, she understood that he had of late shown a preference for what might 
 positively as well as comparatively be called low society — a circumstance she 
 greatly lamented. All this shows that Burns's social discredit in his latter days 
 must have been the result of no universal feeling among his fellow-citizens. 
 The fact seems to be, that, while many condemned and forsook him, — the 
 provincial clergy to a man, — on the other hand, many, sensible that his faults 
 were rather allied to imprudence and indecorum than to turpitude, regarded him 
 with forbearance, if not with undiminished esteem and attention. 
 
 On 14th April, the Bard was well enough to attend (for the last 
 
288 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 time) a meeting of the masonic lodge ; but that same month he 
 thus gloomily addresses Thomson : — 
 
 Alas ! my dear Thomson, I fear it will be some time ere I tune my lyre 
 again ! " By Babel streams I have sat and wept " almost ever since I wrote 
 you last : I have only known existence by the pressure of the heavy hand of 
 sickness, and have counted time by the repercussions of pain ! Eheumatism, 
 cold, and fever have formed to me a terrible combination. I close my eyes in 
 misery, and open them without hope. I look on the vernal day, and say with 
 poor Fergusson — 
 
 Say wherefore has an all-indulgent Heaven 
 Light to the comfortless and wretched given ? 
 
 And again on 17th May : — 
 
 My dear Sir, — I once mentioned to you an air which I have long admired — 
 " Here's a health to them that's awa', hiney," but I forget if you took any 
 notice of it. I have just been trying to suit it with verses, and I beg leave to 
 recommend the air to your attention once more. I have only begun it. 
 
 JESSY. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Here's a health to ane I loe dear ! 
 
 Here's a health to ane I loe dear ! 
 
 Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, 
 
 And soft as their parting tear — Jessy ! 
 
 Although thou maun never be mine, 
 
 Although even hope is denied : 
 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing. 
 
 Than aught in the world beside — Jessy ! 
 
 I mourn through the gay, gaudy day. 
 
 As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms ; 
 But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber. 
 
 For then I am lock't in thy arms — Jessy ! 
 
HIGH PURE LYRIC AIM. 289 
 
 I guess by the dear angel smile, 
 
 I guess by the love-rolling ee ; 
 But why urge the tender confession, 
 
 'Gainst fortune's fell, cruel decree — Jessy ! 
 
 This will be delivered by a Mr. Lewars, a young fellow of uncommon merit ; 
 indeed by far the cleverest fellow I have met with in this part of the world. 
 His only fault is d-m-cratic heresy. As he will be a day or two in town, you will 
 have leisure, if you choose, to write me by him ; and if you have a spare half- 
 hour to spend with him, I shall place your kindness to my account. I have no 
 copies of the songs I have sent you, and I have taken a fancy to review them 
 all, and possibly may mend some of them : so, when you have complete leisure, 
 I will thank you for either the originals or copies. I had rather be the author 
 of five well-written songs than of ten otherwise. My verses to " Cauld Kail " 
 I will suppress; as also those to "Laddie, lie near me." They are neither 
 worthy of my name nor of your book. I have great hopes that the genial 
 influence of the approaching summer will set me to rights, but as yet I cannot 
 boast of returning health. I have now reason to believe that my complaint is a 
 flying gout — a sad business ! 
 
 Burns's remarks in this letter regarding his great song-making 
 work are particularly noteworthy, as showing the clear sense and 
 worthy feeling to leave to Scotland and the world naught of his save 
 what was pure and elevating.^ So may it be remembered that those 
 who, in after years, with prying curiosity and prurient taste, hunted 
 up and printed so many of the Bard's more hasty and less fastidious 
 efforts, did so unmistakably against his anxious, though, alas ! unac- 
 complished desire to set his papers in order — to consign to irrevocable 
 oblivion all that in matter or form was unworthy of his genius and 
 name, and to leave only that which was masterly and finished, 
 refined and ennobling. 
 
 The theme of the foregoing song — Burns's last finished contri- 
 bution to Thomson's collection — was Jessie Lewars, sister of Lewars, 
 the Poet's close friend and brother exciseman. Of how tenderly 
 
 ^ See vol. iii. p. 295. 
 VOL. III. 2 
 
290 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. ^ 
 
 Jessie ministered to Burns and liis household throughout these 
 last distressful months, and how the dying Bard — having no other 
 reward to offer — in this song, and in his exquisite " Oh, wert thou in 
 the cauld blast," and other grateful strains, conferred imperishable 
 fame upon his gentle, faithful, self-sacrificing nurse, the affecting 
 story is fully told in vol. ii. of this work. 
 
 During the dismal closing days his kind-hearted Jean was herself 
 laid down by illness, but it is indeed most pleasing to think that, 
 with Jessie Lewars near, he over whom the gentler sex ever held so 
 great an influence — he who had sung the charms of woman as no 
 other has done — did not lack, even for one hour of his heavy 
 sorrows and sufferings, the priceless ministry of a sweet, true woman's 
 tenderest care. 
 
 Several of the Poet's friends cherished the hope that the fresh 
 bright spring and genial summer might in some measure restore his 
 health ; but though, during May and June, his illness did a little 
 abate, it was a vain, brief hope. Disease now held him in strong 
 and deadly-closing grasp. His malady did not, however, to any 
 great extent crush his keen spirit or impair his marvellous mental 
 power. 
 
 In May we find him writing, in the old satiric vein, yet another 
 election ballad, " Wha will buy my troggin ? " again in favour of Mr. 
 Heron of Kerroughtree. The piece is humorously conceived, and 
 wrought out in a clear and facetious manner. But, as might be 
 expected, the prevailing tone of his mind at this period was sad and 
 weary — so utterly sad that no one who has a heart can read those 
 closing letters of wailing, imploring wretchedness without dropping 
 on the woe-laden page some burning tears. 
 
 On receiving a note from Mrs. Riddel, inviting him to the King's 
 Birthday Gathering on 4th June, and asking him to send her a copy 
 of some song, he replied : — 
 
ILLNESS AND SORROW. 291 
 
 I am in such miserable health, as to be utterly incapable of showing my 
 loyalty in any way. Backed as I am with rheumatisms, I meet every face with a 
 greeting like that of Balak to Balaam : " Come, curse me Jacob ; and come, defy 
 me Israel ! " So say I : Come, curse me that east wind ; and come, defy me the 
 north ! Would you have me in such circumstances copy you out a love-song 1 
 
 To his friend Dr. Maxwell, who attended him with unremitting 
 care, he one day exclaimed, " What business has a physician to waste 
 his time on me ? I am a poor pigeon, not worth plucking. Alas ! 
 I have not feathers enough upon me to carry me to my grave." 
 And though, until the very last, he now and then indulged in sallies 
 of kindly wit, the few letters that remain are all burdened with the 
 same bitter sense of harassing poverty, racking pain, and the most 
 dismal forebodino-s concerning the future of his bonnie Jean and her 
 soon-to-be fatherless bairns. To James Clarke he again wrote on 26th 
 June : ^ — 
 
 My dear Clarke, — Still, still the victim of affliction ! Were you to see the 
 emaciated figure who now holds the pen to you, you would not know your old 
 friend. Whether I shall ever get about again is only known to Him, the Great 
 Unknown, whose creature I am. Alas ! Clarke, I begin to fear the worst. As 
 to my individual self, I am tranquil, and would despise myself if I were not ; 
 but Burns's poor widow, and half a dozen of his dear little ones — helpless orphans ! 
 — there I am weak as a woman's tear. Enough of this, 'Tis half of my disease. 
 
 Then to Johnson, editor of the Musical Museum, on 4th July : — 
 
 How are you, my dear friend, and how comes on your fifth volume 1 You 
 may probably think that for some time past I have neglected you and your work ; 
 but, alas ! the hand of pain, and sorrow, and care has these many months lain 
 heavy on me. Personal and domestic affliction have almost entirely banished 
 that alacrity and life with which I used to woo the rural muse of Scotia. 
 
 You are a good, worthy, honest fellow, and have a good right to live in this 
 world, because you deserve it. Many a merry meeting this publication has given 
 
 1 It has been noted that about this time the Bard's handwriting appears suddenly cramped and 
 small, as it it were that of an aged man. 
 
292 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 us, and possibly it may give us more, though, alas ! I fear it. This protracting, 
 slow, consuming illness which hangs over me will, I doubt much, my ever dear 
 friend, arrest my sun before he has well reached his middle career, and will turn 
 over the poet to far more important concerns than studying the brilhancy of wit 
 or the pathos of sentiment. However, hope is the cordial of the human heart, 
 and I endeavour to cherish it as well as I can. 
 
 Let me hear from you as soon as convenient. Your work is a great one ; and 
 now that it is finished, I see, if we were to begin again, two or three things that 
 might be mended ; yet I will venture to prophesy that to future ages your pi;b- 
 lication will be the text-book and standard of Scottish song and music. 
 
 I am ashamed to ask another favour of you, because you have been so very 
 good already ; but my wife has a very particular friend of hers, a young lady ^ 
 who sings well, to whom she wishes to present the Scots Musical Museum. If 
 you have a spare copy, will you be so obliging as to send it by the very first///, 
 as I am anxious to have it soon. 
 
 In this humble and delicate manner, observes Cromek, did poor 
 Burns ask for a copy of a work of which he was principally the 
 founder, and to which he had contributed, gratuitously, not less 
 than 184 original, altered, and collected songs. Cromek further 
 states that he had himself seen 180 songs transcribed by Burns's 
 own hand for the Museum. 
 
 On 4th July the Poet was conveyed to Brow, a hamlet on the 
 Sol way Firth, for sea-bathing and change of air — "his last and only 
 chance." That evening he wrote to Thomson, giving a pitiable 
 description of his wrecked condition, and adding, " Is this a time 
 for me to woo the muses ? However, I am still anxiously willing to 
 serve your work, and, if possible, shall try." 
 
 On 7th July he wrote to his Edinburgh friend, Alexander Cun- 
 ningham : — 
 
 •& 
 
 My dear Cunxingham, — I received yours here this moment, and am indeed 
 highly flattered with the approbation of the literary circle you mention — a 
 
 ^ Jessie Lewars, in all likelihood. 
 
SAD LETTERS. 293 
 
 literary circle inferior to none in the two kingdoms. Alas ! my friend, I fear 
 the voice of the hard loill soon be heard among you no more. For these eight or 
 ten months I have been ailing, sometimes bedfast, and sometimes not ; but these 
 last three months I have been tortured with an excruciating rheumatism, which 
 has reduced me to nearly the last stage. You actually would not know me if 
 you saw me. Pale, emaciated, and so feeble as occasionally to need help from 
 my chair — my spirits fled ! fled ! — but I can no more on the subject ; only the 
 medical folks tell me that my last and only chance is bathing and country 
 quarters and riding. The deuce of the matter is this : when an exciseman is off 
 duty, his salary is reduced to £35 instead of £50. What way, in the name of 
 thrift, shall I maintain myself and keep a horse in country quarters, with a wife 
 and five children at home, on £35 ? I mention this because I had intended to 
 beg your utmost interest, and that of all the friends you can muster, to move 
 our Commissioners of Excise to grant me the full salary ; I dare say you know 
 them all personally. If they do not grant it me, I must lay my account with an 
 exit truly en poete — if I die not of disease, I must perish with hunger. 
 
 I have sent you one of the songs ; the other my memory does not serve me 
 with, and I have no copy here ; but I shall be at home soon, when I will send 
 it you. Apropos to being at home : Mrs. Burns threatens in a week or two to 
 add one more to my paternal charge, which, if of the right gender, I intend 
 shall be introduced to the world by the respectable designation of Alexander 
 Cunningham Burns. My last was James Glencairn, so you can have no objec- 
 tion to the company of nobility. Farewell. 
 
 The more cheerful allusion with which this otherwise doleful 
 letter closes is but a lonely lurid ray amid the all-pervading gloom. 
 On Sunday, the 10th, he thus addressed his brother, Gilbert : — 
 
 Dear Brother, — It will be no very pleasing news to you to be told that I 
 am dangerously ill, and not likely to get better. An inveterate rheumatism has 
 reduced me to such a state of debility, and my appetite is so totally gone, that 
 I can scarcely stand on my legs. I have been a week at sea-bathing, and I will 
 continue there, or in a friend's house in the country, all the summer. God 
 keep my wife and children ; if I am taken from their head, they will be poor 
 indeed. I have contracted one or two serious debts, partly from my illness 
 these many months, partly from too much thoughtlessness as to expense when I 
 came to town, that will cut in too much of the little I leave them in your hands. 
 
294 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 This affecting letter closes with the simple, kindly words, 
 " Remember me to my mother." 
 
 Two days afterwards, he penned the last and saddest of all his 
 magnificent letters to Mrs. Dunlop : ^ — 
 
 Madam, — I have written you so often, without receiving any answer, that 
 I would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I am. An 
 illness, which has long hung about me, in all probability will speedily send me 
 beyond that bourn lulience no traveller returns. Your friendship, with which for 
 many years you honoured me, was a friendship dearest to my soul. Your con- 
 versation, and especially your correspondence, were at once highly entertaining 
 and instructive. With what pleasure did I use to break up the seal ! The 
 remembrance yet adds one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart. Fare- 
 well ! ! ! 
 
 During his brief stay at Brow, the Poet spent a memorable day 
 with Mrs. Maria Riddel, who was also there on account of failing 
 health. Hearing of his arrival, she invited him to dinner, and 
 sent her carriage to bring him, he being unable to walk. Of that 
 meeting, Mrs. Riddel has left a most interesting and pathetic 
 record : — 
 
 I was struck with his appearance on entering the room. The stamp of 
 death was imprinted on his features. He seemed already touching the brink 
 of eternity. His first salutation was, " Well, madam, have you any commands 
 for the other world ] " I replied that it seemed a doubtful case which of us 
 should be there soonest, and that I hoped he would yet live to write my epitaph. 
 He looked in my face with an air of great kindness, and expressed his concern 
 at seeing me look so ill, with his accustomed sensibility. At table, he ate little 
 or nothing, and complained of having entirely lost the tone of his stomach. 
 We had a long and serious conversation about his present situation, and the 
 approaching termination of all his earthly prospects. He spoke of his death, 
 without any of the ostentation of philosophy, but with firmness as well as 
 
 ' We would lain believe, as it is asserted, her friendship and esteem. Anyway, Mrs. 
 that ere he died Bums received some explana- Dunlop proved a warm friend to the Poet's 
 tion of this lady's silence, and an assurance of widow and family. 
 
AN ONLY CHANCE. 295 
 
 feeling, as an event likely to happen very soon, and which gave him concern 
 chiefly from leaving his four children so young and unprotected, and his wife 
 in so interesting a situation — in hourly expectation of lying-in of a fifth. He 
 mentioned, with seeming pride and satisfaction, the promising genius of his 
 eldest son, and the flattering marks of approbation he had received from his 
 teachers, and dwelt particularly on his hopes of that boy's future conduct and 
 merit. His anxiety for his family seemed to hang heavy upon him, and the 
 more perhaps from the reflection that he had not done them all the justice he 
 was so well qualified to do. Passing from this subject, he showed great concern 
 about the care of his literary fame, and particularly the publication of his post- 
 humous works. He said he was well aware that his death would occasion some 
 noise, and that every scrap of his writing would be revived against him, to the 
 injury of his future reputation ; that letters and verses written with unguarded 
 and improper freedom, and which he earnestly wished to have buried in 
 oblivion, would be handed about by idle vanity or malevolence, when no dread 
 of his resentment would restrain them, or prevent the censures of shrill-tongued 
 malice, or the insidious sarcasms of envy, from pouring forth all their venom to 
 blast his fame. He lamented that he had written many epigrams on persons 
 against whom he entertained no enmity, and whose characters he should be 
 sorry to wound ; and many indiff'erent poetical pieces, which he feared would 
 now, with all their imperfections on their head, be thrust upon the world. On 
 this account he deeply regretted having deferred to put his papers into a state 
 of arrangement, as he was now quite incapable of that exertion. . . . The 
 conversation was kept up with great evenness and animation on his side. I 
 have seldom seen his mind greater or more collected. There was frequently a 
 considerable degree of vivacity in his sallies, and they would probably have had 
 a greater share had not the concern and dejection I could not disguise damped 
 the spirit of pleasantry he seemed not unwilling to indulge. "We parted about 
 sunset on the evening of that day (the 5th of July 1796), and the next day I 
 saw him again, and we parted to meet no more. 
 
 Another incident of this time was thus related to Lockhart by 
 Mr. M'Diarmid, Dumfries : — 
 
 Rousseau, we all know, when dying, wished to be carried into the open 
 air, that he might obtain a parting look of the glorious orb of day. A night 
 or two before Burns left Brow, he drank tea with Mrs. Craig, widow of the 
 
29G THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 minister of Eutliwell. His altered appearance excited much silent sympathy ; 
 and the evening being beautiful, and the sun shining brightly through the 
 casement, Miss Craig — now Mrs. Henry Duncan — was afraid the light might 
 be too much for him, and rose with the view of letting doAvn the window-blinds. 
 Burns immediately guessed what she meant ; and, regarding the young lady 
 with a look of great benignity, said, "Thank you, my dear, for your kind 
 attention ; but oh, let him shine ; he will not shine long for me ! " 
 
 The sea air and bathing effected a slight improvement in the 
 Bard's condition ; but in the few days that now remained, he was to 
 know neither freedom from pain nor mental peace. He had incurred 
 a debt of seven pounds in procuring his volunteer uniform, and one 
 day at Brow a lawyer's letter was handed to him, urging payment 
 of this account, else — as it seemed to Burns in his then emaciated, 
 nervous state — imprisonment for debt. Fearing the worst, he 
 hastened to appeal to George Thomson, and to his cousin, James 
 Burness, writer, Montrose. 
 
 To Thomson he wrote : — 
 
 After all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me to implore you 
 for five pounds. A cruel scoundrel of a haberdasher, to whom I owe an account, 
 taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process, and will 
 infallibly put me into jail. Do, for God^s sake, send me that sum, and that by 
 return of post. Forgive me this earnestness ; but the horrors of a jail have 
 made me half distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously ; for, upon returning 
 health, I hereby promise and engage to furnish you with five pounds' worth of 
 the neatest song-genius you have seen. I tried my hand on RotMemurchie this 
 morning. The measure is so difficult, that it is impossible to infuse much 
 genius into the lines ; they are on the other side. Forgive, forgive me ! 
 
 And to his cousin : — 
 
 My dear Cousin, — When you offered me money assistance, little did I 
 think I should want it so soon, A rascal of a haberdasher, to whom I owe a 
 considerable bill, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a 
 
IN STRAITS FOR CASH. 297 
 
 process against me, and will infallibly put my emaciated body into jail. "Will you 
 be so good as to accommodate me, and that by return of post, with ten pounds ? 
 Oh, James ! did you know the pride of my heart, you would feel doubly for 
 me ! Alas ! I am not used to beg. The worst of it is, my health was coming 
 about finely. You know, and my physician assured me, that melancholy and 
 low spirits are half my disease — guess, then, my horrors since this business 
 began. If I had it settled, I would be, I think, quite well in a manner. How 
 shall I use the language to you — oh, do not disappoint me ! but strong 
 necessity's curst command. 
 
 Forgive me for once more mentioning by return of post — save me from the 
 horrors of a jail ! 
 
 My compliments to my friend James, and to all the rest. I do not know 
 what I have written. The subject is so horrible, I dare not look it over again. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 To these appeals his cousin and Thomson promptly responded, 
 sending the desired sums. But can it fail to fill one's heart with 
 pity and shame to think of Burns having to pen such letters as 
 these. Further, it may be asked, Was it to support his small 
 request from Thomson (upon whom he had so great a claim) that 
 the Poet, tortured both in mind and body, set himself to pen and 
 enclose these, his last j^oetic lines, wherein we discover memory 
 wafting him away back to the glad sweet bygone days he had 
 spent with Peggy Chalmers and Charlotte Hamilton, in and around 
 their Devon Valley home — 
 
 Fairest maid i>n Devon banks ; 
 
 Crystal Devon, winding Devon, 
 Wilt thou lay that frown aside 
 
 And smile as thou wert wont to do. 
 
 Full well thou know'st I love thee dear. 
 Couldst thou to malice lend an ear ? 
 Oh, did not love exclaim, "Forbear, 
 Xor use a faithful lover so ? " 
 VOL. III. 2 P 
 
298 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Then come, thou fairest of the fair, 
 Those wonted smiles, oh, let me shai'e ! 
 And by thy beauteous self I swear, 
 
 No love but thine my heart shall know. 
 
 On 1 4tli July, lie wrote lovingly, and not without some gleam of 
 hope, to his devoted Jean : — 
 
 My dearest Love, — I delayed writing until I could tell you what effect 
 sea-bathing was likely to produce. It would be injustice to deny that it has 
 eased my pains, and I think has strengthened me ; but my appetite is still 
 extremely bad. No flesh nor fish can I swallow ; porridge and milk are the 
 only thing I can taste. I am very happy to hear, by Miss Jess Lewars, that 
 you are all well. My very best and kindest compliments to her, and to all the 
 children. I will see you on Sunday. — Your affectionate husband. 
 
 But almost immediately after penning the above, he w^as seized 
 by a fresh attack of fever. On the 1 8th, he was taken home in a 
 small spring-cart. 
 
 The ascent to his house being steep — says Cunningham — the cart stopped 
 at the foot of the Mill-hole Brae ; when he alighted, he shook much, 
 and stood with difficulty ; he seemed unable to stand upright. He stooped 
 as if in j^ain, and walked tottering towards his own door : his looks were 
 hollow and ghastly, and those who saw him then expected never to see 
 him in life again. 
 
 In the experiences of the world's great ones, there have been few 
 home-comings more sad than this. The frenzied letter Burns penned 
 that evening to Jean's father in Mauchline fills up the scene of 
 misery : — 
 
 ]My dear Sir, — ^Do, for Heaven's sake, send Mrs. Armour here immediately. 
 My wife is hourly expecting to be put to bed. Good God ! what a situation for 
 her to be in, poor girl, M'ithout a friend ! I returned from sea-bathing quarters 
 to-day, and my medical friends would almost persuade me that I am better ; but 
 I think and feel that my strength is so gone that the disorder will prove fatal 
 to me. — Your son-in-law. 
 
THE CLOSING HOURS. 299 
 
 HaviDg, with trembling difficulty, traced out the above, Burns 
 laid aside his mighty pen ybr ever. Throughout that night and the 
 two succeeding days the fever burned higher and higher, rapidly 
 consuming his already far-spent strength, and causing his mind to 
 wander, save when recalled by the sympathetic voices of those who 
 watched at his bedside. 
 
 For quiet, his little ones were taken to shelter at Jessie Lewars' 
 home. Now and then Mrs. Burns was assisted from her sick-bed 
 to look for a little at her dying husband. Shortly before he lost all 
 consciousness, a beam of kindly light came to him in the form of a 
 sympathetic letter from his staunchest, best of friends, Mr. Graham, 
 offering means towards helping him to recruit his health. This of 
 course came too late, but, doubtless, it cheered Burns to know of it, 
 and to believe that in such as Mr. Graham he w^as leaving a few 
 friends, at least, who would not forget him, and would stand by his 
 poor widow and helpless children. 
 
 Early in the morning of the 21st, he sank into delirium. The 
 children were brought to take the parting look, and they stood 
 around until he calmly passed into the repose of death. It is said 
 that with almost his latest breath he muttered something about that 
 threatening letter which had so tormented his closing days, and had, 
 as he thought, brought disgrace upon the name of Egbert Buens. 
 
 When it became known in Dumfries, on his return from Brow, 
 that the poet was dying, a great excitement of sorrow and sympathy 
 prevailed. 
 
 Dumfries — says Cunningham — was like a besieged place. It was known he 
 was dying, and the anxiety, not of the rich and learned only, but of the 
 mechanics and peasants, exceeded all belief. Wherever two or three people 
 stood together, their talk was of Burns, and of him alone. . . . His differ- 
 ences with them on some important points were forgotten and forgiven ; they 
 thought only of his genius — of the delight his compositions had diffused ; and 
 
300 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 they talked of him with the same awe as of some departing spirit, whose voice 
 was to gladden them no more. 
 
 Nor was the sorrow which immediately arose on his death con- 
 fined to Dumfries and its neighbourhood. Surely we need not 
 marvel that it was widespread and profound. Burns's contem- 
 poraries in Scotland, while noting his faults and follies, had not 
 failed to mark his mighty mental grasp, his grand poetic gifts, and 
 his essentially true and generous nature. What he had done for our 
 nationality and for mankind was not known then as it now is ; but 
 enough was known to send a pang of shame and regret through the 
 hearts of his countrymen, when they reflected that, after all, so 
 little had been done towards more duly appreciating and carefully 
 fostering a "genius so extraordinary." 
 
 Of the Bard's funeral, Dr. Currie has left the following 
 account : — 
 
 The Gentlemen Volunteers of Dumfries determined to bury their illustrious 
 associate with military honours, and every preparation was made to render this 
 last service solemn and impressive. The Feneil:)le Infantry of Angusshire, and 
 the Cavalry of the Cinque Ports, at that time quartered in Dumfries, offered 
 their assistance ; the principal inhabitants of the town and neighbourhood 
 determined to walk in funeral procession, and a vast concourse of persons 
 assembled, some of them from a considerable distance, to witness the obsequies 
 of the Scottish Bard. On the evening of the 25th of July,^ the remains of 
 Burns were removed from his house to the Town Hall, and the funeral took 
 place on the following day. A party of volunteers, selected to perform the 
 military duty in the churchyard, stationed themselves in the front of the pro- 
 cession, wuth their arms reversed ; the main body of the corps surrounded and 
 supported the coffin, on which were placed the hat and sword of their friend and 
 fellow-soldier. The numerous body of attendants ranged themselves in the 
 rear ; while the fencible regiments of infantry and cavalry lined the streets 
 from the Town Hall to the burial ground in the Southern Churchyard, a 
 
 ^ Tlie Inirial took place on Monday, 25th Town Hall on the evening of Sunday, the 
 July, the Poet's remains being conveyed to the 2-lth. 
 
777^ FUNERAL. 301 
 
 distance of more tlian lialf a mile. The whole procession moved forward to 
 that sublime and affecting strain of music, the Dead March in Saul ; and three 
 volleys fired over his grave marked the return of Burns to his i^arent earth. 
 - The spectacle was in a high degree grand and solemn, and accorded 
 with the general sentiments of sympathy and sorrow which the occasion had 
 called forth. 
 
 Burns left some £30 of debt, it is said ; but at least a consider- 
 able part of the £200 he generously handed to his brother Gilbert 
 still remained to his credit. Besides, he had scattered his immortal 
 productions with a lavish hand, askiug nothing in return. Be this 
 as it may, however, it is matter for surprise that, in his self-forgetful 
 way, he managed to live on his small income of £70, these four and 
 a half years in Dumfries, with its varied social entanglements, not 
 to speak of his protracted illness, dragging him into extra expendi- 
 ture. Moreover, that the few debts he had incurred cost him so 
 great pain and anxiety, speaks eloquently of Burns as an honest 
 man, whose earnest desire is to "owe no man anythino-." 
 
 This paltry debt was almost immediately cleared off, nor was it 
 long until, in loving memory of the Bard, a number of those who 
 had been his friends, and had enjoyed the privilege, which close 
 acquaintance gave, of knowing the real worth and greatness of his 
 character,— the Riddels, John Syme, George Thomson, Dr. Maxwell, 
 and others, — bestirred tliemselves to succour his penniless widow * 
 and children. A public subscription was set on foot, and an edition 
 of his life and works was projected. To be his first editor and 
 biographer, the choice happily fell on Dr. James Currie, of Liver- 
 pool — a man well qualified for the task, both on account of literary 
 ability and sympathetic admiration of the Poet and his writino-s. 
 This new edition, published in May 1800, yielded £1400; which 
 sum being handed, along with the result of the subscription, to Mrs. 
 Burns, placed her in a position of comfort and comparative plenty 
 
302 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 wlierewith to bring up her "little flock." His painstaking and 
 altogether disinterested labours in this connexion have justly 
 endeared the name of Dr. Currie to the Poet's admirers every- 
 where. 
 
 In volume ii. of this work there already appears, by the late 
 Dr. Rogers, a glowing estimate of Burns and his writings ; and in 
 as much as it does not fall within the scope of this narrative to 
 further enter into general disquisition upon the Poet and his mar- 
 vellous achievements, duly noting, as we ever ought to do, that his 
 errors were those of a uniquely self-forgetful, soaring, impassioned 
 nature, cast in and tempted by a calculating, materialistic, hard- 
 drinking age, and proudly rejoicing to think that the spreading 
 fame of the Ayrshire Peasant Bard, Scotland's great national Poet, 
 the world's peerless lyric genius, is safely kept in the heart of 
 humanity, we close our humble endeavour to state the facts of this 
 great tragic life by placing before the reader the graphic description 
 of the Poet which was penned by his first biographer " under 
 advantages which no subsequent writer can enjoy " : — 
 
 Burns — says Dr. Currie — was nearly five feet ten inches in height, and of 
 a form that indicated agility as well as strength. His well-raised forehead, 
 shaded with black curling hair, indicated extensive capacity. His eyes were 
 large, dark, full of ardour and intelligence. His face was well formed, and his 
 countenance uncommonly interesting and expressive. His mode of dressing, 
 which was often slovenly, and a certain fulness and bend in the shoulders, — 
 characteristic of his original profession, — disguised in some degree the natural 
 symmetry and elegance of his form. The external appearance of Burns was 
 most strikingly indicative of the character of his mind. On a first view, his 
 physiognomy had a certain air of coarseness, mingled, however, with an expression 
 of deep penetration, and of calm thoughtfulness, approaching to melancholy. 
 There appeared in his first manner and address, perfect ease and self-possession, 
 but a stern and almost supercilious elevation, not, indeed, incompatible with 
 openness and affability, which, however, bespoke a mind conscious of suiDerior 
 talents. Strangers that supposed themselves approaching an Ayrshire peasant 
 
DR. CURRIES DESCRIPTION AND ESTIMATE. 303 
 
 who could make rhymes, and to whom their notice was an honour, found them- 
 selves speedily overawed by the presence of a man who bore himself with 
 dignity, and who possessed a singular power of correcting forwardness and of 
 repelling intrusion. But though jealous of the respect due to himself. Burns 
 never enforced it where he saw it was willingly paid ; and though inaccessible 
 to the approaches of pride, he was open to every advance of kindness and of 
 benevolence. His dark and haughty countenance easily relaxed into a look of 
 good-will, of pity, or of tenderness ; and as the various emotions succeeded 
 each other in his mind, assumed with equal ease the expression of the broadest 
 humour, of the most extravagant mirth, of the deepest melancholy, or of the 
 most sublime emotion. The tones of his voice happily corresponded with the 
 expression of his features and with the feelings of his mind. When to these 
 endowments are added a rapid and distinct apprehension, a most powerful 
 understanding, and a happy command of language, — of strength as well as 
 brilliancy of expression, — we shall be able to account for the extraordinary 
 attractions of his conversation — for the sorcery which, in his social parties, he 
 seemed to exert on all around him. In the company of women, this sorcery was 
 more especially apparent. Their presence charmed the fiend of melancholy in 
 his bosom, and awoke his hajDpiest feelings ; it excited the powers of his fancy, 
 as well as the tenderness of his heart ; and bj' restraining the vehemence and 
 the exuberance of his language, at times gave to his manners the impression of 
 taste, and even of elegance, which in the company of men they seldom possessed. 
 This influence was doubtless reciprocal. A Scottish lady, accustomed to the best 
 society, declared with characteristic nalveU that no man's conversation ever 
 carried her so completely off her feet, as that of Burns ; and an English lady, 
 familiarly acquainted with several of the most distinguished characters of the 
 present times, assured the editor, that, in the happiest of his social hours^ there 
 was a charm about Burns which she had never seen equalled. This charm 
 arose not more from the power than the versatility of his genius. Xo languor 
 could be felt in the society of a man who passed at pleasure from grave to gay, 
 from the ludicrous to the pathetic, from the simple to the sublime ; who wielded 
 all his faculties with equal strength and ease, and never failed to impress the 
 offspring of his fancy with the stamp of his understanding. 
 
 This, indeed, is to represent Burns in his happiest phasis. In large and 
 mixed parties, he was often silent and dark, sometimes fierce and overbearing ; 
 he was jealous of the proud man's scorn, jealous to an extreme of the insolence 
 of wealth, and prone to avenge, even on its innocent possessor, the partiality of 
 
304 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 fortune. By nature kind, brave, sincere, and in a singular degree com- 
 passionate, he was on the other hand proud, irascible, and vindictive. His 
 virtues and his failings had their origin in the extraordinary sensibility of his 
 mind, and equally partook of the chills and glows of sentiment. His friendships 
 were liable to interruption from jealousy or disgust, and his enmities died away 
 under the influence of pity or self-accusation. His understanding was equal to 
 the other powers of his mind, and his deliberate opinions were singularly candid 
 and just; but, like other men of great and irregular genius, the opinions which 
 he delivered in conversation were often the offspring of temporary feelings, and 
 widely different from the calm decisions of his judgment. This was not merely 
 true respecting the characters of others, but in regard to some of the most 
 important points of human speculation. 
 
APPENDICES, 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 2 Q 
 
APPENDIX A. 
 
 CONCEENING THE POET'S FAMILY. 
 
 The children borne by Jean Armour, and who survived mere infancy, 
 were : — 
 
 Eobert, . . born 3rd September 1786, died 14th May 1857. 
 Francis Wallace, . „ 18th August 1789, ,, in liis 14th year. 
 Wilham Nicol, . „ 9th April 1791, „ 21st February 1872. 
 
 Elizabeth Eiddel, „ 21st November 1792, „ in her 3rd year. 
 James Glencairn, „ 12th August 1794, ,, 18th November 1865. 
 Maxwell, . . ,, 25th July 1796, „ in his 3rd year. 
 
 Of these, it will be observed that only three — Egbert, William Nicol, 
 and James Glencairn — reached the years of manhood. 
 
 Egbert was first of all trained at Dumfries Gram.mar School; then 
 attended two sessions at Edinburgh, and one at Glasgow, University. He 
 received an appointment in the Stamp Office, London, from which he 
 retired in 1833, on a modest pension. Eeturning to Dumfries, he resided 
 there until his death in 1857, aged 71 years. When 22 years of age, he 
 married Anne Sherwood, who died in 1835. Eobert and his wife were 
 buried in the Mausoleum in Dumfries Churchyard. 
 
 That the Poet's care in the education of his eldest son was not quite 
 thrown away, is evident from the fact that, both in London and Dumfries, 
 Eobert was able to increase his income by giving private lessons in classics 
 and mathematics. Like his illustrious father, however, he M'as not strong 
 either in finance or self-control. 
 
 His only surviving daughter, Eliza, became the wife of Dr. Everitt, of 
 the East India Company's Service. Widowed in 1840, she died in 1878, 
 survived by an unmarried daughter, Martha Burns Everitt. 
 
 William Nicol, educated at Dumfries Grammar School, sailed, in his 
 
 307 
 
308 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 16th year, as a midshipman, to India. Serving for 33 years in the 
 Madras Infantry, he at length attained the rank of lieutenant- colonel. He 
 retired from the army in 1843, returned home, and resided with his 
 younger brother at Cheltenham. He died in 1872, aged 81, and was 
 buried in the Mausoleum. In 1822 he married Catherine Crone, who died, 
 childless, in India, in 1841. 
 
 James Glencairn, educated at Dumfries Grammar School, and at 
 Christ's Hospital, London, joined the loth Bengal Native Infantry, and 
 attained the rank of captain. He came home on a visit in 1831, and on 
 his return to India in 1833, was appointed Judge and Collector at Cahar. 
 Eetiring in 1839, he lived in London till 1843, then took up house with 
 his brother, William Nicol, at Cheltenham. In 1855 he attained brevet 
 rank as lieutenant-colonel In 1865 he died, and was buried in the 
 Mausoleum. 
 
 In 1818 he married Sarah Kobinson, who died in 1821, leaving a 
 daughter, Sarah, who was married to Dr. B. W. Hutchinson, and bore to 
 him three daughters and a son, Eobert Burns Hutchinson, the only legitimate 
 male descendant of the Poet. 
 
 In 1828 James Glencairn married his second wife, Mary Becket, who 
 died in 1844, leaving one daughter, Ann Becket. 
 
 The Poet's Two Illegitimate Daughters. 
 
 Elizabeth, — " wee image of his bonnie Betty," — borne by Betty Baton, 
 at Largie-side, Tarbolton, in 1784, was brought up under the care of the 
 Poet's mother. At 21 she received from a fund raised in London a dowry 
 of £200. Married to John Bishop, overseer, Polkemmet, she bore him 
 several children. She died in 1817, aged 32, and was buried in Whitburn 
 Churchyard, where a monument stands to her memory. 
 
 Elizabeth, borne by Ann Park, at the Globe Tavern, Dumfries, in l7fll, 
 was reared by Bonnie Jean as one of her own family. At 21 she also 
 received £200 from the above-mentioned fund. Married to John Thomson, 
 Pollokshaws, she bore him two sons — Robert Burns and James — and five 
 daughters — Jean Armour, Agnes, Eliza, Sarah, and Maggie. Eobert Burns 
 Thomson inherited a certain measure of poetic gift, and wrote some 
 excellent pieces 
 
APPENDIX A. 309 
 
 In June 1879 Maggie Thomson, the youngest daughter, was married 
 to David Wingate, the well-known Scotch poet. From 1859 until her 
 decease in 1873 Mrs. Thomson received £oO per annum from a fund 
 raised in Glasgow for her behoof. 
 
 In the first chapter of this volume are found full genealogical notes 
 regarding the Poet's brothers and sisters (see pp. 64 to 74). His mother, 
 Agnes Brown, long surviving, found a home with Gilbert Burns until her 
 death in 1820, in her 88th year, and in the 36th year of her widowhood, 
 
 Jean Armour lived on in comfortable circumstances in the house in 
 Burns Street, wherein the Poet breathed his last. She died on 26th March 
 1834, in her 69th year, and in the 38th year of her widowhood. Her 
 remains were placed in the Mausoleum, near to the coffin of her immortal 
 husband, to whom she had proved a wife most faithful, long-suffering, and 
 affectionate. 
 
APPENDIX B. 
 
 MANUAL OF EELIGIOUS BELIEF. 
 
 The following is the text of this remarkable compendium, compiled by- 
 worthy William Burness, and used by him in the instruction of the Poet, 
 in common with the rest of the family circle at Lochlea. 
 
 Son. Dear father, you have often told me, Avhile you were initiating me 
 into the Christian rehgion, that you stood bound for me, to give me a Christian 
 education, and recommended a religious life to me. I would therefore, if you 
 please, ask you a few questions that may tend to confirm my faith, and clear its 
 evidences to me. 
 
 Father. My dear child, with gladness I will resolve to you (so far as I am 
 able), any question you shall ask, only with this caution, that you will believe 
 my answers, if they are founded in the Word of God. 
 
 Question. How shall I evidence to myself that there is a God 1 
 
 Aiisicer. By the works of creation : for nothing can make itself ; and this 
 fabric of Nature demonstrates its Creator to be possessed of all possible perfec- 
 tion, and for that cause we owe all that we have to Him. 
 
 Q. If God be possessed of all possible perfection, ought not we then to love 
 Him as well as fear Him li 
 
 A. Yes ; we ought to serve Him out of love, for His perfections give us 
 delightful prospects of His favour and friendship, for if we serve Him out of 
 love, we will endeavour to be like Him, and God will love His own image, and 
 if God love us. He will rejoice over us and do us good. 
 
 Q. Then one would think this were sufficient to determine all men to love 
 God ; but how shall we account for so much wickedness in the world ? 
 
 A. God's revealed Word teaches us that our first parents brake His Covenant, 
 and deprived us of the influences of His grace that were to be expected in that 
 state, and introduced sin into the world ; and the Devil, that great enemy of 
 God and man, laying hold on this instrument, his kingdom has made great 
 progress in the world. 
 
 Q. But has God left His own rational offspring thus, to the tyranny of His 
 and their enemy ? 
 
 310 
 
APPENDIX B. 311 
 
 A. No : for God hath addressed His rational creatures, by telling them in 
 His Revealed Word, that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the 
 Serpent, or Devil, or in time destroy his kingdom ; and in the meantime, every 
 one oppressed _with_ the tyranny of the Devil, should, through the promised 
 seed, by faith in Him, and humble supplication, and a strenuous use of their 
 own faculties, receive such measures of grace, in and through this method of 
 God's conveyance, as should make them able to overcome. 
 
 Q. But by what shall I know that this is a revelation of God, and not a 
 cunningly devised fable 1 
 
 A. A revelation of God must have these four marks, 1. It must be worthy 
 of God to reveal ; 2. It must answer all the necessities of human nature ; 3. It 
 must be sufficiently attested by miracles ; and 4. It is known by prophecies and 
 their fulfilment. That it is worthy of God is plain, by its addressing itself to 
 the reason of men, and plainly laying before them the dangers to which they 
 are liable, with motives and arguments to persuade them to their duty, and 
 promising such rewards as are fitted to promote the happiness of a rational soul. 
 Secondly, it provides for the guilt of human nature, making an atonement by a 
 Mediator ; and for its weakness by promising the assistance of God's Spirit ; and 
 for its happiness, by promising a composure of mind, by the regulation of its 
 faculties, and reducing the appetites and passions of the body unto the subjec- 
 tion of reason enlightened by the Word of God, and by a resurrection of the 
 body, and a glorification of both soul and body in heaven, and that to last 
 through all eternity. Thirdly, as a miracle is a contradiction of known laws of 
 Nature, demonstrating that the worker has the power of Nature in his hands, 
 and consequently must be God, or sent by His commission and authority from 
 Him, to do such and such tilings. That this is the case in our Scriptures is 
 evident both by the prophets, under the Old, and our Saviour under the New 
 Testament. AVhenever it served for the glory of God, or for the confirmation 
 of their commissions, all Nature was obedient to them ; the elements were at 
 their command, also the sun and moon, yea, life and death. Fourthly, that 
 prophecies were fulfilled at a distance of many hundreds of years is evident by 
 comparing the following texts of Scripture :— Gen. xlix. 10, 11 ; Matt, xxi 5 • 
 Isa. vii. 14; Matt. i. 22, 23; Luke i. 34; Isa. xl. 1 ; Matt. iii. 3; Mark i. 3; 
 Luke 111. 4; John i. 23; Isa. xlii. 1, 2, 3, 4. A description of the character 
 of Messiah in the Old Testament Scriptures is fulfilled in all the Evangelists. 
 In Isa. 1. 5, His sufferings are prophesied, and exactly fulfilled in the New 
 Testament, IMatt. xxvi. 67, and xxvii. 26 ; and many others, as that Abraham's 
 seed should be strangers in a strange land four hundred years, and beino- 
 brought to Canaan, and its accomplishment in the days of Joseph, Moses, and 
 Joshua. 
 
 Q. Seeing the Scriptures are proven to be a revelation of God to His 
 creatures, am not I indispensably bound to believe and obey them % 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Am I equally bound to obey all the laws delivered to Moses upon Mount 
 Sinai % 
 
 A. No ; the laws delivered to Moses are of three kinds : first, the Moral 
 Law, which is of eternal and indispensable obligation on all ages and nations ; 
 secondly, the law of Sacrifices and Ordinances were only ordinances in which 
 
312 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 were couched types and shadows of thuigs to come, and when that dispensation 
 was at an end, this law ended with them, for Christ is the end of the law for 
 righteousness ; thirdly, laws that respected the Jewish Commonwealth can 
 neither be binding on us, v/ho are not of that Commonwealth, nor on the Jews, 
 because their Commonwealth is at an end. 
 
 Q. If the ]\Ioral Law be of indispensable obligation, I become bound to 
 perfect and perpetual obedience, of which I am incapable, and on that account 
 cannot hope to be justified and accepted with God. 
 
 A. The Moral Law, as a rule of life, must be of indispensable obligation, 
 but it is the glory of the Christian religion, that, if we be upright in our 
 endeavours to follow it, and sincere in our repentance, upon our failing or 
 shortening, we shall be accepted according to what we have, and shall increase 
 in our strength, by the assistance of the Spirit of God co-operating with our 
 honest endeavours. 
 
 Q. Seeing the assistance of the S[)irit of God is alisolutely necessary for 
 salvation, hath not God clearly revealed by what means we may obtain this 
 great blessing % 
 
 A. Yes ; the Scriptures tell us that the Spirit of God is the purchase of 
 Christ's mediatorial office ; and through faith in Him, and our humble prayers 
 to God through Christ, we shall receive such measures thereof as shall answer 
 our wants. 
 
 Q. What do you understand by Faith ? 
 
 A. Faith is a firm persuasion of the Divine mission of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, and that He is made unto us of God, wisdom, righteousness, and com- 
 plete redemption ; or as He is represented to us under the notion of a root, and 
 we the branches, deriving all from Him ; or as the head, and we the members 
 of His body : intimating to us that this is the way or channel through which 
 God conveys His blessings to us, and we are not to expect them but in God's 
 own way. It is therefore a matter of consequence to us, and therefore we 
 oucrht with diligence to search the Scriptures, and the extent of His com- 
 mission, or what they declare Him to be, and to receive Him accordingly, and 
 to acquiesce in God's plan of our salvation. 
 
 Q. By what shall I know that Jesus Christ is really the person that was 
 prophesied of in the Old Testament ; or that He was that seed of the woman 
 that was to destroy the kingdom of sin 1 
 
 A. Besides the Scriptures fore-cited, which fully prove Him to be that 
 blessed person, Christ did many miracles; He healed the .sick, gave sight to 
 the blind, made the lame to walk, raised the dead, and fed tliousands with a 
 feAV loaves, etc. He foretold His own death and resurrection, and the wonderful 
 progress of His religion, in spite of all the power of the Roman Empire — and 
 that by means of His disciples, a few illiterate fishermen. 
 
 Q. You speak of repentance as absolutely necessary to salvation — I would 
 like to know what you mean by repentance 1 
 
 A. I not only mean a sorrowing for sin, but a labouring to see the malignant 
 nature of it ; as setting nature at variance with herself, by placing the animal 
 part before the rational, and thereby putting ourselves on a level with the brute 
 beasts, the consequence of which will be an intestine war in the human frame, 
 until the rational part be entirely weakened, which is spiritual death, and 
 
APPENDIX B. 313 
 
 which in the nature of the thing renders us unfit for the society of God's 
 spiritual kingdom, and to see the beauty of holiness. On the contrary, setting 
 the rational part above the animal, though it promote a war in the human 
 frame, every conflict and victory affords us grateful reflection, and tends to 
 compose the mind more and more, not to the utter destruction of the animal 
 part, but to the real and true enjoyment of both, by placing Xature in the 
 order that its Creator designed it, which, in the natural consequences of the 
 thing, promotes Spiritual Life, and renders us more and more fit for Christ's 
 spiritual kingdom ; and not only so, but gives to animal life pleasure and joy 
 that we never could have had without it. 
 
 Q. I should be glad to hear you at large upon religion giving pleasure 
 to animal life ; for it is represented as taking up our cross and following 
 Christ. 
 
 A. Our Lord honestly told His disciples of their danger, and what they 
 were to expect by being His followers, that the world would hate them, and for 
 this reason, because they were not of the world, even as He also was not of the 
 world ; but He gives them sufficient comfort, showing that He had overcome 
 the world ; as if He had said, " You must arm yourself Avith a resolution to 
 fight, for if you be resolved to be j\Iy disciples, you expose the world, by setting 
 their folly in its true light, and therefore every one who is not brought over by 
 your example, will hate and oppose you as it hath Me ; but as it hath had no 
 advantage against Me, and I have overcome it, if you continue the conflict, you, 
 by My strength, shall overcome likewise ; " so that this declaration of our Lord 
 cannot damp the pleasures of life when rightly considered, but rather enlarges 
 them. The same revelation tells us, that a religious life hath the promise of 
 the life that now is, and that which is to come ; and not only by the well 
 regulated mind described in my last answer, as tending to give pleasure and 
 quiet, but by a firm trust in the providence of God, and by the help of an 
 honest calling industriously pursued, we shall receive such a portion of the 
 comfortable things of this life as shall be fittest for promoting our eternal 
 interest, and that under the direction of infinite wisdom and goodness ; and 
 that we shall overcome all our difficulties by being under the protection of 
 infinite power. These considerations cannot fail to give a relish to all the 
 pleasures of life. Besides the very nature of the thing giving pleasure to a 
 mind so regular as I have already described, it must exalt the mind above those 
 irregular passions that jar and are contrary one to another, and distract the mind 
 by contrary pursuits, which is described by the apostle with more strength in 
 his Epistle to the Eomans (chap, i., from 26 to the end) than any words I am 
 capable of framing ; especially if we take our Lord's explanation of the parable 
 of the tares in the field as an improvement of these doctrines, as it is in Matt. 
 xiii., from the 37th to the 44th verse ; and Rev. xx., from verse 11 to the end. If 
 these Scriptures, seriously considered, can suff"er any man to be easy, judge ye, 
 and they will remain truth, whether believed or not. Whereas, on a mind 
 regular, and having the animal part under subjection to the rational, in the very 
 nature of the thing gives uniformity of pursuits. The desires, rectified by the 
 Word of God, must give clearness of judgment, soundness of mind, regular 
 affections, whence will flow peace of conscience, good hope, through grace, that 
 all our interests are under the care of our Heavenly Father. This gives a relish 
 VOL. III. 2 R 
 
314 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 to animal life itself, this joy that no man intermeddle th with, and which is 
 peculiar to a Christian or holy life ; and its comforts and blessings the whole 
 Scripture is a comment upon, especially our Lord's sermon upon tlie Mount, 
 Matt, V. 1-13, and its progress in the parable of the Sower in the thirteenth of 
 Matthew. 1 
 
 'The "Manual" bears that it was tran- it would appear that in the preparation of the 
 
 scribed for "William Buruess hy John Murdoch, " Manual " Murdoch's part was more than that 
 
 the Poet's teacher ; but, judging from one or of mere transcriber, 
 two extant letters penned by William Burness, 
 
APPENDIX C, 
 
 THE POET'S COMMONPLACE BOOKS. 
 
 The opening remarks of these very interesting documents fully explain the 
 author's purpose and plan. 
 
 First Commonplace Book. 
 
 Observations, Hints, Songs, Scraps of Poetry, etc., by Robert Burness, 
 a man who had little art in making money, and still less in keeping it ; but was, 
 however, a man of some sense, a great deal of honesty, and unbounded good- 
 Avill to every creature, rational and irrational. — As he was but little indebted 
 to scholastic education, and bred at a plough-tail, his performances must be 
 strongly tinctured with his luipolished, rustic way of life ; but as I believe they 
 are really his own, it may be some entertainment to a curious observer of human 
 nature to see how a ploughman thinks and feels, under the pressure of love, 
 ambition, anxiety, grief, with the like cares and passions, which, however 
 diversified by the modes and manners of life, operate pretty much alike, I 
 believe, on all the species. 
 
 "There are numbers in the Avorld who do not want sense to make a figure, 
 so much as an opinion of their own abilities to put them upon recording their 
 observations, and allowing them the same importance which they do to those 
 which appear in print." — Shenstone. 
 
 " Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to trace 
 The forms our pencil, or our pen, designed ! 
 Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face. 
 Such the soft image of our youthful mind." — Ibid. 
 
316 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 April 1783. 
 
 Kotwithstanding all that has been said against love, respecting the folly 
 and weakness it leads a young experienced mind into, still I think it in a great 
 measure deserves the highest encomiums that have been passed upon it. If any- 
 thing on earth deserves the name of rapture or transport, it is the feelings of 
 green eighteen in the company of the mistress of his heart, when she repays 
 him with an equal return of affection. 
 
 August. 
 
 There is certainly some connection between love and poetry ; and, there- 
 fore, I have always thought it a fine touch of nature, that passage in a modern 
 love composition : — 
 
 As towards her cot he jogg'd along, 
 
 Her name was frequent in his song. 
 
 Vox my own part, I never had the least thought or inclination of turning 
 poet till I got once heartily in love, and then rhyme and song were, in a manner, 
 the spontaneous language of my heart. The following composition was the 
 first of my performances, and done at an early period of life, when my heart 
 glowed with honest, warm simplicity ; unacquainted and uncorrupted with the 
 ways of a wicked world. The performance is, indeed, very puerile and silly ; 
 but I am always pleased with it, as it recalls to my mind those happy days 
 when my heart was yet honest, and my tongue was sincere. The subject of it 
 was a young girl who really deserved all the praises I have bestowed on her, 
 I not only had this opinion of her then — but I actually think so still, now that 
 the spell is long since broken, and the enchantment at an end. 
 
 SONG. 
 Tune — " I am a man unmarried." 
 
 O once I lov'd a bonnie lass. 
 
 Ay, and I love her still. 
 And whilst that honour warms my breast 
 
 I'll love my handsome Nell. 
 
 Criticism on the Foregoing Song. 
 
 Lest my works should be thought l^elow criticism, or meet with a critic 
 who, perhaps, will not look on them with so candid and favourable an eye, I 
 am determined to criticise them myself. 
 
 The first distic of the first stanza is quite too much in the flimsy strain of 
 our ordinary street ballads; and, on the other hand, the second distic is too 
 much in the other extreme. The expression is a little awkward, and the senti- 
 ment too serious. Stanza the second I am well pleased with, and I think it 
 conveys a fine idea of that amiable part of the sex — the agreeables, or what in 
 
APPENDIX C. 317 
 
 our Scotch dialect we call a sweet sonsy lass. The third stanza has a little 
 of the flimsy turn in it, and the third line has rather too serious a cast. The 
 fourth stanza is a very indifferent one ; the first line is, indeed, all in the 
 strain of the second stanza, but the rest is mostly an expletive. The thoughts 
 in the fifth stanza come finely up to my favourite idea — a sweet sonsy lass ; the 
 last line, however, halts a little. The same sentiments are kept up with equal 
 spirit and tenderness in the sixth stanza, but the second and fourth lines ending 
 with short syllables hurt the whole. The seventh stanza has several minute 
 faults, but I remember I composed it in a wild enthusiasm of passion, and to 
 this hour I never recollect it but my heart melts, my blood sallies, at the 
 remembrance. 
 
 Septevxber. 
 I entirely agree with that judicious philosopher, Mr. Smith, in his excellent 
 Theory of ]\Ioral Sentiments, that remorse is the most painful sentiment that 
 can embitter the human bosom. Any ordinary pitch of fortitude may bear up 
 tolerably well under these calamities, in the procurement of which we ourselves 
 have had no hand ; but when our own follies, or crimes, have made us miser- 
 able and wretched, to bear up with manly firmness, and at the same time 
 have a proper penitential sense of our misconduct, is a glorious effort of self- 
 command. 
 
 Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace. 
 
 March 1784. 
 A penitential thought, in the hour of Remorse : Intended for a tragedy. 
 All devil as I am, a damned wretch. 
 
 I have often observed, in the course of my experience of human life, that 
 every man, even the worst, have something good about them ; though very 
 often nothing else than a happy temperament of constitution inclining him to 
 this or that virtue ; on this likewise depend a great many, no man can say how 
 many of our vices ; for this reason, no man can say in what degree any other 
 person, besides himself, can be, with strict justice, called wicked. Let any of 
 the strictest character for regularity of conduct among us, examine impartially 
 how many of his virtues are owing to constitution and education ; how many 
 vices he has never been guilty of, not from any care or vigilance, but for want 
 of opportunity, or some accidental circumstance intervening ; how many of the 
 weaknesses of mankind he has escaped, because he was out of the line of such 
 temptation ; and, what often, if not always, weighs more than all the rest, how 
 much he is indebted to the world's good opinion, because the world does not 
 know all ; I say, any man who can thus think, will scan the failings, nay, the 
 faults and crimes, of mankind around him, with a brother's eye. 
 
318 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 March 1784 
 
 1 have often coveted the acquaintance of that part of mankind, commonly 
 known by the ordinary phrase of Blackguards, sometimes farther than was 
 consistent with the safety of my character ; those who, by thoughtless pro- 
 digality or headstrong passions, have been driven to ruin : — though disgraced by 
 follies, nay, sometimes " Stain'd with guilt, and crimson'd o'er v/ith crimes ; " I 
 have yet found among them, not a few instances, some of the noblest virtues, 
 magnanimity, generosity, disinterested friendship, and even modesty, in the 
 highest perfection. 
 
 March 1784. 
 
 There was a certain period of my life, that my spirit was broke by repeated 
 losses and disasters, which threatened, and indeed etiected, the utter ruin of my 
 fortune. My body, too, was attacked by that most dreadful distemper, a hypo- 
 chondria, or confirmed melancholy ; in this wretched state, the recollection of 
 which makes me yet shudder, I hung my harp on the willow trees, except in 
 some lucid intervals, in one of which I composed the following : — 
 
 Thou Great Beins ! what Thou art. 
 
 April. 
 
 As I am what the men of the world, if they knew of such a man, would call 
 a whimsical mortal ; I have various sources of pleasure and enjojinent, which 
 are, in a manner, peculiar to myself, or some here and there such other out-of- 
 the-way person. Such is the peculiar pleasure I take in the season of winter, 
 more than the rest of the year. This, I believe, may be partly owing to my 
 misfortunes giving my mind a melancholy cast ; but there is something even 
 in the 
 
 Mighty tempest, and the hoary waste, 
 
 Abrujit and deep, stretch'd o'er the buried earth, 
 
 which raises the mind to a serious sublimity, favourable to everything great and 
 noble. There is scarcely any earthly object gives me more — I do not know if I 
 should call it pleasure — but something which exalts me, something which 
 enraptures me — than to walk in the sheltered side of a wood, or high plantation, 
 in a cloudy winter-day, and hear the stormy wind howling among the trees, and 
 raving over the plain. It is my best season for devotion ; my mind is wrapt up 
 in a kind of enthusiasm to Him, who, in the pompous language of Scripture, 
 " walks on the wings of the wind." In one of these seasons, just after a train 
 of misfortunes, I composed the following : — 
 
 SOXG. 
 
 Tune—" M'Pherson's Farewell." 
 The wintry west extends his blast. 
 
APPENDIX C. 319 
 
 April, 
 
 The following song is a wild rhapsody, miserably deficient in versification ; 
 but as the sentiments are the genuine feelings of my heart, for that reason I 
 have a particular pleasure in conning it over. 
 
 SOXG. 
 
 Tune — " The weaver and his shuttle 0." 
 
 My father was a farmer. 
 
 April. 
 
 Shenstone observes finely, that love-verses, writ without any real passion, 
 are the most nauseous of all conceits ; and I have often thought that no man 
 can be a proper critic of love composition, except he himself, in one or more 
 instances, have been a warm votary of this passion. As I have been all along 
 a miserable dupe to love, and have been led into a thousand weaknesses and 
 follies by it, for that reason I put the more confidence in my critical skill, in 
 distinguishing foppery and conceit from real passion and nature. Whether the 
 following song will stand the test, I will not pretend to say, because it is my 
 own ; only I can say it was, at the time, real 
 
 SOXG. 
 
 Tune — "As I came in by London 0." 
 
 Behind yon hill where Lugar flows. 
 
 EPITAPH OX WM. HOOD, SEXR, 
 
 IX TARBOLTOX. 
 
 April. 
 
 OX JAS. GRIEVE, LAIRD OF BOGHEAD, 
 
 TARBOLTOX. 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ox MY OWX FRIEXD, AXD MY FATHER'S FRIEXD, 
 
 AVM. MUIR IX TARBOLTOX MILX. 
 
 April. 
 
 April. 
 EPITAPH OX MY EVER HOXOURED FATHER. 
 
320 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 April. 
 
 I think the whole species of young men may be naturally enough divided 
 in grand classes, which I shall call the grave and the merry ; though, by the 
 bye, these terms do not with propriety enough express my ideas. There are, 
 indeed, some exceptions; some part of the species who, according to my ideas of 
 these divisions, come under neither of them ; such are those individuals whom 
 Nature turns off her hand, oftentimes, very like Blockheads, but generally, on a 
 nearer inspection, have some things surprisingly clever about them. They are 
 more properly men of conceit than men of genius ; men whose heads are filled, 
 and whose faculties are engrossed by some whimsical notions in some art or 
 science; so that they cannot think, nor speak with pleasure, on any other 
 subject. — Besides this pedantic species, Nature has always produced some mere, 
 insipid blockheads, who may be said to live a vegetable life in this world. 
 
 The grave I shall cast into the usual division of those who are goaded on by 
 the love of money ; and those whose darling wish is to make a figure in the 
 world. The inerry are the men of pleasure of all denominations ; the jovial 
 lads, who have too much fire and spirit to have any settled rule of action ; but, 
 without much deliberation, follow the strong impulses of nature : the thought- 
 less, the careless, the indolent— in particular he who, with a happy sweetness 
 of natural temper and a cheerful vacancy of thought, steals through life — 
 generally, indeed, in poverty and obscurity — but poverty and obscurity are only 
 evils to him who can sit gravely down and make a repining comparison between 
 his own situation and that of others ; and lastly, to grace the quorum, such are, 
 generally, those whose heads are capable of all the towerings of genius, and 
 whose hearts are warmed with all the delicacy of feeling. 
 
 August. 
 
 The foref^oinf was to have been an elaborate dissertation on the various 
 species of men ; but, as I cannot please myself in the arrangement of my ideas, 
 I must wait till further experience and nicer observation throw more light on 
 the subject. — In the meantime, I shall set down the following fragment, which, 
 as it is the genuine language of my heart, will enable anybody to determine 
 which of the classes I belong to : — 
 
 There's nought but care on ev'ry ban'. 
 
 As the grand end of human life is to cultivate an intercourse with that Being 
 to whom we owe life, Avith every enjoyment that renders life delightful ; and to 
 maintain an integritive conduct towards our fellow-creatures ; that so, by forming 
 piety and virtue into habit, we may be fit members for that society of the pious 
 and the good, which reason and revelation teach us to expect beyond the grave, 
 I do not see that the turn of mind and pursuits of such a one as the above 
 verses describe — one who spends the hours and thoughts whicli the vocations of 
 the day can spare with Ossian, Shakespeare, Thomson, Shcnstone, Sterne, etc. ; 
 or, as the maggot takes him, a gun, a fiddle, or a song to make or mend ; and 
 at all times some heart's-dear bonnie lass in view — I say I do not see that the 
 
APPENDIX C. 321 
 
 turn of mind and pursuits of such an one are in the least more inimical to the 
 sacred interests of piety and virtue, than the, even lawful, bustling and straining 
 after the world's riches and honours : and I do not see but he may gain heaven 
 as well — which, by the bye, is no mean consideration — who steals through the 
 vale of life, amusing himself with every little flower that fortune throws in his 
 way, as he who, straining straight forward, and perhaps spattering all about 
 him, gains some of life's little eminences, where, after all, he can only see and 
 be seen a little more conspicuously than what, in the pride of his heart, he is 
 apt to term the poor, indolent devil he has left behind him. 
 
 August. 
 A Prayer, when fainting fits, and other alarming symptoms of a pleurisy or 
 some other dangerous disorder, which indeed still threatens me, first put nature 
 on the alarm : — 
 
 Thou unknown. Almighty cause. 
 
 August. 
 Misgivings in the hour of Despondency and prospect of Death. 
 
 Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene 1 
 
 Sejitember. 
 SONG. 
 
 Tu7ie — " Invercald's reel — Strathspey." 
 Tibby, I hae seen the day. 
 
 Sejjtember, 
 SOXG. 
 
 Tu7ie — "Black Joke." 
 My girl she's airy, she's buxom and gay. 
 
 JOHX BARLEYCORX— A Song to its own Tune. 
 
 I once heard the old song, that goes by this name, sung, and being very fond 
 of it, and remembering only two or three verses of it, viz. the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, 
 with some scraps which I have interwoven here and there in the following 
 piece : — 
 
 June 1785. 
 
 There Avere three kings into the East. 
 
 VOL. III. 2 S 
 
322 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 June. 
 
 The death and dyin' words o' poor Mailie — my aiu pet ewe — au unco 
 mournfu' tale. 
 
 As Mailie and her lambs thegither 
 Were ae day nibblin' on the tether. 
 
 June. 
 
 A letter sent to John Lapraik, near Muirkirk, a true, genuine, Scottish 
 
 Bard. 
 
 \st April 1785. 
 
 While breers and woodbines budding green. 
 
 On receiving an answer to the above I wrote the following : 
 
 1\d April 1785. 
 When new ca't ky rowt at the stake. 
 
 August. 
 SOXG. 
 
 Tune—'' Peggy Bawn." 
 AYhen chill November's surly blast. 
 
 August. 
 
 However I am pleased with the works of our Scotch poets, particularly the 
 excellent Ramsay, and the still more excellent Fergusson, yet I am hurt to see 
 other places of Scotland, their towns, rivers, woods, haughs, etc., immortalized 
 in such celebrated performances, while my dear native country, the ancient 
 bailieries of Carrick, Kyle, and Cunningham, famous both in ancient and 
 modern times for a gallant and warlike race of inhabitants ; a country where 
 civil, and particularly religious liberty have ever found their first support, and 
 their last asylum ; a country, the birthplace of many famous philosophers, 
 soldiers, and statesmen, and the scene of many important events recorded in 
 Scottish history, particularly a great many of the actions of the glorious 
 Wallace, the Saviour of his country ; yet, we have never had a Scotch poet 
 of any eminence, to make the fertile banks of Irvine, the romantic woodlands 
 and sequestered scenes on Aire, and the heathy mountainous source and 
 winding sweep of Doon, emulate Tay, Forth, Ettrick, Tweed, etc. This is a 
 complaint I would gladly remedy, but, alas ! I am far unequal to the task, both 
 in native genius and education. 
 
APPENDIX C. 323 
 
 Obscure I am, and obscure I must be, though no young poet, nor younf^ 
 soldier's heart ever beat more fondly for fame than mine — 
 
 And if there is no other scene of being 
 Where my insatiate wish may have its fill, — 
 This something at my heart that heaves for room, 
 My best, my dearest part, was made in vain. 
 
 August. 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Tune — "I had a horse and I had nae mair." 
 
 AVhen first I came to Stewart Kyle. 
 
 HAR'STK— A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Tune — Foregoing. 
 
 Now breezy win's and slaughtering guns. 
 
 Septemher. 
 
 There is a certain irregularity in the old Scotch songs, a redundancy of 
 syllables with respect to the exactness of accent and measure that the English 
 poetry requires, but which glides in, most melodiously, with the respective tunes 
 to which they are set. For instance, the fine old song of "The Mill, Mill, 0," 
 to give it a plain, prosaic reading, it halts prodigiously out of measure ; on the 
 other hand, the song set to the same tune in Bremner's collection of Scotch 
 songs, which begins "To Fanny fair could I impart," etc., it is most exact 
 measure ; and yet, let them both be sung before a real critic, — one above the 
 biasses of prejudice, but a thorough judge of nature,— how flat and spiritless 
 will the last appear, how trite and lamely methodical, compared with the wild- 
 warbling cadence, the heart-moving melody of the first ! — This particularly ia 
 the case with all those airs which end M-ith a hypermetrical syllable. There is 
 a degree of wild irregularity in many of the compositions and fragments which 
 are daily sung to them by my compeers, the common people — a certain happy 
 arrangement of old Scotch syllables, and yet, very frequently, nothing, not even 
 like rhyme, or sameness of jingle, at the ends of the lines. This has made me 
 sometimes imagine that, perhaps, it might be possible for a Scotch poet, w^ith a 
 nice judicious ear, to set compositions to many of our most favourite airs 
 particularly that class of them mentioned above, independent of rhyme 
 altogether. 
 
 There is a noble sublimity, a heart-melting tenderness, in some of these 
 ancient fragments, which show them to be the work of a masterly hand : and 
 it has often given me many a heartache to reflect that such glorious old bards 
 
324 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 bards who very probably owed all their talents to native genius, yet have 
 described the exploits of heroes, the pangs of disappointment, and the meltings 
 of love, with such fine strokes of nature — and, O how mortifying to a bard's 
 vanity ! their very names are " buried 'mongst the wreck of things which 
 were." 
 
 O ye illustrious names unknown ! who could feel so strongly and describe 
 so Avell ; the last, the meanest of the muses' train — one %vho, though far inferior 
 to your flights, yet eyes your path, and with trembling wing would sometimes 
 soar after you — a poor rustic bard unknown, pays this sympathetic pang to your 
 memory ! Some of you tell us, with all the charms of verse, that you have been 
 unfortunate in the world — unfortunate in love ; he, too, has felt all the unfit- 
 ness of a poetic heart for the struggle of a busy, bad world, he has felt the loss 
 of his little fortune, the loss of friends, and, worse than all, the loss of the 
 woman he adored. Like you, all his consolation was his muse : she taught him 
 in rustic measures to complain — Happy could he have done it with your strength 
 of imagination and flow of verse ! May the turf rest lightly on your bones ! 
 and may you now enjoy that solace and rest which this world rarely gives to 
 the heart tuned to all the feelings of poesy and love ! 
 
 Se'ptember. 
 
 The following fragment is done something in imitation of the manner of a 
 noble old Scotch piece called "M'Millan's Peggy," and sings to the tune of 
 Galla Water. — My " Montgomerie's Peggie" was my deity for six or eight 
 months. She had been bred (though, as the world says, without any just 
 pretence for it) in a style of life rather elegant — but, as Vanburgh says in one 
 of his comedies, " My damn'd star found me out " there too ; for though I began 
 the affair merely in a gaiete de coeur, or to tell the truth, which will scarcely be 
 believed, a vanity of showing my parts in courtship, particularly my abilities at 
 a billet-doux, which I always piqued myself upon, made me lay siege to her ; 
 and when, as I always do in my foolish gallantries, I had battered myself into 
 a very warm affection for her, she told me, one day, in a flag of truce, that her 
 fortress had been for some time before the rightful property of another ; but, 
 with the greatest friendsliip and politeness, she offered me every alliance except 
 actual possession. I found out afterwards that what she told me of a pre- 
 engagement was really true ; but it cost some heart-aches to get rid of the 
 aff"air. 
 
 I have even tried to imitate, in this extempore thing, that irregularity in 
 the rhyme, which, when judiciously done, has such a fine eff"ect on the ear. 
 
 Altho' my bed were in yon muir. 
 
 Se2:)tember. 
 
 Another fragment in imitation of an old Scotch song, well known among 
 the country ingle sides — I cannot tell the name, neither of the song nor the 
 tune, but they are in fine unison with one another. — By the way, these old 
 
APPENDIX C. 325 
 
 Scottish airs are so nobly sentimental, that when one would compose to them, 
 to "south the tune," as our Scotch phrase is, over and over, is the readiest way 
 to catch the inspiration, and raise the bard into that glorious enthusiasm so 
 strongly characteristic of our old Scotch poetry. I shall here set down one 
 verse of the piece mentioned above, both to mark the song and tune I mean, 
 and likewise as a debt I owe to the author, as the repeating of that verse has 
 lighted up my flame a thousand times. 
 
 Alluding to the misfortunes he feelingly laments before this verse 
 
 When clouds in skies do come together 
 
 To hide the brightness of the sun, 
 There will surely be some pleasant weather 
 
 When a' thir storms are past and gone. 
 
 Though fickle fortune has deceived me, 
 
 She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill ; 
 Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me. 
 
 Yet I bear a heart shall support me still. 
 
 I"ll act with prudence as far's I'm able, 
 
 But if success I must never find. 
 Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome, 
 
 I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind. 
 
 The above was an extempore, under the pressure of a heavy train of mis- 
 fortunes, which, indeed, threatened to undo me altogether. It was just at the 
 close of that dreadful period already mentioned, and though the weather has 
 brightened up a little with me, yet there has always been since " a tempest 
 brewing round me in the grim sky " of futurity, which I pretty plainly see will 
 some time or other, perhaps ere long, overwhelm me, and drive me into some 
 doleful dell, to pine in solitary, squalid wretchedness. However, as I hope my 
 poor country muse, who, all rustic, awkward, and unpolished as she is, has 
 more charms for me than any other of the pleasures of life beside— as I hope 
 she will not then desert me, I may even then learn to be, if not happy, at least 
 easy, and south a sang to soothe my misery. 
 
 'Twas at the same time I set about composing an air in the old Scotch style. 
 — I am not musical scholar enough to prick doAvn my tune properly, so it can 
 never see the light, and perhaps 'tis no great matter ; but the following were 
 the verses I composed to suit it : — 
 
 raging fortune's withering blast. 
 
 The tune consisted of three parts, so that the above verses just went through 
 the whole air. 
 
 October 1785. 
 If ever any young man, in the vestibule of the world, chance to throw his 
 eye over these pages, let him pay a warm attention to the following observa- 
 
326 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 tions, as I assure him they are the fruit of a poor devil's dear-bought experience. 
 —I have literally, like that great poet and great gallant, and, by consequence, 
 that great fool, Solomon, " turned my eyes to behold madness and folly." Nay, 
 I have, with all the ardour of lively, fanciful, and Avhimsical imagination, 
 accompanied with a warm, feeling, poetic heart, shaken hands with their 
 intoxicating friendship. 
 
 In the first place, let my pupil, as he tenders his own peace, keep up a 
 regular, warm intercourse with the Deity — 
 
 \Hero. the MS. doses.'] 
 
 Second Commonplace Book. 
 
 Edinburgh, 9^/i Aiiril 1787. 
 
 As I have seen a good deal of human life in Edinburgh, a great many 
 characters which are new to one bred up in the shades of life as I liave been, 
 I am determined to take down my remarks on the spot. Gray observes in a 
 letter of his to Mr. Palgrave, that " half a word fixed upon, or near the spot, is 
 worth a cart-load of recollection." I don't know how it is with the world in 
 general, but, with me, making remarks is by no means a solitary pleasure. I 
 Avant some one to laugh with me, some one to be grave with me, some one to 
 please me and help my discrimination with his or her own remark ; and at 
 times, no doubt, to admire my acuteness and penetration. — The world are so 
 busied with selfish pursuits, ambition, vanity, interest, or pleasure, that very 
 few think it worth their while to make any observation on what passes around 
 them ; except where that observation is a sucker, or branch of the darling plant 
 they are rearing in their fancy. Nor am I sure, notwithstanding all the senti- 
 mental flights of novel-writers, and the sage philosophy of moralists, if we are 
 capable of so intimate and cordial a coalition of friendship, as that one of us 
 may pour out his bosom, his every thought and floating fancy, his very inmost 
 soul, with unreserved confidence to another, without hazard of losing part of 
 that respect man demands from man ; or, from the unavoidable imperfections 
 attending human nature, of one day repenting his confidence. 
 
 For these reasons, I am determined to make these pages my confidant. I 
 will sketch every character that any way strikes me, to the best of my observa- 
 tion, with unshrinking justice. I will insert anecdotes and take down remarks, 
 in the old law phrase, without feud or favour : where I hit on anything clever, 
 my own applause will in some measure feast my vanity ; and, begging Patroclus' 
 and Achates' pardon, I think a lock and key a security at least equal to the 
 bosom of any friend whatever. 
 
 My own private story likewise, my amours, my rambles, the smiles and 
 frowns of fortune on my hardship, my poems and fragments that must never 
 see the light, shall be occasionally inserted : — in short, never did four shillings 
 purchase so much friendship, since confidence went first to market, or honesty 
 was set to sale. 
 
APPENDIX C. 327 
 
 To these seemingly invidious, but too just, ideas of human friendship, I 
 shall cheerfully and truly make one exception — the connection between two 
 persons of different sex, when their interests are united or absorbed by the 
 sacred tie of love — 
 
 " When thought meets thought ere from the lips it part. 
 And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart." 
 
 There, confidence, confidence that exalts them the more in one another's 
 opinion, that endears them the more to one another's hearts, unreservedly and 
 luxuriantly " reigns and revels." But this is not my lot, and, in my situation, 
 if I am wise (which, by the bye, I have no great chance of being), my fate 
 should be cast with the Psalmist's sparrow, " to watch alone on the housetops." 
 Oh, the pity ! ! ! 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Tune — " Daintie Davie." 
 There was a birkie born in Kyle. 
 
 There are few of the sore evils under the sun give me more uneasiness and 
 chagrin than the comparison how a man of genius, nay, avowed worth, is every- 
 where received, with the reception which a mere ordinary character, decorated 
 with the trappings and futile distinctions of Fortune, meets, — Imagine a man 
 of abilities, his breast glowing with honest pride, conscious that men are born 
 equal, still giving that "honour to whom honour is due;" he meets at a great 
 man's table a Squire Something, or a Sir Somebody ; he knows the noble land- 
 lord at heart gives the Bard or whatever he is a share of his good wishes beyond 
 any at table perhaps, yet how will it mortify him to see a fellow whose abilities 
 would scarcely have made an eightpenny tailor, and whose heart is not worth 
 three farthings, meet with attention and notice that are forgot to the Son of 
 Genius and poverty 1 
 
 The noble Glencairn has wounded me to the soul here, because I dearly 
 esteem, respect, and love him. — He showed so much attention, engrossing atten- 
 tion, one day to the only blockhead, as there was none but his lordship, the 
 dunderpate, and myself, that I was within half a point of throwing down my 
 gage of contemptuous defiance ; but he shook my hand and looked so benevol- 
 ently good at parting — God bless him, though I should never see him more, I 
 shall love him until my dying day ! lam pleased to think I am so capable 
 of the throes of gratitude, as I am miserably deficient in some other virtues. 
 
 With Dr. Blair I am more at ease. — I never respect him with humble 
 veneration ; but when he kindly interests himself in my welfare, or, still more, 
 when he descends from his pinnacle and meets me on equal ground, my heart 
 
328 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 overflows with what is called liking. "When he neglects me for the mere carcase 
 of greatness, or when his eye measures the difterence of our points of elevation, 
 I say to myself, with scarcely any emotion, what do I care for him or his pomp 
 either ? 
 
 It is not easy forming an exact judging judgment of any one, but in my 
 opinion Dr. Blair is merely an astonishing proof what industry and application 
 can do. Natural parts like his are frequently to be met with ; his vanity is 
 proverbially known among his acquaintances ; but he is justly at the head of 
 what may be called tine writing ; and a critic of the first — -the very first rank 
 in prose ; even in poesy a good Bard of Nature's making can only take the pas 
 of him. — He has a heart, not of the finest water, but far from being an ordinary 
 one. — In short, he is a truly worthy and most respectable character. 
 
 Mr. Greenfield ^ is of a superior order. — The bleedings of humanity, the 
 generous resolve, a manly disregard of the paltry subjects of vanity, virgin 
 modesty, the truest taste, and a very sound judgment, characterise him. His 
 being the first speaker I ever heard is perhaps half owing to industry. He 
 certainly possesses no small share of poetic abilities ; he is a steady, most dis- 
 interested friend, without the least affectation of seeming so ; and as a com- 
 panion, his good sense, his joyous hilarity, his sweetness of manners and modesty, 
 are most engagingly charming. 
 
 The most perfect character I ever saw is Mr. Stewart.^ An exalted judge of 
 the human heart, and of composition. One of the very first public speakers ; 
 and equally capalale of generosity as humanity. His principal discriminating 
 feature is — from a mixture of benevolence, strength of mind, and manly dignity, 
 he not only at heart values, but in his deportment and address bears himself to 
 all the actors, high and low, in the drama of life, simply as they merit in play- 
 ing their parts. Wealth, honours, all that is extraneous of the man, have no 
 more influence with him than they will have at the Last Day. His wit, in the 
 hour of social hilarity, proceeds almost to good-natured waggishness ; and in 
 telling a story he particularly excels. 
 
 The next I shall mention — my worthy bookseller, Mr. Creech — is a strange, 
 multiform character. His ruling passions of the left hand kind are, extreme 
 vanity, and something of the more harmless modifications of selfishness. The 
 one, mixed, as it often is, with great goodness of heart, makes him rush into all 
 public matters, and take every instance of unprotected merit by the hand, pro- 
 vided it is in his power to hand it into public notice ; the other quality makes 
 him, amid all the ernharras in which his vanity entangles him, now and then to 
 cast half a squint at his own interest. His parts as a man, his deportment as a 
 gentleman, and his abilities as a scholar are much above mediocrity. Of all the 
 Edinburgh literati and wits he writes most like a gentleman. He does not awe 
 you with the profoundness of the philosopher, or strike your eye with the 
 soarings of genius ; but he pleases you with the handsome turn of his expres- 
 sion, and the polite ease of his paragraph. His social demeanour and powers, 
 particidarly at his own table, are the niost engaging I have ever met with. On 
 the whole he is, as I said before, a multiform, but an exceedingly respectable, 
 Avorthy character. 
 
 1 The Rev. W. Greenfield, Dr. Blair's colleague iu the High Church. * Dugald Stewart. 
 
APPENDIX C. 329 
 
 The following poemi is the work of some hapless, unknown son of the muses, 
 who deserved a better fate. There is a great deal of "The Voice of Cona " in 
 his solitary, mournful notes ; and had the sentiments been clothed in Shenstone's 
 language they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet. 
 
 ELEGY. 
 
 Strait is the spot and green the sod, 
 
 From whence my sorrows flow : 
 And soundly rests the ever dear 
 
 Inhabitant below. 
 
 Pardon my transport, gentle Shade, 
 
 While o'er this turf 1 bow ! 
 Thy earthly house is circumscribed 
 
 And solitary now ! 
 
 IS'ot one poor stone to tell thy name, 
 
 Or make thy virtues known ; 
 But what avails to me, to thee, 
 
 The sculpture of a stone 1 
 
 I'll sit me down upon this turf. 
 
 And wipe away this tear : 
 The chill blast passes swiftly by. 
 
 And flits around thy bier. 
 
 Dark is the dwelling of the dead. 
 
 And sad their house of rest : 
 Low lies the head by Death's cold arm 
 
 In awful fold embraced. 
 
 I saw the grim Avenger stand 
 
 Incessant by thy side ; 
 Unseen by thee, his deadly breath 
 
 Thy lingering frame destroy'd. 
 
 Pale grew the roses on thy cheek. 
 
 And wither'd was thy bloom. 
 Till the slow poison brought thy youth 
 
 Untimely to the tomb. 
 
 Thus wasted are the ranks of men, 
 
 Youth, Health, and Beauty fall ; 
 The ruthless ruin spreads around. 
 
 And overwhelms us all. 
 
 ' If not Burns's own, he at least thought it worthy of a place in his iournal 
 VOL. III. 2 T J • 
 
330 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Beliold where round thy narrow house 
 
 The graves unnumber'd lie ! 
 The multitudes that sleep below 
 
 Existed but to die. 
 
 Some, with the tottering steps of Age, 
 Trode down the darksome way : 
 
 And some, in youth's lamented prime. 
 Like thee, were torn away. 
 
 Yet tliese, however hard their fate. 
 
 Their native earth receives ; 
 Amid their weeping friends they died. 
 
 And fill their fathers' graves. 
 
 From thy loved friends where first thy breath 
 Was taught by Heaven to flow : 
 
 Far, far removed, the ruthless stroke 
 Surprised and laid thee low. 
 
 At the last limits of our Isle, 
 Wash'd by the western wave, 
 
 Touch'd by thy fate, a thoughtful bard 
 Sits lonely on thy grave. 
 
 Pensive he eyes, before him spread. 
 The deep outstretch'd and vast ; 
 
 His mournmg notes are borne away 
 Along the rapid blast. 
 
 And while, amid the silent Dead, 
 Thy hapless fate he mourns ; 
 
 His own long sorrows freshly bleed, 
 Arid all his grief returns. 
 
 Like thee cut off in early youth 
 And flower of beauty's pride. 
 
 His friend, his first and only joy. 
 His much-loved Stella died. 
 
 Him, too, the stern impulse of Fate 
 
 Resistless bears along ; 
 And the same rapid tide shall whelm 
 
 The Poet and the Song. 
 
 The tear of pity which he shed, 
 
 He asks not to receive ; 
 Let but his poor remains be laid 
 
 Obscurely in the grave. 
 
APPENDIX C. 331 
 
 His grief-worn heart, with truest joy, 
 
 Shall meet the welcome shock ; 
 His airy harp shall lie unstrung 
 
 And silent on the rock. 
 
 my dear maid, my Stella, when 
 
 Shall this sick period close ; 
 And lead thy solitary bard, 
 
 To his beloved repose ? 
 
 Ellisland, \iiU June 1788. 
 Sunday. 
 
 This is now the third day I have been in this country. Lord, what is man ! 
 what a bustling Httle bundle of passions, appetites, ideas, and fancies ! and what 
 a capricious kind of existence he has here ! If legendary stories be true, there 
 is indeed an Elsewhere, where, as Thomson says, "Virtue sole survives." 
 
 " Tell us, ye Dead ; 
 Will none of you in pity disclose the secret 
 "What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be % 
 
 a little time 
 Will make us learn'd as you are and as close." 
 
 I am such a coward in life, so tired of the service, that 1 would almost at 
 any time, with Milton's Adam, 
 
 " gladly lay me in my mother's lap, 
 And be at peace," — 
 
 but a wife and children— in poetics, "The fair partner of my soul, and the little 
 dear pledges of our mutual love," these bind me to struggle with the stream: 
 till some chopping squall overset the silly vessel, or in the hstless jeturn of 
 years, its own craziness drive it a wreck. Farewell now to those giddy follies, 
 those varnished vices, which, though half sanctified by the bewitching levity of 
 Wit and Humour, are at best but thriftless idling with the precious current of 
 existence ; nay, often poisoning the whole, that, like the plains of Jericho, " The 
 water is naught, and the ground barren ; " and nothing short of a supernaturally 
 gifted Elisha can ever after heal the evils. 
 
 Wedlock, the circumstance that buckles me hardest to Care, if Virtue and 
 Religion were to be anything with me but mere names, was what m a few 
 seasons I must have resolved on : in the present case it was unavoidably neces- 
 sary.— Humanity, Generosity, honest Vanity of character, justice to my own 
 happiness for after life, so far as it could depend— which it surely aviU a great 
 deal— on internal peace ; all these joined their warmest suffrages, their most 
 powerful solicitations, with a rooted attachment, to urge the step I have taken. 
 Nor have I any reason on her part to rue it. I can fancy how, but have never 
 
332 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 seen inhere I could have made it better. Come then, let me return to my 
 favourite motto, that glorious passage in Young : — 
 
 " On Reason build Resolve, 
 That column of true majesty in man." 
 
 \Wi June 1788. 
 
 Copy of a letter to Lord Buchan in answer to a bombast epistle he sent 
 me when I went first to Edinburgli. 
 
 To the Earl of Eglinton on receiving ten guineas as his lordship's subscrip- 
 tion money. 
 
 "Written in Carse Hermitage. 
 
 To Robt. Graham of Fintry, Esq. : with a request for an Excise Division. — 
 Ellisland, Sept. 8th, 1788. 
 
 When Nature her great masterpiece design'd. 
 
 Alteration of the lines wrote in Carse Hermitage. 23rd Dec. 17i 
 
 The everlasting surliness of a lion, Saracen's head, etc., or the unchanging 
 blandness of the Landlord's Welcoming a Traveller, on some sign-posts, would 
 be no bad similes of the constant affected fierceness of a bully, or the eternal 
 simper of a Frenchman or a Fiddler. 
 
 He looked 
 Just as your sign-posts lions do. 
 As fierce, and quite as harmless too. 
 
 Patient Stupidity. 
 
 So heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks. 
 Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox. 
 
APPENDIX C. 
 
 His face with smile eternal drest, 
 Just like the Landlord to his guest, 
 High as they hang with creaking din, 
 To index out the country Inn. 
 
 A head, pure, sinless quite of brain or soul. 
 The very image of a Barber's Poll ; 
 Just shows a human face and wears a wif, 
 And looks, when well-friseur'd, too amazmg big. 
 
 [Here four pages are amtssmr/.] 
 
 333 
 
 CASTLE G0RD0:N". 
 
 INTENDED TO BE SUXG TO " MORAG." 
 
 Streams that glide in orient plains, 
 Never bound by Winter's chains. 
 
 SCOTS BALLAD. 
 Time — " Mary, weep no more for me." 
 
 J\ry heart is wae, and unco wae, 
 To think upon the raging sea. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tune— '' Captain O'Kean." 
 
 The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning-. 
 
 EXTEMPOEE. 
 
 TO MR. GAVIX HAMILTON. 
 
 To you, Sir, this summons I've sent, 
 Pray whip till the pownie is fraething. 
 
334 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 ON HER LEAVING EARL's COURT, 1784. BY MRS. DR. HUNTER, LONDON. 
 
 Why from these shades, sweet bird of eve, 
 
 Art thou to other regions wildly fled 1 
 
 Thy pensive song would oft my cares relieve. 
 
 Thy melancholy softness oft would shed 
 
 Peace on my weary soul, return again. 
 
 Return, and, sadly sweet, in soothing notes complain. 
 
 At the still hour I'll come alone. 
 
 And listen to thy lovelorn trembling lay, 
 
 Or by the moon's beam on some mossy stone 
 
 I'U sit, and watch thy wing from spray to spray ; 
 
 Then when the swelling cadence slow shall rise, 
 
 I'll join the plaintive strain in lowly murmuring sighs. 
 
 Ah, simple bird, where art thou flown % 
 
 What distant woodland now receives thy nest 1 
 
 What distant echo answers to thy moan 1 
 
 What distant thorn supports thy panting breast ? 
 
 Who e'er shall feel thy melting woes like me. 
 
 Or pay thee for thy song with such true sympathy % 
 
 A SONXET AFTER THE MANNER OF PETRARCH. 
 
 BY THE SAME. 
 
 Come, tender thoughts, with twilight's pensive gloom, 
 Soften remembrance, mitigate despair, 
 And cast a gleam of comfort o'er the tomb. 
 
 Methinks again the days and years return 
 
 When joy was young, and careless fancy smiled, 
 
 "WTien hope with promises the heart beguiled, 
 
 When love illumed the world, and happiness was born. 
 
 Where are ye fled, dear moments of delight ! 
 
 And thou, best beloved ! alas, no more 
 
 The future can the faded past restore. 
 
 Wrapped in the shades of Time's eternal night. 
 
 For me remains alone, through ling'ring years. 
 
 The melancholy Muse, companion of my tears. 
 
APPENDIX C 335 
 
 TO MR. GRAHAM OF FINTRY, 
 
 ON BEING APPOINTED TO MT EXCISE DIVISION. 
 
 I call no goddess to inspire my strains. 
 
 SOXG. 
 
 Tune — "Ewe Luclits, Marion." 
 
 Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, 
 And leave old Scotia's shore % 
 
 o:n" seeing a fellow wound a hare with a shot, 
 
 April 1789. 
 Inhuman man ! curse on thv barb'rous art. 
 
 elegy ox captaix :matthew hexdersox. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONOURS IMMEDIATELY 
 FROM ALMIGHTY GOD ! 
 
 Death, thou tyrant fell and bloody ! 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE THE BAILIES OF THE CANONGATE, EDINBURGH. 
 
 Gentlemen, I am sorry to be told that the remains of Robert Fergusson, etc. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 Here lies Robert Fergi;sson, Poet. He was born 5th Sept. 1751, and died 
 16th October 1774. 
 
 Xo pageant bearings here nor pompous lay, 
 
 Xo storied urn nor animated bust, 
 This simple stone directs old Scotia's way 
 
 To pour her sorrows o'er her Poet's dust. 
 
APPENDIX D. 
 
 BUENS AXD FREEMASOXEY; 
 With Special Reference to the St. James's, Tarbolton, Lodge. 
 
 Shortly before he repaired to Irvine on his flax-dressing scheme, the Poet 
 was entered, 4th July 1781, an apprentice Mason of the St. David's, 
 Tarbolton, Lodge. On 1st October 1781, he travelled from Irvine to 
 Tarbolton (twelve miles) to be passed, and raised to full masonic brother- 
 hood. Formerly, there were in Tarbolton two lodges — the St. David's, 
 174, and the St. James's, 178 ; but these had united, as the St. David's, in 
 June 1781. A year afterwards, however, this union was departed from, 
 through Burns and others seceding, and reconstituting the St, James's 
 Lodge, whose original charter had been granted by the ancient mother 
 Kilwinning Lodge. It is in connection with the reorganised St. James's 
 that the Poet appears most prominently as a Mason. What keen and 
 regular interest Burns manifested in the meetings and affairs of the brother- 
 hood is abundantly manifest from tlie St. James's minute-book — a volume 
 which the lodge has carefully preserved, and which it values highly, as 
 containing a record of its history, and, most of all, for the fact that the book 
 holds three minutes entirely in the Bard's own handwriting, and about as 
 many as thirty minutes signed by him as Master-Depute. 
 
 The rules of the lodge are interesting reading. One is as follows : — 
 
 " Whereas a lodge always means a company of men, worthy and circumspect, 
 gathered together in order to promote charity, friendship, civility, and good 
 neighbourhood ; it is enacted that no member of this lodge shall speak 
 slightingly, detractingly, or calumniously of any of his brethren behind their 
 backs, so as to damage them in their professions or reputations, without any 
 certain grounds ; " and any member committing such an offence must humble 
 himself by asking " on his knees the pardon of such person or persons as his 
 folly or malice hath aggrieved." Obstinate refusal to comply with the finding of 
 
 336 
 
APPENDIX D. 337 
 
 the brethren assembled shall be met by expulsion "from the lodge, with every 
 mark of ignominy and disgrace that is consistent with justice and Freemasonry." 
 
 Other regulations, dealing with such offences as the breaking of dram- 
 glasses, attending the lodge in a state of intoxication, and so on, are very 
 suggestive of the largely convivial nature of the meetings. 
 
 Besides this unique and precious minute-book, the Tarbolton St. James's 
 Lodge possesses various interesting relics of Brother Eobert Burns, amongst 
 which we notice the chair and footstool, and the miniature Mason's mallet, 
 so often used by the Poet when presiding over the lodge ; the silver 
 badge referred to in his " Farewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, 
 Tarbolton;" ^ the lodge Bible, dated 1775, and referred to in the minutes 
 as "a new Bible, per Brother Burns, 13s.; " and (carefully framed) his letter 
 from Edinburgh, 23rd August 1787, on the business of the lodge: — 
 
 Men and Brethren, — 1 am truly sorry it is not in my power to be at your 
 quarterly meeting. If I must be absent in body, believe me I shall be present 
 in spirit. I suppose those who owe us moneys, by bill or otherwise, wall appear 
 — I mean those we summoned. If you please, I Avish you would delay 
 prosecuting defaulters till I come home. The Court is up, and I will be home 
 before it sits down. In the meantime, to take a note of who appear and who 
 do not, of our faidty debtors, will be right in my opinion ; and those who 
 confess debt and crave days, I think we should spare them. Farew'ell ! 
 
 Within your dear mansions may wayward Contention, 
 
 And withered Envy ne'er enter ; 
 May Secrecy round be the mystical bound, 
 
 And Brotherly Love be the centre. 
 
 Robert Burns. 
 
 On penning for the Kilmarnock StanclciTcl a series of four articles, 
 June 1890, dealing with the Poet's connexion with the Tarbolton Free- 
 masons, Mr. Peter Watson, Annbank, Tarbolton, was at pains to have some 
 photographs taken of several pages of the St. James's minute-book, on which 
 the signature and handwriting of Burns appear, as also those of Gilbert 
 Burns, and John Wilson (the Dr. Hornbook of the famous satire). 
 
 ^ The "Farewell," penned by Burns when ' ■ A last request pemiit me here, 
 he was meditating emigi-atiou to Jamaica, he When yearly j-e assemble a', 
 
 thus closes : — One round— 1 ask it with a tear, 
 
 To him, the Bard that's far awa'." 
 " And YOU, farewell ! whose merits claim, William Wallace, Sheriff of Ayrshire, and at 
 
 Justly, that highest badge to wear ! that time Grand blaster, is referred to in the 
 
 Heaven bless your honoured, noble name, above, as well fitted to wear the highest badge 
 
 To Masqxky and Scotia dear ! of office. 
 
 VOL. III. 2 U 
 
338 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Of these photographs we give the following impressions. 
 
 The following shows two signatures with the "Burness" spelling, the body 
 of the minutes being in the handwriting of John Wilson (Dr. Hornbook) the 
 secretary of the lodge : — 
 
 
 ^^iZ^^rtj^t^ 
 
 
 
 /i^ 
 
 -.:^/^ -^i....^.^ C^CrJ? ^.^^^^ 
 
 
 '/^-'^t^ 
 
 
 
APPENDIX D. 339 
 
 The following contains a full minute, written and signed by Gilbert Burns ; 
 also a full minute, written and signed by Robert Burns ; also Burns's signature 
 to another minute : — 
 
 
 (This last line is part of a subsequent minute.) 
 
340 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The following contains the signature of the Poet, with his Mason's mark 
 (nine points) ; also the signature of John ^Vilson (Dr. Hornhook) ; — 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 ^^< 
 
APPENDIX D. 341 
 
 The following contains the caligraphy of John "Wilson (Dr. Hornbook), the 
 secretary of the lodge, and a full minute, written and signed by Burns : — 
 
 
 
 With the courteous permission of Mr. Watson, we append the following 
 explanatory remarks : — 
 
 Burns must have been the life and soul of the St. James's Lodge in more 
 ways than one. The minutes show that there were more meetings when he was 
 an office-bearer than at any other period. Though Burns is known to have 
 been a member from the end of 1781, it is not till 27th July 1784 that we 
 have the record of his appointment to a position of influence in the lodge. 
 The Deputy Mastership was then conferred upon him — a position that carried 
 with it the active duties of the Grand Master, who was not very frequently 
 present at the meetings. All assemblies at which the Master was not present 
 were under the presidency of the Deputy Master, and it is in this capacity that 
 Burns has signed so many of the minutes. There are three short minutes 
 A\Titten in f uU by the Poet. The first is dated " Tarbolton, 1 st September 
 1784," but is unsigned, a circumstance not uncommon amongst the records of 
 that time. This minute bears marks of literary conceit at any rate, the 
 
342 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 antithesis being worthy of note. It is ahnost ludicrous to find the world-famed 
 Poet writing this — 
 
 "This night the lodge met, and ordered four pounds of candles and one 
 quire of eightpence paper for the use of the lodge, which money was laid out by 
 the treasurer, and the candles and paper laid in accordingly." 
 
 The other minutes, written fully in the Poet's hand, are as follows : — 
 
 "Tarbolton, 23rd June 1786. — This night the lodge met, and Robert 
 Andrew, a brother of St. David's, Tarbolton, was admitted by unanimous vote, 
 gratis ; likewise James Good, having been duly recommended, was entered an 
 apprentice. R. Burns, D.M." 
 
 " Tarboltox, 18th August [no year, but, from the dates immediately before 
 and after, sure to be 1786]. — This night the lodge met, and James Tennant, 
 from Ochiltree, having been recommended, was admitted accordingly. 
 
 RoBT. Burns, D.]\I. 
 
 It is a curious coincidence that two of the three minutes written in full by 
 Robert Burns are near to the one written in the hand of Gilbert Burns, the 
 three being in view at the one opening of the book. Burns, who, whether 
 living at Lochlea or Mossgiel, must have had several miles to walk in order to 
 attend the meetings of the lodge, was most attentive to his duties. The first 
 minute which he signed as Depute Master is dated 29th June 1785, and the 
 last to which his name is adhibited is dated 23rd May 1788 ; but this does not 
 mark his final departure from the lodge, as Dr. Robert Chambers erroneously 
 states in his Land of Burns. On 21st October 1788, and again on 11th 
 November of the same year, the minutes record that Brother Robert Burns was 
 in the chair, though his signature is not attached. Both of these meetings 
 took place at Mauchline, and they must have been held during a flying visit 
 from EUisland, as Burns settled there on 12th June 1788, a letter of his, 
 dated 13th June, stating that "this is the second day " he had been on his 
 farm in Dumfriesshire. Between the first and the last signature. Burns has in 
 all signed his name twenty-nine times, and on one occasion he has his initials 
 placed to a postscript ; but one of the signatures has been cut out by some 
 unscrupulous admirer. The theft occurs in the second last minute that was 
 signed by the Poet, the signature being that of the main part of the minute — 
 the minute having been divided into three. Burns has signed a " P.S." to the 
 same minute, and also an addition to this " P.S.," connected by the words "also 
 at same time," and to the last of these hangs a tale. The gentleman in 
 Tarbolton who had charge of the minute-book was at one time showing it to a 
 visitor, but, being called away for a moment to attend a sick daughter in 
 another room, the visitor and the book were left unwatched. After the visitor 
 departed, the gentleman was asked by his daughter to look tlie book, as she was 
 afraid something would be found wrong. Whilst her father was with her, she 
 heard either a knife or a pair of scissors at work, and she was right in the 
 surmise that one of the minutes had been tampered with. On discovering this, 
 the visitor was communicated with, and ordered to return the stolen property or 
 suffer the consequences, and the cutting was returned. The stolen part is now 
 
APPENDIX D. 343 
 
 neatly pasted in its original place, and, being on tlie opposite page from the 
 blank left by the cut out signature, eloquent testimony is borne to the rapacity 
 of collectors, and the value placed upon relics of our national bard. Strange as 
 the omission may apj^ear, there is no mention in the minutes of the Poet's 
 demission of office, nor of his leaving the district, even though Burns himself 
 looked so favourably on the position he held amongst the Tarbolton Masons 
 as to address a poem to them as his farewell. This was in 1786, when he 
 seriously contemplated emigrating to the West Indies. It is curious also to 
 note the manner in which Burns signs his name ; in this there is great variety. 
 In regard to the spelling, he continues the " Burness" up till 1st March 1786 — 
 the first under the more familiar " Burns" being of date 25th May of the same 
 year. Whilst Burns signs " Burness " so long, it is noteworthy that the 
 references to him in the text of the minutes are always spelt " Burns," unless 
 on one occasion, when the name had first been spelt " Burns," but afterwards 
 altered to "Burness," probably by the Poet himself, or at least by his 
 instructions, as his name appears at the foot of this minute as "Burness." In 
 regard to the Christian name, it appears once before Burness as " Robert," and 
 thirteen times it precedes the same spelling as "Robt." Before the later 
 spelling of "Burns " we have it once only in full as "Robert," a single time as 
 "R.," and eleven times as "Robt." — this latter having, it is thus seen, the 
 greatest favour with the Poet. Amongst a long list of signatures of members, 
 many of them having their Mason's marks attached, we find Burns signing 
 himself in full, " Robert Burns," and adding his masonic mark of nine points in 
 the same line. This signature has less resemblance to the familiar and 
 undoubtedly genuine form than any of the others, but there is no date to it, 
 and it is just possible that the conditions under which he signed were what the 
 lodge might term " unfortunate." 
 
 Burns's younger brother, Gilbert, was entered, jiassed, and raised as a 
 brother on 1st March 1786 (the last date on which the Poet signed Burness), 
 and must, for a time at least, have taken an active part in the affairs of the 
 lodge. We find Gilbert signing the minutes on five separate occasions between 
 11th December 1786, and 21st December 1787, one of these, as already said, 
 being written by him in full. The last references to either of the brothers 
 occur on 18th November and 20th November 1788, on which dates the text 
 of the minutes states that Brother Gilbert Burns occupied the chair. These 
 last-named meetings were held in Mauchline, and form the closing testimony to 
 the warm interest maintained for six or seven years by Robert, and the shorter 
 period by Gilbert, in the affairs of St. James's, Tarbolton, Lodge. 
 
 Burns signs the minute relating to the visit of Professor Dugald Stewart to 
 the lodge, who at that time was tenant of Catrine House, and was a friend of 
 the Poet. The record is as follows : — 
 
 "A deputation of the lodge met at Mauchline on 25th July 1787, and 
 entered Brother Alexander Allison of Barmuir an apprentice. Likewise 
 admitted Brothers Professor Stewart of Cathrine ; and Claud Alexander, Esq., 
 of Ballochmyle ; Claud Neilson, Esq., Paisley ; John Farquhar Gray, Esq., of 
 Gilmilnscroft ; and Dr. George Grierson, Glasgow, honorary members of this 
 lodge," the minute being signed "Robt. Burns, D.M.," in very faint ink. 
 
344 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 John "Wilson, who was parish teacher of Tarbolton, and the Dr. Hornbook 
 of Burns's Avell-known poem, was secretary to the lodge from 8th August 1782, 
 till some time in 1787, and in that capacity wrote many of the minutes. Two 
 of them are signed by him — one as " Master 'pro tempore," and the other as 
 " M.P.T." This last minute shows his adhesion to the lodge after his successor 
 in the secretaryship had been appointed, and it is not shown that he was at 
 the date the holder of any office other than that of ordinary membership. 
 Immediately succeeding Wilson's first signature as "Master pro tempore" he 
 finds an imitator in James M'Donald, the succeeding chairman, who signs his 
 name, and adds "P.T." merely, a thing that occurs also once afterwards in the 
 writing of another temporary president. 
 
 Two of the Grand Masters sign the minutes occasionally, viz. — Mr. James 
 INIontgomerie of Coilsfield, and Mr. James Dalrymple of Orangefield, but these 
 are the only names adhibited of the half-dozen Grand Masters who held office 
 during the years embraced in the minutes. The others were Mr. John 
 Hamilton of Sundrum — a name still honoured in the county in the person of 
 the present proprietor ; Mr. Mungo Smith of Drongan ; Mr. Alex. Montgomerie 
 of Coilsfield (a branch of the Eglinton family, whose estate had to be parted 
 with after the Eglinton tournament) ; and Mr. Gavin Hamilton, the well- 
 known friend and correspondent of Burns. The name of the Montgomeries 
 suggests the immortality shed upon the family and their estate by the Poet's 
 works. The gratitude of the lodge is expressed at one meeting to Captain 
 Montgomerie, the Eight Worshipful Master of the lodge, for his trouble in 
 recovering their colours, "for some time illegally retained by the Lodge of 
 St. David." 
 
 Passing from the St. James's Lodge, it is well known that, until tlie 
 close of his troubled career, the Poet manifested a warm interest in 
 Freemasonry. It is easy to imagine what a charm he lent to the many 
 meetings he attended, though it may be in these gatherings he gave away 
 not a few " slices of his constitution." 
 
 On two occasions, during his first winter in Edinburgh, he was highly 
 honoured by the craft — once at an important meeting, attended by the 
 Grand Lodge of Scotland, on 13th January 1787, when the Grand Master 
 gave the toast of " Caledonia, and Caledonia's Bard, Brother Burns, which 
 ran" through the whole assembly with multiplied honors and repeated 
 acclamations;"^ and again, at a meeting of the Edinburgh Canongate 
 (Kilwinning) Lodge, on 1st February 1787, when, in honour of his great 
 poetic fame. Burns was enthusiastically assumed as a member of the lodge. 
 
 Then, in the Diary of his Border Tour, there occurs under date of 
 19th May 1787 this entry: "Spent the day at Mr. Grieve's — made a 
 Pioyal Arch Mason of St. Abb's Lodge (Eyemouth)." 
 
 1 So Burns states in his letter of 14th Januarj' 17S7, to 5Ir. Ballantinc, hanker, Ayr. 
 
APPENDIX D. 
 
 345 
 
 As already remarked, the Poet continued his connection with the 
 Tarbolton St. James's for some considerable time after going to reside at 
 Ellisland, and, from the following note of his attendance at Mason meetings 
 in Dumfries, we learn how ardently he kept up his attachment to the 
 brotherhood until the end : — 
 
 1791— 27th December. 
 1792— 6th February. 
 1792— 14th May. 
 1792— 31st May. 
 1792— 5th June, 
 1792— 22nd November. 
 
 1792— 30th November. 
 1793_30th November. 
 1794— 29th November. 
 1796— 28th January. 
 1796— 14th April 
 
 On 30th November 1792 he was elected Senior Warden, and in the 
 minutes of the sixteen meetings held during his stay in Dumfries his name 
 is eleven times found in the list of those who were present. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 2 X 
 
APPENDIX E, 
 
 THE AYE BUENS STATUE— 1891. 
 
 While many cities and towns at home and abroad have embodied in statue 
 or monument their admiration of the Ayrshire Peasant Poet, and though 
 within a mile or two of Ayr there stand these three most famous shrines of 
 the Bard — the " Monument " at the auld Brig o' Doon, " Kirk Alloway," 
 and the " Cottage " of his birth, it seemed strange that no fitting memorial 
 of him who had reflected so great fame upon the town had arisen in 
 
 Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a toon surpasses 
 For honest men and bonnie lasses. 
 
 There is now, however, no longer ground for this reproach ; for there, 
 on 8th July of this year, there was unveiled a statue of Burns, which is 
 at once a worthy memorial of the Poet, and an ornament and credit to 
 the " auld toon." The figure is in bronze, designed by Mr. Lawson, 
 H.ES.A., London, and represents Burns standing with folded arras, and 
 looking towards his natal scene with an expression of face which seems 
 to say — 
 
 The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
 The man's the gowd for a' that. 
 
 Perhaps the most interesting part of the ceremony of unveiling 
 consisted in the reciting, by Mr. Wallace Bruce, United States Consul in 
 Edinburgh, of the following lines written by him for the occasion, and 
 which, with the author's kind permission, we here reproduce as the latest 
 noteworthy poetic tribute to the memory of Burns. 
 
 34Q 
 
APPENDIX E. 347 
 
 THE AULD BKIG'S WELCOME. 
 
 The Auld Brig hails wi' hearty cheer, — 
 Uncover, lads, for Burns is here ! 
 The Bard who links us all to fame, 
 And blends his own with Scotia's name. 
 
 Seven hundred years the winding Ayr 
 Has glassed my floating image there ; 
 I've seen long centuries glide away. 
 But Robin brought our blithest day. 
 
 I heard the Thirteenth's warlike peal 
 Wake serried ranks of glinting steel ; 
 All wrinkled now, yet in my prime, 
 I wait with joy the Twentieth's chime. 
 
 I cherish weel in memory bright 
 The glorious deeds of Wallace wight, 
 And deem the very stones are blest 
 Which bind the arch his feet have pressed. 
 
 I mind the time King Robert's band 
 With sweeping oar left Arran's strand ; 
 The flame that lit yon beacon hill 
 All round the world is shining still. 
 
 Old Coila's had her share of fame. 
 Her bead-roll treasures many a name ; 
 She's had her heroes great and sma', 
 But Robin stands aboon them a'. 
 
 The auld clay-biggin of his birth 
 Becomes the shrine of all the earth ; 
 The room where rose the Cottar's prayer 
 The proudest heritage of Ayr, 
 
 No starlit sky, no summer noon. 
 But kens the banks o' bonnie Doon ; 
 No human heart but fondly turns 
 Responsive to the Land of Burns. 
 
 Ah, Burns ! who dares to call thee poor ! 
 Each skylark nest on yonder moor. 
 Each daisy-bloom on flowery mead. 
 The lambs that on the meadows feed, — 
 
348 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Each field and brae by burn or stream 
 Where wandering lovers come to dream, 
 Are all thine own. As vassals all 
 We gather here from princely hall, — 
 
 From lowly cot, from hills afar. 
 From southern clime, from Avestern star. 
 To bring our love ; all hearts are thine 
 By title time can never tyne. 
 
 The crowning meed of praise belongs 
 To him who writes a people's songs. 
 Who strikes one note — the common good, 
 One chord — a wider brotherhood ; 
 
 Who drops a word of cheer to bless 
 His fellow-mortal in distress, 
 And lightens on life's dusty road 
 Some traveller weary of his load ; 
 
 Who finds the Mousie's trembling heart 
 Of God's great universe a part ; 
 And in the Daisy's crimson tips 
 Discerns a soid with human lips. 
 
 We little dreamed when Mailie died 
 Those tender words would .speed so wide ; 
 Men smiled and wept and went their way, — 
 The prince was clad in hodden grey. 
 
 Though but a brig, it garred me greet 
 To hear him pour his Vision sweet. 
 And in one crowning climax seal 
 His pity even for the Deil. 
 
 To see the couthie Twa Dogs there 
 Their joys and griefs wi' ither share ; — 
 A cantie tale, it made me smile 
 That sic a lad was born in Kyle ; 
 
 Who caught the witches in a dance 
 And bound them all in lasting trance ; 
 The very land is bright and gay 
 Since Tam o' Shanter rode this way. 
 
APPENDIX E. 349 
 
 The Auld Brig kens the story well 
 These rippling wavelets love to tell ; 
 " Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore," — 
 A fonder kiss his waters bore. 
 
 That raptured hour, that sacred vow, 
 Are love's eternal treasures now ; 
 Montgomery's towers may fall away, 
 But Highland Mary lives for aye. 
 
 And sweeter still the swelling song 
 Of loyal love repairing wrong ; 
 Like mavis notes that gently fa' : — 
 " Of a' the airts the wind can blaw," 
 
 Brave, bonnie Jean ! "We love to tell 
 The story from thy lips that fell ; 
 The lengthened life which Heaven gave 
 Casts radiant twilight on his grave. 
 
 A noble woman, strong to shield ; 
 Her tender heart his trusty bield ; 
 The critic from her doorway turns 
 With faith renewed and love for Burns. 
 
 She knew as no one else could know 
 The heavy burden of his woe ; 
 The carking care, the wasting pain, — 
 Each welded link of misery's chain. 
 
 She saw his early sky o'ercast, 
 
 And gloomy shadows gathering fast ; 
 
 His soul by bitter sorrow torn, 
 
 And knew that man was made to mourn. 
 
 She heard him by the sounding shore 
 Which speaks his name for evermore, 
 And felt the anguish of his prayer : 
 " FareAvell, the bonnie banks of Ayr." 
 
 Oh, Robert Burns ! by tempest tossed. 
 Storm-swept, by cruel whirlwinds crossed 
 Thy prayers, like David's psalms of old, 
 Make all our plaints and wailings cold. 
 
350 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 In weakness sown, yet raised in might, 
 He wept that we might know the right ; 
 His sweetest pleasures pain-imbued ; 
 His songs a drama's interlude. 
 
 And who dare thrust his idle word 
 Where God's own equities are heard 1 
 " Who made the heart, 'tis He alone " — 
 Let him that's guiltless cast the stone. 
 
 We know but this : his living song 
 Protects the w^eak and tramples wrong ; 
 Refracting radiance of delight, 
 His prismed genius, clear and bright, 
 
 Illumes all Scotland far and wide, 
 And Caledonia throbs with pride 
 To hear her grand old Doric swell 
 From Highland crag to Lowland dell ; 
 
 To find, where'er her children stray, 
 Her "Auld Lang Syne," her "Scots, wha hae," 
 And words of hope which proudly span 
 The centuries vast — "A man's a man." 
 
 Then welcome. Burns, from shore to shore ! 
 All hail, our Robin, evermore ! 
 Though late, we greet the Ploughman's name 
 Full in the morning of his fame. 
 
Edinburgh : Scott d- Ferguson and Burness ufc Campany, 
 Printers to Her Majesty. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abbey Craig, ii. 81. 
 Abbotshall, iii. 68. 
 Abdie, ii. 302. 
 Abercorn, Earl of, i. 20. 
 „ lands of, i. 241. 
 „ parish of, i. 33. 
 
 Abercrombie, Dr., i. 86. 
 Abercromby, Sir Ralph, i. 191 ; ii. 101, 158. 
 Aberdeen, ii. 210, 211, 213, 216, 218, 383, 389 ; 
 iii. 4, 11, 16, 76, 169, 174. 
 „ King's College, i. 194. 
 „ university of, ii. 231 ; iii. 21, 77. 
 Aberdour, i. 58. 
 Aberfeldy, iii. 169. 
 Aboukir, ii. 104. 
 Adair, Agnes Ponsonby, i. 308. 
 
 „ Anne, i. 307, 308, 309 ; ii. 9, 10. 
 
 „ Charles Makitterick, i. 308. 
 
 „ Charlotte Hamilton Hay, i. 308. 
 
 „ Constance Mackay, i. 308. 
 
 „ Eliza Hamilton, i. 308. 
 
 „ Francis Keith Dunlop, i. 308. 
 
 „ Hamilton, i. 308. 
 
 „ Helenora Charlotte, i. 308. 
 
 „ Hugh Wallace, i. 308. 
 
 „ Hughina Dennistoun Mackay, i. 308. 
 
 „ Isabella Mackay, i. 308. 
 
 „ Dr. James, i. 305-309 ; ii. 9, 132, 262, 
 333 ; iii. 174-176. 
 
 „ James "Warren Barter, i. 308. 
 
 „ Jane, i. 309. 
 
 „• Jane Reid, i. 309. 
 
 VOL, III. 2 
 
 Adair, John, i. 309. 
 
 „ Keith Francis Vans, i. 308. 
 
 „ Ponsonby, Kelly, i. 308. 
 
 „ Rebecca Mary, i. 308. 
 
 „ Thomas Dundonald Cochrane, i. 308. 
 
 „ Major Wallace, i. 303, 308. 
 
 „ Wallace Dunlop, i. 308, 309. 
 
 „ William Finlay, i. 308. 
 Adam, Dr., Rector of the High School, i. 146 ; 
 ii. 136-139. 
 
 „ Lord Chief Commissioner, i. 123, 312. 
 Adamhill, ii. 163. 
 Addison the poet, ii. 99, 311. 
 Adelaide, ii. 198. 
 Afghanistan, iii. 40. 
 Agnew, Andrew, of Lochryan, i. 187. 
 
 „ Eleanor, i. 187. 
 
 „ Robert Vans, of Sheuchan, i. 193. 
 
 „ Vans, i. 18. 
 Ahmedabad, iii. 32, 34, 35. 
 Aiken, Andrew Hunter, i. 7, 8. 
 
 „ Grace, iii. 287". 
 
 „ John, i. 1, 8, 170. 
 
 „ Mary, i. 8. 
 
 „ Peter Freeland, i. 7, 8, 9. 
 
 „ Richard, i. 8. 
 
 „ Robert, i. 1-8, 31-34, 75, 170-172, 227, 
 279, 283, 291, 295, 296, 299; ii. 
 146, 166 ; iii. 137, 145, 146, 287. 
 Ailsa Craig, ii. 364, 368 ; iii. 91. 
 
 „ Marquis of, ii. 187, 359. 
 Ainslie of Darnchester, family of, i. 9. 
 
352 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Ainslie, Alexander Duns, i. 9. 
 „ Douglas, i. 10. 
 „ Esther, i. 19. 
 „ Rachel, i. 10. 
 
 „ Robert, i. 9-19, 134 ; ii. 62, 131-137, 
 260; iii. 154, 161-163, 181, 197, 
 203-205, 228, 264. 
 „ Sir Whitelaw, i. 11. 
 Aird, Agnes, i. 290. 
 „ Dr., ii. 304. 
 „ Hugh, i. 202, 278, 282. 
 „ Janet, iii. 71. 
 „ John, farmer, Sorn, iii. 71. 
 Airds, iii. 253. 
 Airlie, Earls of, i. 243. 
 Aitken, Amelia Kate Cope, ii. 142. 
 Helen, ii. 142. 
 Isabella Howat, ii. 142. 
 James Johnstone, ii. 142. 
 J. Carlyle, i. 337. 
 Jean, of Greenock, ii. 198. 
 Margaret, ii. 142. 
 Mrs. Robert, Cupar Fife, i. 115. 
 Robert Nicol, ii. 142. 
 Rev. William, ii. 141,299. 
 William Burns, ii. 142. 
 William Nicol, ii. 142. 
 Albemarle, Earl of, ii. 86, 87. 
 Alexander I. King of Scots, iii. 44. 
 
 „ II. „ „ ii. 316 ; iii. 45. 
 
 „ III. „ „ i. 167, 306. 
 
 Alexanders of Airdrie, i. 20. 
 Alexander, Boyd, i. 23. 
 
 Sir Claud, i. 20-24; iii. 343. 
 
 James, Kilmalcolm, i. 20. 
 
 James, ii. 168. 
 
 Janet, ii. 168. 
 
 Jean, ii. 168. 
 
 John, i. 19 ; ii. 168. 
 
 Margaret, ii. 168. 
 
 Robert, Blackhouse, i. 20, 23. 
 
 Robert, ii. 168. 
 
 Wilhelmina, i. 19, 20, 21, 23 ; ii. 
 
 352. 
 William Maxwell, i. 23. 
 
 „ ii. 168. 
 Mr. William, i. 44. 
 Alexandria, ii. 101. 
 
 Alison, Alexander, of Barmuir, iii. 343. 
 „ Sir Archibald, ii. 370. 
 „ Mr., iii. 146. 
 Allan, Alexander, iii. 61, 62. 
 „ Andrew, iii. 61, 62. 
 „ Anne, iii. 64. 
 „ Bryce, iii. 61. 
 „ Francis, iii. 62. 
 „ Hugh, iii. 61, 62. 
 „ Isabella, iii. 61. 
 „ James, iii. 60, 61, 62. 
 „ Janet, iii. 61, 62. 
 „ Jean, iii. 61. 
 „ John, iii. 62. 
 „ Margaret, iii. 61, 62. 
 Allardyce, Alexander, ii. 162. 
 Allen, Mr. John, i. 127-129. 
 Alloa, iii. 56. 
 
 Alio way Kirk, i. 6, 260-262 ; ii. 107-110, 266, 
 305, 361, 363 ; iii. 44, 56, 64-82. 
 „ Kirkyard, i. 309 ; iii. 66, 70, 111. 
 Alness, ii. 197. 
 
 Alnwick Castle, i. 11, 95 ; ii. 36 ; iii. 164. 
 Altona, i. 224. 
 Alva, Lord, i. 220, 221. 
 Ambleside, iii. 21. 
 
 America, i. 263, 359 ; ii. 101, 144, 155, 168, 
 231, 235, 236, 318. 
 „ South, iii. 74. 
 Amory, Mr., i. 223. 
 Amoy, Cliina, iii. 73. 
 Anacreon, ii. 313. 
 Anchor Close, ii. 242. 
 Anderson, Dr. Alexander, R.N., iii. 41. 
 „ Elizabeth S., iii. 68. 
 ,, Harriet A., iii. 41. 
 „ James, Calcutta, iii. 68. 
 „ James, i. 93. 
 „ Dr. James, i. 54, 55. 
 
 „ Janet, i. 353, 359. 
 „ Jean, ii. 48. 
 
 „ John, of Dovehill, i. 187 ; ii. 84. 
 „ Lilias, ii. 122. 
 
 ,, Marion H., ii. 84, 85. 
 
 „ Mrs., i. 93. 
 
 „ Dr. Robert, ii. 100. 
 
 ,, Thomas, i. 214. 
 „ William, i. 91, 93. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 353 
 
 Andover, i. 306. 
 Andrew, Margaret, iii. 58. 
 „ Eobert, iii. 342. 
 Andrewes, Lieut.-Coloiiel Charles, ii. 236. 
 
 „ Frances Mary, ii. 236. 
 
 Angus, Archibald, Earl of, ii. 383. 
 „ George, Earl of, i. 242. 
 „ John, Earl of, i. 242. 
 Annan, i. 41 ; ii. 128, 129, 375 ; iii. 164, 230. 
 Annandale, George, Marquis of, i. 112. 
 
 „ i. 256, 257. 
 
 Annbank, iii. 337. 
 
 Antigua, i. 306, 307 ; ii. 167, 175, 304. 
 Antonio, Port, ii. 248. 
 Arabia, i. 323. 
 Arbiglands, estate of, ii. 40. 
 Arbroath, iii. 32, 169. 
 
 „ Abbey of, i. 242. 
 Arbuckle, Rev. William, ii. 360, 375. 
 Arbuthnot, parish of, ii. 381, 385, 386 ; iii. 2-6, 
 15, 16, 32. 
 „ Sir Robert, ii. 386 ; iii. 5. 
 
 Archers' Hall, i. 38. 
 
 Ardlochan, ii. 143, 144, 332, 364, 365 ; iii. 52. 
 Ardniillan House, ii. 186, 187. 
 Ardrossan, ii. 352. 
 Ardwell, iii. 263. 
 Argaun, battle of, i. 150. 
 Argyle, Archibald, Duke of, i. 46, 148 ; ii. 87. 
 „ Earl of, iii. 6. 
 „ family of, i. 148. 
 Argyleshire, i. 91. 
 Armagh, ii. 84. 
 Armour, Adam, iii. 43, 203. 
 „ Fanny, iii. 43. 
 „ James, iii. 43. 
 
 „ Jean, the Poet's wife, i. 3, 13, 91, 154, 
 304, 341 ; ii. 58, 201, 206, 248, 250 ; 
 iii. 43, 130-137, 164-166, 180-200, 
 223, 251, 252, 263, 290-309. 
 „ John, iii. 43. 
 „ Mary Smith, iii. 43. 
 „ Robert, iii. 43. 
 „ Thomas, iii. 43. 
 „ William, iii. 43. 
 Armstrong, Mr. Adam, ii. 17, 18. 
 „ John, i. 330. 
 
 „ Robert, ii. 18. 
 
 Armstrong, Samuel, ii. 18. 
 
 Arnold, Dr., ii. 264. 
 
 Arran, island of, ii. 368 ; iii. 91. 
 „ Regent, i. 168. 
 
 Arrochar, i. 12. 
 Arrol, Mr., iii. 27. 
 Arthur's Seat, i. 13 ; ii. 123. 
 Artois, Compte d', ii. 263. 
 Asia, i. 101. 
 Asia, the, iii. 41. 
 Assaye, battle of, i. 150. 
 Atheling, Edgar, ii. 36. 
 Athelstaneford, i. 58. 
 
 Athole, Duchess of, i. 244, 306, 307 ; iii. 170. 
 „ Duke of, ii. 140, 305-311 ; iii. 170-173. 
 „ House, i. 244 ; iii. 186. 
 Atlantic, ii. 142 ; iii. 133, 158. 
 Auchanmore, i. 91. 
 Auchenbay, ii. 271, 272. 
 Auchenbrain, i. 203. 
 Auchendrane, ii. 121 ; iii. 45. 
 Auchinabrig, ii. 340. 
 Auchinblae, ii. 383, 391 ; iii. 19, 27. 
 Auchinleck, Lord, i. 310. 
 
 „ parish of, i. 303 ; ii. 1, 18, 30, 209. 
 
 Auchlin, ii. 270. 
 Auchtertool, i. 160. 
 Auchtochter, farm of, iii. 17. 
 Auchtywick, lands of, i. 303. 
 Auld, Robert, ii. 240. 
 „ Rev. William, i. 24-30, 200-202, 266- 
 300 ; ii. 240 ; iii. 129, 191. 
 Australia, i. 302, 328 ; ii. 168, 198, 237, 283, 
 
 284 ; iii. 38. 
 Avondale, i. 194, 263. 
 Avon, the, ii. 249, 250. 
 Ayr, town of, i. 2, 3, 6, 9, etc. 
 
 „ church of, iii. 45. 
 
 „ water of, iii. 118, 124, 322, 337. 
 Ayrshire, iii. 42, 44, etc. 
 
 Babylon, ii. 361. 
 
 Bacchus, iii. 217. 
 
 Bach, ii. 72. 
 
 Bad, lands of, ii. 33. 
 
 Badenoch, iii. 173. 
 
 Baillie, Lady Grizel, ii. 344 ; iii. 263 
 
354 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Baillie, Dr. Hugh, i. 217. 
 
 „ Lesley, ii. 331 ; iii. 236, 237. 
 
 „ Robert, of Mayfield, ii. 331. 
 
 Bainsford Institution, ii. 105. 
 
 Baird, Adam, iii. 60. 
 
 „ Elizabeth, ii. 121. 
 
 „ Fullarton, iii. 56. 
 
 „ Sir Gilbert, ii. 121. 
 
 „ Marion, i. 238. 
 
 „ Rev. Mr., ii. 98. 
 
 „ Samuel, iii. 56. 
 
 „ Thomas, i. 238. 
 
 „ William, of Dalrymple, iii. 56. 
 
 „ William, of Rosemount, i. 218. 
 
 Balchryston, ii. 147. 
 
 Balfour, Mr., ii. 241. 
 
 „ Margaret, ii. 302. 
 „ Sir Michael, of Denmyln, ii. 302. 
 Balgarvie, Agnes, i. 34. 
 Balkenran, iii. 52. 
 Ballantiiie, Hugh, i. 30. 
 „ James, i. 34. 
 
 „ John, i. 3, 30-34, 172 ; ii. 73, 74, 
 
 322 ; iii. 145, 344. 
 „ Patrick, i. 30, 31, 71. 
 
 „ William, i. 30, 31. 
 
 Ballantrae, parish of, 1. 241 ; ii. 186 ; iii. 73. 
 Ballikinrain, ii. 274. 
 Balloch, ii. 316. 
 
 Ballochmyle, i. 21-24 ; ii. 318-324. 
 Ballochneil, ii. 144-147, 152, 187, 363-366 ; 
 
 iii. 53, 59, 93. 
 Balmaladie, iii. 19. 
 Balmerino, Lord, i. 344. 
 Baltimore, i. 238. 
 Banaktin, Janet, iii. 63. 
 Banchory, iii. 19. 
 
 „ Ternan, ii. 238. 
 
 Banff, i. 11 ; ii. 233, 275, 276, 340 ; iii. 169, 172. 
 Bangor, i. 58. 
 Bankhead, farm of, ii. 76. 
 Bannatine, Mr. James, i. 71, 73. 
 
 „ Katherine, i. 71. 
 
 Bannatyne, Mr. George, ii. 90. 
 
 „ Lord, i. 162. 
 
 Bannerman, Rev. William, iii. 73. 
 Bannockburn, ii. 118, 231, 335, 368 ; iii. 169, 
 170, 255, 256. 
 
 Barbadoes, i. 58. 
 Barbour, John, iii. 57. 
 Barclay, Mr., i. 130 ; ii. 158. 
 
 „ John, ii. 297. 
 Bargeny, i. 210. 
 Barjarg, Lord, i. 220. 
 Barnard, Anne, ii. 369. 
 Barncailzie, ii. 257. 
 Barnhill, ii. 23. 
 Barossa, ii. 307. 
 Barr, Mr. Matthias, ii. 373. 
 Barr, parish of, iii. 60. 
 Barras, East Mains of, iii. 21-23. 
 Barrhead, ii. 273. 
 Barry, Rev. Edward M., i. 185. 
 Barskimming, ii. 30, 351. 
 Barter, Anne, i. 309. 
 
 „ Mary, i. 307. 
 Bath, i. 306 ; ii. 34, 70. 
 Beaton, Cardinal, i. 210, 242. 
 
 „ Catherine, i. 242. 
 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 242. 
 
 „ John, of Balfour, i. 242. 
 Beattie, Catherine, iii. 17, 28. 
 
 „ James, the poet, i. 55, 56, 132, 340 
 ii. 89, 215, 222 ; iii. 18, 78. 
 Bedford, iii. 251. 
 Becket, Mary, iii. 308. 
 
 „ Thomas a, iii. 1. 
 Beethoven, ii. 277. 
 
 Begbie, Ellison, ii. 331 ; iii. 97, 98, 99. 
 Begg, family of, iii. 66-71. 
 
 „ Margaret, ii. 18. 
 Belgaum, India, iii. 34. 
 Bell, Mr. Andrew, ii. 241. 
 
 „ Benjamin, i. 86. 
 
 „ Sir Charles, i. 170. 
 
 „ Francis, 154, 156. 
 
 „ Mr. John, i. 131. 
 
 „ Prof. Joseph, i. 170. 
 
 „ Margaret, ii. 313. 
 
 „ Peter, i. 274, 346. 
 
 „ R. C, i. 39. 
 
 „ Richard, of Cruvie, ii. 313. 
 Beloochistan, iii. 40. 
 Benares, i. 251. 
 Bengal, i. 21. 
 Benholm, parish of, ii. 386 ; iii. 3. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 355 
 
 Bennals, ii. 349. 
 Bennet, David, 154. 
 
 „ Rev. E. K., ii. 315. 
 Benson, Richard, i. 257. 
 Bent, iii. 67. 
 Berne, ii. 238. 
 
 Berrywell, i. 9, 12 ; ii. 131 ; iii. 162, 1G3. 
 Bertram, Andrew N., of Clober, iii. 34. 
 Bervie, river, ii. 381, 387. 
 Berwick, i. 11, 147 ; iii. 45, 163. 
 Betson, Elizabeth, ii. 142. 
 Beugo family, the, i. 34-39 ; ii. 122-124. 
 Beveridge, Grace, iii. 67, 69. 
 
 „ James, of Balado, iii. 67. 
 
 Bhooj, i. 255 ; iii. 32-39. 
 Bield Inn, i. 161. 
 Biggar, family of, i. 39, 40. 
 Billington, ii. 314. 
 
 Birley, Mary (Mrs. Creech), i. 129, 130. 
 Birmingham, i. 126; ii. 141. 
 Bimes, James, iii. 22. 
 Birness, Robert, iii. 22. 
 Birniehill, iii. 52. 
 Birsemore, ii. 211. 
 Bishop, John, iii. 308. 
 Bisset, Christian, iii. 15. 
 Black, Anne, ii. 238. 
 
 „ Dr., ii. 86. 
 Blackburn, lands of, i. 34. 
 Blackheath, i. 215. 
 Blackhouse, estate of, i. 20. 
 Blackie, Professor, iii. 104. 
 Blacklock, family of, i. 40-58. 
 
 „ Dr. Thomas, i. 41-58, 97, 305, 316- 
 
 319, 339, 340; ii. 2-7, 159, 222, 
 306 ; iii. 139, 143-149, 178, 194. 
 Blackwood, estate of, Lanarkshire, iii. 66, 67. 
 
 „ Mr. William, i. 347. 
 
 Bladensburg, i. 238. 
 Blain, Margaret, iii. 60, 63. 
 Blair, Alexander, i. 8, 59. 
 „ Castle, ii. 306 ; iii. 169. 
 „ Captain, i. 8. 
 „ David, i. 126 ; ii. 155. 
 „ family of, i. 71-77. 
 „ Dr. Hugh, i. 48, 60-71 ; ii. 2, 5, 30, 90, 
 
 306; iii. 145, 157, 327. 
 „ John, i. 59, 60, 292. 
 
 Blair, Margaret, iii. 48. 
 
 „ of that Ilk, i. 58 ; ii. 316. 
 „ provost, of Dumfries, ii. 67. 
 „ Mr. Robert, i. 58, 59, 70. 
 Blair Athole, ii. 140, 306, 308 ; iii. 170, 173. 
 Blairduff, ii. 213. 
 
 Blane, Sir Gilbert, ii. 186 ; iii. 60. 
 Blantyre, Lord, iii. 71, 72. 
 Bletchingley, i. 235. 
 Blore, Mr. Edward, ii. 339. 
 Boath, estate of, i. 185. 
 Bodan, Mary, ii. 185. 
 Bogend, ii. 261. 
 
 Boghall, estate of, i. 20 ; iii. 32. 
 Bogjargan, ii. 381, 386 ; iii. 6-10, 76. 
 Bogside, farm of, i. 241. 
 Bogtoun, farm of, iii. 14, 18. 
 Bohemia, i. 308. 
 Bokhara, iii. 40. 
 Bolingbroke, ii. 370. 
 Bolton, churchyard of, iii. 65, 71. 
 Bombay, i. 255 ; iii. 34-42. 
 Bonhill, i. 88. 
 Borrowstounness, iii. 68. 
 Borthwick, parish of, i. 149-152. 
 Boswell, Agnes, iii. 58. 
 
 „ Sir Alexander, i. 235 ; ii. 209. 
 
 „ James, of Balmuto, i. 312. 
 
 „ James, i. 24, 56 ; iii. 31. 
 
 „ John, i. 311-314. 
 
 „ Margaret, i. 314. 
 Bothwell, iii. 49. 
 
 „ Bridge, i. 206 ; ii. 362. 
 Botany Bay, i. 263. 
 Boulogne, iii. 33. 
 Bourdeaux, i. 193. 
 Bowman, Elizabeth, i. 30, 31. 
 
 „ John, i. 30. 
 Boyd, Mr. Joseph, Ayr, ii. 375. 
 
 „ Rev. William, ii. 332. 
 Bradefute, Mr., i. 322. 
 Bradley, Caroline, ii. 102. 
 
 „ John, of Colborne Hill, ii. 102. 
 Braefoot, lands of, i. 271, 272, 287. 
 Braid Hills, ii. 123 ; iii. 149. 
 Braiks, lands of, iii. 24. 
 Brakanwra, iii. 54. 
 Brampton, ii. 25. 
 
356 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Brand, family of, iii. 26-28. 
 
 „ James, ii. 236. 
 
 „ Jean, ii. 236. 
 
 „ Letitia, ii. 274. 
 
 „ "William, iii. 174. 
 Brant, i. 118. 
 
 Brawlinmuir, ii. 381-390 ; iii. 14-23, 77. 
 Breadalbane, Earl of, i. 352 ; iii. 173. 
 Brechin, ii. 210, 228, 229, 296, 316, 386 ; 
 
 iii. 5, 10. 
 Breckenridge, family of, iii. 71, 72. 
 Breconside, ii. 37. 
 Brewster, Dr., ii. 309. 
 Bridie, Madame de la, i. 222. 
 Bridges, Francis, i. 335. 
 Bridgewater Foundry, ii. 127. 
 Bristol, i. 7, 8, 9 ; ii. 303. 
 Broadsliean, iii. 62. 
 Brock, Walter, i. 90. 
 
 „ Janet, i. 90. 
 Brodie of Brodie, iii. 174. 
 Brodie, William, i. 141. 
 Brodrick, General, i. 250. 
 Brougliam, Lord, i. 147, 149 ; ii. 136, 361. 
 Brow, the, i. 105, 161, 237; ii. 183; iii. 294, 
 
 295. 
 Brown, Agnes, i. 173 ; ii. 361, 375, 387 ; iii. 
 44, 70, 75, 85, 309. 
 
 „ Alexander, ii. 142. 
 
 „ Andrew, ii. 362. 
 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 310, 311, 313. 
 
 „ family of, iii. 45-63. 
 
 „ George, iii. 20. 
 
 „ Gilbert, i. 178 ; ii. 361-363, 375. 
 
 „ Hugh, ii. 332, 333, 364. 
 
 „ James, ii. 362. 
 Jean, i. 195. 
 
 „ John, i. 107, 311 ; ii. 362, 375. 
 
 „ Samuel, ii. 144, 145, 350, 365 ; iii. 93. 
 
 „ Thomas, i. 309, 310. 
 
 „ Dr. Thomas, ii. 152. 
 
 „ William, i. 195, 311 ; ii. 332. 
 Browne, Mary Ann, i. 257. 
 
 „ Matthew, i. 309-314. 
 
 „ Richard, ii. 332, 333 ; iii. 188. 
 
 „ Robert, i. 312. 
 Brownhill, lands of, i. 71 ; iii. 47. 
 Bruar, the, ii. 307, 366. 
 
 Bruce, Mr. John, i. 113, 149. 
 „ Alexander, ii. 334. 
 „ Catherine, ii. 333, 334 ; iii. 175. 
 „ Henry, ii. 334. 
 „ Michael, ii. 48. 
 
 ,, Robert the, King of Scots, i. 94, 167, 
 242, 257 ; ii. 74, 118, 160, 368, 373 ; 
 iii. 175, 255. 
 „ Mr. Wallace, iii. 346. 
 Bryan, ii. 204. 
 
 Brydone, Mr. Patrick, i. 207. 
 Bryen, Robert, i. 288, 290, 295. 
 Buchan, Earl of, i. 226, 233 ; ii. 178, 334-339 ; 
 iii. 157, 332. 
 „ Dr. William, ii. 241. 
 Buist, Andrew M., ii. 142. 
 Buittle, ii. 37, 39, 41. 
 Bunyan, John, iii. 144. 
 Burnet, Alexander, of Kemnay, i. 185. 
 „ Mr. Andrew, ii. 210. 
 „ Bishop, ii. 158. 
 „ James, ii. 335. 
 „ Jane, i. 185. 
 
 „ Miss, i. 158, 305 ; ii. 335 ; iii. 222. 
 Burn, Mr. Robert, architect, i. 333. 
 Burnhouse, ii. 385, 387 ; iii. 2, 6. 
 Burns, Ann B., iii. 308. 
 ,. David, ii. 390. 
 „ Elizabeth R., ii. 175 ; iii. 241, 244, 282, 
 
 307. 
 ,. family of, iii. 1-44, 64-74, 307-309. 
 „ Francis W., iii. 205, 307. 
 „ Gilbert, i. 115, 162, 188, 252, 299 ; ii. 
 107, 112, 115, 201, 259, 260, 280, 
 282, 335, 346, 349; iii. 26, 42, 43, 
 64, 65, 70, 74, 82-118, 130, 173, 
 190, 277, 293, 301, 309, 342, 343. 
 Mrs. Gilbert, iii. 71, 114. 
 Isabella, iii. 64-74, 174. 
 James Glencairn, i. 232 ; iii. 293, 307, 
 
 308. 
 James Henry, iii. 38, 77, 108, 296. 
 Mr. James, ii. 10, 28, 381-390; iii. 
 
 174. 
 John, ii. 382, 387. 
 Margaret, ii. 382. 
 Maxwell, i. 162 ; iii. 307. 
 Patrick, ii. 386. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 35: 
 
 Burns, Mrs. Roliert, i. 119, 127, 192; ii. 11, 
 25, 112, 279, 280; iii. 85, 110, 
 203-219, 241, 249, 257, 299, 301. 
 „ Eobert, the poet, i. 2, etc. ; ii. 2, etc. 
 „ his life, iii. 78-304. 
 „ Sarah, iii. 308. 
 „ Rev. Thomas, ii. 9, 382. 
 „ William, i. 2, 173 ; ii. 28, 107-114, 153, 
 190, 267, 381, 382, 387; iii. 174, 
 310-314. 
 „ Col. William N., ii. 123, 135, 370; iii. 307. 
 Burns, monument of, i. 93 ; iii. 79. 
 Bushby, John, i. 78-82 ; iii. 251, 260. 
 „ Peter, i. 82. 
 „ Thomas, i. 82. 
 „ William K., i. 80. 
 Bute, Marqnis of, i. 235. 
 Byron, Lord, i. 128 ; ii. 373. 
 
 Cabool, iii. 40, 42. 
 Cadell, Wm., i. 134, 140. 
 Cahar, iii. 308. 
 Caithness, ii. 196, 283. 
 Caird, family of, iii. 25, 26. 
 
 „ John, of Woodhead, iii. 25, 26, 108, 174. 
 Cairnbank, lands of, i. 10. 
 Calcutta, ii. 235, 236, 237, 239 ; iii. 38, 41. 
 Caldwell, Elizabeth, i. 241. 
 
 „ Janet, i. 278. 
 Callanan, Jane, iii. 72. 
 
 „ Peter, iii. 72. 
 Callander, Rev. Robert, i. 39. 
 Calton buryiug-ground, i. 87 ; ii. 140, 355. 
 Calvi, ii. 101. 
 Cambridge, ii. 103. 
 
 „ St. Catherine's College, ii. 237. 
 
 „ Trinity Hall, ii. 315. 
 
 Cambuskenneth, iii. 57. 
 Cambusnethan, ii. 47. 
 Cameron, Agnes, i. 278. 
 
 „ Mr. John, ii. 196. 
 
 ,. Mr. William, i. 334. 
 
 „ Mr., i. 334. 
 Campbell, Alexander, ii. 294. 
 
 „ Sir Archibald Ava, iii. 5. 
 
 „ Professor Archibald, ii. 8. 
 
 „ Castle, iii. 174. 
 
 Campbell, Colonel, ii. 86. 
 
 „ David, iii. 67. 
 
 ,, family of, i. 91-94. 
 
 „ Flora, ii. 347. 
 
 „ Dr. George, i. 132 ; iii. 44. 
 
 „ Hugh, i. 202. 
 
 „ Isabella, i. 92, 238 ; iii. 44. 
 
 „ Sir Islay, ii. 263. 
 
 ,, Col. James M., ii. 247. 
 
 „ John, of Succoth, i. 187. 
 
 ,, Sir John, Bart., iii. 5. 
 
 Mary, i. 91-94, 304; ii. 8; iii. 131, 
 132, 219, 270, 271. 
 
 „ Matthew, i. 26. 
 
 „ of Kinzeancleuch, ii. 190. 
 
 „ Stranraer, i. 241. 
 
 „ Susan, ii. 263. 
 
 „ Thomas, i. 98, 149 ; ii. 62, 388. 
 
 „ Walter, iii. 6. 
 Campbeltown, i. 33, 92. 
 Campsie, ii. 86. 
 Canada, i. 89, 93, 118, 121 ; ii. 106 ; iii. 19, 51, 
 
 61, 66. 
 Candlish, family of, i. 82-91, 332. 
 
 „ James, i. 340 ; ii. 347. 
 Canmore, Malcolm, ii. 36. 
 Canterbury, i. 263. 
 
 „ Archbishop of, ii. 264. 
 
 Cantyre, Mull of, ii. 369 ; iii. 91. 
 Cape Town, ii. 270, 274. 
 Cardonnel, Mr., i. 259. 
 Cardross, i. 242. 
 Cargill, Captain, iii. 73. 
 Carlaverock, parish of, ii. 10. 
 Carlisle, i. 12, 45 ; ii. 25, 26, 129, 264 ; iii. 164. 
 Carlyle, Dr., i. 69 ; iii. 180, 274. 
 „ Elizabeth, ii. 302. 
 „ Thomas, ii. 192. 
 „ William, ii. 302. 
 Carmichael, family of, ii. 105, 106. 
 Carnegie, Elizabeth, iii. 29. 
 
 „ William, iii. 29. 
 Carolina, South, i. 162. 
 Carsphairn, ii. 18. 
 
 Carr, , i. 221. 
 
 „ A. Morton, i. 251. 
 Carrick, i. 82, 94, 239, 261, 278 ; ii. 144, 209, 
 286, 360, 380 ; iii. 44, 55, 116, 322. 
 
358 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Carrick, Robert, ii. 102. 
 Carrington, Lord, i. 209. 
 Carruthers, Christian, i. 220. 
 „ Jane, i. 257. 
 
 „ John de, i. 257. 
 
 „ John, of Holmains, i. 220. 
 „ Dr. Robert, of Inverness, i. 98. 
 Carse, Friars, iii. 197, 198, 218, 233, 235. 
 Carson, John, ii. 20. 
 „ Agnes, ii. 20. 
 
 „ Mr., Rector of High School, i. 254. 
 Carthage, Queen of, ii. 137. 
 Cassilis, David, Earl of, i. 72 ; ii. 190, 360. 
 
 „ Downans, ii. 365. 
 Castlebank, i. 192. 
 
 Castle Douglas, i. 238 ; ii. 61 ; iii. 57, 263. 
 Castlehill, lands of, i. 31, 34. 
 Castleton, iii. 18. 
 Castleview, ii. 13, 16. 
 Cathcart, Lord Alan, ii. 307, 316. 
 
 „ Sir Andrew, of Carleton, i. 301 ; 
 ii. 186. 
 Grizel, i. 301, 348. 
 „ Margaret, ii. 316. 
 „ Miss, ii. 307. 
 „ of Carnock, ii. 316. 
 Catrine, i. 87, 164 ; ii. 30, 320, 351 ; iii. 148, 343. 
 Cattanach, Elizabeth, ii. 237, 238. 
 Catto, James, of Aberdeen, iii. 28. 
 Cauwin, M. Louis, i. 35 ; ii. 130. 
 Cawdar, iii. 174. 
 Cessnock, iii. 97. 
 
 „ burn of, ii. 331, 341. 
 Ceylon, i. 124. 
 
 Chalmers of Fingland, family of, i. 94-137, 
 305 ; ii. 53, 216, 218, 226, 261 ; 
 iii. 170-192, 298. 
 „ of Gadgirth, i. 168. 
 „ Dr. Thomas, i. 256. 
 „ William, ii. 335. 
 
 Chanonry, Presbytery of, ii. 188, 196. 
 Chapel, Lieutenant, of Maybole, ii. 375, 380, 
 Chapelizod, Dublin, iii. 74. 
 Charles I., king, i. 148, 211; ii. 32, 84; 
 iii. 5, 14. 
 „ v., emperor, i. 109. 
 „ IX., ii. 155. 
 Charteris, Alison, ii. 65. 
 
 Charteris, Henrie, i. 353. 
 
 „ William, of Bridgemoor, ii. 65. 
 Chatelherault, Duke of, i. 168. 
 Cheltenham, iii. 34, 37, 308. 
 Chester, ii. 185. 
 Chetwood, Captain, of Woodbrook, i. 8. 
 
 „ Constance, i. 8. 
 
 China, i. 214. 
 Chittoor, i. 41. 
 
 Christie, , i. 328 ; iii. 17. 
 
 Churchill, ii. 89. 
 
 Cicero, ii. 369. 
 
 Clackmannan, county of, i. 96, 307 ; ii. 132, 
 
 261, 263, 334. 
 Clapham, Sarah Kate, i. 176. 
 Clarinda, i. 103, 104, 137, 341; ii. 54-57; 
 
 iii. 182-191, 223, 224, 246, 263, 264. 
 Clark, family of, i. 106-120, 159, 333, 343. 
 
 „ James, Forfar, iii. 285, 291. 
 
 „ Rev. James, ii. 47. 
 
 „ Mary, ii. 47. 
 
 „ Stephen, ii. 71, 336 ; iii. 257. 
 
 „ William, ii. 336 ; iii. 209. 
 Cleghorn, family of, i. 122-128. 
 „ James, i. 252. 
 „ Robert, i. 158, 314 ; ii. 24. 
 Cleveland, Duke of, i. 236. 
 Clifton, iii. 32, 33, 34. 
 Clinton, Canada, iii. 66. 
 Clochanhill, ii. 386, 387 ; iii. 23, 25, 42, 43, 
 
 77, 78. 
 Cloete, Henry, i. 2, 51. 
 
 „ Johanna Catherine, i. 251. 
 
 „ Rodolph, of Westerford, i. 251. 
 Closeburn, parish of, i. 106, 330 ; ii. 160, 340, 
 
 352 ; iii. 65, 67. 
 Clouden, ii. 40. 
 Clow, Jenny, iii. 168. 
 Cluden, water of, iii. 250. 
 Clyde, iii. 133, 141. 
 
 „ Canal, ii. 78. 
 
 „ Firth of, i. 92 ; ii. 105, 167 ; iii. 91. 
 
 „ Mr. James, i. 337, 338. 
 Coates House, i. 227, 232, 233, 
 Cochrane, Charles, i. 217. 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 95. 
 „ Lady Elizabeth, ii. 343. 
 „ Grizel, i. 95. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 359 
 
 Cochrane, Sir John, i. 95. 
 
 „ Messrs. Murray &, ii. 240. 
 
 „ Thomas, Earl of Dundonald, ii. 343. 
 Cockburn, Lord, ii. 282. 
 
 „ Mrs., ii. 349. 
 
 Coil, water of, iii. 272. 
 Coila, iii. 124, 125, 161. 
 Coilsfield House, i. 91. 
 Coke, Edward, of Longford Court, ii. 325. 
 
 „ Eliza Grace, ii. 325. 
 Coldstream, i. 11 ; iii. 162. 
 Colebrooke, Sir T. E., i. 149. 
 Coleraine, i. 172. 
 
 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, ii. 25G. 
 Colin ton, ii. 126. 
 Collessie, i. 60. 
 Collie, William, iii. 20. 
 Collieston, farm of, iii. 15. 
 Collins the poet, ii. 89. 
 Colman the dramatist, i. 331. 
 Colmonell, parish of, i. 301, 348. 
 Colston, Mr. James, ii. 141. 
 Columlaia College, ii. 343. 
 Colvend, ii. 41. 
 Colville, Margaret, ii. 272. 
 Colvin, Alexander, iii. 31. 
 „ Christian, iii. 31. 
 Comely Green, ii. 298. 
 Commonside, ii. 201. 
 Comyn, John, ii. 74. 
 Condorcet, i. 165. 
 Congreve, i. 331. 
 Connaught, coast of, ii. 332. 
 Connell, Mr., i. 284 ; ii. 166. 
 Constable, Archibald, i. 328. 
 
 „ George, ii. 161. 
 
 „ William Haggerston, ii. 336. 
 
 „ Lady Winifred Maxwell, ii. 336 ; 
 iii. 76. 
 Cooke, Agnes, iii. 33. 
 
 „ C, 1. 329. 
 Cooper, Eev. Augustus, iii. 33. 
 
 „ Mabel, iii. 33. 
 Copeland, Mrs., iii. 287. 
 Copland, Dr., Dumfries, i. 8. 
 Copenhagen, iii. 217. 
 Corbet, Mr., i. 119 ; iii. 234. 
 Corehouse, Lord, i. 162. 
 
 VOL. III. 2 
 
 Corfu, ii. 236. 
 
 Cork, county, ii. 315. 
 
 Corneille, i. 331. 
 
 Cornewall, Charlotte Henrietta, ii. 314. 
 
 „ Herbert, ii. 314. 
 Cornwall, iii. 34, 74. 
 Coromandel, i. 207. 
 Corra, iii. 53. 
 Correstown, iii. 53. 
 Corri, Signora Domenica, ii. 277. 
 Corriston Burn, ii. 144. 
 Corsbie, barony of, i. 206. 
 Corsica, ii. 101, 
 
 Corsincon hill, ii. 66 ; iii. 196, 269. 
 Corstorphine, barony of, i. 122, 123, 127, 128, 319. 
 Corton, laigh, ii. 267. 
 Coull, Dr. James, i. 185. 
 
 „ Helen, i. 185. 
 Couper, Alexander, ii. 273. 
 
 „ Dr. John, ii. 273. 
 
 „ Dr. William, Glasgow, ii. 273. 
 Coutts, Messrs., i. 71 ; ii. 61. 
 Coventry, i. 226. 
 Covington, Archdeacon of, ii. 265. 
 
 „ Mains, iii. 140, 141. 
 
 Cowan, Charles, i. 256. 
 
 „ Jean, i. 238. 
 Cowie, Rolland, ii. 275. 
 Coylton parish, ii. 151, 350. 
 Crabb, Mr. Robert, ii. 383. 
 Craig, family of, ii. 46, 59. 
 
 „ Janet, ii. 116. 
 
 „ Mrs., iii. 295. 
 
 „ William, of Holmes, ii. 116. 
 Craigdow, ii. 144 ; iii. 53. 
 Craigencallie, i. 94. 
 Craigenton, i. 178 ; ii. 362, 363, 375 ; iii. 52- 
 
 56, 62. 
 Craigie, parish of, ii. 27, 350. 
 Craigieburn, ii. 20, 21, 22, 24. 
 Craigmill, ii. 341. 
 Craigs, East and West, ii. 46. 
 Craik, William, ii. 40. 
 Cramond, parish of, i. 122, 123. 
 Cranstoun, George, i. 129, 162. 
 „ Helen D'Arcy, ii. 324. 
 „ Henry Kerr, ii. 324. 
 
 Lord William, ii. 324. 
 
360 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Crauford, Janet, iii. 61. 
 Craufurd of Ardmillan, ii. 186. 
 
 „ Miss, ii. 187. 
 Crawford, Elizabeth, i. 30. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 186 ; iii. 48. 
 
 „ John, i. 30. 
 
 „ John Innes, ii. 71. 
 
 „ Lord, ii. 388. 
 
 Mr., of Doonside, iii. 44, 230. 
 Creech, William, publisher, i. 32, 63, 100, 
 129-143, 227, 233, 328, 333, 344 ; ii. 75, 79, 
 92, 96, 117, 122, 242, 267 ; iii. 145, 154, 163, 
 182, 184, 189, 223, 328. 
 Creich, parish of, i. 129. 
 Creoch, estate of, ii. 272. 
 Crichton, Thomas, ii. 294. 
 Crieff, iii. 169, 173. 
 Criffel, i. 120 ; iii. 269. 
 Cririe, Mr. James, i. 329. 
 Crochallan Club, i. 153, 180 ; ii. 70, 243 ; iii. 154. 
 Croftingie, iii. 53. 
 
 Croix, Marianne Louisa de la, i. 44. 
 CroU, David, iii. 13. 
 Cromarty, ii. 188, 189. 
 Crombie, i. 236, 237. 
 „ Old, iii. 19. 
 Cromek, Mr., ii. 114, 259, 260 ; iii. 292. 
 Crone, Catherine, iii. 308. 
 Croningberg fort, ii. 207. 
 Crook edholm, ii. 116. 
 Crosbie, Andrew, ii. 175. 
 Crosby, Provost, ii. 169. 
 Crossraguel, Abbot of, ii. 316 ; iii. 60. 
 
 „ ii. 344. 
 
 Crow, Helen Margaret, iii. 5. 
 
 „ Colonel John, iii. 5, 
 Croydon, ii. 265. 
 Cruikshank, William, i. 143-157, 251, 252 ; ii. 
 
 130-137, 159, 225, 308 ; iii. 176, 180. 
 Cubbingtoun, ii. 64. 
 Cullen, Dr., i. 38, 132. 
 
 „ village, iii. 169. 
 Cullie, David, i. 337. 
 Culloden, ii. 43 ; iii. 77. 
 Culross, ii. 84, 348. 
 Culter Fells, iii. 141. 
 Culzean, i. 239 ; ii. 147, 285 ; iii. 52, 53. 
 Cumberland, i. 41, 42, 117, 302. 
 
 Cumberland, ii. 23 ; iii. 54. 
 
 „ Duke of, ii. 213. 
 
 Cumming, Alexander, ii. 230. 
 „ Jean, ii. 17. 
 
 „ John, ii. 230. 
 
 „ ' Matilda, ii. 83. 
 „ Robert, ii. 230, 331. 
 
 Cumnock, i. 350 ; ii. 1 8, 1 63, 208, 362 ; iii. 49, 1 89. 
 Cunningham, Alexander, i. 148-163, 183 ; ii. 
 45 ; iii. 214, 260, 292, 298. 
 „ Alexander, of Craigends, i. 20, 
 
 108, 112, 140, 146. 
 Allan, i. 3, 201-204, 229 ; ii. 
 46, 76,208,337; iii. 115, 142, 
 195, 197, 206-213, 249, 268. 
 „ Anne, i. 71, 192. 
 
 Catherine, ii. 197, 198, 199. 
 Lady Elizabeth, i. 232, 233; 
 iii. 223. 
 „ Colonel James, Scots Brigade, 
 
 i. 17. 
 „ James, iii. 61. 
 
 „ Jean, i. 17. 
 
 „ John, ii. 76. 
 
 „ Lady Margaret, i, 236. 
 
 „ Margaret, iii. 47. 
 
 „ Mrs., Eobertland, i. 2. 
 
 „ province of, iii. 49, 116. 
 
 „ Rev. Richard, i. 126. 
 
 „ Susan, i. 172. 
 
 „ Susanna, i. 21. 
 
 T. M, ii. 76. 
 „ William, of Enterkin, ii. 352. 
 
 Cuiininghame, bailiery of, ii. 143 ; iii. 322. 
 „ of Cunninghamhead, i. 209, 
 
 „ of Halcraigs, i. 149. 
 
 „ of Hyndhope, i. 148-163. 
 
 „ Sir Thomas Montgomerie, ii. 149. 
 
 „ William, of Annbank, ii. 337. 
 
 „ William Allason, of Logan, 
 
 ii. 337. 
 Cunyngham, Colonel Francis, ii. 324. 
 Cupar Abbey, ii. 210. 
 Cupar-Fife, i. 113, 115, 149. 
 Cupples, Mr. William, ii. 150, 365. 
 Currie, Andrew, of Glassraount, iii. 68. 
 
 „ Dr., i. 5, 98, 164, 190, 307, 332 ; ii. 45, 
 82, 107, 108, 160, 253, 259, 280, 352 ; 
 
INDEX. 
 
 361 
 
 iii. 71, 86, 148, 175, 208, 217, 252, 
 
 278-283, 300-302. 
 Currie, Magdalene, iii. 68. 
 Cuslinie, Anne, iii. 3. 
 Cutch, i. 255 ; iii. 36, 39. 
 
 „ king of, i. 255. 
 Cuthbertson, Annie, iii. 68. 
 
 Daer, Lord, i. 163, 164, 165, 166 ; ii. 30, 351. 
 
 Dailly, parish of, ii. 144, 150. 
 
 Dalgarno, Alexander, ii. 232. 
 
 Dalkeith, i. 130, 131, 150, 151, 152, 241 ; ii. 
 
 158, 302. 
 Dallas, Eobert, iii. 10. 
 Dalmahoy, James, ii. 9. 
 Dalmellington, parish of, ii. 275, 351. 
 Dalmeny, ii. 122 ; iii. 67. 
 Dalquhram, estate of, i. 353, 354. 
 Dairy, parish of, i. 78, 96 ; iii. 31. 
 Dalrymple, Mr. Andrew, iii. 48, 141. 
 
 „ Catherine, ii. 266. 
 
 „ Charles, i. 221 ; ii. 338 ; iii. 143, 145. 
 
 „ family of, i. 167-176. 
 
 „ James, of Orangefield, i. 166-176, 
 
 221, 226 ; iii. 344. 
 
 „ James, ii. 266. 
 
 „ Janet, iii. 48, 
 
 „ Sir John, ii. 242, 243. 
 
 „ parish of, i. 87 ; iii. 82. 
 
 „ EeA^ Dr., i. 6, 172, 283 ; ii. 108. 
 
 „ school, i. 83. 
 
 „ Mr. W., iii. 64, 75. 
 
 Dalrymples of Langlands, i. 5. 
 
 „ of Stair, i. 168. 
 
 Dalswinton, ii. 34, 73-80, 83, 133 ; iii. 164, 
 
 194, 195, 217. 
 Dalton, parish of, i. 329. 
 Dalzell, J., iii. 254. 
 
 Dalziel, Mr. Alexander, i. 226, 231 ; ii. 267. 
 Danevale, iii. 57. 
 Darien Scheme, i. 309. 
 Darnley, ii. 273. 
 
 David I. king of Scots, i. 241, 304 ; ii. 169. 
 „ II. „ i. 167,206; ii. 209, 334. 
 
 „ Prince, iii. 44. 
 Davidson, Betty, iii. 80. 
 „ David, ii. 376. 
 „ Dr., physician at Edinburgh, iii. 29. 
 
 Davidson, family of, i. 177-179. 
 „ James, i. 179 ; ii. 376. 
 „ John, i. 177, 350 ; ii. 146, 359, 363, 
 
 364. 
 „ Margaret, ii. 179 ; iii. 11. 
 „ Matthew, i. 179 ; ii. 376. 
 „ Thomas, i. 179. 
 „ William, i. 179 ; ii. 380. 
 Davies, Miss Deborah D., ii. 337. 
 Dayman, Rev. Phillipps, iii. 74. 
 
 „ Sibylla, iii. 74. 
 Dean, Jamie, iii. 183. 
 Deeside, ii. 211, 257 ; iii. 25, 253. 
 De la Croix, Marianne Louisa, i. 44. 
 Delany, Captain, ii. 337. 
 Dempster, George, ii. 337. 
 Denbigh, Earl of, i. 38. 
 Denmark, Anne of, ii. 172 ; iii. 217. 
 Denside, iii. 25. 
 Derbishire, Dr., ii. 34. 
 
 „ Stewart, ii. 34. 
 Derby, ii. 83, 325. 
 Desmond, Earl of, i. 306. 
 Detroit, ii. 155. 
 Devon, ii. 262, 366. 
 Devonshire, i. 129, 302. 
 Dewar, Anne, i. 169. 
 
 „ Mr. Forrest, i. 154, 156. 
 „ Jessie, 1. 156. 
 Dick, Captain, ii. 152. 
 „ Sir Robert, ii. 152. 
 „ Susanna Stewart, ii. 152. 
 „ William, i. 241. 
 Dickens, Charles, ii. 284. 
 Dickie, Adam, ii. 116. 
 „ Agnes, ii. 116. 
 „ Margaret, i. 240. 
 Dickson, George, iii. 20. 
 „ James, iii. 20. 
 „ Mary, iii. 20. 
 „ Sarah, iii. 73. 
 „ Thomas, iii. 73. 
 Dingwall, iii. 28. 
 Dinnant, College of, ii. 44. 
 Dinning, iii. 65. 
 
 „ farm of, iii. 71. 
 Dinwoodie, lands of, ii. 41, 42. 
 Dirleton, ii. 47. 
 
362 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Ditton, Wood, ii. 315. 
 Dock Green, iii. 249-252. 
 Dods, Captain, i. 118, 119. 
 Doig, Dr. David, ii. 159, 229, 230. 
 Doig & M'Kechnie, Messrs., i. 38. 
 DoUar, i. 115, 117. 
 
 „ churchyard, 116, 117. 
 Doli:)hinton, i. 195. 
 Don, family of, i. 235, 236. 
 „ George, i. 115. 
 „ William, iii. 20. 
 Donaghadee, i. 72. 
 Doon, water of, ii. 146, 204, 266, 364, 366 ; iii. 
 
 46, 79, 116, 124, 322. 
 Dornel, Laird of, ii. 18. 
 
 Douglas, Sir Alexander, of Glenbervie, ii. 385 ; 
 iii. 4. 
 „ Sir Archibald, of Glenbervie, iii. 4. 
 Charlotte, ii. 42. 
 Daniel, ii. 243. 
 „ ii. 347. 
 
 Dr., ii. 248 ; iii. 29. 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 242. 
 
 family of, i. 163, 164. 
 „ Gavin, i. 127. 
 „ Sir Henry, of Lochleven, i. 242. 
 „ Heron, & Co.'s bank, i. 80, 354 ; ii. 
 
 320 ; iii. 109. 
 „ James, M.D., ii. 42. 
 „ James, of Dornock, ii. 65. 
 „ Mr. James, iii. 4. 
 „ Lord, i. 9. 
 
 Philadelphia, ii. 65, 66. 
 William, of Kelhead, ii. 42. 
 Mr. William S., i. 91, 332, 349 ; ii. 
 12, 82, 154, 325, 338. 
 Doune, Dr., i. 305. 
 Doura, ii. 339. 
 Dove, John, i. 294 ; ii. 338. 
 Dover, ii. 283 ; iii. 231. 
 Down and Connor, Bishop of, i. 255. 
 Dreghorn family, i. 149. 
 
 ii. 49. 
 Driesen, Baron de, i. 8. 
 Drumbeg, iii. 52. 
 Drumcondra, i. 263. 
 Drumdow, i. 217 ; iii. 53. 
 Drumgarloch, iii. 52. 
 
 Drumlanrig Castle, ii. 66, 67, 69, 155, 172 
 Drumlithie, iii. 14, 18, 27. 
 Drummochrian, iii. 52. 
 Drummond, Annabella, i. 242. 
 „ General, i. 204. 
 
 „ John, Earl of Melfort, i. 20. 
 
 „ John, Lord, i. 242. 
 
 Drummuscan, iii. 52. 
 Drumore, lands of, i. 306. 
 Drumtochty, iii. 20. 
 Drumvain, iii. 52. 
 Dryburgh, ii. 335. 
 Dryden, i. 189, 331. 
 
 Dublin, i. 123, 194, 263 ; ii. 18 ; iii. 72, 74. 
 Duddingston, ii. 240, 297. 
 Dudgeon, William, i. 11. 
 Duff House, iii. 169, 172. 
 „ Innes, ii. 234. 
 „ John, ii. 234. 
 „ Mr., ii. 239. 
 Dulwich College, i. 129. 
 Dumbretton, ii. 128. 
 Dumfres, John Murthoc, Earl of, i. 95. 
 Dumfries, i. 6, 40, etc. ; ii. 10-27, 37, etc. ; iii. 
 10, 54, 164, etc. 
 „ Earl of, i. 30, 350. 
 „ Globe Inn, i. 248. 
 Dumourier, Mr., i. 320. 
 Dun, Mr., ii. 148, 149. 
 Dunbar, i. 11 ; ii. 130. 
 „ Bishop, ii. 213. 
 „ Colonel, i. 332, 339. 
 „ Countess of, ii. 18. 
 „ Earl of, i. 166. 
 
 family of, i. 179-186. 
 „ Mr. John, of New Cumnock, ii. 20. 
 „ Mr. William, i. 146 ; iii. 154. 
 Dunbarton, i. 88, 242, 256 ; ii. 250, 348. 
 
 „ Castle of, i. 212. 
 
 Dunbeath Castle, ii. 283. 
 Dunblane, ii. 234 
 Duncan, Admiral Lord, i. 38. 
 
 „ family of, i. 120, 121 ; ii. 65-08. ■ 
 
 „ Dr. Henry, ii. 357. 
 
 „ Mrs. Henry, iii. 296. 
 
 „ John, iii. 24. 
 
 „ King, iii. 174. 
 
 „ Dr. Robert, ii. 338. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 3G3 
 
 Duncan, William, i. 292. 
 Duncombe, Francis Barbara, ii. 325. 
 „ Mr., i. 224. 
 
 „ Thomas, of Gosgrove, ii. 325. 
 
 Dundaff, i. 242. 
 Dundalk, iii. 65. 
 Dundas, Admiral George, i. 251 ; iii. 270. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 158-162. 
 
 „ Maria, i. 251. 
 
 „ Major William B., i. 251. 
 Dundee, ii. 16, 232, 234, 340 ; iii. 169. 
 
 „ James, Earl of, i. 243. 
 Dundonald, Earl of, i. 95. 
 
 „ parish of, ii. 302, 304, 313, 338 ; 
 
 iii. 60-67. 
 Dunedin, iii. 73, 74. 
 Dunfermline, i. 307, 327 ; ii. 32, 84, 265, 368 ; 
 
 iii. 41, 176. 
 Dunkeld, ii. 151, 152, 234 ; iii. 169, 173. 
 Dunlappie, ii. 210. 
 Dunlop, Alexander, ii. 273. 
 
 „ family of, i. 186-193. 
 
 „ Captain Hamilton, R.N., i. 173. 
 
 „ House, iii. 188. 
 
 „ Mrs., i. 93, 186-193, 250; ii. 57, 
 88-99, 331 ; iii. 42, 64, 71, 136, etc. 
 
 „ parish of, iii. 51. 
 
 „ Wallace, C.B., ii. 99. 
 Dunnichen, ii. 337. 
 Dunnottar, parish of, ii. 381, 386, 387 ; iii. 
 
 23-25, 42. 
 Dunoon, parish of, i. 91. 
 Duns, i. 9, 10, 19, 146, 251, 252 ; iii. 162. 
 Dunscore, ii. 64, 172, 252 ; iii. 202-206. 
 Dunske}', estate of, i. 76, 306. 
 Duntaggart, ii. 209. 
 Duntrune, i. 242. 
 Durham, i. 206, 236 ; ii. 236. 
 Durris, parish of, iii. 20. 
 Duthie, Alexander, iii. 20. 
 
 „ Andrew, iii, 23. 
 Dysart, i. 327, 328, 335. 
 
 Eagle & Henderson, Messrs., i. 328. 
 Bales, Major Daniel, iii. 33. 
 
 „ Lionel, iii. 33. 
 
 „ Maud, iii, 33. 
 
 Earn, river, iii. 56. 
 Easton, Esther, ii. 17. 
 Ecclefechan, i. 238 ; ii. 143 ; iii. 230. 
 Eccles, estate of, i. 79. 
 Edit, ii. 211, 231, 237, 238. 
 Eden Bank, i. 11. 
 „ Dora, ii. 103. 
 „ river, i. 235. 
 „ Thomas, ii. 103. 
 Edgar, Dr., Mauchline, i. 27, 28. 
 Edgehill, i. 7. 
 Edinburgh, i. 5 d passim. 
 Edingham, i. 17. 
 
 Edmonstone, Messrs. Millar &, iii. 61. 
 Ednam, ii. 335. 
 Edward, John, iii. 23. 
 Edwards, Mr. D. H., ii. 383, 384, 390. 
 Eglinton, Countess of, ii. 313. 
 
 „ Earl of, i. 189; ii. 31, 88, 93, 103, 
 202, 338 ; iii. 332. 
 Egypt, i. 191 ; ii. 101. 
 Eldin, ii. 161. 
 Elfhill, iii. 22. 
 Elgin, Earl of, ii. 334. 
 Elibank, Lord Patrick, i. 62. 
 Elibanks, iii. 163. 
 Elibraes, iii. 163. 
 Elizabeth, Queen, iii. 54. 
 Ellantou, Laird of, i. 24. 
 EUes, family of, iii. 73. 
 Elliot, Mr. Chai'les, of Edinburgh, ii. 245. 
 „ Sir Gilbert, ii. 367. 
 „ Mr., i. 318. 
 Ellisland, i. 13-15, 36, 50-52, 78, 85, etc. ; ii. 
 19-21, 58, 66-68, 75-80, etc. ; iii. 
 176, 189, 193-200, etc. 
 Ellison, James, M.D., of Windsor, ii. 314. 
 Ellon, village of, ii. 215, 231, 232. 
 Errol, Lord, ii. 214. 
 Erskine, Hon. Andrew, ii. 31. 
 
 „ Mr. Charles, of Linwald, i. 220. 
 „ churchyard, iii. 72. 
 „ Mr. David, i. 243. 
 
 family of, i. 220, 221. 
 „ Hon. Henry, i. 136, 227 ; ii. 338, 339 ; 
 
 iii. 145. 
 „ Lady Isabella, i. 233. 
 „ John, of Dun, i. 242. 
 
364 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Erskine, Lord, ii. 245. 
 
 „ Mrs., of Mar, ii. 336. 
 Esk river, ii. 39. 
 Essex, ii. 235, 236. 
 Esmeade, Mrs. Mitchell, ii. 103. 
 Eton, i. 88 ; ii. 159, 2G5, 305-313. 
 Etruria, ii. 369. 
 Ettrick, iii. 116, 322. 
 Eugenie, the Empress, i, 238. 
 Everitt, Dr., iii. 307. 
 
 „ Martha Burns, iii. 307. 
 
 „ Mrs., ii. 115. 
 Every, Sir Edward, ii. 83. 
 Ewart, Mr., iii. 247. 
 Exeter, ii. 284. 
 Eyemouth, iii. 344. 
 
 Fail, mill of, ii. 120, 133. 
 Failford, ii. 343. 
 Fairbairn, Mr., i. 142. 
 Fairlie, estate of, iii. 60. 
 Falconer, Sir Alexander, iii. 14. 
 
 „ family of, iii. 18-28. 
 
 „ Francis A. K., iii. 14. 
 
 „ Margaret, ii. 381, 386 ; iii. 12, 23, 27. 
 Falkirk, i. 39 ; ii. 105, 118 ; iii. 169. 
 Falkland, i. 336. 
 
 „ Islands, ii. 317. 
 Fallside, iii. 24. 
 Falmouth, i. 231, 232. 
 Fardincalla, ii. 365. 
 
 Farquharson, Donald, of Balfour, ii. 211. 
 „ Dr., i. 19; ii. 211. 
 
 „ William, ii. 211. 
 
 Fearn, ii. 296. 
 Fenwick, ii. 332. 
 Ferdinmakery, ii. 64. 
 
 Ferguson, Dr. Adam, i. 38, 62, 64, 72 ; iii. 
 151, 252. 
 
 ,, Mr., Craigdarroch, i. 112 ; ii. 172 ; 
 
 iii. 218. 
 Fergusson, Sir Adam, i. 72. 
 
 „ Mrs., of Denholm, i. 2. 
 
 „ Kobert, poet, i. 333 ; ii. 166, 252- 
 
 255, 355 ; iii. 124, 142, 322, 335. 
 Ferrier, Agnes, ii. 239. 
 „ Alexander, iii. 74. 
 
 „ Mr. James, ii. 239, 339. 
 
 Ferrier, Jane, ii. 339. 
 
 „ Jemima G., iii. 74. 
 
 „ Susan E., ii. 339. 
 Fetchen, i. 308. 
 Fettercairn, iii. 19. 
 Fetteresso, iii. 9, 22, 25, 26, 76. 
 Fettes, William, ii. 210. 
 Fielding the poet, ii. 97, 98, 250. 
 Fife, i. 38, 58, 129, 327 ; ii. 301, 337, 369, 385; 
 
 iii. 2, 26, 56, 68. 
 Fiji, iii. 21. 
 
 Findlater, Alexander, i. 194, 195, 196, 197, 
 247, 250 ; iii. 275, 277. 
 „ family of, i. 194-197. 
 
 Findlay, James, ii. 27 ; iii. 190. 
 
 „ J. R., of Aberlour, i. 39. 
 Fingland, ii. 261, 262. 
 Finlay, Agnes, of Trees, i. 302. 
 
 „ Mr. Alexander S., ii. 49. 
 
 „ G. L., W.S., i. 176. 
 
 „ Jane, i. 176. 
 
 „ John, ii. 49, 360. 
 
 „ Rev. John, ii. 372, 375, 380. 
 
 „ Mrs., Helensburgh, i. 178, 239. 
 
 „ Rebecca, of Trees, i. 303. 
 Finlayson, Professor James, i. 151. 
 Finlayston House, i. 211, 226, 236 ; ii. 267. 
 Fintona, ii. 275. 
 Finzean, ii. 211. 
 Firth, parish of, iii. 2. 
 Fislier, family of, i. 197-205. 
 
 „ William, i. 197-205, 269, 278-280, 288, 
 296. 
 
 „ Dr. William, ii. 283. 
 Fitzgerland, John, i. 306. 
 Flanders, ii. 86. 
 Fleitz, ii. 352. 
 Fleming, Agnes, ii. 339. 
 „ Charles, ii. 304. 
 „ John, ii. 339. 
 „ Mary, ii. 304. 
 Fletcher, Phillipps L., ii. 185. 
 Flint, Christian, ii. 339, 340. 
 Flodden, ii. 121. 
 Florence, ii. 352, 
 Flusliing, ii. 86. 
 Fochabers, ii. 131 ; iii. 172. 
 Folkestone, ii. 265. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 365 
 
 Folkesworth, ii. 315. 
 
 Fontenelle, Miss, ii. 340 ; iii. 241, 279. 
 
 Foote, i. 331. 
 
 Forbes, Adelaide, iii. 35. 
 
 „ Captain Charles, iii. 32, 35. 
 „ Janet, ii. 238. 
 „ Louisa E., iii. 32. 
 „ Mr. Robert, ii. 213. 
 „ Rev. William, ii. 238. 
 „ Sir William, i. 71, 103. 
 Fordoun, parish of, ii. 386 ; iii. 15-19, 27. 
 Fordyce, Lieutenant, R.N., i. 184. 
 
 „ parish of, i. 194. 
 Foregirth, farm of, ii. 76. 
 Forfar, i. 113-116, 242 ; ii. 234, 236, 296, 337. 
 
 „ county of, iii. 6, 30, 37, 286. 
 Forres, iii. 174. 
 Forrester, Susan, i. 197. 
 Forster, Jean, iii. 29. 
 
 „ Mr., iii. 9. 
 Forsyth, Andrew, iii. 60. 
 „ Emily, ii. 235. 
 „ William, ii. 189. 
 Fortescue, iii. 64. 
 Fort George, iii. 174. 
 Forth Bridge, iii. 27. 
 „ Firth of, ii. 36, 78. 
 „ river, iii. 9, 56, 116, 124, 322. 
 Fotheringham, Christian, ii. 381, 382 ; iii. 9, 
 10, 11. 
 „ William, iii. 22. 
 
 Foulis, Barbara, ii. 126. 
 
 „ Sir James, ii. 126. 
 Fox, Hon. Charles James, i. 226 ; ii. 253, 309 ; 
 
 iii. 147, 251. 
 Foyers, Fall of, ii. 307. 
 France, i. 76, 131, etc. ; ii. 43, 44, 96-101, 155, 
 
 etc. ; iii. 231. 
 Frank, Elizabeth, i. 310, 311, 313. 
 „ George, i. 310. 
 „ William, of Bughtrig, i. 310. 
 Franklin, Dr., ii. 318. 
 Eraser, Alexander, ii. 125. 
 „ Mr. James, ii. 136, 197. 
 „ Luke, ii. 136. 
 „ Sir William, ii. 346 ; iii. 57. 
 Freeland, Mary, i. 7. 
 „ Peter, i. 7. 
 
 Freswick, ii. 283. 
 
 Friars Carse, i. 126, 146, 260, 262 ; ii. 169, 171, 
 
 172, 183 ; iii. 332. 
 Friars Shaw, ii. 169. 
 Frierland, iii. 44. 
 Fullarton, William, of Skeldon, and his family, 
 
 i. 175, 187. 
 Fullerton, family of, i. 205, 210. 
 Fyvie, ii. 237. 
 
 Gainsborough, ii. 307. 
 Gairdner, Dr., ii. 266. 
 
 „ family of, i. 212-221. 
 
 „ Captain Robert, i. 176. 
 
 „ William, Ladykirk, i. 172. 
 
 „ William T., ii. 267. 
 Galashiels, ii. 237. 
 
 Galloway, i. 82, 94, 306, 316, 320 ; ii. 18, 40, 
 64, 174, 257, 361 ; iii. 55, 134, 
 230, 252. 
 
 „ Lord, i. 81 ; ii. 319, 342 ; iii. 254. 
 Galston, ii. 4, 118, 163, 331, 341, 351 ; iii. 97. 
 Gait, William, iii. 64, 65. 
 Galway, county, iii. 72. 
 Garden, Mrs., i. 257. 
 Garlieston, house of, iii. 234. 
 Garrick, i. 331. 
 Garvan, David, iii. 48. 
 Garvock, ii. 386 ; iii. 16. 
 Gatehouse, ii. 258, 344 ; iii. 253-255. 
 Gavin, family of, iii. 12-16. 
 Geddes, Rev. Alexander, LL.D., ii. 224, 340, 34 1. 
 Gellatly, Rev. Robert, i. 338. 
 Gellie, Archibald, iii. 7. 
 Gemmell, Margaret, ii. 204. 
 Geneva, i. 307. 
 Genoa, i. 238. 
 George, James, iii. 28. 
 
 „ Margaret, iii. 28. 
 Gepp, Ernest Cyril, i. 302. 
 „ Hamilton, i. 302. 
 „ Rev. Henry, i. 302. 
 Germany, i. 131 ; iii. 218. 
 Gerrard, Bishop, ii. 231. 
 Gesner, Mr., i. 320. 
 Gib, Mary, iii. 3. 
 Gibb, Dr. Gavin, i. 88. 
 „ Robert, i. 199. 
 
366 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Gibson, Mr. James, ii. 115. 
 
 „ Mrs., ii. 165. 
 GifTord, Mr., i. 149. 
 Gilbanks, Kev. Joseph, i. 302. 
 
 „ Mary Jane, i. 302. 
 Gilcomstone, ii. 210. 
 Gilfillan, Rev. George, i. 202. 
 Gillespie, Alexander, i. 177, 179. 
 „ Anne, i. 178, 179 ; ii. 363. 
 „ Mr. John, ii. 21. 
 „ Professor, iii. 206. 
 GiUis, Dr., ii. 46. 
 Gilmour, family of, i. 173-176. 
 Girvan, ii. 143, 147, 150, 271, 316, 324 ; iii. 54, 
 
 55, 58. 
 Gladstone, family of, i. 120. 
 Glasgow, i. 25, 31, 44, 83, etc. ; ii. 8, 46, 64, 
 etc. ; iii. 19, 52, 69, etc. 
 „ Earl of, i. 69. 
 
 „ Robert, of Mountgreenan, i. 193. 
 Glegg, family of, iii. 31-34. 
 Glen, estate of, ii. 274. 
 „ Margaret, ii. 33. 
 Glenarth, lands of, ii. 121. 
 Glenbervie, ii. 381, 391 ; iii. 2-27, 43, 46. 
 Glencairn, Earl of, and family, i. 210-236 ; ii. 
 117, 190, 267, 322 ; iii. 139, 143- 
 145, 186, 228, 327. 
 „ parish of, ii. 133, 142. 
 Glenconner, i. 226 ; ii. 267-275. 
 Glendevon, ii. 333. 
 Glendonwyne of Parton, iii. 252. 
 Glenfoot of Ardlochan, i. 177, 178, 179 ; ii. 363. 
 Glen of Cowton, iii. 22. 
 Goderich, Clinton, iii. 66. 
 Goethe, ii. 389. 
 Gogo, iii. 35. 
 Goldie, John, ii. 341, 342. 
 
 „ Mr., ii. 175, 193. 
 Goldsmith, Dr., ii. 317. 
 Good, James, iii. 342. 
 Goozerat, iii. 36. 
 Gorbals, ii. 348, 355. 
 Gordon, Caroline Maria, i. 185. 
 
 „ Castle, i. 340; ii. 131, 217; iii. 169, 
 
 172, 174, 333. 
 „ Duchess of, i. 227 ; ii. 117, 131, 322 ; 
 iii. 145-152, 172, 174. 
 
 Gordon, Duke of, iii. 172, 174. 
 
 „ Rev. George, and family, ii. 8, 87. 
 „ Harry, iii. 38. 
 „ Jane, iii. 27. 
 
 „ Sir John, of Lochinvar, ii. 37. 
 ,, Katherine, of Afton, ii. 351. 
 „ Marjory, i. 302. 
 „ Marion, ii. 42. 
 
 „ M. Viscount Kenmure, ii. 257 ; iii. 253. 
 „ Mrs., ii. 258 ; iii. 253. 
 „ Thomas, of Balmaghie, ii. 342. 
 „ Rev. William, Glenbervie, ii. 383. 
 „ William, of Greenlaw, ii. 42. 
 „ William, i. 185. 
 Goudie, Isabella, ii. 149. 
 Gould, Rev. Dr., ii. 50. 
 Gow, Nathaniel, i. 344. 
 
 „ William, i. 344. 
 Gracie, family of, i. 236-239. 
 Graham, David, of Fintry, and family, i. 241- 
 251, 
 „ Douglas, i. 178, 239-241 ; ii. 145, 359, 
 363. 
 John, i. 39. 
 „ Sir John the, ii. 118. 
 „ Mrs., ii. 146, 307 ; iii. 94. 
 
 Nicol, i. 236. 
 „ of Claverhouse, i. 186, 242 ; ii. 164, 
 
 362 ; iii. 49. 
 „ Peter, iii. 54. 
 „ Rev. Robert Balfour, ii. 9. 
 „ General Samuel, ii. 339. 
 „ Thomas, of Balgowan, ii. 307. 
 Grahame, Robert, of Fintry, i. 241-251 ; ii. 96, 
 307 ; iii. 171, 186, 205-234, 270, 
 297, 332. 
 „ Robert, of Gartmore, i. 236. 
 Grant, Alexander, of Bogton, i. 185. 
 
 „ Sir Alexander, of Monymusk, iii. 73. 
 „ Sir Archibald, ii. 212. 
 „ Castle, iii. 173. 
 „ Mr. Charles, ii. 189. 
 „ Clementina, iii. 73. 
 „ Eliza, ii. 346. 
 „ George, ii. 237. 
 „ Rev. James, iii. 73. 
 „ Sir James, of Castle Grant, ii. 346 ; iii. 
 173. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 367 
 
 Grant, Lady, ii. 212. 
 
 „ Sir Ludovick, of Grant, ii. 346. 
 
 „ Pennel, ii. 346. 
 
 „ Sir Eobert, ii. 189. 
 
 „ William, advocate, iii. 24. 
 Grant's Braes, iii. 65, 71. 
 Grantham, ii. 343. 
 Granton, i. 122. 
 Gray, the poet, ii. 89 ; iii. 326. 
 
 „ Rev. James, and family, i. 250-257 ; 
 ii. 62, 360, 375, 380 ; iii. 74, 276. 
 
 „ John Farquhar, iii. 343. 
 Greece, i. 255. 
 Green, Ann, ii. 273. 
 
 „ General, i. 8. 
 Greenbank, lands of, i. 310. 
 Greenfield, Professor, ii. 117 ; iii. 328. 
 Greenford, i. 258. 
 Greenholm, iii. 61. 
 Greenhorn, Captain, iii. 61. 
 Greenock, i. 92, 94, 121, 352 ; ii. 19, 27, 249 ; 
 
 iii. 73, 139. 
 Gregory, Dr., i. 132 ; ii. 245. 
 Greig, family of, iii. 15-43. 
 
 „ J. B., ii. 381, 383, 390. 
 Grenada, Bishop of, ii. 99. 
 Grenan, estate of, iii. 55. 
 Gretna, ii. 11, 23 ; iii. 230. 
 Grierson of Lagg, i. 257. 
 „ Mr., i. 322. 
 „ Dr. George, iii. 343. 
 „ Thomas, ii. 313. 
 „ William, ii. 304. 
 Grieve, James, of Boghead, iii. 319. 
 Groat's, John o', ii. 369. 
 Grose, Captain Francis, i. 258, 263 ; ii. 364 ; 
 
 iii. 220. 
 Grub, Margaret, iii. 28, 29. 
 Guatemala, ii. 235. 
 Guernsey, i. 258. 
 Gustavus III. of Sweden, ii. 77. 
 Guthrie, Alexander, iii. 29. 
 
 „ Allan, ii. 120, 133. 
 
 „ James, iii. 27. 
 
 „ John, ii. 272. 
 
 „ Rachel, iii. 27, 28. 
 
 „ Thomas, 1. 202, 282. 
 
 Haarlem, ii. 155. 
 Haddington, Earl of, i. 164, 312. 
 
 „ shire of, i. 157, 207 ; iii. 65, 71-74. 
 
 Haddo, Lord, i. 73. 
 Haldane, Janet, iii. 68. 
 „ Mary, iii. 68. 
 Halifax, ii. 104, 284. 
 Halkirk, ii. 196. 
 Hall, Sir James, ii. 126. 
 Halliday, Robert, ii. 40. 
 Hallifax, General, ii. 283. 
 Hallowshean, iii. 62. 
 Halyburton, Andrew, of Pitcur, i. 242. 
 „ Sir James, of Pitcur, i, 243. 
 
 „ Mary, i. 243. 
 
 Hamburg, i, 224. 
 Hamilton, Anne, Duchess of, i. 163. 
 
 „ Charlotte, i. 98-101, 304-309 ; ii. 9, 
 262, 333 ; iii. 170, 174, 191, 298. 
 „ Duke of, i. 163, 167, 212 ; ii. 87, 
 
 101, 341. 
 „ family of, i. 263-309. 
 „ Gavin, Mauchline, i. 2-5, 27, 29, 
 47, 91, 96, 164, 171, 263-304, 350; 
 ii. 2, 4, 19, 117, 121, 164, 249, 
 262, 347; iii. 70, 129, 133, 144, 
 170, 216, 333, 344. 
 „ Lord John, i. 163. 
 „ John, Glasgow, i. 1 ; ii. 211. 
 „ John, of Kype, i. 96, 299, 304. 
 
 Mr.,ofSundrum,ii. 151,211; iii.344. 
 „ Presbytery of, i. 21, 194. - 
 „ Professor, ii. 87. 
 „ William L., i. 234. 
 Hampden, John, i. 157. 
 Hampton Court, ii. 185. 
 
 „ Mr. John, ii. 383. 
 Hannay, Agnes, ii. 41. 
 
 Mr. William, ii. 41. 
 Hannibal, ii. 107. 
 Hardy, George Dalton, iii. 35. 
 Harris, Mary Jane, iii. 38. 
 Harrogate, i. 73, 149, 308. 
 Hartlepool, i. 236. 
 Harvieston, i. 96-102, 299, 304-307; ii. 159, 
 
 261, 333; iii. 16, 170. 
 Haugh, George, iii. 243, 258, 283. 
 Havannah, ii. 142. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 3 A 
 
368 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Hawhill, farm of, iii. 16. 
 Hawkhill, farm of, iii. 17, 
 Hay, Ann, i. 243. 
 „ Colonel, of Keillour, i. 243. 
 „ Earls of Tweeddale, family of, i. 9. 
 „ family of, i. 102-105. 
 „ and Henderson, ii. 375, 382. 
 „ Hugh, i. 123. 
 „ Isabel, i. 9. 
 „ James, ii. 210. 
 „ of Drumelzier, i. 9. 
 „ of Duns Castle, i. 9. 
 „ Robert, i. 123. 
 Henderson, David, of Tannoch, i. 311. 
 „ family of, i. 147. 
 
 „ Harriet, ii. 102. 
 
 „ John, ii. 102. 
 
 „ Margaret, iii. 26. 
 
 „ Captain Matthew, i. 309-315 ; ii. 
 
 98 ; iii. 222, 335. 
 Hendon, ii. 314. 
 
 Henri, James, of Bernaldean, i. 193. 
 Henry, Dr., i. 64 ; ii. 129. 
 
 „ Prince, ii. 33. 
 Herat, iiL 40. 
 
 Hermitage Castle, i. 11 ; iii. 199. 
 Heron, family of, i. 315-327. 
 „ Mr., ii. 39. 
 „ Patrick, ii. 342, 343. 
 „ Robert, i. 51, 57, 80, 139, 316-325 ; 
 iii. 134, 154, 226, 266, 278. 
 Herries, Lady Agnes, ii. 37. 
 „ Helen, i. 278. 
 „ James Maxwell, ii. 37. 
 „ Lord John, ii. 37. 
 „ W. M., of Spottes, ii. 39. 
 Hewatson, family of, i. 204 ; ii. 208, 209. 
 Hewett, Captain, iii. 32. 
 Hewitt, Richard, i. 46. 
 Hexham, i. 12 ; iii. 164. 
 Higham, farm of, iii. 17. 
 Highfield, Gillanders of, ii. 211. 
 Hill, family of, i. 327-336. 
 „ Mrs., ii. 111. 
 
 „ Peter, i. 85, 139, 184, 327-336, 343; 
 ii. 79, 244, 380. 
 Hilton, iii. 20. 
 
 „ Cloch of, iii. 23. 
 
 Hilton, Hannah, ii. 238. 
 
 „ Henry, of Fairgirth, ii. 238. 
 Hobart Town, i. 236. 
 Hobhouse, Sir Benjamin, i. 24. 
 
 „ Sophia Elizabeth, i. 24. 
 
 Hogarth, family of, ii. 283, 284. 
 Hogg, Eleanor Jane, iii. 68. 
 
 „ James, i. 253, 257 ; ii. 65. 
 Hogstoun, i. 240, 
 
 Holland, i. 131 ; ii. 101, 155 ; iii. 77. 
 „ family of, iii. 33-35, 39. 
 „ Lord, i. 128. 
 Holmains, i. 222, 224, 225. 
 Holme, William, i. 214. 
 Holmes, Major-General, iii. 37. 
 Holmhead, ii. 116. 
 
 Holyrood, i. 122 ; ii. 37, 43, 158, 297 ; iii. 77. 
 Home, Earl of, i. 311. 
 
 „ John, i. 62 ; ii. 49, 276 
 „ Mr., i. 263. 
 Hood, William, iii. 164, 319. 
 Hooper, Mr. Samuel, i. 258. 
 Hope, Archibald, i. 149, 151. 
 „ Hon. Charles, i. 167. 
 „ Dr., ii. 240. 
 Hopetoun, Earl of, i. 109-114, 159. 
 Horsham, i. 209. 
 Houghton, family of, ii. 270. 
 Houston, i. 217, 219, 221, 222. 
 „ Annie, i. 20. 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 169. 
 „ Sir John, Bart., i. 20. 
 Howat, Mrs., ii. 13, 15. 
 „ of Mabie, i. 118. 
 ,, William, ii. 16. 
 Howe, Barbara, ii. 11. 
 Howison, Mary, ii. 10. 
 Hoy, James, i. 340. 
 Hudson, family of, iii. 29. 
 Hudson's Bay, i. 166. 
 Hume, David, i. 44, 61, 123 ; ii. 49, 245. 
 „ Joseph, iii. 30. 
 „ Lord, i. 124. 
 Humphry, James, ii. 343. 
 
 „ William, ii. 343. 
 
 Hunter, Dr. Andrew, i. 6, 7. 
 „ David, of Burnes, iii. 2. 
 „ James, i. 30. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 369 
 
 Hunter, Rev. John, i. 7, 170, 173, 214 ; ii. 213, 
 230. 
 „ John, Ayr, i. 71. 
 „ of Hunterson, i. 71. 
 „ Susan, i. 35. 
 „ Susannah, i. 170, 174. 
 „ William, ii. 165. 
 Huntingdonshire, ii. 315. 
 Huntly, Marquis of, i. 163, 243 ; ii. 225. 
 Hurry, Colonel, i. 213. 
 Hutcheson, A. B., iii. 308. 
 
 „ family of, iii. 56, 68. 
 
 „ Professor Francis, i. 123. 
 
 „ Hugh, ii. 149. 
 
 „ James, ii. 376. 
 
 Hutton, John, ii. 276. 
 Hyland, William, ii. 39. 
 Hyndford, Earl of, ii. 105. 
 Hyndman, Mr. John, i. 225. 
 Hyslop, John, iii. 252. 
 
 „ Mrs., i. 345 ; ii. 24 ; iii. 252. 
 „ William, ii. 11. 
 Hythe, ii. 10. 
 
 Inchbreck, lands of, iii. 4, 6, 11, 18, 77. 
 
 „ Stuarts of, iii. 76. 
 
 Inglis, family of, i. 336-338. 
 „ Rev. James, i. 40. 
 „ Mr., Attorney for the Crown, ii. 345. 
 „ Dr. Thomas, ii. 65. 
 Innerleithen, i. 11 ; iii. 163. 
 Innerwick, ii. 47. 
 Innes, Gilbert, of Stow, ii, 276. 
 Inveraray, i. 162 ; ii. 49 ; iii. 166, 208. 
 Inverness, i. 306 ; ii. 188, 216, 234, 284, 306 ; 
 
 iii. 15, 169, 174. 
 Irongray, parish of, ii. 40. 
 Irvine, town of, i. 205 ; ii. 31, 164, 192, 201, 
 204, 304, 332 ; iii. 45, 71, 91, 100-108, 116, 
 124, 188, 322, 338. 
 Irving, Dr., ii. 162. 
 „ Edward, i, 89. 
 „ Francis, iii. 57. 
 „ Mr. John, Glenbervie, iii. 8. 
 Isle, The, EUisland, iii. 200, 202. 
 
 „ St. Mary's, iii. 254, 255. 
 Isles, Lord of the, iii. 55. 
 Isleworth, i. 210. 
 
 Jack, family of, iii. 61, 62. 
 
 Jackston, farm of, iii. 19. 
 
 Jaffray, Rev. Andrew, ii. 343. 
 
 Jamaica, i. 236, 352 ; ii. 5, 59-61, 147, 167, 
 
 249, etc. ; iii. 16, 130-137, 246, 337. 
 Jamestoun, farm of, i. 241 ; ii. 332 ; iii. 52. 
 Jamie, Agnes, Garvock, iii. 3. 
 Jamieson, Jean, i. 290. 
 
 „ William, ii. 33. 
 Jarbo, Emma, iii. 41. 
 
 Jedburgh, i. 11, 129, 147 ; ii. 16-18 ; iii. 163. 
 Jellie, John, iii. 13. 
 Jenkins, Rev. A. A., ii. 237. 
 
 „ Edward, ii. 314. 
 Jerdan, William, i. 169. 
 Jersey, i. 239, 258. 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, i. 56, 63, 84, 101, 157 ; 
 
 ii. 159, 313, 317 ; iii. 32. 
 Johnston, Commodore, i. 207. 
 
 „ family of, i. 339-348. 
 
 „ Mr, Joseph, i. 45. 
 
 „ Lucy, ii. 258. 
 
 „ Maria, ii, 314. 
 
 „ Mary, ii. 47. 
 
 „ Mr., Drumcrieff, ii. 23. 
 
 „ Captain Rol)ert, ii. 47. 
 
 „ Sarah, i, 45, 50. 
 
 „ William, ii. 314. 
 
 „ Wynne, of Hilton, ii. 349. 
 Johnstone, George, M.D., i. 176. 
 
 „ James, publisher, i. 339-348 ; ii. 
 336, 352-354 ; iii. 176-178, 193, 
 291. 
 
 „ Sir James, of Westerhall, ii. 81 ; 
 iii. 221. 
 
 „ Margaret, i. 176. 
 
 „ Richard, iii. 67. 
 
 Jolly, William, ii. 165. 
 Jones, William, iii. 28, 
 Jonson, Ben, i. 331. 
 
 Kair, ii. 385, 386 ; iii. 15. 
 
 Kames, Lord, i. 61, 63, 132 ; ii. 159, 240, 245, 
 
 353. 
 Kalilbors, Alexandrina, Baroness, i, 8, 
 Kay, John, i, 259, 
 Kean, Helen, iii, 56. 
 
370 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Keating, Francesca Elizabeth, i. 121. 
 
 „ J. W., i. 121. 
 Keay, James, of Snaigow, i. 250. 
 Keith, Alexander, Criggie, iii. 25. 
 
 „ Isabella, of Craig, ii. 387 ; iii. 25, 28, 
 43. 
 Kells, i. 316, 320. 
 
 Kelly, Thomas, Earl of, i. 312 ; ii. 31. 
 Kelso, i. 11 ; ii. 36, 335 ; iii. 163. 
 Kelton, parish of, i. 120, 316. 
 Kemmis-hall, ii. 21, 23. 
 Kemnay, parish of, ii. 212. 
 Ken, river, iii. 253. 
 Kenmore, Taymouth, iii. 161. 
 Kenmure Castle, ii. 257 ; iii. 253-256. 
 Kennedy, Agnes, i. 168, 187. 
 
 „ Mr. Alexander, i. 214 ; ii. 112, 
 344. 
 
 „ Anne, i. 72 ; ii, 344, 365. 
 
 „ Captain, of Kailzie, ii. 50. 
 
 „ Francis, i. 187. 
 
 „ Helen, i. 301-303, 348. 
 
 „ Sir James, of Dunure, i. 242. 
 
 „ Jean, ii. 344, 365. 
 
 „ John, i. 350-352. 
 
 „ Sir John, of Culzean, i. 239. 
 
 „ John, of Dunure, i. 167. 
 
 Margaret, i. 299, 348, 349 ; ii. 5. 
 Miss, i. 102, 299. 
 
 „ of Ardmillan, ii. 316. 
 
 „ of Kirkmichael, ii. 324. 
 
 „ of Knockdaw, i. 168, 169. 
 
 „ Eobert, i. 301, 348. 
 
 „ Sir Thomas, i. 187. 
 Kent, ii. 128 ; iii. 1, 34. 
 
 Keppel, William, Viscount Barrington, i. 176. 
 Kerr, James, iii. 10. 
 
 „ John, Morriston, i. 95. 
 „ Mr. Robert, ii. 246. 
 Kerroughtree, ii. 345. 
 Kesson, family of, iii. 20. 
 Kilbarchan, ii. 273. 
 Kilbride, i. 352. 
 Kildonan, ii. 188. 
 Kilgour, Bishop, ii. 232. 
 Killiecrankie, i. 186. 
 Kilmaine, Lord, iii. 45. 
 Kilmalcolm, i. 211. 
 
 Kilmarnock, i. 1, 3, 21, 24, etc. ; ii. 2, 19, 115, 
 
 etc. ; iii. 51, 67, 71, 134, etc. 
 Kilmaurs, Lord, i. 131, 210, 226. 
 
 „ parish, ii. 116, 347. 
 Kilmodan, ii. 49. 
 Kilpatrick, Xellie, iii. 89. 
 Kilsyth, ii. 84. 
 
 Kilwinning, ii. 143, 338, 345, 353 ; iii. 336. 
 Kincaid, Mr. Alexander, i. 130, 131. 
 King, George, i. 303. 
 Kingsknowe, i. 127 ; ii. 164. 
 Kingston, ii. 60. 
 Kinhilt, lands of, i. 306. 
 Kiuloch, George, of Kair, iii. 24, 25. 
 Kinmouth, ii. 386 ; iii. 23, 33. 
 KinneflF, parish of, ii. 381, 387; iii. 2, 16, 
 
 20-22. 
 Kinneil, iii. 68. 
 Kinross, iii. 67, 68, 74, 169. 
 Kintore, iii. 18, 21. 
 Kintyre, ii. 144. 
 Kirk, Joanna, ii. 238. 
 Kirkaldie, Alexander, i. 194. 
 „ Jean, i. 194. 
 „ Mr. Thomas, i. 194. 
 
 Kirkcolm, ii. 147. 
 Kirkcudbright, 1. 17, 45, 51, 82, 167, etc. ; ii. 
 
 11, 39, 102, 238, etc. ; iii. 54, 254, etc. 
 Kirkintilloch, ii. 46. 
 Kirkland, ii. 149, 316, 365. 
 Kirkmaiden, i. 306 ; ii. 369. 
 Kirkmichael, ii. 1. 
 Kirknewton, i. 334. 
 Kirkoswald, i. 39, 177, 205, 239, etc. ; ii. 
 
 143-153, 185, 272, etc. ; iii. 51-64, 83-96. 
 Kirkpatrick, ii. 40. 
 
 „ Helen, ii. 344. 
 
 „ Sir James, Closeburn, i. 106. 
 
 „ Mr. Joseph, ii. 252. 
 
 „ Mr., of Dunscore, iii. 204. 
 
 „ William, of Couheath, i. 238. 
 
 „ William, of Raeberry, ii. 42. 
 
 Kirkpatrick-Juxta, i. 40. 
 Kirkton, Jean, iii. 94, 95. 
 Kirktoun Inn, ii. 365. 
 Kirkwood, Mr., i. 321. 
 Knockback, iii. 19, 20. 
 Knockhill, ii. 381, 389. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 371 
 
 Knockqiiliam, iii. 21. 
 Knocksliinnoch, ii. 18. 
 Knox, Elizabetli, ii. 301. 
 
 „ Isa Craig, iii. 1. 
 
 „ James, ii. 273 ; iii. 25. 
 
 „ John, ii. 301 ; iii. 60. 
 Krow, Robert, of Parkliead, ii. 386 ; iii. 4, 5. 
 Krudner, Ellen, Baroness, i. 8. 
 Kyle, i. 353 ; ii. 305, 363 ; iii. 116, 322, 327. 
 
 Laggan, lands of, ii. 133, 142. 
 
 Laing, Mr. David, i. 347, 348. 
 
 Laithers, ii. 384. 
 
 Lamb, Mr. A. C, Dundee, i. 126. 
 
 Lambetli, ii. 127. 
 
 Lambie, William, iii. 61. 
 
 Lamie, James, i. 26, 202, 269-271, 278-288 ; 
 
 ii. 247. 
 Lamont, Dr., i. 176. 
 
 „ Katlierine, i. 176. 
 Lanarkshire, i. 122, 149, 194, 263, 311, 352 ; 
 
 ii. 101, 142. 
 Langham, i. 12. 
 Langholm, ii. 27. 
 Langhorne, iii. 151. 
 Lapland, i. 226. 
 
 Lapraik, John, i. 352-359 ; iii. 120-122, 322. 
 Largie-side, iii. 308. 
 Largs, iii. 67. 
 Larpent, Sir A. de, ii. 235. 
 
 „ Caroline Anne, ii. 235. 
 Latham, Harriet, ii. 283. 
 Lauder, farm of, ii. 10. 
 Lauderdale, iii. 251. 
 
 „ Earl of, ii. 99. 
 
 Laurencekirk, ii. 381-383, 389 ; iii. 4, 15, 169. 
 Laurie, Archibald, i. 307, 309 ; ii. 1-10. 
 
 „ Catherine, ii. 169. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 1-10. 
 
 „ Rev. George, i. 46-49, 307; ii. 1-10; 
 iii. 157. 
 
 „ Sir Robert, ii. 1, 169, 171 ; iii. 218. 
 Lawrie, Sir AValter, iii. 218. 
 Lavvson, Rev. R., ii. 360, 375, 380 ; iii. 346. 
 Lebrun, Antonia, i. 236. 
 
 „ M., of Hamburg, i. 236. 
 Leburn, Mary, iii. 68. 
 
 Leddrie Green, ii. 270. 
 Ledmacdunegil, ii. 32. 
 Leeward Islands, ii. 175-177, 244. 
 Leghorn, family of, iii. 16. 
 Leglen, woods of, i. 188 : ii. 368. 
 Leicester, Thomas, Earl of, ii. 325. 
 Leigh Park, farm of, i. 239. 
 Lekprevick, John, i. 353. 
 
 „ Robert, i. 352. 
 
 Lennox, Matthew, Earl of, i. 168. 
 Leslie, parish of, i. 336 ; ii. 301, 302. 
 Lesmahagow, iii. 66. 
 Leven, banks of, ii. 159. 
 
 „ Earl of, i. 60. 
 Lewars, family of, ii. 10-16. 
 
 „ Jessie, i. 346 ; ii. 10-1 6 ; iii. 289, 290, 298. 
 Leyden, i. 24, 256. 
 Ley, family of, iii. 19, 20. 
 Liddell of Auchtertool, i. 327. 
 Liff, ii. 210. 
 
 Lightshaw, farm of, i. 353. 
 Lilliesleaf, ii. 169. 
 Limekilns, ii. 265. 
 Limerick, i. 306. 
 Limond, Mr., of Darblair, i. 235. 
 
 „ Provost, Ayr, i. 93. 
 Lincluden, Abbey of, iii. 250, 251. 
 
 „ College, iii. 249. 
 
 Lindsaj', Sir Alexander, i. 335. 
 
 „ Eliza, i. 334, 335. 
 
 „ Isabella, ii. 16-18 ; iii. 163. 
 
 „ Sir John, i. 186, 335. 
 
 „ John, of Edzell, iii. 3. 
 
 „ Margaret, i. 186 ; ii. 17, 18. 
 
 „ Dr. Robert, ii. 17. 
 Linlithgowshire, i. 34, 35, 97 ; ii. 33, 249, 250 ; 
 
 iii. 68, 169. 
 Linn, Caldron, ii. 262 ; iii. 174. 
 Linshart, ii. 216-233. 
 Linton, i. 194. 
 Littleton, iii. 52, 56. 
 Livingston, Alexander, iii. 74. 
 
 „ Henry, iii. 74. 
 
 Loanfoot, ii. 115, 120. 
 Lochcarron, ii. 188. 
 
 Lochlea, farm of, i. 296 ; ii. 28, 75, 109, 152, 
 163, 222, 343 ; iii. 3, 29, 70, 92, 96, 107-110, 
 113, 177, 310, 342. 
 
372 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Lochleven Castle, iii. 68. 
 Loch Lomond, iii. 167. 
 Lochmaben, ii. 343. 
 Loch Ryan, iii. 57. 
 Lock, Mary Rice, ii. 315. 
 
 „ Peter, ii. 315. 
 Lockerbie, i. 110 ; ii. 316. 
 Lockhart, Alexander, of Bogliall, iii. 46. 
 „ Anna, i. 30. 
 „ John, i. 30. 
 
 John G., 1. 205 ; ii. 124, 137, 161, 
 344, 354 ; iii. 110, 150, 207, 230, 
 262, 278, 295. 
 „ Norman, of Tarbrax, ii. 72. 
 „ of Barr, ii. 190, 248. 
 Lockhead, William, i. 166. 
 Lockie, Susanna, i. 187. 
 Logan, Dr. Hugh, ii. 149. 
 
 „ James, of Lagwine, ii. 18. 
 
 „ John, of Knockshinnoch, i. 199, 301 ; 
 
 ii. 18-20 ; iii. 216. 
 „ John, Leith, i. 64. 
 „ Margaret, i. 213. 
 Logiealmond, i. 91. 
 Lollards of Kyle, ii. 190, 191. 
 London, i. 11, 41-44, 63, etc. 
 Londonderry, ii. 84. 
 Longfellow, ii. 370. 
 Longside, ii. 213-232, 261. 
 Longtown, iii. 164. 
 Lorimer, family of, ii. 20-26. 
 
 „ Jean, i. 127 ; ii. 20-26, 349 ; iii. 265. 
 „ Mr., Cairnmill, i. 195. 
 „ William, i. 127. 
 Lothian, Marquis of, i. 147. 
 
 „ Robert, Earl of, i. 130. 
 Loudoun, i. 46-49, 307, 309 ; ii. 2, 8, 9 ; 
 iii. 49. 
 „ Castle, i. 193, 302. 
 
 „ Countess of, ii. 32, 347. 
 
 „ Earl of, i. 264, 296 ; iii. 70. 
 
 Loughborough, Lord Chancellor, i. 130. 
 Lovat, Catherine, i. 243. 
 „ Lord Hugh, i. 243. 
 „ Simon, Master of, i. 60. 
 Love, Jean, iii. 60. 
 Lovell, Sir Richard, i. 242. 
 Low, Isal)el, iii. 31. 
 
 Lowder, Charles, ii. 236. 
 
 Lowe the poet, iii. 253. 
 
 Luce bay, iii. 57. 
 
 Ludquharn, ii. 214, 261. 
 
 Lugar, water of, i. 350 ; ii. 339 ; iii. 124. 
 
 Lunan, lands of, i. 242. 
 
 Lunkyn, Ranulph de, iii. 13. 
 
 „ Walter de, iii. 13. 
 Lushington, General, iii. 34. 
 Luthers, Cornelia, ii. 155. 
 Lynedoch, Lord, ii. 307. 
 Lyons, i. 226. 
 
 Mabon, Mr., ii. 239. 
 
 Macadam, Captain, of Laight, ii. 19. 
 
 „ Martha, ii. 19. 
 M'Adam, Mr., of Craigangillan, ii. 324. 
 
 „ Miss, ii. 324. 
 M'Alexander, Patrick, iii. 58. 
 M'Bean, family of, iii. 15, 29. 
 Macbeth, iii. 174. 
 M'Calmont, Elizabeth, i. 213. 
 M'Cay, John, iii. 39. 
 M'Clatchie, Jean, ii. 269. 
 M'Climont, Jean, i. 316. 
 M'Clure, James, ii. 268. 
 M'Comb, Dr., ii. 111. 
 M'Coul, Agnes, i. 179. 
 M'Culloch, David, ii. 344 ; iii. 207, 260. 
 Maccuswel, Hugh, of Carlaverock, ii. 36. 
 
 „ Sir John de, ii. 36. 
 
 M'Dermit, Mr. John, i. 214, 282, 283 ; iii. 219, 
 
 295. 
 Macdonald, Rev. C. C, ii. 383, 390. 
 M 'Donald, James, iii. 344. 
 M'Doual, Colonel Andrew, i. 348, 349. 
 Macdowal of Freugh, i. 206. 
 M 'Do wall, Anne, i. 336. 
 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 38. 
 
 „ William,!. 192,336; ii. 156,376,380. 
 
 MacEwen, , ii. 198. 
 
 M'Fadzeane, Margaret, iii. 68. 
 Macfarquhar, Messrs. Bell &, ii. 298. 
 MacFarquhar, Mr., i. 318, 321 ; ii. 241, 
 
 Macfie, , of Liverpool, iii. 61. 
 
 M'Gibbon, Mr., i. 339. 
 M'Gill, Mr., i. 279, 283. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 373 
 
 M'Gill, Mrs. Racliael, i. 124. 
 
 „ Dr. William, ii. 194, 345 ; iii. 216. 
 M'Grean, family of, ii. 362, 365, 375 ; iii. 
 
 55-63. 
 M'Gregor, Helen, ii. 364, 
 Macgregors, i. 236. 
 M'Guire, family of, i. 170, 173, 212-236; ii. 
 
 267. 
 Machar, parish of, ii. 211. 
 Macintosh, Charles, ii. 86. 
 
 „ George, of Dunhatton, ii. 86. 
 
 „ John, ii. 86. 
 
 Macintyre, Duncan Ban, i. 313. 
 M'lvor, Colonel, Glasgow, i. 92. 
 
 M'Jannet, , i. 241. 
 
 M'Jerrow, John, i. 71. 
 
 Mackay, George, Lord Reay, i. 210. 
 
 „ Hon, Marianne, i. 210. 
 Mackenzie, Sir Alexander, i. 96. 
 „ Dorothea, i. 77. 
 
 Dr. ii, 28-32, 321, 351. 
 „ Edward Hay, i. 77. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 28-32. 
 
 „ Hannah, i. 96. 
 
 „ Hector, i. 96. 
 
 Henry, i. 49, 56, 133, 140 ; ii. 6, 8, 
 131, 321 ; iii. 143-146 
 „ Major H., i. 207. 
 
 „ Sir Henry, i. 97, 132, 140. 
 
 „ John Whiteford, ii. 32. 
 
 „ John, of Kincraig, i. 96. 
 
 „ Lady, ii. 262. 
 
 „ Louis, ii. 346. 
 
 „ Sir Eobert, Redcastle, i, 96. 
 
 „ General Roderick, i. 96. 
 
 „ Warburton, i. 96. 
 
 M'Kie, Anthony, of Netherlaw, ii. 40. 
 Mackinlay, Rev. James, D.D., ii. 347, 348. 
 M'Kinlay, Mr., ii. 166. 
 Mackintosh, Charles, ii. 87, 273. 
 „ George, ii. 86. 
 
 „ Mr. James, ii, 256. 
 
 Macklin, i. 331. 
 
 Maclagan, family of, i. 175, 176. 
 „ General Robert, i. 173. 
 Maclaine, Flora, i. 175. 
 
 „ Murdoch, of Loch Buy, i. 175. 
 Maclaurin, family of, ii. 48-53, 
 
 Maclean, Dr. Allan, of Mull, i. 175. 
 
 M'Lehose, family of, 50-63. 
 
 „ Mrs., i, 16, 103, 257 ; ii, 46, 50-63, 
 
 137, 340. 
 
 Macleod, Dr., ii. 159. 
 
 M'Leod, Mr. John, of Raasay, iii. 168. 
 
 M'Leods of Raasay, ii. 347. 
 
 M'Lure, John, of Alloway, ii. 269. 
 „ Mary, ii. 269, 270. 
 
 M'Math, Rev. John, i. 297 ; ii. 35, 36. 
 
 M'Morine, Rev. Mr., iii. 244. 
 
 M'Murdo, family of, i. 44, 58, 112; ii. 64-72, 
 336 ; iii. 245. 
 
 Macosquin, ii. 1. 
 
 Macpherson, James, i. 62, 67 ; iii. 61. 
 „ Peter, i. 92. 
 
 Macquechan, Robert, ii. 160, 
 
 M'Quhae, Mr., i. 283, 284. 
 
 „ Rev. William, D.D., ii. 347. 
 
 Macrae, family of, i. 170, 212-226. 
 
 M'Rae, Allan, i. 214. 
 
 M'Taggart, family of, i. 240 ; ii. 266, 359, 364. 
 
 Mac William, Jean, ii. 275. 
 
 M'William, Helen, ii. 186, 187. 
 
 Madeira, ii. 176, 177, 185, 244. 
 
 Maestrich, iii. 21. 
 
 Mahaar, ii. 147. 
 
 Maidens, the (rocks), i. 241 ; ii. 144. 
 Maine, Mr., ii. 80. 
 Maistre, Maria C. le, i. 222, 225. 
 Maitland, Charles, Eccles, i. 78. 
 
 „ Grizel, i. 78, 
 Major, family of, iii, 35. 
 Makitterick, Captain James, i. 306. 
 
 „ John, i. 306. 
 
 Malcolm IV., King of Scots, ii. 33. 
 
 „ Sir John, i. 256, 259, 
 Malta, i. 207. 
 Malvern Link, ii. 236, 
 Man, Isle of, ii. 236 ; iii. 93, 230. 
 Mancha, La, ii. 343. 
 Manchester, i. 110 ; ii. 86, 127 ; iii. 37. 
 Manitoba, i. 166. 
 Mann, Anne, i. 328. 
 Manners, Lord Robert, iii. 29. 
 Manor, Lord, ii. 162. 
 Mansfield, Earl of, i. 63 ; ii. 65, 
 Mar, Earl of, iii. 9, 
 
374 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Mar, Erskiiie of, iii. 233. 
 Marionville, i. 222. 
 Marischal College, ii. 212, 236. 
 
 „ Earl, iii. 9, 76, 77. 
 Markincli, iii. 26. 
 Markland, George, ii. 27. 
 
 „ Jean, ii. 27. 
 
 Marlborougli, ii. 370. 
 Marnoch, parish of, iii. 19. 
 Marshall, Francis, of Park, ii. 360, 376. 
 Martin, Alexander, iii. 16. 
 
 „ Mr., i. 89. 
 Martingdon ford, iii. 249. 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, i. 168, ii. 18, 37, 98, 243, 
 
 354. 
 Marykirk, iii. 31, 32. 
 Maryland, ii. 303, 304. 
 Mason, John, iii. 47. 
 Masson, John, iii. 20. 
 
 Masterton, Mr. Allan, i. 117, 330; ii. 32-34, 
 133, 136 ; iii. 217. 
 „ family of, ii. 32-34. 
 
 Mauchline, i. 5, 12, 24-28, 50, 87, 102, 125, 
 145, etc. ; ii. 19, 27-32, 95, 104, 
 116, etc.; iii. 43, 61, 70, 113, 
 129, 148, etc. 
 „ Castle of, i. 91, 304. 
 
 Maudsley, Mr. Henry, ii. 127. 
 Mauritius, iii. 41. 
 Mavis Grove, ii. 155, 156. 
 Maxwell, families of, i. 20-23, 120, 190, 191 ; 
 ii. 37-46. 
 „ William, M.D., i. 127, 162; ii. 24, 
 
 43-46 ; iii. 268, 278, 291, 301. 
 „ W. H., of Munches, ii. 42 ; iii. 57. 
 Maxwelltown, ii. 15, 40, 133. 
 Maybole, i. 39, 311 ; ii. 147-149, 266, 316, 360, 
 
 363, 375 ; iii. 58-64, 78. 
 Mearns, the, ii. 361, 384. 
 Mediterranean, ii. 101; iii. 41. 
 Meek, Eobert, ii. 301. 
 Melbourne, iii. 38. 
 Meldrum, Isaliel, iii. 3. 
 Melrose, i. 304. 
 
 „ Abbey, ii. 64. 
 Melville, Henry Viscount, i. 130. 
 Melvin, Margaret, iii. 26. 
 Mendelssohn, Felix, ii. 12. 
 
 Meniwa, ii. 237. 
 
 Menteith, Rev. James Stewart, ii. 352. 
 
 „ Mr., of Closeburn, i. 330. 
 Menzies, Mr., of Pitfoddels, ii. 45. 
 Merkland, iii. 53. 
 Merry, James, i. 223. 
 
 „ John, ii. 163. 
 Merton, iii. 20. 
 Mexico, i. 207. 
 Meyer, Colonel de, i. 8. 
 Michilimackinac, ii. 155. 
 Middleton, ii. 235, 236. 
 
 „ General, i. 212 ; ii. 86. 
 
 Middletoun, Robert, in Broombank, iii. 9. 
 Miers the artist, ii. 353. 
 Milbank, F. A., i. 236. 
 Mill, Margaret, iii. 2. 
 
 „ WiUie's, ii. 34, 121, 133. 
 Millar, Jane, ii. 260. 
 
 „ Mrs., ii. 250. 
 
 „ Robert, i. 26. 
 Miller, Alexander, ii. 32. 
 
 „ Rev. Alexander, ii. 347. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 30-32, 73-83. 
 
 „ Hugh, ii. 387. 
 
 „ of balswinton, i. 68, 98, 100, 102, 284, 
 333; ii. 73-83, 268, 336; iii. 145, 
 164, 176, 189, 202. 
 
 „ of Glenlee, ii. 73. 
 MiUhead, ii. 143. 
 Milligan, Agnes, i. 106. 
 Milltimber, lands of, iii. 21. 
 Milne, Catherine, iii. 18, 19. 
 
 „ Captain Duncan, i. 185. 
 
 „ Janet, iii. 2. 
 Milton, Lord, i. 46 ; iii. 165. 
 
 „ the poet, ii. 366. 
 Minnigaff, parish of, i. 94. 
 Minnybee, ii. 154, 285 ; iii. 53. 
 Minorca, i. 123. 
 Minto House, ii. 122. 
 
 „ Lord, ii. 367. 
 Mitchell, John, of Friendlesshead, i. 271, 272 ; 
 ii. 348. 
 „ Mr., collector, i. 246; iii. 232, 280. 
 „ Thomas, Barras, iii. 22. 
 Mitch elson, Mr. Samuel, i. 9, 10. 
 Moat, Catherine, iii. 62. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 375 
 
 Moffat, i. 107-116, 159; ii. 20-23, 34, 133, 
 
 242; iii. 217, 286. 
 Mohammed, Dost, iii. 40. 
 
 „ Shall of Persia, iii. 40. 
 
 Moir, Agnes, i. 160. 
 „ Dr. Henry, i. 160. 
 „ Dr. Maitland, ii. 383, 389, 390. 
 Moira, Earl of, i. 302. 
 Molendinar burn, ii. 46. 
 Moliere, i. 331, 
 MoUance House, ii. 41. 
 Mollison, Alexander, iii. 23. 
 Monboddo, Lord, ii. 340, 346, 388; iii. 43, 
 
 146, 252. 
 Moncrieff, Rev. Alexander, i. 336. 
 Monday, Black, iii. 145. 
 Money, Robert Cotton, i, 257. 
 Moniaive, ii. 143. 
 Monk, General, i. 212, 
 Monkland, ii. 172, 
 
 Monkton, i. 217, 218, 221 ; ii, 9, 103; iii. 73. 
 Montague, Duke of, i. 228. 
 Montgarswood, i. 198, 203; ii. 164, 168. 
 Montgomerie, Mr. Alexander, iii. 344. 
 „ Andrew, ii. 11. 
 
 „ Castle, iii. 97. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 11. 
 
 „ General, ii. 338. 
 
 „ Hugh, ii. 11, 202. 
 
 Hugh, of Busbie, i. 187. 
 „ Mr. James, of Coilsfield, iii. 344. 
 
 „ John, ii. 143. 
 
 „ Mary, ii. 303. 
 
 „ Sir Robert, Skermorlie, ii. 47. 
 
 Montgomery, George, ii. 16. 
 
 „ Jessie Lewars, ii. 16. 
 
 Montreal, iii. 61, 62. 
 
 Montrose, i, 194, 242; ii. 133, 134; iii. 2, 11, 
 17, 26-42, 108, 173, 296. 
 „ Dukes of, i. 242. 
 „ Marquis of, i. 186. 
 Monymusk, ii. 212, 230. 
 Moody, Rev. Alexander, i. 284 ; ii. 348, 
 Moore, Dr., i. 47, 50, 138, 188, 262, 314 ; ii. 
 84-113, 285, 332, 354; iii. 75, 86 
 168, 190. 
 „ family of, ii. 84-103. 
 „ Tom, i. 336. 
 VOL. Ill, 3 
 
 Moray, Anna, i, 243. 
 
 „ Robert, of Abercairny, i, 243. 
 „ Thomas, Earl of, i, 180, 
 Morayshire, ii. 188. 
 More, Hannah, i. 2. 
 Morham Muir, iii. 65, 74. 
 Morison, family of, ii. 104-106. 
 
 „ Messrs., of Perth, i. 322, 323 ; ii. 312. 
 Morpeth, iii. 164. 
 Morrison, Colin, i. 113. 
 Morriston, farm of, i. 241 ; iii. 53. 
 Morton, Agnes, iii. 58. 
 „ Christina, ii. 106. 
 „ Hugh, Townhead, iii. 62. 
 „ parish of, ii. 20. 
 Morville, Hugh de, i. 210. 
 Moscow, iii. 217. 
 
 Mosgiel, i. 2, 21-23, 32, 115, 188, 296, 350, 
 356 ; ii. 4, 29, 75, 95, 116-120, 148-167, 205, 
 248, 320, 341, 350, 370 ; iii. 65, 72, 113-122, 
 130, 134-140, 164, 188, 190, 197, 342. 
 Motherwell, iii. 68. 
 Moultan, iii. 32, 37. 
 Mounsey, Mr. A. C, ii. 18. 
 Mount Charles, estate of, i. 1 76. 
 Mount Ulston, i. 147. 
 Mousewald, lands of, i. 257, 
 Mozzello, ii. 101. 
 Muir, family of, ii. 116-121, 133. 
 „ Mary, of Cassencarry, ii. 65. 
 „ Robert, ii. 115-120, 131, 268, 322. 
 „ William, i. 301. 
 „ William, Tarbolton, iii. 185, 319. 
 Muirkirk, i. 353, 359 ; ii. 105 ; iii. 49, 120, 322. 
 Muirsmill, farm of, i. 353, 354, 358, 359. 
 Mull, Isle of, ii. 35. 
 Multrare, Adam, iii. 45. 
 Mundell, Dr., ii. 24, 25. 
 Murdoch of Cumloden, family of, i. 94-96. 
 „ Thomas, i. 95, 264, 304 ; ii. 262, 
 „ John, ii. 107-115, 271 ; iii. 70, 81, 
 82, 83, 84, 107, 314. 
 Mure, Alice, ii. 323. 
 
 „ John, of Auchindrane, iii. 46. 
 „ of Rowallan, ii. 84. 
 „ William, of Caldwell, i. 77. 
 Murray, Dr. Alexander, i. 316 ; ii. 246. 
 „ Da\ad, Culzean, ii. 376. 
 
376 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Murray, Dr. David, Glasgow, ii. 272, 360, 376, 
 380. 
 
 „ Davidson, i. 121. 
 
 „ Euphemia, ii. 348. 
 
 „ Lord, i. 335. 
 
 „ Margaret, i. 243, 316. 
 
 „ Mr., of Broughton, ii. 342. 
 
 „ Mrs., of Heuderland, i. 335. 
 
 „ Sir W., of Ochtertyre, i. 243 ; ii. 75, 
 307, 348 ; iii. 175. 
 Murthoc, Earl of Dumfries, i. 95. 
 Musgrave, Sir George, i. 120. 
 Musselburgh, ii. 141, 238. 
 Muthill, ii. 195, 197, 198. 
 Mutrie, Eev. John, ii. 348. 
 Mutter, Dr. Thomas, i. 337. 
 Mylnes of Mylnefield, i. 245-250. 
 
 Nagpore, ii. 152. 
 
 Nairn, county of, i, 180, 185 ; iii. 174. 
 
 Nairne, Lady, ii. 369. 
 
 Napier, Alexander, i. 197. 
 
 „ Hon. Minnie Schaw, i. 6. 
 
 „ Lord William, i. 6. 
 Napoleon, i. 17. 
 Nasmyth, Alexander, ii. 121-128 ; iii. 152. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 121-128. 
 Neilson, Claud, Paisley, iii. 343. 
 
 „ Eev. Edward, ii. 96. 
 
 „ John, ii. 286. 
 Mr., i. 330. 
 
 „ William, of Minnybee, ii. 285, 286, 366. 
 
 „ William, in Bogtown, iii. 7. 
 Neilston, parish of, i. 302. 
 Nelson, Lord, ii. 207. 
 Netherlands, iii. 251. 
 Netherwood, farm of, i. 354. 
 New Abbey, i. 238. 
 Newall, Margaret, i. 78. 
 
 „ Mr., iii. 251. 
 
 „ William, of Barskioch, i. 78. 
 Newark, lands of, iii. 47. 
 Newbattle, i. 129, 130. 
 
 Newcastle, i. 12 ; ii. 68. 70, 112, 141, 164, 297. 
 Newcombe, Dr. Henry, i, 336. 
 New Dykes, farm of, i. 241. 
 Newgate, i. 326. 
 
 Newington, ii. 26, 27. 
 Newlands, i. 195 ; ii. 236 ; iii. 20. 
 Newmills, ii. 2, 3, 6, 9, 118, 164 ; iii. 61. 
 New Orleans, i. 40. 
 Newry, i. 306. 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, ii. 49, 
 Newton on Ayr, i. 186 ; ii. 345, 349 ; iii. 48. 
 Newtoun, i. 20, 23. 
 
 New York, ii. 82, 142, 155, 343 ; iii. 26, 174. 
 New Zealand, i. 241 ; iii. 38, 73. 
 Nicholson Elizabeth, i. 120. 
 „ of Kendal, i. 120. 
 Nicol, family of, ii. 128-143. 
 
 „ William, i. 143, 146, 321 ; ii. 34, 128- 
 143, 159, 250, 262, 306, 346, 370 ; iii. 
 154, 165-176, 217. 
 Nicolson, Badenach, ii. 381, 383, 385. 
 „ Margaret, iii. 34. 
 „ William, ii. 231. 
 „ Sir William, of Glenbervie, iii. 43. 
 Niebuhr, i. 333. 
 Nimmo, Mrs. Erskine, i. 98. 
 
 „ Miss, i. 104 ; ii. 63. 
 Nisbet, James, iii. 61. 
 
 „ of Dirleton, i. 312. 
 Nith, water of, iii. 176, 194-196, 200-203, 215, 
 
 249, 269. 
 Nithsdale, i. 50, 126 ; ii. 64, 73, 170, 308, 366, 
 370 ; iii. 71, 192. 
 „ Earl of, ii. 336. 
 
 Niven, David, ii. 16, 288. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 143-152, 187. 
 
 „ Isabella, ii. 16. 
 
 „ John, i. 178 ; iii. 59. 
 
 ,, Margaret, iii. 59. 63. 
 
 „ Robert, iii. 59. 
 Nivernois, Duke de, ii 309. 
 Noble, Andrew, i. 25-27, 267, 270, 275, 278. 
 Nolken, Baroness, i. 222. 
 Normand, James, i. 335. 
 Norris, Eliza, i. 76. 
 
 „ J.,i. 76. 
 Northwold, iii. 32. 
 Norway, i. 226 ; ii. 209, 231. 
 Novar, ii. 210. 
 Novice, Mr., ii. 127. 
 Nugent, Captain Lawrence, i. 187. 
 Nuthall, ii. 325. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 377 
 
 O'Brien, Anna Maria, ii. 265. 
 
 „ Sir Lucius, ii, 265. 
 O'Kean, Captain, i. 125. 
 O'Keiffe, David, ii. 315. 
 
 „ Mary J., ii. 315. 
 Ochiltree, i. 212, 213, 226, 235 ; ii. 205, 209, 
 
 267-272 ; iii. 124, 342. 
 Ochtertyre, ii. 132, 158, 160, 229. 
 Ogilvy, Ann, ii. 234. 
 
 „ James, Lord, i. 243 ; iii. 77. 
 „ Sir John, ii. 234. 
 „ Margaret, i. 243. 
 
 Mr., ii. 296. 
 „ Mrs., 369. 
 Ogston, Hugh, i. 59. 
 
 „ Martha, i. 59. 
 Oldbuck, Jonathan, ii. 161. 
 Oliphant, James, ii. 190, 193, 348, 349. 
 
 „ Mount, ii. 107, 108, 344, 365 ; iii. 80, 
 83, 86-91, 96. 
 Oliver, John W., ii. 153. 
 Ontario, Province of, iii. 32, 33. 
 Oporto, iii. 73. 
 
 Orangefield, estate of, i. 217-221. 
 Ord, Ann, ii. 1. 
 
 Ormiston, Haddingtonshire, iii. 66. 
 Orr, Jean, iii. 55. 
 „ John, ii. 128. 
 „ Margaret, ii. 204, 351. 
 „ Thomas, ii. 110, 152-154, 285. 
 „ William, ii. 152. 
 Osburn, John, i. 59. 
 Ossian, ii. 199, 360 ; iii. 320. 
 Oswald, Mr., of Auchincruive, iii. 251. 
 „ Mr. Richard, ii. 258, 349. 
 „ Mrs. Richard, ii. 96, 258, 349. 
 Otago, iii. 73. 
 Otway, i. 331. 
 
 „ Sylvester, ii. 253. 
 Oughterston, John, i. 120. 
 „ Mary, i. 120. 
 
 Oxford, i. 195 ; ii. 147, 237, 264, 302. 
 Oxus, river, iii. 41. 
 
 Paget, Caroline, ii. 325. 
 
 „ General Sir Edward, ii. 325. 
 Paisley, i. 19-21 ; ii. 64, 279, 295 ; iii. 188. 
 
 Palgrave, Mr., iii. 326. 
 Palmer, Mr., ii. 251. 
 Palnure, stream of, i. 94. 
 Panama, ii. 235, 
 Panbride, i. 239. 
 Paraiso, ii. 235. 
 
 Paris, i. 165, 222, 224 ; ii. 44, 99, 354. 
 Park, Ann, iii. 308. 
 „ Dr., i. 169. 
 „ General S., i. 169, 173. 
 Park, King's, iii. 153. 
 
 „ Woodley, iii. 236, 258. 
 Parker, Euphemia S., i. 176. 
 „ Hugh, iii. 195. 
 „ John, i. 176. 
 Parkmill, lands of, ii. 33. 
 Parsons, Colonel, i. 186. 
 
 „ Louisa P., i. 186, 
 Paterson, Agnes, i, 309. 
 „ Andrew, ii. 270. 
 „ family of, ii. 106. 
 „ Henrietta, i. 302. 
 „ Hugh, ii. 231. 
 
 James, ii. 206, 287 ; iii. 56. 
 „ John, i. 310. 
 „ Margaret, ii, 205, 302. 
 Patna, iii. 43. 
 Paton, Betty, iii. 308. 
 „ James, iii. 20. 
 „ Mr. John, ii. 204, 
 Patrick, Alexander, ii. 199 
 
 „ William, ii. 165. 
 Patten, Rev. Robert, iii. 9. 
 Pattison, John, ii. 44 ; iii. 278. 
 Patton, Colonel, St. Helena, i. 8. 
 
 „ Eliza, i. 8. 
 Pau in Berne, i. 105, 166, 308. 
 Paul, Anne, iii. 10. 
 
 „ Emperor, ii. 207. 
 Paunchgunny, India, iii. 32. 
 Payne, John, iii. 46. 
 Peacock, Mary, i. 257 ; ii. 61 ; iii. 246. 
 
 „ Mr., iii. 99. 
 Pearson, Charles, C.A., i. 176. 
 
 „ Margaret Dalziel, i. 176. 
 Peat, Margaret, iii. 15. 
 Peckham Rye, ii. 314. 
 Peebles, i. 194 ; ii. 274. 
 
378 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Peebles, Mr., i. 284, 285. 
 
 „ Dr. William, ii. 345, 349. 
 Pegu, i. 214. 
 Penicuik, ii. 123. 
 Peukill, stream of, i. 94. 
 Penpont, parish of, ii. 1, 142. 
 Penshurst, ii. 128. 
 Pentland Hills, ii. 123 ; iii. 153. 
 Perochon, Joseph E., i. 192. 
 Perry, Mr., ii. 82, 83. 
 Persia, iii. 40. 
 
 Perth, Lord Chancellor, ii. 210. 
 Perthshire, i. 130, 338 ; ii. 33, 75, 141, etc. ; 
 
 iii. 56. 
 Peterborough, ii. 314, 316. 
 Peterhead, ii. 217; iii. 11. 
 Petre, Lord, ii. 340. 
 Pettiwood, Mr., i. 224. 
 
 Peyster, Colonel de, ii. 67, 155-158 ; iii. 
 283. 
 
 „ Johannes de, ii. 155. 
 Philadelphia, ii. 231. 
 Philiphaugh, battle of, i. 186. 
 Phillips, family of, i. 256, 257 ; ii. 65, 
 Phojnicia, ii. 361. 
 Pichegru, iii. 251. 
 Picton, Colonel, i. 209. 
 Pillans, Elizabeth, i. 35. 
 
 „ Mr., i. 254. 
 Pimlico, ii. 236. 
 Pindar, Peter, ii. 15. 
 Pinkie, battle of, iii. 3. 
 Piper, Thomas, ii. 149. 
 Pirie, John, iii. 29. 
 Pitcairn, Eleanor, i. 149. 
 Pitgarvie, iii. 19. 
 
 Pith, William, ii. 209 ; iii. 229, 270. 
 Pleydell, Counsellor, ii. 175. 
 Pleyel, ii. 276, 277, 336 ; iii. 238. 
 Plymouth, ii. 158. 
 Plympton, i. 207. 
 Polcardoch, farm of, i. 241. 
 Polkemmet, iii. 308. 
 Pollen, John, LL.D., iii. 33. 
 Pollokshaws, iii. 69. 
 Pope the poet, i. 48 ; ii. 89. 
 Portarlington, iii. 72. 
 Porteous, Mr. Matthew, i. 178. 
 
 Porteous, Dr. William, ii. 86. 
 Porterfield, Margaret, i. 311, 313. 
 
 „ Dr. William, i. 311. 
 
 Portland, Duke of, i. 228, 302. 
 Portobello, i. 224 ; iii. 56, 73. 
 Portpatrick, i. 72, 306; ii. 311. 
 Portrack, ii. 37. 
 Portugal, ii, 101. 
 Posso, lands of, ii. 121. 
 Poundstock, iii. 74. 
 Power, Walter, ii. 314, 
 Premnay, ii. 296. 
 Prentice, Mr., ii. 270; iii. 140. 
 Preston, farm of, i. 11 ; ii. 40, 
 
 „ George, iii, 67. 
 Prestonpans, battle of, i. 306; ii. 318, 
 Prestwick, i. 241 ; ii, 361 ; iii. 45, 
 Price, Esther, iii, 37, 
 Priesthill, iii, 49, 
 Primrose, Mr, James, ii. 33. 
 Princeton, New Jersey, i, 89, 
 Pringle, Sir John, i, 123, 
 
 „ Thomas, i, 124, 
 Prospect Place, iii, 21. 
 Pugolas, Henry, i, 258. 
 Punjab, iii. 37. 
 Pusey, Dr., ii. 264 
 
 QuARME, family of, i. 129. 
 
 Quebec, ii. 34. 
 
 Queensberry, Duke of, i. 158; ii. 65-68, 96, 
 
 167. 
 Queensferry, iii. 169. 
 Quothquan Law, iii. 141, 
 
 Racine, i, 331, 
 Radcliffe, Mrs,, i, 69, 
 
 Rae, ex -Bailie, Ayr, ii, 360, 373, 375, 
 380, 
 
 „ John, of Little Govan, ii. 4.9. 
 
 „ Lilias, ii, 49, 
 
 „ Richard, i. 41. 
 Raeburn, Sir Henry, i. 37, 163 ; ii. 48, 
 
 126, 
 Rainy, family of, iii. 57-59. 
 „ Dr, Robert, i, 90, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 379 
 
 Ramsay, Allan, i. 131, 319, 335 ; ii. 122, 313 ; 
 iii. 90, 142, 322. 
 „ Christian, iii. 31. 
 „ Mr. David, i. 334. 
 
 Sir George, of Bamff, i. 222, 224. 
 Lady, i. 222, 223. 
 „ James, ii. 158. 
 „ Jean, iii. 58. 
 „ John, of Ochtertyre, ii. 158-162, 195, 
 
 211, 229, 334 ; iii. 175. 
 „ Margaret, i. 169. 
 „ of Balmain, iii. 31. 
 „ Dr. William, i. 170. 
 Randolph, Lady Agnes, i. 180. 
 
 „ Thomas, Earl of Moray, i. 180. 
 Rankine, Anne, ii. 163. 
 „ Bailie, i. 169. 
 „ Captain, of Drnmdon, i. 169. 
 „ John, i. 351, 353 ; ii. 163. 
 „ Margaret, i. 353. 
 „ William, of Lochhead, i. 353. 
 Raphael, ii. 373. 
 Raploch Moss, i. 94. 
 Rathven, parish of, ii. 340. 
 Ravenscraig, Montreal, iii. 62. 
 Raymond, Agnes, ii. 236. 
 
 „ Rev. Oliver, ii. 235, 236. 
 Reeky, Andrew, ii. 275. 
 Reeves, Mr., i. 149. 
 Reid, family of, ii. 269-275. 
 „ George, i. 171 ; ii. 269. 
 „ John, of Langlands, ii. 349. 
 „ Mr., i. 203. 
 „ Patrick, i. 264, 303. 
 Reith, family of, iii. 18-27. 
 
 „ Rev. John, Riccarton, ii. 383, 391. 
 Renfrewshire, i. 20, 90, 95, 211, 217, 221 ; ii. 
 
 149, 316 ; iii. 72. 
 Rennie, Agnes, ii. 362, 363, 369. 
 „ Andrew, ii. 149. 362. 
 „ family of, iii. 56-63. 
 „ Jean, i. 278. 
 „ Samuel, ii. 363. 
 
 Renwick, , Liverpool, ii. 343. 
 
 „ James, ii. 343. 
 Resolis, ii. 188. 
 Restalrig, i. 68, 222 ; ii. 297. 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, ii. 317. 
 
 Rhin, Sutherlandshire, iii. 56. 
 Rhynd, farm of, iii. 56, 57. 
 Riach, Margaret, iii. 35. 
 Riccarton, i. 25 ; ii. 348, 383 ; iii. 62. 
 
 „ Viscount, i. 163. 
 
 Richardson, ii. 97, 98. 
 
 „ John, of Kirklands, i. 149. 
 
 „ Rev. Dr., i. 17. 
 
 Richmond, i. 258 ; ii. 100. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 163-168. 
 
 „ Henry, ii. 168. 
 
 „ Jean, iii. 62. 
 
 John, i. 2 ; ii. 134, 163-168, 248 ; 
 iii. 141, 147, 168, 
 „ Mr. Legh, i. 256. 
 
 Rickarton, Banffshire, iii. 19. 
 Riddel, Captain, of Friars Carse, i. 259. 
 „ Mrs., iii. 241, 260, 282, 290, 294. 
 Riddell, Anna Maria, ii. 185. 
 
 „ Captain, i. Ill, 112, 259, 330 ; ii. 34, 
 66, 169, 185 ; iii. 198, 202, 218. 
 family of, ii. 169-185. 
 „ Mary, ii. 43. 
 
 of Glenriddell, i. 112, 343; ii. 286; 
 iii. 233. 
 „ Thomas, of Swinburne Castle, ii. 43. 
 Mr. Walter, ii. 175-185 ; iii. 218, 235, 
 258-260. 
 „ William, of Comniieston, ii. 133. 
 Riga, i. 7. 
 
 Ritchie, Rev. John W., i. 28. 
 Roan, iii. 63. 
 
 Robert IL, King of Scots, i. 206. 
 „ in. „ „ i. 242. 
 
 Robertland, estate of, i. 76. 
 Roberts, David, ii. 125. 
 Robertson, A. Campbell, i. 121. 
 „ Ann, ii. 210. 
 
 „ family of, i. 149-151. 
 
 „ Rev. James, ii. 197, 303. 
 
 „ Janet, ii. 296. 
 
 „ Jean, ii. 246, 303. 
 
 „ Rev. John, i. 19, 130 ; ii. 349. 
 
 „ John, Cromarty, ii. 246. 
 
 „ Margaret, ii. 107. 
 
 „ Mr. Peter, i. 151. 
 
 „ Principal, i. 149-159; ii.367; iii.147. 
 
 „ Dr. William, ii. 232, 240, 
 
380 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Robertsons of Struan, ii. 361. 
 Robespierre, ii. 354. 
 Robinson, Jean, ii. 152. 
 
 „ Julia, ii. 152, 365. 
 „ Sarah, iii. 308. 
 „ Thomas, i. 117. 
 Robson, Rev. Henry, i. 302. 
 
 „ Marjory, i. 302. 
 Rockhall, lands of, i. 78. 
 Rockvale, ii. 198. 
 Rodger, Janet, i. 191. 
 
 „ William, i. 191. 
 Roger, Hugh, i. 177; ii. 145-152, 185-187, 
 284, 359, 363. 
 
 „ Rev. James, i. 116. 
 
 „ John, ii. 185. 
 
 „ Matthew, ii. 187. 
 Rogers, Dr. Cliarles, ii. 313, 360, etc. ; iii. 94, 
 
 302. 
 Rogerson, Alexander, ii. 316. 
 
 „ Mrs., ii. 315. 
 Rome, i. 255 ; ii. 103, 122, 140 ; iii. 1. 
 Rome, Old, village, iii. 60. 
 Ronald, Anne, ii. 349. 
 
 ,, Jean, ii. 349. 
 
 „ John, iii. 174. 
 
 „ William, ii. 349 ; iii. 24. 
 Roney, Richard, ii. 284. 
 Rosario, iii. 33. 
 Rose, Mrs., ii. 131. 
 Rosebery, Earl of, ii. 122, 141. 
 Roseneath, i, 256. 
 Roslin, ii. 123, 124 ; iii. 153. 
 Ross, ii. 72, 188. 
 
 „ Margaret, ii. 144, 145. 
 Rossiil, ii. 36. 
 Rothesay, ii. 198. 
 Rotterdam, i. 148. 
 Roxburgh Castle, i. 11. 
 
 „ shire, i, 147, 235, 310; ii. 36, 118, 
 164, 169, 287. 
 Rugby, ii. 264, 265. 
 Rumbling Brig, iii. 1 74. 
 Runciman, Alexander, ii. 122. 
 Russell, family of, ii. 188-199. 
 
 „ Rev. John, ii. 197, 276. 
 
 „ Margaret, i. 327. 
 Russia, i. 8 ; ii. 18 ; iii. 40. 
 
 Rutherford, George, i. 122. 
 Ruthwell, ii. 65, 343, 356. 
 Ryedale, villa of, ii. 11, 258, 259. 
 
 Sage, Alexander, ii. 188. 
 
 „ Rev. Donald, ii. 188-190, 196. 
 Sainton-Dolby, Madame, ii. 147. 
 Salem, ii. 300, 301. 
 Saline, parish of, iii. 56. 
 Saltcoats, i. 215 ; iii. 61. 
 Salt Lake City, ii. 168. 
 Saltwood, ii. 265. 
 Samarcand, iii. 41, 
 Samson, Thomas, ii. 199. 
 Sanday, Island of, iii. 2. 
 Sandgate, ii. 271. 
 Sandilands, Barbara, i. 194. 
 
 „ Mr. John, i. 194. 
 
 Sangster, Annie H., ii. 239. 
 Sanquhar, i. 127 ; ii. 66. 
 Sarel, Thomas, ii. 315. 
 Saunders, Emily Eliza, i. 236. 
 Savary, Mr., i. 320. 
 Schaw, Janet, iii. 48. 
 Schawfield, laird of, i. 24. 
 Schoreswood, Janette, iii. 51. 
 Scone, ii. 141. 
 Scot, Mr., i. 328. 
 Scott, Alexander, of Baldovie, iii. 26. 
 
 ,, Barbara, i. 243. 
 
 „ Mrs. E., ii. 349, 350. 
 
 „ Dr. Hew, ii. 189. 
 
 „ Isabella, iii. 38. 
 
 „ Sir James, of Balwearie, i. 243. 
 
 ,, Jean, i. 123. 
 
 ,. Mr. John, i. 38. 
 
 „ Sir Michael, i. 243. 
 
 „ Sir Walter, i. 16, 149, 235, 319, 329 
 ii. 136, 160, 259, 319 ; iii. 151. 
 
 „ William, iii. 38. 
 
 „ Wauchope House, ii. 350. 
 
 Scottish National Gallery, i. 38, 39. 
 Scrymgeour, Sir James, of Dudhope, i. 243. 
 
 „ Margaret, i. 243. 
 
 Scutari, ii. 105. 
 Seaforth, i. 207. 
 Selcraig, ii. 130. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 381 
 
 Selkirk, Earl of, i. 45, 163, 166 ; ii. 258 ; 
 iii. 254. 
 „ town of, i. 11, 134, 148 ; ii. 130, 197, 
 274, 301 ; iii. 163. 
 Seringapatam, i. 150, 191. 
 Seton, Sir Alexander, ii. 209. 
 SeAdlle, i. 90. 
 Shankland, Ann, i. 290. 
 
 „ Thomas, i. 238. 
 
 Sharp, Archbishop, i. 212. 
 Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrick, i. 348 ; ii. 63. 
 Shaw, Agnes, ii. 27. 
 
 „ Rev. Andrew, D.D., ii. 350. 
 
 „ Anne, ii. 303, 304. 
 
 „ Barbara, i. 170. 
 
 „ Dr. David, of Coylton, i. 170, 279, 283, 
 284 ; ii. 350. 
 
 „ family of, i. 175. 
 
 „ Sir James, ii, 371 ; iii. 74. 
 
 „ John, i. 5, 214. 
 
 „ Sir John, ii. 143. 
 
 „ Marion, i. 170. 
 
 „ William, ii. 303. 
 Sheemess, ii. 246. 
 Sliennas farm, ii. 186. 
 Shenstone, ii. 89, 110, 289, 295 ; iii. 315, 320, 
 
 329. 
 Shepherd, Mr., i. 284. 
 Sheridan, iii. 251. 
 Sheriff, family of, ii. 198. 
 
 „ Rev. William, ii. 198. 
 Sheriffmuir, iii. 76. 
 Sheritt, James, iii. 26. 
 Sherlock, Bishop, ii. 228. 
 Sherwood, Anne, iii. 307. 
 Shetland, ii. 211, 230. 
 Shropshire, ii. 238. 
 Sibbald, Mr., i. 319 ; ii. 73 ; iii. 145. 
 Sicily, i. 207 ; ii. 101. 
 Siddons, i. 222. 
 Sierra Leone, ii. 142. 
 Sievwright, Mr. Norman, ii. 228. 
 Sillar, David, ii. 200-205, 287, 351 ; iii. 71, 
 118. 
 „ family of, ii. 200-205. 
 „ John, i. 202, 269, 271, 278, 282. 
 Silloth, i. 239. 
 Sim, Donald, ii. 365. 
 
 Sim, Eppie, ii. 365. 
 Simla, iii. 40. 
 Simpson, Jane, i. 117. 
 Simson, Andrew, ii. 208. 
 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 338. 
 
 „ James, ii. 208. 
 
 „ Rev. James, ii. 100. 
 
 „ Jane, ii. 100. 
 
 „ Patrick, ii. 205. 
 
 „ Professor Robert, ii. 100. 
 
 „ Thomas, Cults, i. 338. 
 
 „ William, ii. 205-209 ; iii. 124, 161. 
 Sinclair, Barbara, ii. 283. 
 
 „ Sir John, i. 324 ; ii. 172, 242, 271. 
 
 „ Mr., of Scalloway, ii. 213. 
 Singleton, Auketil, i. 263. 
 Sitwell, Francis, of Barmoor, ii. 263. 
 
 „ Sir George, ii. 265. 
 
 „ Mary, ii. 263. 
 Skinner, family of, ii. 209-239. 
 
 „ Rev. John, i, 340 ; ii. 261 ; iii. 
 177. 
 Sligo, Lord, iii. 45. 
 Sloan, Robert, ii. 350. 
 
 „ William, ii. 270, 350, 351. 
 Smart, Catherine, iii. 15. 
 Smellie, i. 332. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 239-246. 
 
 „ Mr., i. 180 ; ii. 176, 179. 
 
 „ William, ii. 298 ; iii. 153. 
 Smith, Dr. Adam, i. 61 ; ii. 245, 318. 
 
 „ Agnes, iii. 21. 
 
 „ Mr. Alexander, i. 298. 
 
 „ Anne, iii. 31. 
 
 „ Captain, ii. 167. 
 
 ,, Donald, iii. 47. 
 
 „ Dr., ii. 266. 
 
 „ George, i. 141 ; ii. 351 ; iii. 26. 
 
 „ Rev. George Miiir, ii. 116. 
 
 „ James, i. 97, 202, 278, 288 ; ii, 165, 247- 
 251, 337 ; iii. 165, 167. 
 
 „ John, iii. 19, 31. 
 
 „ Mary, iii. 21. 
 
 ,, Mr. Mungo, iii. 344. 
 
 „ Mrs. M. E., ii. 260. 
 
 „ Robert, i. 87, 241 ; ii. 247. 
 
 „ William, ii. 120. 
 Smollet, i. 9, 158 ; ii. 97, 100, 159. 
 
382 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Smyth, Howell, i. 173. 
 
 „ Margaret, iii. 48. 
 Smythe, David, of Methven, ii. 348. 
 Snaid, barony of, ii. 133. 
 Soho, ii. 254. 
 Sojourner, Janet, ii. 168. 
 Solway Firth, i. 105 ; iii. 230, 269, 292. 
 
 „ Moss, i. 211. 
 Somersetshire, ii. 274. 
 Somerville, John, i. 332, 
 Sorn, parish of, i. 202 ; ii. 164. 
 Soult, Marshal, ii. 101, 102. 
 Southdean, parish of, ii. 164. 
 Southesk, Earl of, ii. 40. 
 Southsea, ii. 236. 
 Spain, ii. 101, 317. 
 Speirs, James, ii. 326, 327. 
 Si>ence, A., i. 319. 
 
 „ Rev. Joseph, i. 44. 
 Spens, Dr. Nathaniel, i. 38. 
 Spenser, ii. 366. 
 Spey, river, iii. 173. 
 Spittleside, ii. 200, 204. 
 Spooner, Catherine, ii. 265. 
 
 „ William, ii. 265. 
 St. Andrews, i. 58, 70, 106 ; ii. 64, 105, 121, 
 350 ; iii. 45. 
 „ University of, i. 60, 115, 124, 148, 
 
 174 ; ii. 151, 210, 238. 
 St. Bernard's Well, ii. 126. 
 St. Cecilia's Hall, ii. 276. 
 St. Cuthbert's, i. 55, 234. 
 
 „ Churchyard, ii. 339. 
 
 St. Cyrus, parish of, iii. 19. 
 St. Da\ad's Lodge, ii. 319, 
 St. David, Fort, i. 215. 
 St. George, Chevalier, iii. 76. 
 
 „ Fort, i. 215. 
 
 „ Mary, iii. 33. 
 
 St, George's, Granada, iii, 16. 
 St. Germains, ii. 43. 
 St. Kitts, island, ii. 175, 
 St. Lawrence, river, iii. 61. 
 St. Margaret's Hill, ii. 2, 5. 
 St. Mary's Isle, i. 167; ii. 258. 
 
 „ Loch, ii. 133. 
 
 „ Monastery, ii. 209, 239. 
 
 St. Michael's Church, i. 118, .337, 
 
 St. Michael's Churchyard, i. 41, 43, 82, 120, 
 192, 328; ii. 10, 15, 42, 65, 70, 72, 156, 
 316. 
 St. Nicholas, church of, iii. 65. 
 St. Ninian, iii. 57. 
 St. Pancras, i. 327. 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, ii. 102, 113. 
 
 „ Churchyard, iii, 70. 
 St. Petersburg, ii. 18. 
 St. Quivox, ii. 164, 268, 271, 347. 
 St. Rollox, ii. 273, 274. 
 Staffordshire, ii. 102. 
 Staig, Miss Jessie, ii. 44, 83. 
 
 „ Provost, ii. 83. 
 Stair, Earl of, i. 123. 
 
 „ Montgomery, lands of, i. 168. 
 „ parish of, i. 217 ; iii. 43, 107, 
 Stalker, Katherine, i. 122. 
 Stanton, ii. 9. 
 Stark, Katherine, ii. 283, 
 
 „ Robert, ii. 283. 
 Steelepark, ii. 271. 
 Stein, Agnes, iii. 63, 64. 
 „ Grace, i. 235, 
 „ John, i. 2.35. 
 „ Kate, ii. 359, 365. 
 Stenhouse, Mr. William, i. 347, 348. 
 Stenness, parish of, iii. 2. 
 Stephen, Arthur, iii. 19. 
 Stephenstoun, Louth, iii. 64, 65. 
 Sterne, ii. 99, 110 ; iii. 320. 
 Stetch worth, ii. 315. 
 Steven, Eliza, i, 117. 
 
 „ Rev. James, ii. 352. 
 „ Peter, i. 117, 
 „ Rev. Robert, i. 87, 
 „ William, D.D., i. 252. 
 Stevenson, Agnes, ii. 150. 
 „ Alexander, iii. 74. 
 
 „ Douglas, iii. 74. 
 
 „ James, iii. 62. 
 
 Dr. John, i. 43, 44, 59 ; ii, 114, 150, 
 Stevinson, Margaret, iii. 2. 
 Steuart, Hope, of Ballechin, ii. 235. 
 
 „ Mary G. E., ii. 235. 
 Steward, Alan, the, i. 304. 
 „ James, the, i. 205. 
 „ Walter, i. 304. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 383 
 
 Stewart, Major Alexander, ii. 337. 
 
 „ Alexander, of Stair, ii. 351, 352. 
 „ Anne, i. 153-156. 
 „ Bedford, i. 176. 
 „ Catherine, ii. 337. 
 
 Prince Charles Edward, ii. 43, 169 
 
 iii. 77. 
 Prof. Dugald, i. 47, 132, 138-140, 164, 
 166, 248, 314 ; ii. 30, 117, 306, 309, 
 323, 351, 376; iii. 136, 143-151, 
 328, 343. 
 „ Dr., of Luss, ii. 160. 
 
 Elizabeth Beaton, i. 242. 
 „ General, ii. 342. 
 
 Mr. John, i. 153 ; ii. 160. 
 „ John, Lord Invermeath, i. 242. 
 „ Professor John, iii. 4, 22. 
 „ Sir John, iii. 57. 
 „ Mrs. Katherine, of Stair, ii. 204, 351, 
 
 352. 
 „ Mary, i. 242 ; ii. 352. 
 „ Dr. Matthew, ii. 351. 
 „ Margaret, i. 23. 
 „ Sir Michael Shaw, i. 23. 
 „ Hon. Montgomery, i. 81. 
 „ Robert, Provost of Aberdeen, iii. 22, 
 
 23, 24. 
 „ Susannah H., i. 176. 
 „ Thomas, i. 176. 
 „ William, ii. 352. 
 „ William, of Inchbreck, iii. 8, 9, 77. 
 Stewarton, iii. 42, 60. 
 Stewarts of Corswall, iii. 57. 
 
 „ of Garlies, iii. 57. 
 Stinchar, ii. 366. 
 Stinson, James, I'elfast, iii. 15. 
 
 „ Margari;t, iii. 15. 
 Stirling, i. 115, 147, 220, 265, 299, 303, 307 ; 
 ii. 13, 16, 82, 116, 132, 157-160, 197, 
 229, 261, 339 ; iii. 32, 56, 169, 174. 
 „ Ann, ii. 275. 
 Hugh, i. 278. 
 „ James, i. 71. 
 Stockholm, iii. 217. 
 Stodart, Robert R., iii. 57. 
 Stonehaven, ii. 383, 389, 390; iii. 3, 9-19, 
 
 23-26, 169, 174. 
 Stoneyroo, iii. 19. 
 
 VOL. III. 3 
 
 Stormont, Lord, i. 207. 
 Story, Mr. Robert, i. 256. 
 Strachan, Sir Alexander, ii. 385, 386; iii. 3. 
 „ & Cadell, Messrs., i. 63. 
 „ James, iii. 13. 
 „ Mr., i. 63. 
 Straitoun, i. 214; ii. 209; iii. 53. 
 
 „ Alexander, of Straiton, iii. 3. 
 Strand, The, ii. 112, 317. 
 Stranraer, i. 306. 
 Strathblane, ii. 270. 
 Strathclyde, ii. 360, 361 ; iii. 54. 
 Strathearn, ii. 159; iii. 175. 
 Strathmore, ii. 348. 
 Strathspey, iii. 321. 
 Struthers, John, iii. 217. 
 
 Stuart, Alexander, of Inchbreck, ii. 383, 384, 
 385, 390; iii. 18. 
 
 „ Charles, ii. 351. 
 
 „ Daniel, ii. 256. 
 
 „ David, of Johnston, iii. 4. 
 
 „ Professor George, ii. 159. 
 
 „ Dr. Gilbert, i. 64; ii. 241. 
 
 „ Captain James, iii. 77, 78. 
 
 „ Jane G., iii. 22. 
 
 „ Dr. John, iii. 18, 21, 77. 
 
 „ Mary, iii. 22. 
 
 „ Peter, ii. 251-256. 
 
 „ Robert, iii. 22, 77. 
 Sumatra, i. 214. 
 Sumbroughgerth, ii. 231. 
 Sunderland, ii. 25. 
 Surat, iii. 39. 
 Surinam, ii. 205. 
 Surrey, ii. 314; iii. 20. 
 Sussex, ii. 265 ; iii. 73. 
 Sutherland, George S., ii. 353. 
 
 „ Mr., ii. 291, 340; iii. 221, 222. 
 
 Swansea, ii. 273. 
 Sweden, i. 226; ii. 101. 
 Swift, i. 324 ; ii. 99. 
 Swindon Church, iii. 37. 
 S win ton of Swinton, i. 19. 
 Switzerland, i. 131, 258. 
 Syme, Eleanor, i. 149. 
 
 „ Rev. James, i. 149. 
 
 „ John, i. 127, 162 ; ii. 24, 45, 63, 181, 257- 
 261, 280, 345 ; iii. 251-256, 267, 301. 
 
384 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Symington, iii. 72. 
 
 „ parish of, i. 24. 
 
 „ William, ii. 78, 79. 
 
 Tacitus, ii. 246. 
 Tailiour, Eobert, iii. 7. 
 Tailor, James, iii. 13. 
 Tailyor, Janet, iii. 51. 
 Tait, Archibald Campbell, ii. 264, 265. 
 „ Crawfurd, i. 96, 103 ; ii. 261-265. 
 „ family of, ii. 261-265. 
 „ John, i. 96-98, 264, 304. 
 
 „ , iii. 21. 
 
 Talavera, battle of, i. 76. 
 Talleyrand, ii. 114. 
 
 Tam o' Shanter, i. 16, 39, 239 ; iii. 79, 94. 
 Tannahill, ii. 295. 
 
 Tarbolton, i. 91 ; ii. 27, 29, 120, 133, 200, 319, 
 339, 343, 349, 354, 359 ; iii. 91, 97, 104-107, 
 113, 148, 190, 308, 319, 336, 341-345. 
 Tarchun, ii. 369. 
 Tarshaw, ii. 120, 133. 
 Tasmania, i. 236 ; iii. 16. 
 Tasso, i. 189. 
 Taunton, ii. 274. 
 Taylor, David, iii. 23. 
 „ Elizabeth, i. 257. 
 „ Elspeth, iii. 10. 
 „ Mr. Jame.?, ii. 78, 79, 260. 
 „ William, iii. 10, 13. 
 Tay, river, iii. 56, 116, 124, 322. 
 Taymouth, iii. 169, 173. 
 „ Castle, i. 352. 
 
 Teith, iii. 175. 
 Temple, ii. 302. 
 Templeton, Sarah, ii. 32. 
 
 „ William, ii. 32. 
 
 Tenducci, Signor, ii. 277. 
 Tennant, Charles James, ii. 274, 376. 
 
 David, i. 170, 176 ; ii. 107, 266. 
 „ family of, ii. 265-275. 
 „ Sir James, i. 176. 
 „ Mr. John, i. 173, 226, 235; ii. 76, 
 
 271 ; iii. 75. 
 „ William, i. 115 ; ii. 266. 
 Terence, ii. 240. 
 Terraughty, ii. 37. 
 
 Terregles House, ii. 336. 
 Teviotdale, ii. 36, 40, 169. 
 Thallon, Robert, ii. 82. 
 Thames, river, ii. 332 ; iii. 124. 
 Thankerton, iii. 140. 
 Thicknesse, Philip, i. 307. 
 Thomaston Mill, ii. 186. 
 Thomson, Elizabeth Allen, i. 173. 
 
 „ „ family of, ii. 15, 16. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 275-286 ; iii. 308, 309. 
 George, i. 155, 161 ; ii. 22-25, 44, 
 275-294, 336, 354; iii. 238-278, 
 285-297, 301. 
 
 „ Helen, iii. 10. 
 
 James, ii. 15, 335, 383, 390. 
 
 „ Rev. John, ii. 125. 
 
 „ Peggy, ii. 153, 154, 359, 365, 366 ; 
 iii. 95. 
 
 „ the poet, ii. 89, 110 ; iii. 320, 331. 
 
 „ Dr. William, i. 148. 
 
 ,, William, iii. 10, 175. 
 Thorburn, Thomas, of Ryedale, i. 93. 
 Thornhill, iii. 206. 
 
 Thornley, , i. 173. 
 
 Thorpe Park, ii. 314. 
 Thurlow, John, ii. 309. 
 Tiber, river, iii. 124. 
 Tilt, river, iii. 171. 
 Tinto Fells, iii. 141. 
 Tinwald Doatos, i. 78-81. 
 Tipperty, farm of, iii. 18, 19, 21. 
 Tiree, island of, ii. 49. 
 Titchfield, Marchioness, i. 226. 
 Tod, family of, i. 303. 
 „ Rev. John, i. 289, 303. 
 „ Mr., i. 203. 
 Todd, A. B., of Cumnock, ii. 208, 376, 380. 
 
 „ Mr. William, iii. 74. 
 Tomlieson, Ann, ii. 106. 
 Tootall, Elizabeth, iii. 15. 
 Toronto, i. 121. 
 Torphichen, Lord, i. 180. 
 Torthorwald, ii. 65. 
 Touch, George, iii. 13. 
 Tournier, Rev. Mr., i. 156. 
 Townhead, farm of, iii. 16, 62. 
 Townsend, Henry, ii. 314. 
 Tradonock, iii. 53. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 385 
 
 Trail, Dr., i. 239. 
 
 „ Ellen, i. 239. 
 Tranent, iii. 66. 
 
 Traquair, Earl of, ii. 340, 385 ; iii. 3. 
 Trinidad, i. 209; ii. 237. 
 Troqueer, ii. 11, 44, 257, 260. 
 Tullibardine, Marquis of, ii. 305, 308. 
 Tulloch, iii. 20. 
 Tullybreak, farm of, i. 328. 
 Tumberry Castle, i. 241 ; ii. 144 ; iii. 52, 53. 
 
 „ Lodge, ii. 272. 
 Tumbull, Alexander, iii. 2. 
 „ Ga\'in, ii. 287-295. 
 „ Peter, iii. 2. 
 
 „ Thomas, of Koxburghshire, ii. 287. 
 Tweed, river, ii. 36, 93, 335 ; iii. 116, 124, 162, 
 
 322. 
 Tweeddale, George, Marquis of, i. 77. 
 Tweedsmuir, i. 161. 
 T\vysden, Frances, ii. 103. 
 
 „ Sir William, ii. 103. 
 Tytler, Alexander Eraser, ii. 353. 
 „ family of, ii. 296-300. 
 „ Eev. George, ii. 296. 
 „ Mr., i. 340. 
 
 Patrick, i. 220, 221. 
 William, ii. 336, 353 ; iii. 76. 
 
 Ulster, i. 306. 
 
 United States, i. 241 ; ii. 265, 295, 300. 
 
 Upliall, parish of, i. 35. 
 
 Urbani, iii. 255. 
 
 Ure, Elizabeth, ii. 234, 235. . 
 
 „ John, ii. 234. 
 Urquhart, Margaret, iii. 28. 
 
 „ Mr., ii. 312. 
 
 „ William, iii. 20, 
 Urr, parish of, ii. 11, 40, 
 
 Vallaxce, Mary, Cun\nock, i. 278. 
 Valparaiso, i. 251. 
 Vanbrugh, i, 331, 
 Vane, Sir Henry, i, 120. 
 Vannan, Andrew, iii. 68, 69. 
 „ Eliza, iii. 68. 
 
 Vans of Barnbarroch, ii. 37. 
 Venice, State of, i. 148. 
 Vennel Friar, ii. 257, 
 
 „ Mill, iii. 246. 
 
 „ Wee, iii. 227, 246, 258, 283. 
 Vere, Mr. James Hope, iii. 66. 
 Vernon, family of, ii. 325. 
 Vicovitch, Russian agent, iii. 40. 
 Virginia, i. 264 ; iii. 68. 
 Voltaire, i. 331. 
 Virgil, ii. 136, 299. 
 
 Waddell, Dr. Hately, i. 201, 202 ; ii. 342. 
 
 Wade, General, ii. 378. 
 
 Wagnr, iii. 39. 
 
 Wake, Sir Charles, ii. 265. 
 
 Wales, ii, 185, 237 ; iii. 37. 
 
 Walker, Alice, ii, 16, 
 
 „ Arthur de Noe, ii. 185. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 301-316 ; iii. 25. 
 
 „ John, ii. 115, 241. 
 
 Professor Josiah, i. 46, 65, 88, 104, 
 144, 166 ; ii. 28, 140, 151, 280, 301, 
 304-315 ; iii. 149, 170, 278. 
 
 Robert, i, 60. 
 
 Thomas, ii. 206, 
 
 Rev, William, ii. 230. 
 
 Mr. William, ii. 104, 123. 
 
 , ii. 185. 
 
 Wallace, Adam, of Riccarton, i. 186, 
 
 Anna, ii. 303. 
 
 Elizabeth, i. 169. 
 
 Hew, iii. 44. 
 
 Sir Hugh, of Cralgie, i. 186. 
 
 Sir Hugh, of Woolmet, i. 187. 
 
 General Sir James, ii. 81, 82. 
 
 Jean, iii. 43. 
 
 Sir John, i. 186. 
 
 John, i. 106, 115, 344 ; ii. .303. 
 
 John Alexander Agnew i. 191, 
 
 John, of Cairnhill, i. 168 ; ii. 190. 
 
 ^largaret, i. 168. 
 
 Rachel, i. 87. 
 
 Robert, ii. 81, 274. 
 
 Thomas, i. 187, 191. 
 
 Sir Thomas Dunlop, i. 190, 191. 
 
 Sir Thomas, of Craigie, i. 186, 187. 
 
386 
 
 THE BOOK OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Wallace, Sir William, i. 186, 191, 242, 253 ; 
 ii. 118, 335, 368 ; iii. 116, 124, 161, 
 162, 225, 244, 322-337. 
 Wallacehall, Academy of, i. 106 ; iii. 67, 69. 
 Wanlockhead, ii. 78. 
 AVard, Captain William, iii. 32. 
 Wardhouse, iii. 20. 
 Wardour, Sir Arthur, ii. 319. 
 Warkworth, iii. 164. 
 Warren, Charlotte Enmengarde, ii. 238. 
 Warrender, Sir George, i. 59. 
 Warsaw, iii. 217. 
 Washington, i. 238. 
 
 „ General, ii. 82, 304 ; iii. 229. 
 
 Waterloo, i. 18, 76. 
 AVatson, David, iii. 9. 
 
 „ family of, iii. 26, 30. 
 
 „ Mr. George, ii. 246. 
 
 „ Kate, iii. 206. 
 
 „ Mr. Peter, iii. 337, 341. 
 Watt of Balljarton, i. 327. 
 
 „ Mr. W., ii. 382. 
 Wauchope, Elizabeth, i. 77 ; ii. 169. 
 „ Captain Frances, ii. 169. 
 
 „ . George, i. 77. 
 Wauchope-Don, Sir John, i. 236. 
 Webb, Captain W. M., i. 257. 
 Weber, ii. 277. 
 Web-ster, Rev. Dr., ii. 225. 
 W^eir, Flora, Woodend, i. 278. 
 Wellbrae Hill, iii. 141. 
 Wellington, Duke of, i. 150, 191 ; ii. 102. 
 Wellwood, Nether, i. 359. 
 „ Robert, ii. 275. 
 
 Welsh, Mr. John, ii. 301. 
 
 „ Louise, ii. 301. 
 Wernebald, i. 210. 
 West, Helen, ii. 33. 
 West Indies, i. 92 ; ii. 101, 175, 179, 248, 286, 
 
 303 ; iii. 343. 
 Western Isles, i. 56. 
 Westminster Abbey, ii. 385. 
 Westmoreland, i. 120. 
 Westray, parish of, iii. 2. 
 Weybridge, iii. 74. 
 Wheeler, J. T., i. 215. 
 Whelpdale, Mr., ii. 23. 
 Winnie, Jane, ii. 332. 
 
 Whins, Frigate, i. 224. 
 Whish, family of, iii. 32-34. 
 Whitburn Churchyard, iii. 308. 
 White, Mr. David, i. 252. 
 „ Rev. James, i. 336. 
 „ Mr., ii. 248. 
 ^^ hitefoord, Allan, i. 219, 220. 
 
 „ Arm.s, ii. 165, 247, 3.38. 
 
 „ family of, ii. 316-325. 
 
 „ House, ii. 320, 323. 
 
 „ Sir John, i. 231 ; ii. 28-31, 316- 
 
 325 ; iii. 145. 
 „ Maria, i. 21. 
 
 Whitefoords, i. 21. 
 Whitehaven, ii. 41. 
 Whitehill, estate of, i. 2. 
 Whitelaw, Catherine, i. 9. 
 Whiteside, i. 217. 
 
 „ family of, i. 175, 176. 
 
 Whitevale, i. 204. 
 Wicklow, county, i. 303. 
 Wight, Alexander, ii. 276. 
 „ David, i. 128. 
 „ Mary, i. 118, 120. 
 „ Mr. Robert, i. 118, 127, 128. 
 Wigtownshire, i. 72, 80, 166, 348 ; ii. 102, 147 
 
 345, 347 ; iii. 252, 254. 
 Wildman, Richard, ii. 265. 
 Wilkes, ii. 317. 
 William the Lion, iii. 13. 
 „ IIL, i. 168, 216. 
 „ IV., iii. 39. 
 Williams, Miss, ii. 90, 91, 93, 354. 
 Williamson, Mr., i. 109, 110. 
 Willison, George, i. 39. 
 Wilson, Agnes, iii. 47, 67. 
 
 „ Alexander, ii. 8, 197, 295. 
 
 Bailie, ii. 376. 
 „ Catherine Martha, ii. 72. 
 „ Mrs. David, ii. 123 ; iii. 153. 
 Elizabeth, i. 302. 
 family of, ii. 237, 238. 
 Mr. George, i. 334 ; ii. 360, 376, 380. 
 „ Isabella, i. 302. 
 „ John, of Kilmarnock, iii. 134, 137 
 
 337-344. 
 „ „ of Mauchline, ii. 325-327. 
 
 „ „ of Tarbolton, ii. 354, 355. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 387 
 
 Wilson, Peter, Girvan, ii. 376. 
 „ Robert, i. 17. 
 
 William, of Thornley, ii. 273. 
 „ Dr. William, i. 86, 90 ; iii. 180, 214. 
 Wimbledon, iii. 35. 
 Winbolt, Captain, ii. 314. 
 
 „ Eliza, ii. 314. 
 Winchester, i. 306 ; ii. 92. 
 Windsor, ii. 319. 
 Wingate, David, iii. 309. 
 Winsloe, Emma, ii. 274. 
 
 „ Ricliard, ii. 274. 
 Winton, Earl of, ii. 319. 
 Wise, family of, iii. 6, 7. 
 Wisliart, George, ii. 190. 
 
 „ Isobel, i. 122. 
 Witham, Robert S. J., ii. 43. 
 Wodrow, Dr., i. 284. 
 „ Margaret, i. 40. 
 
 Patrick, Tarbolton, i. 25, 285 ; ii. 
 35, 355. 
 „ Rev. Robert, Eastwood, i. 40, 215 ; 
 ii. 197. 
 Wolcott, Dr., ii. 15. 
 Wood, Mr. Alexander, i. 159. 
 „ Dr. Alexander, iii. 187. 
 „ Elizabeth, iii. 22. 
 Woods, William, ii. 355. 
 Woodburn, Archibald, i. 214. 
 Woodfall, ii. 317. 
 
 Woodhead, ii. 237. 
 
 Woodhouselee, Lord, i. 132, 220, 340 ; ii. 
 
 281, 
 Woodley Maria, iii. 236. 
 
 Park, ii. 173, 185, 244, 245. 
 „ William, ii. 175, 
 Woodside, iii. 20. 
 Woodward, Rev. John, iii. 22. 
 Wrae Mill, ii. 33. 
 Wright, Mr., i. 279, 283, 
 „ Robert, ii, 298. 
 Wycherley, i. 331. 
 Wylie, William H., i. 338. 
 Wyllie, James, i. 278 ; iii, 61. 
 Wynd, College, Kilmarnock, iii. 61 . 
 
 Yarrow, river, iii. 124. 
 York, ii. 37, 104, 325. 
 „ Cathedral, i. 70. 
 Young, Agnes, iii, 49. 
 
 „ Alexander, i. 224. 
 
 „ Dr., i. 111. 
 
 „ Mr. H., i. 284. 
 
 „ Jacobina, i. 264, 265. 
 
 „ James, i. 173 ; iii. 75 
 
 „ John, i. 264. 
 
 Zimmerman, Mr., i. 320. 
 
 Edinburgh : >'cott Jj Ferguson and Buniess d- Company 
 Printers (a Ucr Majesty. 
 

 
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