offence, and which he took this opportunity of erasing, by breaking the pane of the window at the inn on which they were written.

the shore of Lochleven) and Queensferry. I am inclined to think Burns knew nothing of poor Michael Bruce, who was then alive at Kinross, or had died there a short while before. A inceting between the bards, or a visit to the deserted cottage and early grave of poor Bruce, would have been highly interesting.

At Dunfermline we visited the ruined abbey, and the abbey-church, now consecrated to Presbyterian worship. Here I mounted the cutty stool, or stool of repentance. assuming the character of a penitent for fornication; while Burns from the pulpit addressed to me a ludicrous reproof and exhortation, parodied from that which had been delivered to himself in Ayrshire, where he had, he assured me, once been one of seven who mounted the seat of shame to

"At Stirling we met with a company of travellers from Edinburgh, among whom was a character in many respects congenial with that of Burns. This was Nicol, one of the teachers of the High Grammar School at Edinburgh - the same wit and power of conversation; the same fondness for convival society, and thoughtlessness of to-morrow, characterized both. Jacobitical principles in politics were common to both of them; and these have been suspected, since the Revolution of France, to have given place to each, to opinions apparently opposite. I regret that I have preserved no memorabilia of their conversation, either on this or on other occasions, when I happened to meet them together. gether. Many songs were sung; which I mention for the sake of observing, that when Burns was called on in his turn, he was accustomed, instead of singing, to recite, which, though not correct or harmonious, were impressive and pathetic. This he did on the present occasion.

"From Stirling we went next morning through the romantic and fertile vale of Deron to Harvieston, in Clackmannanshire, then inhabited by Mrs. Hamilton, with the younger part of whose family Burns had been previously ac quainted. He introduced me to the family, and there was formed my first acquaintance with Mrs. Hamilton's eldest daughter, to whom I have been married for nine years. Thus was I indebted to Burns for a connexion with which I have derived, and expect further to derive, much happiness.

"In the church-yard two broad flag-stones marked the grave of Robert. Bruce, for whose memory Burns had more than common veneration. He knelt and kissed the stone with sacred fervour, and heartily (suus ut mos erat) execrated the worse than Gothic neglect of the first of Scottish heroes."

The surprise expressed by Dr. Adair, in his excellent letter, that the romantic scenery of the Devon should have failed to call forth any exertion of the poet's muse, is not in its nature singular; and the disappointment felt at his not expressing in more glowing language his emotions on the sight of the famous cataract of that river, is similar to what was felt by the friends of Burns, on other occasions of the same nature. "During a residence of about ten days at Har- Yet the inference that Dr. Adair seems inclined vieston, we made excursions to visit various to draw from it, that he had little taste for the parts of the surrounding scenery, inferior to picturesque, might be questioned, even if it none in Scotland, in beauty, sublimity, and ro- stood uncontroverted by other evidence. The mantic interest; particulary Castle Campbell, muse of Burns was in a high degree capricious: the ancient seat of the family of Argyle; and she came uncalled, and often refused to attend the famous cataract of the Devon, called the at his bidding. Of all the numerous subjects Cauldron Linn; and the Rumbling Bridge, a suggested to him by his friends and corresponsingle broad arch, thrown by the Devil, if tra- dents, there is scarcely one that he adopted. dition is to be believed, across the river, at about The very expectation that a particular occasion the height of a hundred feet above its bed. I would excite the energies of fancy, if communiam surprised that none of these scenes should cated to Burns, seemed in him, as in other poets, have called forth an exertion of Burns's muse. destructive of the effect expected. Hence perBut I doubt if he had much taste for the pictu-haps it may be explained, why the banks of the resque. I well remember, that the ladies at Devon and the Tweed form no part of the subject Harvieston, who accompanied us on this jaunt, of his song. expressed their disappointment at his not expressing, in more glowing and fervid language, his impressions of the Cauldron Linn scene, certainly highly sublime, and somewhat horrible. "A visit to Mrs. Bruce of Clackmannan, a lady above ninety, the lineal descendant of that race who gave the Scottish throne its brighest ornament, interested his feelings more powerfully. This venerable dame, with characteristical dignity, informed me, on my observing that I believed she was descended from the family of Robert Bruce, that Robert Bruce was sprung from her family. Though almost deprived of speech by a paralytic affection, she preserved her hospitality and urbanity. She was in possession of the hero's helmet and two-handed sword, with which she conferred on Burns and myself the honour of knighthood, remarking, that she had a better right to confer that title than some people. You will of course conclude that the old lady's political tenets were as Jacobitical as the poet's, a conformity which contributed not a little to the cordiality of our reception and entertainment. She gave as her first toast after dinner, awa Uncos, or, Away with the Strangers. Who these strangers were, you will readily understand. Mrs. A. corrects me by saying it should be Hooi, or Hoohi uncos. a sound used by shepherds to direct their dogs to drive away the sheep.

"We returned to Edinburgh by Kinross (on

A similar train of reasoning may perhaps explain the want of emotion with which he viewed the "Cauldron Linn." Certainly there are no affections of the mind more deadened by the influence of previous expectation, than those arising from the sight of natural objects, and more especially of objects of grandeur. Minute description of scenes, of a sublime nature, should never be given to those who are about to view, them, particularly if they are persons of great strength and sensibility of imagination. Language seldom or never conveys an adequate idea of such objects, but in the mind of a great poet it may excite a picture that far transcends them. The imagination of Burns might form a cataract in comparison with which the "Cauldron Linn" should seem the purling of a rill, and even the mighty falls of Niagara a humble cascade.

Whether these suggestions may assist in explaining our Bard's deficiency of impression on the occasion referred to, or whether it ought rather to be imputed to some pre-occupation, or indisposition of mind, we presume not to decide; but that he was in general feelingly alive to the beautiful or sublime in scenery, may be supported by irresistible evidence. It is true, this pleasure was greatly heightened in his mind, as might be expected, when combined with moral emotions of a kind with which it happily unites. That under this association Burns contemplated

The different journeys already mentioned did not satisfy the curiosity of Burns. About the beginning of September he again set out from Edinburgh, on a more extended tour to the Highlands, in company with Mr. Nicol, with whom he had contracted a particular intimacy, which lasted during the remainder of his life. Mr. Nicol was of Dumfries-shire, of a descent equally humble with our poet. Like him he rose by the strength of his talents, and fell by the strength of his passions. He died in the summer of 1797. Having received the elements of classical instruction at his parish school, Mr. Nicol made a very rapid and singular proficiency; and by early undertaking the office of an instructor himself, he acquired the means of entering himself at the University of Edinburgh. There he was first a student of theology, then a student of medicine, and was afterwards employed in the assistance and instruction of the graduates in medicine, in those parts of their exercises in which the Latin language is employed. In this situation he was the contemporary and rival of the celebrated Dr. Brown, whom he resembled in the particulars of his history, as well as in the leading features of his character. The office of assistant teacher in the High-School being vacant, it was, as usual, filled up by competition; and, in the face of some prejudices, and perhaps of some well-founded objections, Mr. Nicol, by superior learning, carried it from all the other candidates. This office he filled at the period of which we speak.

It is to be lamented that an acquaintance with the writers of Greece and Rome does not always supply an original want of taste and correctness in manners and conduct; and where it fails of this effect, it sometimes inflames the native pride of temper, which treats with disdain those delicacies in which it has not learned to excel. It was thus with the fellow-traveller of Burns. Formed by nature in a model of great strength, neither his person nor his manners had any tincture of taste or elegance; and his coarseness was not compensated by that romantic sensibility, and those towering flights of imagination, which distinguished the conversation of Burns, in the blaze of whose genius all the deficiencies of his manners were absorbed and disappeared.

being informed of his arrival, gave him an invitation to sup and sleep at Athole House. He accepted the invitation; but, as the hour of supper was at some distance, begged I would in It was already growing dark; yet the softened, the interval be his guide through the grounds. though faint and 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 arises 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 which 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. 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 the eye.

Or by the reaper's nightly beam,

Mild, chequering through the trees, Rave to my darkly-dashing stream, Hoarse-swelling on the breeze.

"It was with much difficulty I prevailed on him to quit this spot, and to be 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. Ilis manner was unembarrassed, plain, and firm. Ile 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 that 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 lassies, an idea which was much applauded by the company, and with which he has very felicitously closed his poem.

traveller, who was walking at the time a few paces before us. He was a man of a robust but clumsy person; and while Burns was expressing to me the value he entertained for him, on account of his vigorous talents, although they were clouded at times by coarseness of manners; in short, he added. his mind is like his body; he has a confounded strong in-knee'd sort of a soul."

"Next day I took a ride with him through some of the most romantic parts of that neighbourhood, and was highly gratified by his conversation. As a specimen of his happiness of conception and strength of expression, I will Mr. Nicol and our poet travelled in a post-mention a remark which he made on his fellowchaise, which they engaged for the journey, and, passing through the heart of the Highlands, stretched northwards, about ten miles beyond Inverness. There they bent their course eastward, across the island, and returned by the shore of the German Sea to Edinburgh. In the course of this tour, some particulars of which will be found in a letter of our bard, No. 34, they visited a number of remarkable scenes, and the imagination of Burns was constantly excited by the wild and sublime scenery through which he passed. Of this, several proofs may be found in the poems formerly printed. Of the history of one of these poems, The Humble Petition of Bruar Water," and of the bard's visit to Athole House, some particulars will be found in Letters No. 33 and No. 34: and by the favour of Mr. Walker, of Perth, then residing in the family of the Duke of Athole, we are enabled to give the following additional account:

"On reaching 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,

"Much attention was paid to Burns, both before and after the Duke's return, of which he was perfectly sensible, without being vain; and at his departure I recommended to him, as the most appropriate return he could make, to write some descriptive verses on any of the scenes with which he had been so much delighted. After leaving Blair, he, by the Duke's advice, visited the Falls of Bruar, and, in a few days, I received a letter from Inverness, with the verses enclosed."

It appears that the impression made by our poet on the noble family of Athole was in a high degree favourable: it is certain he was charmed with the reception he received from them, and he often mentioned the two days he spent at

Athole House as among the happiest of his life. He was warmly invited to prolong his stay, but sacrificed his inclinations to his engagement with Mr. Nicol; which is the more to be regretted, as he would otherwise have been introduced to Mr. Dundas (then daily expected on a visit to the Duke), a circumstance that might have had a favourable influence on Burns's future fortunes. At Athole House, he met, for the first time, Mr. Graham, of Fintry, to whom he was afterwards indebted for his office in the Excise.

our bard took upon himself the office of poetlaureate, and produced an ode, which, though deficient in the complicated rhythm and polished versification that such composition require, might, on a fair competition, where energy of feeling and of expression were alone in question, have won the butt of Malmsey from the real laureate of that day. I allude to the fragment commencing,

"False flatterer, Hope, away!"

In relating the incidents of our poet's life in The letters and poems which he addressed to Edinburgh, we ought to have mentioned the Mr. Graham, bear testimony of his sensibility, sentiments of respect and sympathy with which and justify the supposition, that he would not he traced out the grave of his predecessor Ferhave been deficient in gratitude had he been ele- guson, over whose ashes, in the Canongate vated to a situation better suited to his disposi-church-yard, he obtained leave to erect a monution and to his talents. ment, which will be viewed by reflecting minds with no common interest, and which will awake, in the bosom of kindred genius, many a high emotion. Neither should we pass over the continued friendship he experienced from a poet then living, the amiable and accomplished Blacklock-To his encouraging advice it was owing (as has already appeared) that Burns, instead of emigrating to the West Indies, repaired to Edinburgh. He received him there with all the ardour of affectionate admiration; he blazoned his fame; he lavished upon him all the kindness of a generous heart into which nothing selfish or envious ever found admittance. Among the friends whom he introduced to Burns was Mr. Ramsay of Ochtertyre, to whom our poet paid a visit in the Autumn of 1787, at his delightful retirement in the neighbourhood of Stirling, and on the banks of the Teith. Of this we have the following particulars:

A few days after leaving Blair Athole, our poet and his fellow-traveller arrived at Fochabers. In the course of the preceding winter Burns had been introduced to the Duchess of Gordon at Edinburgh, and presuming on his acquaintance, he proceeded to Gordon Castle, leaving Mr. Nicol at the inn in the village. At the castle our poet was received with the utmost hospitality and kindness, and the family being about to sit down to dinner, he was invited to take his place at the table, as a matter of course. This invitation he accepted; and after drinking a few glasses of wine, he rose up and proposed to withdraw. On being pressed to stay, he mentioned, for the first time, his engagement with his fellow-traveller; and his noble host offering to send a servant to conduct Mr. Nicol to the castle, Burns insisted on undertaking that office himself. He was, however, accompanied by a gentleman, a particular acquaintance of the Duke, by whom the invitation was delivered in all the forms of politeness. The invitation came too late; the pride of Nicol was flamed to a high degree of passion by the neglect which he had already suffered. He had ordered the horse to be put to the carriage, being determined to proceed on his journey alone: and they found him parading the streets of Fochabers, before the door of the inn, venting his anger on the postilion for the slowness with which he obeyed his commands. As no explanation nor entreaty could change the purpose of his fellow-traveller, our poet was reduced to the necessity of separating from him entirely, or of instantly proceeding with him on their journey. He chose the last of these alternatives: and seating himself beside Nicol in the post-chaise, with mortification and regret, he turned his back on Gordon Castle, where he had promised himself some happy days. Sensible, however, of the great kindness of the noble family, he made the best return in his power, by the poem commencing,

"Streams that glide in orient plains." Burns remained in Edinburgh during the greater part of the winter, 1787-8, and again entered into the society and dissipation of that metropolis. It appears that on the 31st day of December, he attended a meeting to celebrate the birth-day of the lineal descendant of the Scottish race of kings, the late unfortunate Prince Charles Edward. Whatever might have been the wish or purpose of the original institutors of this annual meeting, there is no reason to suppose that the gentlemen of which it was at this time composed, were not perfectly loyal to the king and the throne. It is not to be conceived that they entertained any hope of, any wish for, the restoration of the House of Stuart; but, over their sparkling wine. they indulged the generous feelings which the recollection of fallen greatness is calcnlated to inspire; and commemorated the heroic valour which strove to sustain it in vain-valour worthy of a nobler canse and a happier fortune. On this occasion

"I have been in the company of many men of genius," says Mr. Ramsay, 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. In a mixed company I should have made little of him; for in the gamester's phrase, he did not always know when to play off and when to play on. I not only proposed 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 so 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 the 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 remind me of some spinsters in my country, who spin their thread so fine that it is neither fit for weft nor woof.' He said he had not changed a word except one, to please Dr. Blair."

Having settled with his publisher. Mr. Creech, in February, 1788, Burns found himself master of nearly five hundred pounds, after discharging all his expenses. Two hundred pounds he immediately advanced to his brother Gilbert, who had taken upon himself the support of their aged mother, and was struggling with many difficulties in the farm of Mossgiel. With the remainder of this sum, and some further eventual profits from his poems, he determined on settling himself for life in the occupation of agriculture, and took from Mr. Miller, of Dalswinton, the farm of Ellisland, on the banks of the river Nith, six miles above Dumfries, on which he entered at Whitsunday, 1788. Having been previously

"Among the subjects on which he was accustomed to dwell, the characters of the individuals with whom he happened to meet was plainly a favourite one. The remarks he made on them were always shrewd and pointed, though frequently inclining too much to sarcasm. His praise of those he loved was sometimes indiscriminate and extravagant; but this, I suspect. "His memory was uncommonly retentive, at proceeded rather from the caprice and humour least for poetry, of which he recited to me freof the moment, than from the effects of attach-quently long compositions with the most minute ment in blinding his judgment. His wit was accuracy. They were chiefly ballads, and other ready, and always impressed with the marks of pieces in our Scottish dialect; great part of them a vigorous understanding; but, to my taste, not (he told me) he had learned in his childhood, often pleasing or happy. His attempts at epi- from his mother, who delighted in such recitagram, in his printed works, are the only perfor- tions, and whose poetical taste, rude as it promances, perhaps, that he has produced, totally bably was, gave, it is presumable, the first direcunworthy of his genius. tion of her son's genius.