This ruling elder was one of those who examined anxiously into the poetical delinquencies of Burns, and hoped to find that the spiritual artillery of the kirk could be levelled at profane rhymers. He got hold, it is said, of some indecorous verses, which in a mirthful moment had dropt from the pen of the Poet, and as he read them in the Session, he paused at every verse, exclaiming “ A wild lad! a wild lad!"

IX.

ON A NOISY POLEMIC.

BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie's banes:
O Death, it's my opinion,

Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin' b-ch
Into thy dark dominion!

This person's name is James Humphrey: he is by trade a mason, is now grown old and infirm, but loves to talk of Burns and of the warm debates between them on Effectual Calling and Free Grace. Cromek said that he found him at work in a quarry, with a fox-skin cap and wooden clogs on, and stirred him up to talk on devotional matters, which he did with a natural eloquence and a quick acuteness that surprised him.

X.

ON MISS JEAN SCOTT.

OH! had each Scot of ancient times
Been, Jeany Scott, as thou art,
The bravest heart on English ground
Had yielded like a coward!

The young lady, the subject of these complimentary lines, dwelt in Ayr, and cheered the Poet not only with her sweet looks, but with her sweet voice. Tradition relates no more. The name of Stuart is sometimes substituted for Scott, but with little propriety, for the point is lost by the change.

XI.

ON A HENPECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE.

As father Adam first was fool'd,
A case that's still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul'd,

The devil rul'd the woman.

The Poet was not satisfied with these lines-in a second attempt he varied the satire.

XV.

ON WILLIAM SMELLIE.

SHREWD Willie Smellie to Crochallan came,
The old cock'd hat, the grey surtout, the same;
His bristling beard just rising in its might,

'Twas four long nights and days to shaving night;
His uncomb'd grizzly locks wild staring, thatch'd
A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch'd:
Yet tho' his caustic wit was biting, rude,

His heart was warm, benevolent, and good.

William Smellie, a distinguished name, was author of the Philosophy of Natural History, a work which made him widely known. He was member of the Antiquarian and Royal Societies of Edinburgh; moreover, he belonged to a club of which Burns was a member, called the Crochallan Fencibles. He was a singular person, disregarded nicety of dress, loved wine and sociality, and sallies of humour :

"Yet tho' his caustic wit was biting, rude,

His heart was warm, benevolent, and good."

XVI.
VERSES

WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON.

WE came na here to view your warks

In hopes to be mair wise,

But only, lest we gang to hell,

It may be nae surprise :

But whan we tirl'd at your door,

Your porter dought na hear us;

Sae may, shou'd we to hell's yetts come,
Your billy Satan sair us !

The reason I have heard assigned for refusing to show the Carron Foundries to Burns was that he called on a Sunday. This could hardly be: he knew that the labour which rendered the place interesting had ceased; that the furnaces were mostly extinguished and the “warks” not to be seen. He perhaps sought admittance without an introduction.

On his second visit he was received with a civility that soothed him: he made one remark— "The blazing furnaces and melting iron realized the description of the giants forging thunderbolts."

XVII.

THE BOOK-WORMS.

THROUGH and through the inspired leaves,

Ye maggots make your windings;
But, oh! respect his lordship's taste,
And spare his golden bindings.

The origin of these lines is singular. Burns, on a visit to a nobleman, was shown into the library, where stood a Shakspeare splendidly bound, but unread, and much worm-eaten. Long after the Poet's death, some one happened to open, accidentally perhaps, the same neglected book, and found the epigram in the handwriting of Burns.

XXII.

EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION.

LORD A-TE.

He clench'd his pamphlets in his fist,

He quoted and he hinted, 'Till in a declamation-mist,

His argument he tint it:

He gaped for't, he graped for't,

He fand it was awa, man;

But what his common sense came short,
He eked out wi' law, man.

MR. ER-NE.

Collected Harry stood awee,

Then open'd out his arm, man ;
His lordship sat wi' ruefu' e'e,

And ey'd the gathering storm, man :
Like wind-driv'n hail it did assail,

Or torrents owre a linn, man;
The Bench sae wise lift up their eyes,
Half-wauken'd wi' the din, man.

These are two of the portraits which Burns drew of his Edinburgh acquaintances, That of the Lord Advocate is admirable for breadth and character: Harry Erskine is not so happy. He was a wit, a punster, and a poet; and one of the most companionable, intelligent, and eloquent men of his time.