and be never more minded, whereas from a pen like yours, as being one of the many, what comes will be admired. Admiration will produce regard, and regard will leave an impression, especially when example goes along."

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In his next letter, Buins says to Skinner :- Your songs appear in the third volume, with your name in the index, as I assure you, sir, I have heard your Tullochgorum,' particularly among our west-country folks, given to many different names, and most commonly to the immortal author of the 'Minstrel,' who, indeed, never wrote anything superior to Gie's a sang, Montgomery cried.'

Skinner acknowledged by forwarding to Burns two songs he had previously alluded to in correspondence. Speaking of Skinner's songs on one occasion, Burns remarked, "And what is of still more consequence, he is one of the worthiest of mankind."

On being asked by Colonel Ferguson, of Pitfour, what he could do to add to his comfort in his old age, Skinner wrote as follows:

"Lodged in a canty cell of nine feet square,

Bare bread and sowans and milk my daily fare;
Shoes for my feet, soft clothing for my back-
If warm, no matter whether blue or black;

n such a sober, low, contented state,

What comfort now need I from rich or great?

Now in my eightieth year, my thread near spun,
My race through poverty and labour run,
Wishing to be by all my flock beloved,
And for long service by my Judge approved ;
Death at my door, and Heaven in my eye,
From rich or great what comfort now need I?

Let but our sacred edifice go on
With cheerfulness until the work be done;
Let but my flock be faithfully supplied,
My friends all with their lot well satisfied:
Then, oh, with joy and comfort from on high,
Let me in Christian quiet calmly die,
And lay my ashes in my Grizel's grave,

'Tis all I wish upon the earth to have."

The old man's wishes were respected, and though more than a hundred years have passed since his death, his tomb is still a shrine to those who admire his lyrical gifts and the life he lived as an ambassador of righteousness.

The song that pleased the fancy of Burns deserves all the praise he bestowed upon it, and its popularity can be readily understood. It is a vigorous bit of work, has the homely wisdom that appeals to the average individual, and goes with a fine swing. In reading it or hearing it declaimed, one has a desire to cry Hooch!" and engage in the merry dance. Here is the song, which deserves to be better known :—

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"Come gie's a sang, Montgomery cry'd,
And lay your disputes all aside,
What signifies't for folks to chide

For what was done before them ?

Let Whig and Tory a' agree,

Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,

Whig and Tory a' agree

To drop their Whig-malorum ;

Let Whig and Tory a' agree

To spend the night wi' mirth and glee,
And cheerfu' sing alang wi' me
The Reel o' Tullochgorum.

O, Tullochgorum's my delight,
It gars us a' in ane unite,

And ony sumph that keeps up spite,
In conscience I abhor him;

For blyth and cheerie we'll be a',
Blyth and cheerie, blyth and cheerie,
Blyth and cheerie we'll be a',

And mak' a happy quorum;

For blyth and cheerie we'll be a'
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance till we be like to fa'

The Reel o' Tullochgorum.

What needs there be sae great a fraise
Wi' dringing, dull Italian lays ?
I wadna gie our ain Strathspeys

For half a hunder score o' 'em.

They're dowf and dowie at the best,
Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie,
Dowf and dowie at the best,

Wi' a' their variorum ;

They're dowf and dowie at the best,
Their allegros and a' the rest,
They canna please a Scottish taste
Compar'd wi' Tullochgorum.

Let warldly worms their minds oppress,
Wi' fears o' want and double cess,
And sullen sots themselves distress
Wi' keeping up decorum.

Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,

Sour and sulky shall we sit

Like auld philosophorum !

Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,
Nor ever try to shake a fit

To the Reel o' Tullochgorum ?

May choicest blessings aye attend
Each honest, open-hearted friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,

And a' that's good watch o'er him;

May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,
Peace and plenty be his lot,

And dainties a great store o' 'em ;

May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unstain'd by ony vicious spot,
And may he never want a groat

That's fond o' Tullochgorum.

But for the sullen, frumpish fool
That loves to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,

And discontent devour him;

May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,
Dool and sorrow be his chance,

And nane say Wae's me for him;

May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Wi' a' the ills that come frae France,
Wha e'er he be that winna dance

The Reel o' Tullochgorum."

Skinner's best poem is undeniably "The Monymusk Christmas Ba❜ing," in which he shows his wonderful descriptive powers, his quaint humour, and his ready command of the dialect of Aberdeenshire. Burns is seen at his best in describ

66

ing the revels in Poosie Nancie's hostelry at Mauchline; in fact, some of our Burns commentators say The Jolly Beggars" is his masterpiece. Skinner is also seen at his best in portraying the humours of a form of football, which seems to have been more exciting in some respects than the game as it is played to-day.

Skinner was born on October 3rd, 1721, in a wild and romantic part of Aberdeenshire, and although brought up a staunch Presbyterian, he joined the Episcopal communion, ultimately, at the age of 21, becoming a clergyman. His first and only charge was in the parish of Longside, where he spent practically all his days at Linshart, and where he earned fame as a scholar and theologian. He was a great Latin scholar, a voluminous contributor to the Encyclopædia Britannica, and published in two volumes an ecclesiastical history of Scotland. Being a strong Jacobite, he was persecuted and even suffered imprisonment on account of his views. He passed away on 16th June, 1807, in his eighty-sixth year, and in the churchyard of Longside there was erected a handsome monument to his memory. Until a year or two ago

his tombstone was in a state of disrepair, but a number of the admirers of his works came to the rescue, and now the last resting-place of one of Burns's friends in the ranks of the clergy is in an excellent state of preservation, and worthy of the man and his message.

Like Dr Lawrie, of Loudon, who communicated with Dr Blacklock, of Edinburgh, regarding the works of Burns, and contributed in no small degree to preventing the National Poet from going to Jamaica, "Tullochgorum acted well his part, and was endowed with those qualities that stamp the true man, and not those of the "Holy Willie so numerous to-day as in the time of Robert Burns.

type, not

J. M. MURDOCH,

WOMAN'S PRAISE OF BURNS.

M

EN of all classes, creeds, and countries-as has been shown in recent issues of the Burns Chronicle—have paid the highest tributes to the genius and character of Scotland's Bard. Statesmen, soldiers, poets, critics, divines, men of affairs and men of letters, have all united to sound the praise of Robert Burns. But what have representative writers of the gentler sex had to say of our Poet? The world knows how sweetly Burns has sung the charms of womankind. None of the poets has given us such a gallery of fair women as we have in the songs of Scotia's Bard. An examination of the writings of our leading poetesses and other lady writers brings to light some remarkable tributes paid by women to our Poet. Women of his own time and women of later days, women of high degree and of low estatenot only Scotswomen, but women of England, Ireland, France, and America-have alike expressed some of the highest appreciations of Burns, not only as a poet and singer, but for the manliness and tenderness of his nature. From Queen Victoria on the throne of the British Empire to Janet Hamilton, the humble poetess of Coatbridge, women have been charmed by, and have written in terms of the highest admiration of Burns and his immortal verses. Here is a somewhat random collection of some of these feminine tributes :

My brother was not at all what most folks thought him--he was all his life a man who feared God in his heart.-Mrs BEGG (Isabella Burns)

He was sent to speak truth, surcharged with a divine mission; he poured it forth out of his great loving heart sweetly, tenderly, man