As a life-long student of Burns, I feel very strongly that there is a contagion in the air, and if I was letting myself go I would soon be in the very thick of Burns. I can sincerely assure Mr Murray that the ratepayers of Galashiels have too much wisdom and commonsense to return as their representatives to the Town Council men whom they would describe as the "Unco guid❞—and if by mistake one should ever be returned to the Council, he has mighty little chance of being elected Provost. feel sure, now that we have our first municipal piece of sculpture, which has been so gracefully unveiled by Mrs Murray, and which you have applauded so heartily, that it will be taken every care of by the present and future Councils. I have much pleasure in accepting this memorial on behalf on the Town Council.

I

BURNS IN THE BORDERLAND.

was on a Saturday May morning, 1787, Robert Burns

and a lawyer named Robert Ainslie, set out from a hostelry in the High Street of Edinburgh for the Borders. They rode on horseback. I can see this youthful pair. Burns was twenty-eight years of age, in a broad-brimmed hat, a blue coat with brass buttons, knee breeches, and top boots (and, I suppose, his Holland cravat). He had attained great distinction in the city; met all her eminent citizens; and had been the idol of many a glittering drawing-room. Ainslie, his companion, was only twenty; probably dressed in similar attire; but possessing a waggishness that would contrast harshly with the grander presence of Burns. In matters of gaiety and sociality they had some affinities; otherwise the disparity would be very striking. And as the pair rode on, the Poet would sometimes relinquish conversation, become meditative, and even appear sullenly thoughtful and brooding, the younger man being left to speculate on the light and shade of his inexplicable companion. They rode to Duns by the Lammermoor Hills, and went to Church on Sunday. On Monday they proceeded to Coldstream, and there Burns saw Tweed for the first time, admiring it very much. From Kelso they proceeded to Jedburgh, where they remained for the rest of the week. He returned to Kelso, and on From Melrose he must have

to Melrose on the Monday. gone by Abbotsford to Selkirk. From Abbotsford the Poet would be able to see the valley and stream of Gala, and indications of the village. Burns had a rather cold reception in Selkirk. The weather was bad, and the hospitality worse. Simply because a little selfish company of nobodies refused to allow two strangers, whom they thought not quite good enough to join them in the parlour

1

of the Inn, those men lost a great opportunity, and did
an ungenerous injustice to Selkirk.
But Selkirk put

up the little tablet to commemorate the spot hallowed
by his footprints. It had been his intention to see the
Vale of Yarrow, but the weather altered their plans, and

so they kept to Tweedside.

I presume they rode on the Ashiestiel side of the river, via the Yair, and on to Traquair, to see the scene of the song The Bush Abune Traquair. Burns designated the old house of Traquair "a palace," and the guidman was absent. I should like to mention an almost incredible, but nevertheless genuine fact. The daughter of the Seventh Earl was a girl of fifteen years when Burns visited Traquair. Her title was Lady Louisa Stuart; and she lived to her hundredth year. It was my good fortune to see and speak to this venerable lady

quite frequently.

Whether she saw the Poet when he rode to the old mansion I cannot say; but to have known a contemporary of the Poet seems, at this time of day, more like fiction than fact. Burns dined that evening with Mr Horsburgh of Pirn, and tradition has it that he passed the night in the village of Innerleithen. My mother often spoke about the particular Inn in connection with this fact. It stood just off the centre of the main street, which was at one time called Piccadilly, but has since been degraded to the High Street. It had a thatched roof, and was demolished in the 'sixties. Burns and his companion set out next morning, riding down by Walkerburn side of the river, and breakfasted with Mr Ballantyne of Holylee. He mentions Elibank and Elibraes. I suppose he was charmed with the very fine scenery of this spot, and the romantic Tower of the Murrays the scene of "Muckle-moothed Meg." The couple went on their way to see the Tower of Thomas the Rhymer, at Earlston. There is no evidence to enable us to track the route they took on their way to this shrine. They may, or they may not, have come by Galashiels-but they certainly crossed Gala Water. Whether, when here, he picked up the verseswhich he afterwards polished into the pastoral which has made the valley famous we cannot say. The delightful fact remains that this song, perfect and pure, a gem of the first water, and sung throughout the world wherever the tongue is understood, is primarily and particularly the property of the Vale of Gala. A great song like this is no passing possession-it has an abiding, living influence here and far beyond these hills, or among their inhabitants. We like an indestructible thing-when it is good-and because of its sheer quality and its author it has a permanency which, beyond every other item I can think of, is calculated to keep the fame of the " Braw Lads" inviolate and green for posterity. We have now gone beyond periodic praise and occasional platitude-by setting up a permanent memorial in Galashiels; and a still greater recc gnition-we learn every child in our schools to re

peat the song. Burns was three weeks in the Borders, and the largest share of the honours accruing from his brief visit fell to the Vale of Gala Water. If the name of Burns is to be commemorated in the Borderland it is surely fitting that this community he has enshrined, if not immortalised, in song, should be the first to proudly undertake its duty. Let us quietly and seriously think where we stand as special debtors to this glorious Prince of Singers! He has put the name and fame of this valley beyond the possibility of obscurity. He has singled us out for honourable mention in that great dowry of song, whose beauties grow richer and mellower as streams their channels deeper wear."

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It is gratifying to record the recent movements in the Borderland to commemorate the Poet's Border tour. Devoted as the Borderers are to the genius of Sir Walter Scott, they willingly endorse the world-wide estimate of Robert Burns-the poet of humanity. Scott himself discerned it; and without cavil or rivalry. The men of the Borderland pay him honour. great Romancer glorified is thus rendered richer and more classic by the pilgrimage of Scotia's Bard.

The land that the

The record of his footsteps is not yet complete, but we hope that when the Federation again visits the Scott Country they shall find tablets to indicate the whole tour, including Duns, Melrose, Kelso, and Earlston.

Selkirk was the first Border town to erect a tablet-a plain square stone (granite) in the wall:

SITE OF OLD FOREST INN,

WHERE

BURNS

WROTE HIS EPISTLE TO WILLIE CREECH,

13TH MAY, 1789.