I will venture to prophesy that to future ages your publication 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 fly, as I am anxious to have it soon.

Brow, Sea-bathing quarters, 7th July, 1796. MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,

I RECEIVED yours here this moment, and am indeed highly flattered with the approbation of the literary circle you mention; a literary circle inferior to none in the two kingdoms. Alas! my friend, I fear the voice of the bard will soon be heard among you no more! For these eight or ten months I have been ailing, sometimes bed fast, 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 poëte--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,

["In this humble and delicate manner 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! The editor has seen 180 transcribed by his own hand for the 'Museum.'"-CROMEK.]

[It is truly painful to mention and with indignation we record it-that the poet's humble request of the continuance of his full salary was not granted! "The Commis

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 seabathing, 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 on the little I leave them in your hands. Remember me to my mother.

Yours,

No. CCLXXV. TO MRS. BURNS.

MY DEAREST Love:

R. B.

Brow, Thursday.

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,

R. B.

sioners," says Currie, "were guilty of no such weakness. " To be merciful was no part of their duty.]

[One evening during Burns's stay at the Brow, he was visited by two young ladies who lived in the neighbourhood and who sympathized in his sufferings. During their stay, the sun setting on the western hills, threw a strong light upon him through the window: a child perceived this, and proceeded to draw the curtain. "Let me look at the sun, ay love," said the sinking poet; "it will be long before he wal shine for me again!"

TO MR. BURNESS, MONTROSE. "DEAR SIR:

"I WAS duly favoured with your letter of the 29th July.Your goodness is such as to render it wholly out of my power to make any suitable acknowledgment, or to express what I feel for so much kindness.

"With regard to my son Robert, I cannot as yet determine; the gentlemen here (particularly Dr. Maxwell and Mr. Syme, who have so much interested themselves for me and the family) do not wish that I should come to any resolution as to parting with any of them, and I own my own feelings rather incline me to keep them with me. I think they will be a comfort to me, and my most agreeable companions; but should any of them ever leave me, you, Sir, would be, of all others, the gentleman under whose charge I should wish to see any of them, and I am perfectly sensible of your very obliging offer.

Since Mr. Lewars wrote you, I have got a young son, who, as well as myself, is doing well.

"What you mention about my brother, Mr. Gilbert Burns, is what accords with my own opinion, and every respect shall be paid to your advice. I am, dear Sir, with the greatest

respect and regard, your very much obliged friend, "JEAN BURNS."

"Dumfries, 3rd August, 1796.”

THE WIFE OF THE POET.

["I THINK Mrs. Burns had been pretty. In 1804 I was accustomed to sit in the seat next to her in the old church of

[Shortly after her husband's death, Mrs. Burns had a very remarkable dream, which she sometimes spoke of to her more intimate female friends as a circumstance not only most vividly imprinted on the memory, but more prominently placed before the eye of the mind, than anything that ever occurred to her during her waking moments. And it was to this effect-that the poet, or rather his spirit, withdrew her curtains, and, after gazing wistfully and solemnly, said "that he had been permitted to take a last look of his widow and the child he had never before seen." The bare mention of such a circumstance may, to many, appear abundantly idle; and we of course merely allude to it as an impression rootedly entwined with our departed friend's memory, who was by no means a superstitious woman.]

[Robert Burns, Jun., is the reputed author of the following song:

HAE ye seen, in the calm dewy morning,

The red-breast wild warbling sae clear;
Or the low-dwelling, snow-breasted gowan,
Surcharg'd wi' mild e'ening's soft tear?
O, then ye hae seen my dear lassie,
The lassie I lo'e best of a';
But far frae the hame o' my lassie,
I'm monie a lang mile awa.

Her hair is the wing o' the blackbird,
Her eye is the eye o' the dove,

have derived great benefits from it already; but, alas my loss of appetite still continues. I shall not need your kind offer this week, and I return to town the beginning of next week, it not being a tide week. I am detaining man in a burning hurry. So, God bless you.*

R. B.

home, that he would, if he pleased, bring him back in a post-chaise- a kind and delicate way of expressing his regard. It was now felt by all it seems, but a few, that the poet was not only dying, but dying in the deepest poverty.] Dumfries, and though always a brunette, she was then smartly dressed, had fine eyes, and looked very well. She had several wooers at that time, according to report. Some seven or eight years afterwards, I had a chance of a few weeks of intimate and daily acquaintance with her in Edinburgh, and scarcely ever met a woman, either high or low, who improved as much on acquaintance. She had a great deal of good sense and good nature."-HOGG.

The following more detailed account of this interesting woman appeared in the Dumfries Courier at the time of her death; and bears internal marks of being from the eloquent pen of Mr. M'Diarmid :

"To the poet, Jean Armour bore a family of five sons and four daughters. The whole of the latter died in early life. and were interred in the cemetery of their maternal grandfather in Mauchline churchyard. Of the sons two died very young, viz., Francis Wallace and Maxwell Burns,-the last of whom was a posthumous child, born the very day his father was buried. Of the said family of nine, three sons alone survive :-Robert, the eldest, a retired officer of the Accomptant-General's Department, Stamp-office, London, now in Dumfries; and William and James Glencairn Beras, Captains in the Hon. the East India Company's Service.

"The term of Mrs. Burns' widowhood extended to thirtyeight years-in itself rather an unusual circumstance,-and in July, 1796, when the bereavement occurred, she was hat little beyond the age at which the majority of females marry. But she had too much respect for the memory of her hus band, and regard for his children, to think of changing her name, although she might have done so more than once, with advantage; and was even careful to secure on lease, and repair and embellish, as soon as she could afford it, the decent though modest mansion in which he died. And here, for more than thirty years, she was visited by thousands on theusands of strangers, from the peer down to itinerant sonnetteers, a class of persons to whom she never refused an audience, or dismissed unrewarded. Occasionally, during the summer months, she was a good deal annoyed; but she bore all in patience, and although naturally fond of quiet, seemed to consider her house as open to visitors, and its mistress, in some degree, the property of the public. But the atten

Her lips are the ripe blushing rose-bud,
Her bosom's the palace of love.
Tho' green be thy banks, O sweet Clutha!
Thy beauties ne'er charm me ava;
Forgive me, ye maids o' sweet Clutha!
My heart is wi' her that's awa.

O love, thou'rt a dear fleeting pleasure,
The sweetest we mortals here know;
But soon is thy heaven, bright beaming,
O'ercast with the darkness of wo.
As the moon, on the oft-changing ocean,
Delights the lone mariner's eye,
Till red rush the storms of the desert,
And dark billows tumble on high.]

[The following little anecdote was some years ago told by Mrs. Burns, with great good humour, to a friend of ours, from whom we had it shortly after. A little ragged boy, selling ballads, called at a house near Mrs. Burns's dwelling in Dumfries, and inquired where Mrs. Burns lived. On her! house being pointed out to him, "Ah," said he to the person who had given him the direction, "I would like to see her.” "Well," was the reply, "go there and ask to sell your bal-i lads, and you will see her." "But I diena like," said he; "I think shame to gang there." Struck with the anxiety of the boy, and his diffidence, he was taken to Mrs. Burns's house, and put into the kitchen, where the servant began to

[The father of Mrs. Burns.]

This is the last of all the compositions of the great poet of Scotland, being written only three days before his death. The original was long preserved in the family of the Armours of Mauchline, and was given into the keeping of Captain James Glencairn Burns on his most urgent entreaty. It is tions of strangers neither turned her head, nor were ever alluded to in the spirit of boasting; and had it not been for a female friend who accompanied her on one occasion to the King's Arms Inn, to meet, by invitation, the Marchioness of Hastings, no one would have known that that excellent lady directed the present Marquis, who was then a boy, to present Mrs. Burns with a glass of wine, and at the same time remarked, that he should consider himself very highly honoured, and cherish the recollection of having met the poet's widow, as long as he lived.' Hers, in short, was one of those well-balanced minds that cling instinctively to propriety and a medium in all things; and such as knew the deceased, earliest and latest, were unconscious of any change in her demeanour and habits, excepting, perhaps, greater attention to dress, and more refinement of manner, insensibly acquired by frequent intercourse with families of the first respectability. In her tastes she was frugal, simple, and pure; and delighted in music, pictures, and flowers. In spring and summer it was impossible to pass her windows without being struck with the beauty of the floral treasures they contained; and if extravagant in any thing, it was in the article of roots and plants of the finest sorts. Fond of the society of young people, she mingled as long as able in their innocent pleasures, and cheerfully filled for them the cup which cheers but not inebriates.' Although neither a sentimentalist nor a blue stocking,' she was a clever woman, possessed of great shrewdness, discriminated character admirably, and frequently made very pithy remarks; and were this the proper place for such a detail, proofs of what is stated might easily be adduced.

When young, she must have been a handsome, comely woman, if not indeed a beauty, when the poet saw her for the first time on a bleach-green at Mauchline, engaged, like Peggy and Jenny, at Habbie's Howe. Her limbs were cast in the finest mould; and, up to middle life, her jet-black eyes were clear and sparkling, her carriage easy, and her step light. The writer of the present sketch never saw Mrs. Burns dance, nor heard her sing; but he has learnt from others that she moved with great grace on the floor, and chaunted her 'wood-notes wild' in a style but rarely equalled by unprofessional singers. Her voice was a brilliant treble, and in singing Coolen,' 'I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,' and other songs, she rose without effort as high as B natural. In ballad poetry her taste was good, and range of reading rather extensive. Her memory, too, was strong, and she could quote when she chose at considerable length, and with great apti

talk with him about buying some of his ballads. Mrs. Burns being informed of the circumstance, came into the kitchen, when, to the amusement of the good old lady, the following dialogue took place :-Mrs. B. "And so you wished to see Mrs. Burns?" Boy, (anxiously,) "O ay, I would like to see

ing to be put to bed. Good God! what a situation for her to be in, poor girl, without 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.t

Your son-in-law,

R. B.

now in India, and may he who so worthily holds it be as fortunate as he is kind-hearted.-CUNNINGHAM. 1834.

This fervent wish has been accomplished. The Captain has now returned a Major, and has retired from the Hon. East India Company's Service with an independent fortune. J. C. 1840.]

tude. Of these powers the bard was so well aware that he read to her almost every piece he composed, and was not ashamed to own that he had profited by her judgment. In fact, none save relations, neighbours, and friends, could form a proper estimate of the character of Mrs. Burns. In the presence of strangers she was shy and silent, and required to be drawn out, or, as some would say, shown off to advantage, by persons who possessed her confidence, and knew her intimately.

"On Saturday, 22nd March, 1834, she was seized with paralysis for the fourth time during the last few years; and, although perfectly conscious of her situation, and the presence of friends, became deprived, before she could be removed to bed, of the faculty of speech, and, a day or two thereafter, of the sense of hearing. Still she lay wonderfully calm and composed, and, in the opinion of her medical attendant, suffered from weakness rather than from pain. Frequently she gazed with the greatest earnestness on her granddaughter, Sarah; and it was easy to read what was passing within, from the tears that filled her aged eyes, and trickled down her cheeks. To another individual she directed looks so eager and full of meaning as to impress him with the idea that she had some dying request to make, and deeply regretted that it was too late; for, even if her salvation had depended on the exertion, she was unfortunately incapacitated from uttering a syllable, guiding a pen, or even making an intelligible sign. The mind, in her case, survived the body; and this, perhaps, was the only painful circumstance attending her death-bed,-considering how admirable her conduct had always been, her general health so sound, her span protracted beyond the common lot, her character for prudence and piety so well established, and her situation in life every way so comfortable. On the night of Tuesday, or morning of Wednesday, a fifth shock, unperceived by the attendants, deprived Mrs. Burns of mental consciousness; and from that time till late in the evening, when she died, her situation was exactly that of a breathing corpse. Thus passed away all that remained of 'bonny Jean,'-the relict of a man whose fame is as wide as the world itself, and the venerated heroine of many a lay which bid fair to live in the memories of the people of Scotland, and of thousands far removed from its shores, as long as the language in which they are written is spoken or understood. She was born at Mauchline in February, 1765, and had thus entered the seventieth year of her age.]

TO ROBERT RIDDEL, Esq. MY DEAR SIR:

I

IN rummaging over some old papers, lighted on a MS. of my early years, in which I had determined to write myself out; as I was placed by fortune among a class of men to I whom my ideas would have been nonsense. had meant that the book should have lain by me, in the fond hope that some time or other, even after I was no more, my thoughts would fall into the hands of somebody capable of appreciating their value. It sets off thus:

"OBSERVATIONS, HINTS, SONGS, SCRAPS OF POETRY, &c., 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-will to every creature, rational and irrational.-As he was but little indebted to scholastic education, and bred at a ploughtail, his performances must be strongly tinctured with his unpolished, 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 world 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, design'd!
Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face,
Such the soft image of our youthful mind."-Ibid.

April, 1783.

Notwithstanding all that has been said against love, respecting the folly and weakness it leads a young inexperienced mind into; still I think it in a great measure deserves the highest encomiums that have been passed upon it.

There is certainly some connexion between

love, and music, and poetry; and, therefore, I have always thought it a fine touch of nature, that passage in a modern love-composition:

"As towards her cot be jogg'd along, Her name was frequent in his song." For 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 recals 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.

O once I lov'd a bonnie lass, &c.+

genius obtained for him. For his eye he wrote those remarks on Scottish song, given elsewhere, [page 518 and, indeed, on all occasions shewed how much he loved his worth, his taste, and his learning.]

† [See "My handsome Nell," page 339.)