was sprung from her family. Though almost depriv ed 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 Hooi uncos, a sound used by shepherds to direct their dogs to drive away the sheep..

"We returned to Edinburgh by Kinross (on the shore of Lochleven) and Queen's ferry. 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 meeting 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

* Bruce died some years before. Es

addressed to me a ludicrous reproof and exhortation, parodied from that which had been delivered to himself in Ayrshire, where he had, as he assured me, once been one of seven who mounted the seat of shame together.

"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. Yet the inference that Dr Adair seems inclined to draw from it, that he had little taste for the picturesque, might be questioned, even if it stood uncontroverted by other evidence. The muse of Burns was in a high degree capricious; she came uncalled, and often refused to attend at his bidding. Of all the numerous subjects suggested to him by his friends and correspondents, there is scarcely one that. he adopted. The very expectation that a particular occasion would excite the energies of fancy, if com

* Extracted from a letter of Dr Adair to the Editor.

municated to Burns, seemed in him, as in other poets, destructive of the effect expected. Hence perhaps may be explained, why the banks of the Devon and of the Tweed form no part of the subjects of his song.

A similar train of reasoning may perhaps explain the want of emotion with which he viewed the Caldron 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 descriptions 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. imagination of Burns might form a cataract, in comparison with which the Caldron Linn should seem the purling of a rill, and even the mighty falls of Niagara, a humble cascade.*

The

* This reasoning might be extended, with some modifications, to objects of sight of every kind. To have formed before-hand a distinct picture in the mind, of any interesting person or thing, generally lessens the pleasure of the first meeting with them. Though this picture be not superior, or even equal to the reality, still it can never be expected to be an exact resemblance; and the disappointment felt at finding the object something different from what was expected, interrupts and diminishes the emotions that would otherwise be produced. In such cases the second or third interview gives more pleasure than the first. See the Elements of the Philosophy of the Humar Mind, by Mr Stewart, p. 484. Such publications as The

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 scenery of the Devon with the eye of a genuine poet, the following lines written at this very period, may bear witness.

On a Young Lady, residing on the banks of the small river Deon, in Clackmannanshire, but zehose infant years were spent in Ayrshire.

How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding Devon,

With green-spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair;
But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon
Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.

Mild be the sun on this sweet-blushing flower,
In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew!
And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,
That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.

spare
the dear blossom, ye orient breezes,
With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn!
And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes

The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!

Guide to the Lakes, where every scene is described in the most minute manner, and sometimes with considerable exaggeration of language, are in this point of view objectionable.

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies,

And England triumphant display her proud rose; A fairer than either adorns the green valleys

Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.

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 now contracted a particular intimacy, which lasted during the remainder of his life. Mr Nicol was of Dumfriesshire, 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 a 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 graduates in medicine, in those parts of their excercises 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 wellfounded objections, Mr Nicol, by superior learning,