9th. The club shall not consist of more than sixteen members, all bachelors, belonging to the parish of Tarbolton; except a brother member marry, and in that case he may be continued, if the majority of the club think proper. No person shall be admitted a member of this society without the unanimous consent of the club; and any member may withdraw from the club altogether, by giving a notice to the president in writing of his departure.

10th. Every man proper for a member of this Society, must have a frank, honest, open heart, above any thing dirty or mean; and must be a professed lover of one or more of the female sex. No haughty, self-conceited person, who looks upon himself as superior to the rest of the club, and especially no mean-spirited, worldly mortal, whose only will is to heap up money, shall upon any pretence whatever be admitted. In short, the proper person for this society is, a cheerful, honest-hearted lad; who, if he has a friend that is true, and a mistress that is kind, and as much wealth as genteelly to make both ends meet-is just as happy as this world can make him.

Note D. See p. 313.

A great number of manuscript poems were

found

found among the papers of Burns, addressed to him by admirers of his genius, from different parts of Britain, as well as from Ireland and America. Among these was a poetical epistle from Mr. Telford, of Shrewsbury, of superior merit. It is written in the dialect of Scotland, (of which country Mr. Telford is a native) and in the versification generally employed by our poet himself. Its object is to recommend to him other subjects of a serious nature, similar to that of the Cotter's Saturday Night; and the reader will find that the advice is happily enforced by example. It would have given the editor pleasure to have inserted the whole of this poem, which he hopes will one day see the light: he is happy to have obtained, in the mean time, his friend Mr. Telford's permission to insert the following extracts.

Pursue, O Burns! thy happy style,
"Those manner-painting strains," that while
They bear me northward mony a mile,
Recall the days,

When tender joys, with pleasing smile,

Blest my young ways.

I see my fond companions rise,

I join the happy village joys,

I see our green hills touch the skies,

And thro' the woods,

I hear the river's rushing noise,

Its roaring floods.*

No distant Swiss with warmer glow,
E'er heard his native music flow,
Nor could his wishes stronger grow,

Than still have mine,

When up this ancient mount I go,

With songs of thine.

O happy Bard! thy gen'rous flame,
Was given to raise thy country's fame,
For this thy charming numbers came,
Thy matchless lays;

Then sing, and save her virtuous name,
To latest days.

But

* The banks of the Esk in Dumfries-shire, are here alluded to.

E.

↑ A beautiful little mount, which stands immediately before, or rather forms a part of Shrewsbury castle, a seat of Sir William Pulteney, bart.

But mony a theme awaits thy muse,
Fine as thy Cotter's sacred views,
Then in such verse thy soul infuse,
With holy air,

And sing the course the pious chuse,
With all thy care.

How with religious awe imprest,
They open lay the guileless breast,
And youth and age with fears distrest,
All due prepare,

The symbols of eternal rest

Devout to share.*

How down ilk lang withdrawing hill,
Successive crowds the valleys fill,
While pure religious converse still

Beguiles the way,

And gives a cast to youthful will,
To suit the day.

How plac'd along the sacred board,
Their hoary pastor's looks ador'd,

His voice with peace and blessings stor'd,

Sent from above,

And faith, and hope, and joy afford,

And boundless love.

O'er

* The Sacrament, generally administered in the country

parishes of Scotland in the open air.

E.

O'er this, with warm seraphic glow,
Celestial beings pleased bow,
And, whisper'd, hear the holy vow,
'Mid grateful tears;

And mark amid such scenes below,
Their future peers.

O mark the awful, solemn scene!*
When hoary winter clothes the plain,
Along the snowy hills is seen

Approaching slow,

In mourning weeds, the village train,
In silent woe.

Some much-respected brother's bier,
(By turns in pious task they share,)
With heavy hearts they forward bear
Along the path;

Where nei'bours saw, in dusky air,†
The light of death.

And when they pass the rocky how,
Where binwood bushes o'er them flow,
And move around the rising knowe,

Where far away

The kirk yard trees are seen to grow,
By th' water brae.

*A Scottish funeral.

Assembled

E.

+ This alludes to a superstition prevalent in Eskdale and Annandale, that a light precedes in the night every funeral, marking the precise path it is to pass.

E.