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affirm, that our poet was a distinguished member of both these associations, which were well calculated to excite and to develope the powers of his mind. From seven to twelve persons constituted the society at Tarbolton, and such a number is best suited to the purposes of information. Where this is the object of these societies, the number should be such, that each person may have an opportunity of imparting his sentiments, as well as of receiving those of others; and the powers of private conversation are to be employed, not those of public debate. A limited society of this kind, where the subject of conversation is fixed beforehand, so that each member may revolve it previously in his mind, is, perhaps, one of the happiest contrivances hitherto discovered for shortening the acquisition of knowledge, and hastening the evolution of talents. Such an association requires indeed somewhat more of regulation than the rules of politeness established in common conversation; or, rather, perhaps, it requires that the rules of politeness, which in animated conversation are are liable to perpetual violation, should be vigorously enforced. The order of speech established in the club at Tarbolton appears to have been more regular than was required in so small a society; where all that is necessary seems to be, the fixing on a member to whom every speaker shall address himself, and who shall in return secure the speaker from interruption. Conversation, which among men whom intimacy and friendship have relieved from reserve and restraint, is liable, when left to itself, to so many inequalities, and which, as it becomes rapid, so often diverges into separate and collateral branches, in which it is dissipated and lost, being kept within its channel by a simple limitation of this kind, which practice renders easy and familiar, flows along in one full stream, and becomes smoother and clearer, and deeper, as it flows. It may also be observed, that in this way the acquisition of knowledge becomes more pleasant and more easy, from the gradual improvement of the faculty employed to convey it. Though some attention has been paid to the eloquence of the senate and the bar, which in this, as in all other free governments, is productive of so much influence to a few who excel in it, yet little regard has been paid to the humbler exercise of speech in private conversation, an art that is of consequence to every description of persons under every form of government, and on which eloquence of every kind ought perhaps to be founded.

The first requisite of every kind of elocution, a distinct utterance, is the offspring of much time, and long practice. Children are always defective in clear articulation, and so are young people, though of a less degree. What is called slurring in speech prevails with some persons through life, especially in those who are taciturn. Articulation does not seem to reach its utmost degree of distinctness in men before the age of twenty, or upwards: in women it reaches this point somewhat earlier. Female occupations require much use of speech, because they are duties in detail. Besides, their occupations being generally sedentary, the respiration is left at liberty. Their nerves being more delicate, their sensibility, as well as fancy, is more lively; the natural consequence of which is, a more frequent utterance of thought, a greater fluency of speech, and a distinct articulation at an earlier age. But in men who have not mingled early and familiarly with the world. though rich perhaps in knowledge, and clear in apprehension, it is often painful to observe the difficulty with which their ideas are communicated by speech, through the want of those habits, that connect thoughts. words, and sounds together; which, when established, seem as if they had arisen spontaneously, but

which, in truth, are the result of long and painful practice, and, when analyzed, exhibit the phenomena of most curious and complicated associations.

Societies then, such as we have been describing, while they may be said to put each member in possession of the knowledge of all the rest, improve the powers of utterance, and by the collision of opinion, excite the faculties of reason and reflection. To those who wish to improve their minds in such intervals of labour as the conditions of a peasant allows, this method of abbreviating instruction may, under proper regulations, be highly useful. To the student, whose opinions, springing out of solitary observation and meditation, are seldom, in the first instance, correct, and which have, notwithstanding, while confined to himself, an increasing tendency to assume in his own eye the character of demonstrations, an association of this kind, where they may be examined as they arise, is of the utmost importance; since it may prevent those illusions of imagination, by which genius being bewildered, science is often debased, and error propagated through successive generations. And to men who, having cultivated letters or general science in the course of their education, are engaged in the active occupations of life, and no longer able to devote to study or to books the time requisite for improving or preserving their acquisitions, associations of this kind, where the inind may unbend from its usual cares in discussions of literature or science, afford the most pleasing, the most useful, and most rational of gratifications.

Whether, in the humble societies of which he was a member, Burns acquired much direct information, may perhaps be questioned. It cannot, however, be doubted, that by collision, the faculties of his mind would be excited, that by practice, his habits of enunciation would be established, and thus we have some explanation of that early command of words and of expression which enabled him to pour fourth his thoughts in language not unworthy of his genius, and which, of all his endowments, seemed, on his appearance in Edinburgh, the most extraordinary. For associations of a literary nature, our poet acquired a considerable relish; and happy had it been for him, after he emerged from the condition of a peasant, if fortune had permitted him to enjoy them in the degree of which he was capable, so as to have fortified his principles of virtue by the purification of his taste, and given to the energies of his mind habits of exertion that might have excluded other associations, in which it must be acknowledged they were too often wasted, as well as debased.

The whole course of the Ayr is fine: but the banks of that river, as it bends to the eastward above Mauchline, are singularly beautiful, and they were frequented, as may be imagined, by our poet in his solitary walks. Here the muse often visited him. In one of these wanderings, he met among the woods a celebrated Beauty of the west of Scotland, a lady of whom it is said, that the charms of her person corresponded with the character of her mind. This incident gave rise, as might be expected, to a poem, of which an account will be found in the letter, in which he enclosed it to the object of his inspiration:

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found precedents for such freedoms among the
poets of Greece and Rome, and indeed of every
country. And it is not to be denied, that lovely
women have generally submitted to this sort of
profanation with patience, and even good
humour. To what purpose is it to repine at mis-
fortune which is the necessary consequence of
their own charms, or to remonstrate with a de-
scription of men who are incapable of control?
"The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact."

It may easily be presumed, that the beautiful nymph of Ballochmile whoever she may have been, did not reject with scorn the adorations of our poet, though she received them with silent modesty and dignified reserve.

enclosed poem, which he begs leave to present you with. Whether it has poetical merit any way worthy of the theme, I am not the proper judge; but it is the best my abilities can produce; and what to a good heart will perhaps be superior grace, it is equally sincere as fervent. "The scenery was nearly taken from real life though I dare say, madani, you do not recollect it, as I believe you scarcely noticed the poetic reveur as he wandered by you. I had roved out out as chance directed in the favourite haunts of iny muse, on the banks of the Ayr, to view nature in all the gaiety of the vernal year. The evening sun was flaming over the distant western hills; not a breath stirred the crimson opening blossom, or the verdant spreading leaf. It was a golden moment for a poetic heart. I listened to the feathered warblers, pouring their The sensibility of our bard's temper, and the harmony on every hand, with a congenial kin- force of his imagination, exposed him in a partidred regard, and frequently turned out of my cular manner to the impressions of beauty; and path, lest I should disturb their little songs, or these qualities united to his impassioned elofrighten them to another station. Surely, said I quence gave him in turn a powerful influence to myself, he must be a wretch indeed who, re- over the female heart. The banks of the Ayr gardless of your harmonions endeavour to please formed the scene of youthful passions of a still him, can eye your elusive flights to discover tenderer nature, the history of which it would your secret recesses, and to rob you of all the be improper to reveal, were it even in our property nature gives you, your dearest com- power, and the traces of which will soon be disforts, your helpless nestlings. Even the hoary coverable only in those strains of nature and hawthorn-twig that shot across the way, what sensibility to which they gave birth. The song heart at such a time but must have been in-entitled "Highland Mary," is known to reterested in its welfare, and wished it preserved late to one of these attachments. "It was from the rudely browsing cattle, or the withering written," says our bard, on one of the most ineastern blast? Such was the scene, and such the teresting passages of my youthful days.' The hour, when in a corner of my prospect I spied object of this passion died in early life, and the one of the fairest pieces of Nature's workman- impression left on the mind of Burns seems to ship that ever crowned a poetic landscape, or have been deep and lasting. Several years met a poet's eye, those visionary bards afterwards, when he was removed to Nithsdale, cepted who hold commerce with aerial beings! he gave vent to the sensibility of his recollecHad Calumny and Villany taken my walk, they tions in the impassioned lines addressed "To had at that moment sworn eternal peace and Mary in Heaven," and commencing thussuch an object.

ex

"What an hour of inspiration for a poet! It would have raised plain, dull, historic prose into metaphor and measure.

"The enclosed song was the work of my return home and perhaps it but poorly answers what might be expected from such a scene.

"I have the honour to be,

"Madam,

Your most obedient, and very
"humble servant,
"ROBERT BURNS."

[The song alluded to is the one commencing,
""Twas even-the dewy fields were green."
In the manuscript book in which our poet has
recounted this incident, and into which the letter
and poem are copied, he complains that the lady
made no reply to his effusions, and this appears
to have wounded his self-love. It is not, how-
ever, difficult to find an excuse for her silence.
Burns was at that time little known, and where
known at all, noted rather for the wild strength
of his humour, than for those strains of tender-
ness, in which he afterwards so much excelled.
To the lady herself his name had perhaps never
been mentioned, and of such a poem she might
not consider herself as the proper judge. Her
modesty might prevent her from perceiving that
the muse of Tibullus breathed in the nameless
poet and that her beauty was awakening strains
destined to immortality on the banks of the Ayr.
It may be conceived, also, that supposing the
verses duly appreciated, delicacy might find it
difficult to express its acknowledgments. The
fervent imagination of the rustic bard possessed
more of tenderness than of respect. Instead of
raising himself to the condition of the object of
his admiration, he presumed to reduce her to his
own, and to strain this high-born beauty to his
darling bosom. It is true, Burns might have

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"Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray." To the delineations of the poet by himself, by his brother, and by his tutor, these additions are necessary, in order that the reader may see his character in its varions aspects, and may have an opportunity of forming a just notion of the variety, as well as the power of his original genius.

We have dwelt the longer on the early part of his life, because it is the least known, and because, as has been already mentioned, this part of his history is connected with some views of the condition and manners of the humblest ranks of society, hitherto little observed, and which will perhaps be found neither useless nor uninteresting.

About the time of leaving his native country, his correspondence commences; and in the series of letters now given to the world, the chief incidents of the remaining part of his life will be found. This authentic, though melancholy, record. will supersede in future the necessity of any extended narrative.

Burns set out for Edinburgh in the month of November, 1786, and arrived on the second day afterwards, having performed his journey on foot. He was furnished with a letter of introduction to Dr. Blacklock, from the gentleman to whom the doctor had addressed the letter which is represented by our bard as the immediate cause of his visiting the Scottish metropolis. He was acquainted with Dr. Stewart, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University, and had been entertained by that gentleman at Catrine, his estate in Ayrshire. He had been introduced by Mr. Alexander Dalzell to the Earl of Glencairn, who had expressed his high approbation of his poetical talents. He had friends therefore who could introduce him into the circles of literature as well as of fashion, and his own manuers and appearance exceeding every expectation that could have been formed of them, he soon

forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He took his share in conversation, but not more than belonged to him; and listened, with apparent attention and deference, on subjects where his want of education deprived him of the means of information. If there had been a little more of gentleness and accommodation in his temper, he would, I think, have been still more interesting; but he had been accustomed to give law in the circle of his ordinary acquaintance; and his dread of anything approaching to meanness or servility, rendered his manner somewhat decided and hard. Nothing, perhaps, was more remarkable, among his various attainments, than the fluency, and precision, and originality of his language, when he spoke in company; more particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn of expression, and avoided more successfully than most Scotchmen the peculiarities of Scottish phraseology.

became an object of general curiosity and admi- | and worth; but without anything that indicated ration. The following circumstance contributed to this in a considerable degree.-At the time when Burns arrived in Edinburgh, the periodical paper, entitled The Lounger, was publishing, every Saturday producing a successive number. His poems had attracted the notice of the gentlemen engaged in that undertaking, and the ninety-seventh number of those unequal, though frequently beautiful, essays, is devoted to "An Account of Robert Burns, the Ayrshire ploughman, with extracts from his Poems," written by the elegant pen of Mr. Mackenzie. The Lounger had an extensive circulation among persons of taste and literature, not in Scotland only, but in various parts of England, to whose acquaintance therefore our bard was immediately introduced. The paper of Mr. Mackenzie was calculated to introduce him advantageously. The extracts are well selected; the criticisms and reflections are judicious as well as generous; and in the style and sentiments there is that happy delicacy, by which the writings of the author are so eminently distinguished. The extracts from Burns' poems in the ninety-seventh number of The Lounger were copied into the London, as well as into many of the principal papers, and the fame of our bard spread throughout the island. Of the manners, character, and conduct of Burns at this period, the following account has been given by Mr. Stewart, in a letter to the editor, which he is particularly happy to have obtained permission to insert in these memoirs.

PROFESSOR DUGALD STEWART, OF EDINBURGH, TO
DR. JAMES CURRIE, OF LIVERPOOL.
"THE first time I saw Robert Burns was on the
23rd of October, 1786, when he dined at my house,
in Ayrshire, together with our common friend,
Mr. John Mackenzie, surgeon in Mauchline, to
whom I am indebted for the pleasure of his ac-
Quaintance. I am enabled to mention the date
particularly, by some verses which Burns wrote
after he returned home, and in which the day of
our meeting is recorded.-My excellent and
much-lamented friend, the late Basil, Lord Daer,
happened to arrive'at Catrine the same day, and,
by the kindness and frankness of his manners,
left an impression on the mind of the poet, that
never was effaced. The verses I allude to are
among the most imperfect of his pieces; but a
few stanzas may perhaps be an object of curi-
osity to you, both on account of tho character to
which they relate, and of the light which they
throw on the situation and feelings of the writer,
before his name was known to the public.

"He came to Edinburgh early in the winter following, and remained there for several months. By whose advice he took this step, I am unable to say. Perhaps it was suggested only by his own curiosity to see a little more of the world; but, I confess, I dreaded the consequences from the first, and always wished that. his pursuits and habits should continue the same as in the former part of life; with the addition of, what I considered as then completely within his reach, a good farm on moderate terms, in a part of the country agreeable to his taste.

"The attentions he received during his stay in town from all ranks and descriptions of persons were such as would have turned any head but his own. I cannot say that I could perceive any unfavourable effect which they left on his mind. He retained the same simplicity of manners and appearance which had struck me so forcibly when I first saw him in the country; nor did he seem to feel any additional self-importance from the number and rank of his new acquaintance. His dress was perfectly suited to his station, plain and unpretending, with a sufficient attention to neatness. If I recollect right, he always wore boots; and, when on more than usual ceremony, buckskin breeches.

"The variety of his engagements, while in Edinburgh, prevented me from seeing him so often as I could have wished. In the course of the spring he called on me once or twice, at my request, early in the morning, and walked with me to Braid-Hills, in the neighbourhood of the town, when he charmed me still more by his private conversation, than he had ever done in company. He was passionately fond of the beauties of nature; and I recollect once he told me, when I was admiring a distant prospect in one of our morning walks, that the sight of so many smoking cottages gave a pleasure to his mind, which none could understand who had not witnessed, like himself, the happiness and the worth which they contained.

"I cannot positively say, at this distance of time, whether, at the period of our first acquaintance, the Kilmarnock edition of his poeems had been just published, or was yet in the press. I suspect that the latter was the case, as I have still in my possession copies, in his own handwriting, of some of his favourite performances; particularly of his verses "on turning up a Mouse with his plough;"-"on the Mountain Daisy" and "the Lament." On my return to Edinburgh, I showed the volume, and mentioned what I knew of the author's history, to several of my friends, and, among others, to Mr. Henry Mackenzie, who first recommended him to pub-nor very consistently. He had a very strong lic notice in the 9th number of The Lounger.

"At this time, Burns' prospects in life were so extremely gloomy, that he had seriously formed a plan of going out to Jamacia in a very humble situation, not, however, without lamenting, that his want of patronage should force him to think of a project so 'repugnant to his feelings, when his ambition aimed at no higher an object than the station of an exciseman or a gauger in his own country,

His manners were then, as they continued ever afterwards, simple, manly, and independent; strongly expressive of conscious genius

"In his political principles he was then a Jacobite which was perhaps owing partly to this, that his father was originally from the estate of Lord Mareschell. Indeed he did not appear to have thought much on such subjects.

sense of religion, and expressed deep regret at the levity with which he had heard it treated occasionally in some convivial meetings which he frequented. I speak of him as he was in the winter of 1786-7; for afterwards we met but seldom, and our conversations turned chiefly on his literary projects, or his private affairs.

"I do not recollect whether it appears or not from any of your letters to me, that you had ever seen Burns. If you have, it is superfluous for me to add, that the idea which his conversation conveyed of the powers of his mind, exceeded, if possible, that which is suggested by

his writings. Among the poets whom I have, happened to know, I have been struck, in more than one instance, with the unaccountable disparity between their general talents, and the occasional inspirations of their more favoured moments. But all the faculties of Burns's mind were, as far as I could judge, equally vigorous; and his predilection for poetry was rather the result of his own enthusiastic and impassioned temper, than of a genius exclusively adapted to that species of composition. From his conversation I should have pronounced him to be fitted to excel in whatever walk of ambition he had chosen to exert his abilities.

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Among the subjects on which he was accustomed to dwell, the characters of the individuals with whom he happened to meet was plainly a favourite one. The remarks he made on them were always shrewd and pointed, though frequently inclining too much to sarcasm. His praise of those he loved was sometimes indiscriiminate and extravagant; but this, I suspect, proceeded rather from the caprice and humour of the moment, than from the effects of attachment in blinding his judgment. His wit was ready, and always impressed with the marks of a vigorous understanding; but, to my taste, not often pleasing or happy. His attempts at epigram, in his printed works, are the only performances, perhaps, that he has produced, totally unworthy of his genius.

In summer, 1787, I passed some weeks in Ayrshire, and saw Burns occasionally. I think that he made a pretty long excursion that season to the Highlands, and that he also visited what Beattie calls the Arcadian ground of Scotland, upon the banks of the Teviot and the Tweed.

"I should have mentioned before, that notwithstanding various reports I heard during the preceding winter, of Burns's predilection for convivial, and not very select society, I should have concluded in favour of his habits of sobriety, from all of him that ever fell under my own observation. He told me indeed himself, that the weakness of his stomach was such as to deprive him entirely of any merit in his temperance. I was however somewhat alarmed about the effect of his now comparatively sedentary and luxurious life, when he confessed to me, the first night he spent in my house after his winter's campaign in town, that he had been much disturbed when in bed, by a palpitation at his heart, which, he said, was a complaint to which he had of late become subject.

"In the course of the same season I was led by curiosity to attend for an hour or two a Masonic Lodge in Mauchline, where Burns presided. He (had occasion to make short, unpremeditated compliments to different individuals from whom he had no reason to expect a visit, and everything he said was happily conceived, and forcibly as well as fluently expressed. If I am not mistaken, he told me, that in that village, before going to Edinburgh, he had belonged to a small club of such of the inhabitants as had a taste for books, when they used to converse and debate on any interesting questions that occurred to them in the course of their reading. His manner of speaking in public had evidently the marks of some practice in extempore clocution.

"I must not omit to mention, what I have always considered as characteristical in a high degree of true genius, the extreme facility and good nature of his taste, in judging of the compositions of others, when there was any real grounds for praise. I repeated to him many passages of English poetry with which he was unacquainted, and have more than once witnessed the tears of admiration and rapture with which he heard them. The collection of songs by Dr. Aiken, which I first put into his hands, he

read with unmixed delight, notwithstanding his former efforts in that very difficult species of writing; and I have little doubt that it had some effect in polishing his subsequent compositions. "In judging of prose, I do not think his taste was equally sound. I once read to him a passage or two in Franklin's works, which I thought very happily executed, upon the model of Addison; but he did not appear to relish, or to perceive, the beauty which they derived from their exquisite simplicity, and spoke of them with indifference when compared with the point, and antithesis, and quaintness of "Junius." The influence of this taste is very perceptible in his own prose compositions, although their great and various excellencies render some of them scarcely less objects of wonder than his poetical performances. The late Dr. Robertson used to say, that considering his education, the latter seemed to him the more extraordinary of the two.

"His memory was uncommonly retentive, at least for poetry, of which he recited to me frequently long compositions with the most minute accuracy. They were chiefly ballads, and other pieces in our Scottish dialect; great part of them (he told me) he had learned in his childhood, from his mother, who delighted in such recitations, and whose poetical taste, rude as it probably was, gave, it is presumable, the first direction of her son's genius.

"Of the more polished verses which accidentally fell into his hands in his early years, he mentioned particularly the recommendatory poems, by different authors, prefixed to Hervey's Meditations;' a book which has always had a very wide circulation among such of the country people of Scotland, as affect to unite some degree of taste with their religious studies. And these poems (although they are certainly below mediocrity) he continued to read with a degree of rapture beyond expression. He took notice of this fact himself. as a proof how much the taste is liable to be influenced by accidental circumstances.

"His father appeared to me, from the account he gave of him, to have been a respectable and worthy character, possessed of a mind superior to what might have been expected from his station in life. He ascribed much of his own principles and feelings to the early impressions he had received from his instructions and example. I recollect that he once applied to him (and he added, that the passage was a literal statement of fact), the two last lines of the following passage in the Minstrel,' the whole of which he repeated with great enthusiasm:"Shall I be left forgotten in the dust,

When fate relenting, lets the flower revive; Shall nature's voice, to man alone unjust, Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live?'

Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive

With disappointment, penury, and pain! No! Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive; And man's majestic beauty bloom again, Bright through th' eternal year of love's triumphant reign.

This truth sublime, his simple sire had taught: In sooth 'twas almost all the shepherd knew.'

"With respect to Burns's 'early education, I cannot say anything with certainty. He always spoke with respect and gratitude of the schoolmaster who had taught him to read English: and who, finding in his scholar a more than ordinary ardour for knowledge, had been at pains to instruct him in the grammatical principles of the language. He began the study of Latin, but dropped it before he had finished the verbs. I have sometimes heard him quote a few Latin words, such as omnia rincit amor, &c., but they seemed to be such as he had caught from

conversation, and which he repeated by rote. I think he had a project after he came to Edinburgh, of prosecuting the study under his intimate friend, the late Mr. Nicol, one of the masters of the grammar-school here; but I do not know if he ever proceeded so far as to make the attempt.

"He certainly possessed a smattering of French; and, if he had an affectation in anything, it was in introducing occasionally a word or a phrase from that language. It is possible that his knowledge in this respect might be inore extensive than I suppose it to be; but that you can learn from his more intimate acquaintance. It would be worth while to inquire, whether he was able to read the French authors with such facility as to receive from them any improvement to his taste. For my own part, I doubt it much-nor would I believe it, but on very strong and pointed evidence.

"If my memory does not fail me, he was well instructed in arithmetic, and knew something of practical geometry, particularly of surveying. -All his other attainments were entirely his

own.

"The last time I saw him was during the winter, 1788-89; when he passed an evening with me at Drunsheugh, in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, where I was then living. My friend Mr. Alison was the only other in company. I never saw him more agreeable or interesting. A present which Mr. Alison sent him afterwards of his Essays on Taste,' drew from Burns a letter of acknowledgment, which I remember to have read with some degree of surprise at the distinct conception he appeared from it to have formed, of the several principles of the doctrine of association. When I saw Mr. Alison in Shropshire last autumn, I forget to inquire if the letter be still in existence. If it is, you may easily procure it, by megns of our friend Mr. Houlbrooke."

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dress to Edinburgh," she is celebrated in a strain of still greater elevation:

"Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye,
Heaven's beauties on iny fancy shine;
I see the Sire of Love on high,

And own his works indeed divine!" This lovely woman died a few years afterwards in the flower of her youth. Our bard expressed his sensibility on that occasion, in verses addressed to her memory.

Among the men of rank and fashion, Burns was particularly distinguished by James, Earl of Glencairn. On the motion of this nobleman, the Caledonian Hunt, (an association of the principal of the nobility and gentry of Scotland,) extended their patronage to our bard, and admitted him to their gay orgies. He repaid their notice by a dedication of the enlarged and improved edition of his poems, in which he has celebrated their patriotism and independence in very animated terms.

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"I congratulate my country that the blood of her ancient heroes runs uncontaminated; and that, from your courage, knowledge, and public spirit, she may expect protection, wealth, and liberty. * May corruption shrink at your kindling indignant glance; and may tyranny in the ruler, and licentiousness in the people, equally find in you an inexorable foe!" It is to be presumed that these generous sentiments, uttered at an era singularly propitious to independence of character and conduct, were favourably received by the persons to whom they were addressed, and that they were echoed from every bosom, as well as from that of the Earl of Glencairn. This accomplished nobleman, a scholar, a man of taste and sensibility, died soon afterwards. Had he lived, and had his power equalled his wishes, Scotland might still have exulted in the genius, instead of lamenting the early fate, of her favourite bard.

burgh, at the period of which we speak, contained perhaps an uncommon proportion of men of considerable talents, devoted to social excesses, in which their talents were wasted and debased.

A taste for letters is not always conjoined with The scene that opened on our bard in Edin-habits of temperance and regularity; and Edinburgh was altogether new, and in a variety of other respects highly interesting, especially to one of his disposition of mind. To use an expression of his own, he found himself "suddenly translated from the veriest shades of life," into the presence, and, indeed, into the society, of a number of persons, previously known to him by report as of the highest distinction in his country, and whose characters it was natural for him to examine with no common curiosity.

From the men of letters, in general, his reception was particularly flattering. The late Dr. Blair, Dr. Gregory, Mr. Stewart, Mr. Mackenzie, and Mr. Fraser Tytler, may be mentioned in the list of those who perceived his uncommon talents, who acknowledged more especially his power in conversation, and who interested themselves in the cultivation of his genius. In Edinburgh, literary and fashionable society are a good deal mixed. Our bard was an acceptable guest in the gayest and most elevated circles, and frequently received from female beauty and elegance those attentions above all others most grateful to him. At the table of Lord Monboddo, he was a frequent guest; and while he enjoyed the society, and partook of the hospitalities of the venerable judge, he experienced the kindness and condescension of his loving and accomplished daughter. The singular beauty of this young lady was illumined by that happy expression of countenance which results from the union of cultivated taste and superior understanding, with the finest affections of the mind. The influence of such attraction was not unfelt by our poet. "There has not been anything like Miss Burnet," said he, in a letter to a friend, "in all the conbinations of beauty, grace, and goodness, the Creator has formed, since Milton's Eve on the first day of her existence." In his "Ad

Burns entered into several parties of this description, with the usual vehemence of his character. His generous affections, his ardent eloquence, his brilliant and daring imagination, fitted him to be the idol of such associations; and accustomed himself to conversation of unlimited range, and to festive indulgences that scorned restraint, he gradually lost some portion of his relish for the more pure, but less poignant, pleasures, to be found in the circles of taste, elegance, and literature. The sudden alteration in his habits of life operated on him physically as well as morally. The humble fare of an Ayrshire peasant he had exchanged for the luxuries of the Scottish metropolis, and the effects of this change on his ardent constitution could not be inconsiderable. But whatever influence might be produced on his conduct, his excellent understanding suffered no correspendent debasement. He estimated his friends and associates of every description at their proper value, and appreciated his own conduct with a precision that might give scope to much curious and melancholy reflection. He saw his danger, and at times formed resolutions to guard against it; but he had embarked on the tide of dissipation, and was borne along its stream.

Of the state of his mind at this time, an authentic, though imperfect, document remains in a book which he procured in the spring of 1787, for the purpose, as he himself informs us, of recording in it whatever seemed worthy of observation. The following extracts may serve as a specimen.

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