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Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planchf>s, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction diff6rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filmd A partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 1 1 I •I ] ' I 1 .1 \ ,1 / 1 (i^Sy^l ROBERT BURNS SCOTI..S^'S Ilvd:3^0IBT.i5^Xj E^5^I33D -^aHIS Life and Labours, o-tsyi- Rev. Robert Grant. -c^^: k u fV;\^4 x) HALIFAX: f- f)' .e>H 1 :t; Colin Campbell. The names of a Richard the third, a Henry tlr^e eight, a Charles the second, and a George the fourth, shall ever be remembered with execration. But England shall ever be proud of the fame of a Chaucer, a Spencer, a Shakspeare, a Milton, a Watts, a Cowper, a Dryden, and a Pope. It can thus be proved that there has never been a nation but has produced its distinguished men. Even the distant China can boast of a Confucius, and Persia of a Zoroaster. This brings me back to a period 124 years ago (1759). In the month of January of that year, in one of the poorest huts in Sdotland, and within two miles of the town of Ayr — that •' Old Ayr which ne'er a town surpasses" — was born one whose name, especially during the last sixty years, has stood prominent among the children of men. I mean Robert Burns. And whatever others say, or may have said, I say. All honor to the name. He was born in the deepest depths of poverty. He was cradled in obscurity, and " when he was come to years, he refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter." The early choice of Robert Burns was as deliberate as that of Moses himself Of the latter it is recorded that he preferred to " Suffer affliction with the people of God." The choice of the peasant poet was equally disinterested, and credit- able to his generous nature. In early boyhood, he found him- self placed in the ranks of those whom long ages of oppression had reduced to a state only a little better than that of slaves. When he attained to the full maturity of his strength, like Goldsmith's Village Pastor, " He neither changed, nor wished to change his place. His youthful resolve was thus to stand by that rank in lowly life from which he sprang at first ; and, throughout his whole career, he acted up to that choice in a manner that has seldom been equalled, and perhaps never surpassed by any uninspired man — the strictures of adverse critics, whether lay or clerical, to the contrary notwithstanding. During his brief but difficult career of only thirty-seven years, with courage more than human, he withstood the pitiless peltings of the " proud man's scorn and the rich man's contumely .-'" and, when " sore with hardship pressed," he threw the shield of his protection over downtrodden and oppressed poverty. The virtuous poor he claimed as his own — his peculiar charge. But, like a skilful general, he " carried the war into Africa" — as many a would-be despot during his own and every succeeding age felt, and is des- tined yet to feel to his cost Against the brazen forehead of v^ > the purse-proud tyrant, with unerring force, he hurled the shafts of remorseless satire and vengeful sarcasm. The consequence is, that those in lowly life feel that in the person of Robert 3urns, as in that of a Cowper and a Watts, there appeared a friend and deliverer. The Ayrshire peasant had more than the ambitious Edward in view when he uttered the battle-cry, — " Lay the proud usurpers low" And lordly oppressors in many lands would do well to take heed. Had they done so years ago, their own best interests would have been promoted, and much bloodshed would have been averted. r shall now cons' ^er— I. — The position Burns is entitled to occupy as a Poet. In commercial affairs there is a recognized standard of weights and measures. This is true of all civilized nations. But where is the standard of criticism to be found .-• Is it in the ipse dixit of this and that other reviewer .-' I say it is not. A nice standard men would then have. In English history there was an Addison, a Steel, a Johnson, and a Burke, a Hume, a Mac- aulay, a Lockhart, a Jeff"rey, a Wilson, and a Carlyle. Every one of these sons of genius was a consummate master or style ; and, by their writings, they all acquired imperishable fame. But I wonder if it ever occurred to any one that no two of them ever thought or wrote alike ; that, with the exception of Addison alone, whose style was faultless, every one of them, at times, in- fringed the rules of propriety and good taste, both in thought and diction ? A Johnson could be both turgid and pompous. A Macaulay could be, and often is, laboured, bombastic, and untruthful. Even Homer sometimes " nods." This being so, we must go to some other quarter for the laws of infallibility as to style. In reply, therefore, to the sneers of a Carlyle and a Maginn, together with all the admirers of a Shakspeare and a Byron, I take my stand within the citadel of Revelation, and affirm that the great God who formed the mind of man, who exercised the right of thought from eternity, must be considered the best judge as to what constitutes accuracy of thought and propriety of style. Where, then, are we the most likely to find the best models of composition } Is it not in the wiitings of those men whom God taught by his own spirit — those " holy men who spoke as they were moved by the Holy Ghost .?" But these " holy men " also wrote. And they did so, influenced by the teaching of Him who alone is perfect. Therefore, whatever mere worldings may say, I affirm that the author, whose men- tal habits and modes of expression come the nearest to the Bible, comes the nearest to perfection. Among critics, it has been customary to assign to Burns a mere secondary rank among the poetic race. The Shakspeares,' the Miltons, and the Drydens, are represented as central suns, and Burns as either a satellite or a fixed star of the second or third magnitude. Tried by the rules of /r«»w« criticism, this may have been so. But, as already stated, there is a higher standard — one to which the loftiest intellects nn *; bow. The human mind was never formed even by a Jeffrey, i Brougham, or a Sydney Smith. Christopher North himself was never in- trusted with the making of the laws of thought. And, when Edinburgh Reviev/s, and all the magazines of a Blackwood and a Harper have become moth-eaten, the unlettered pages of a Peter, a James, and a John will be read with delight, and com- mand the admiration of ransomed millions, until suns shall shine and moons shall "wax and wane no more," Such is the superiority of the Bible — no matter by whom written — whether by the fisherman, of Galilee or by the herd- man of Tekoah. And because Burns received so much of his inspiration from that " holy book divine," he thought and wrote as no other uninspired man ever thought or wrote. But it may be said, do you mean to represent Burns as equal to the Thomsons, the Miltons, and the Shakspeares .'* My reply is, that I do, and that, in some respects, he was a greater prodigy than any of them. I also maintain that the standard of criticism that would assign to Burns a rank inferrior to any man that ever lived, would make a Livy and a Tacitus better historians than Moses, which they never were. Napoleon would then be a greater general than David or Joshua, which he never was. Virgil and Homer would then be greater and better poets than the Psalmist. Lord Bacon would be a greater philosopher than Solomon, '""ugald Stewart would be a profounder reasoner than Paul, an 1, to cap the climax of abaurdity and profanitj?, Chalmers would be a greater preacher than Christ. His astronomical discourses would be superior to Christ's Sermon on the Mount, or Peter's Sermon on the Day of Pentecost. For the writings of Bacon were incomparably more voluminous and ab- struse than those of Solomon ; Dugald Stewart wrote more elaborately, and with greater pretensions to scholarship than ever Paul did ; and Chalmer's style was immeasurably more stately and grandiloquent than the Saviour's— just as a Shak- speare, a Milton, and a Byron are, in appearance, but in appear- ance only, superior to Burns. II. — Facts, to prove Burns's matchless superiority. I. With the exception of the " Batds of the Bible','* the productions of no other poet ever took such hold of the popular mind. " Paradise Lost " commands the admiration of the learned. It is the delight of the lettered recluse. The sayings of Shak- speare, are the favorite theme, and are well adapted to the men- tal habits of fashionable life, party chiefs, the scions of nobility and royalty, military officers, and the like. So, also, with the characters of Homer, and Virgil. Hector and Achilles, Ajax, and Nestor, with yEneas, Turnus, and Agamemnon, are repre- sented as demigods. But who were tney, and what did they signify without the tens of thousands composing the armed hosts of Greece and Troy } I say that, both by Homer and Virgil, the valor of the private soldier is scarcely ever recognized. Was this fair ? Was this the way that Burns treated the rank and file of Bruce's army on the field of Bannockburn ? It was not ; and it was not the way Sir Walter Scott, and even Byron treated the private soldiers that fought and gained the battle of Waterloo. The same objection applies to the poetic labors of Milton and Shakspeare. The one does ample justice to the greatness of Satan and his "apostate crew." The other can do ample justice to the many accomplishments of an Othello, a Hamlet, a Juliet, a Julius Caesar, a Buckingham, and a Macbeth. He can also narrate the warlike achievements of a Warwick, a Richard the Third, and a Henry the Fifth. But I ask again, who were they, and what did they signify, when compared with the mill- ions inhabiting England, Ireland, Scotland, and Denmark.? Your boasted Shakspeare could thus do ample justice to the great qualities of "Kings and belted knights, •• A marquis, duke, and a'that. But I ask his admirers, how did he treat the common people? It can be proved that, as a general rule, he either ignored their exfstence altogether, or held them up to ridicule and contempt. To some extent; it was thus with Sir Walter Scott. He could sing the savage customs of our forefathers in the days of Prince Charlie and James the Fourth, with the senseless festivities of Holyrood and Norham Castle, and the horrors of border chivalry. In the "Mariners of England," Campbell immortalized England's * By the ' Bards of the Bible," is meant the Inspired writers. 8 naval supremacy. In the "Seasons," Thomson celebrates the perfections of Deity, and presents all nature in her sublimest aspects. But, I ask, did the most gifted of them all ever pro- duce anything to surpass Burns's "Vision," "The Cotter's Saturday Night," "Mary in Heaven," or "Man was made to Mourn .?" They never did. Where is the poet, and when did he live, whose strains have been so responded to by the common people ? All honor to the names of a Cowper and a Watts. Of their poetry it is only fair to affirm that it is perfection itself. "Their Pilgrim marks the road, ' And guides ^e progress of the soul to God." As already observed, British valor is immortalized in the ''Pleasures of Hope." The perfections of Deity appear more resplendent* and the beauties of Nature more lovely in the pages of Thomson. But what I maintain is this, — the colors in which Burns depicts the senery of his native vales are of a deeper dye, of a richer hue, — the strains in which he sings the griefs, the joys, the hope of human life, are of a higher order, they have more of the seraphic than is to be found in the effusions of any other poet that ever lived. Just as a Rubens or a Vandyke could produce one painting of such transcendent excellence as to out-distance and render abortive the efforts of all competitors. So with Burns. Actuated by the inspiration of the moment, he embodied his thoughts in verse. And the idea of excelling, or even equalling them never yet entered the mind of man. 2. Burns's poverty, his limited education, with all the sur- roundings of his lot in life attest his greatness. Take such men as Milton, Dryden, Campbell, Sir Walter Scott, or Bryon. Every one of them had the benefit of a finish- ed education. In the Universities of England and Scotland they mingled freely with associates distinguished for their liter- ary, philosophical and scholastic attainments, In the master- pieces of a Hesiod, a Horace, an Ovid, a Socrates, a Cicero, etc., they would find the laws of thought, and the unfading beauties of style illustrated in the most captivating terms. Their daily intercourse with minds enriched and refined by scholarship, would necessarily beget, in their own souls, aspirations for literary fame. They had also the benefit to be derived from foreign travel. They could answer in the affirmative to the inquiry — "Hath Socrates thy soul refined, And hast thou fathomed Tull'ys mind." On the Continent, they would come daily in contact with those whose delight it was to frequent that "dark Pierian spring," where "Shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, But drinking largely sobers it again." About lOO years ago, some English writer laid it down as an axiom that "The man who's destined by the muse To charm with verse some future age. Should early have his bosom fired With Virgil's or great Homer's rage." In the person of Robert Burns this rule was reversed. Of these gifted men there is no evidence that he knew anything more than the name, when his own "verses" began.not only to "charm" but electrify the community in which he lived. By the time he was twenty-five, he astonished the most eminent literati of the day. And now, after the lapse of ninety-seven years, to quote his own beautiful words — "Time but the impression deeper makes."* One of the earliest of his compositions was "The Cotter's Saturday Night" — a poem the merits of which, even if he had never written anything else, are sufficient to transmit his name to the remotest posterity. "Death of Dr. Hornbook," "The Holy Fair," and "The Ordination'' followed in quick succession. When he was twenty-eight he went fresh from the plough to Edin- burgh. This was truly the ^'golden age' for literary preeminence in modern Athens — the days of Monboddo, Harry Erskine, Robertson, Blair, Hume, McKenzie. With nothing and no one to recommend him but his own native greatness — an intellect the grasp and powers of which were sufficient to make the most learned and renowned quail before him, attired in his native garb, he excited the wonder of the most distinguished men of the age. He took the capital of Scotland by surprise, and walk- ed its streets as a prodigy. Now, I maintain that the impression produced by Burns in Edinburgh is altogether unexampled in the history of poets. And, up to this time, what had been his opportunities } Edu- cation the most limited. Hard, yes the very hardest labor all day, and the hardest bed to sleep on at night. The coarsest and scantiest clothes to wear ; the coarsest and scantiest food to eat ;with none — no not so much as one — to associate with whose * "Mary in Heaven." 10 society might originate or foster any elevated train of tiiought. All around him bore the traces of the most abject poverty. So far as his prospects in life were concerned, all before him was the "blackness of darkness." It therefore required some bordering on the preternatural for one so situated to produce anything, either in prose or verse, that would live for ever. In an) coutity in Nova Scotia, where is the youth — a stranger to all the refinements of education — inured all day* to the severest manral toil, borne down with poverty and fatigue, that could still give expression to thoughts that so "breathed and burned," that such critics as a Sir William Young, a Sir J. A. McDonald, or a Sir Charles Tupper of the present ; the Geo. R. Youngs, the Howes, the Johnstons, and the Haliburtons of the past, would read with delight and admiration ? 3. TJie intrinsic merits of Burns s Works attest the sup- eriority and vastness of his genius. As far as it goes, "Tarn O'Shanter" will bear a comparison with anything in Shakspeare. In "The Vision" and in "The Cotter's Saturday Night," there are passages that v/ill suffer nothing by being placed side by side with aitything in "Para- dise Lost." His "Man was Made to Mourn" is much superior to that splendid poem "The Hermit," by Parnell.| For sprightly vivacity and real drollery, can anything surpass the "Jolly Beg- gars," In the "Tale of the Twa Dogs," there is more true wis- dom and philosophy than is to be found in many a Treatise on Political Economy. Where, within the compass of English literature, is there anything inspired by such formidable love of country as "Scots Wha Hae," and the last 18 lines of "The Cotter's Saturday Night i'" or profounder piety than is contained in his version of some of the Psalms of David, or his "Prayer in the Prospect of Death." I am well aware that, by someeminent divines, that prayer has been condemned as heretical. But I maintain that it is ort+iodox — that Burns's meaning was scriptural. But it will be objected that Burns wrote only sJiort sketches. I reply, the Psalmist did the same. Besides the length of a poem does not constitute its excellence — ^just as the superiority of a painting does not depend on its size. Neither is a man's bodily strength proved by the number of his muscular perform- *After ft hard day's work with the flail, he, at night, composed the "Vision" — a poem of 276 lines — that would compare favorably with anything in Homer or Virgil. tParncll was an Irish poet of the i8th century. 11 arices. Any one of Samson's feats is sufficient proof that he was " more than mortal strong," and that, in him, Achilles would have found more than his match. We must also bear in mind that Burns died very yowig — at the age of thirty-seven years and six months. Had Horace, Virgil, or Homer "died at that age, men would never had heard of the "Ars Poetica," the ".^neid," or the "Illiad." Had Shakspeare died at that age, few of his plays would have been written. The same may be said of every one of the other great English poets, with the single exception of Byron, who died at the age of thirty-six. And, had Burns lived twenty years more, who can tell to what realms of thought and worlds remote "beyond the Solar Walk or Milky Way" his heavenborn genius might have led him .■* This we do know, — for some time previous to his death he had it in contemplation to produce something of greater magnitude than any of Lis previous performances. 4. The ufianimous consent of mankind \^ a proof of Burns's superiority. His transcendent merits have been recognized and confessed all the world over, not only by the unlettered multitude but by the ablest of critics and reviewers. They have been translated into all the languages of Modern Europe,* and, in all English- speaking lands, in the United States, and in the Dominion of Canada, by the shepherd on Australian and New Zealand plains, in the mines of California, by the sailor on the deck, and by the soldier in his barrack, on the banks of the Ganges and the Indus, and in different parts of Africa, he is read and admired — his memory is revered more than any other poet, whether Scotch, English or Irish. Tried by all the rules of criticism, it thus appears that the merits of Burns were of the first order. They were recognized as such by all the eminent men of letters of the 19th century. Even the snarling Carlyle, who was abundantly backward in bestowing praise on the writings of any except his own, was compelled to own the merits of Burns. With the exception of a few indiscreet expressions, it may be said of him that, what- ever he did, he did it so well that it could be done no better. And, whether in painting, drawing, sculpture, statuarv, or arch- itecture, this is the best criterion of excellence and success. With respect to his songs — about 209 in number — it is claimed that they are absolutely faultless. It has been well observed Can as much be said of the admirers of Shakspeare ? 12 that the "charm and power of Burns's poetry consist in the just- ness of the feelings expressed, and in the truthfulness and fresh- ness which it derives from nature ; and that seldom, if ever, have such tenderness, passion, and manliness been expressed as in his songs." There is also reason to believe that the effusions of his muse have been productive of much good. In dungeons, and under fiery skies, they have often gladdened the hearts of men. To the medical quack" Death and Dr. Hornbook" shall ever be a standing terror. The "Address to the Unco Guid" has laid bare the hollow pretensions of many a self-righteous hypocrite. The lash of his satire, in the "Ordination" and the "Holy Fair" has humbled the vanity of many a clerical fop. His strains in behalf of the sacred cause of freedom have often fired the soul, and imparted irresistable might to the arm of the patriot. Were it not for "Scots Wha Hae," it is doubtful if British arms would have been so successful in the days of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, Sir John Moore, and the Duke of Wellington. On a June morning sixty-seven yc is ago, there were drawn out, on two opposing eminences, the British forces under Wellington, and the veterans of France under Bonaparte. Is it not natural to suppose that the Iron Duke, as he surveyed the serried ranks of his foe, would think of the words — "See the front of battle lower," And, on the afternoon of that day, when the Scotch Grays, with the ringing cheer — "Scotland for ever" — went crash through the French Cuirassiers, it is almost certain that hundreds of them would have these words sounding in their ears : ' "Wha for Scotland's king and law, .,^ , Freedoni's sword will strongly dr^v, Lay the proud usurpers low, . , , Tyrants fall in every foe. Liberty's in every blow ! Forward ! let us do or die" ' They did go "forward," and all the world knows the result. 5. Burns's personal habits and way of living were evidences of his greatness. See him in his lowly cottage, working on his farm, or in his solitary walks, dressed in the homliest attire. Approach him, speak to him, and then, no matter "to whom related 01 by whora begot," you find yourself in the presence of real greatness. One glance from those dark eyes, one look from that swarthy and 13 massive countenance instinctively tell you that your words had, better be few, and yourself and your manner respectful. Said one who knew him well, "In his ordinary moods Burns looked a man of a hundred ; but, when animated in company, he was a man of a million. His swarthy features glowed, his eyes kindled up till they all but brightened, his slight stoop vanished, his deep and manly voice became musical, till the dullest owned the enchantments of his genius." "His form," said another, "was manly ; his action, energy itself." Sir Walter Scott saw him once, and this is what he says of him : "His countenance was more massive than it looks in any of his portraits. The eye alone indicated the poetic character and temperament, — it was large, and dark, and glowed — I say literally glowed — when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time."' Burns's exettions in behalf of Freedom have been simply incal- culable ; and, were he living to-day, landlords in Ireland, and landed proprietors in Scotland would not carry their heads so high. It would not be easy to mention the foe to human hap- piness that he did not assail : "If I'm designed yon lordlings slave- By nature's law designed, t Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind ? If not, why am I subject to . His cruelty and scorn ? Or why has man the will and power To make his fellow mourn ?" ' Burns saw clearly that man had no such right ; and, with cool collected might, he hurled his thunderbolts at the strong- holds of oppression.. It may be doubted if there ever was one who did so much to make despotism ridiculous. In his hands, Satan himself appears .contemptible ; and Death as only the rival of Dr. Hornbook. Other gifted souls — Locke, Milton, and George Buchanan, lavished their stores of erudition in the defence of civil liberty. But their works are known only to scholars. Campbell wept, and made others weep over the wrongs of Poland. Switzerland, Hungary, Italy and America need not be reminded of the sacri- fices made, and the hardships endured by a Tell, a Kossuth, a Silvio Pellico, and a Washington. But Burns lifted up his voice against " man's inhumanity to man," all the world over. From amidst the poverty and smoke of his lowly cot, his far-seeing ( 14 vision could penetrate the mists of time, while he uttered such words as these : •' The poor, oppressed honest man Had surely ne'er been born, Had there been no recompense To comfort those that mourn."* " Then let us pray that come it may As it will come for a' that, That sense and worth o'er all the earth, May bear the gree, ^ and a' that ; For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that — That man to man, the woild o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that." t His own Scotland he loved as few men ever loved their native land. And Scotland loves him in return, with a love that the "floods cannot drown.,' But Burns has been accused of hostility to religion. The accusation is altogether untrue. A certain class of the clergy of the day he did hold up to ridicule. But I ask his censurers to produce one instance in which he spoke disrespectfully of the Bible, or the teachings of the Bible. They cannot do it. It was not religion, it was the caricature oi x€i\^\Qr\ that he exposed. It is a historical fact — a fact well known by Burns's vilifiers — that vital godliness was never at a lower ebb in the Church of Scotland than in his day. And when one possessing his tender sensibilities would see and hear men bearing the name of Ambassadors of Christ preach and pray as if the Diety took special delight in the sufferings of men, he might well be excused for gratifying his powers of sarcasm at their expense. He has been censured for lampooning a clergyman of the name of Russell in the "Holy Fair" : "But now the Lord's own trumpet touts Till a' the hills are raring, And echoes back return the shouts, Black Russell is na sparing." &c. That the epithet "black" was not misapplied is evident from these words by one who knew him : "He was the most tre- mendous man I ever saw ; Black Hugh McPherson was a beauty in comparison. His voice was like thunder." And the follow- ing is the evidence of the famous Professor Wilson, in reference * Man was Made to Mourn, 1 Gain the day. t A man's a man for a* that. V ^ A 15 to the same Rev. Mr. Russell : "I was walking one day in the neighborhood of an ancient fortress, (Stirling Castle), and, hear- ing a noise, to be likened to nothing imaginable in this earth but the bellowing of a buffalo fallen into a trap upon a tiger, which as we came within half a mile of the castle, we discerned to be the voice of a pastor engaged in prayer. His physiognomy was little less alarming than his voice, and the sermon corres- ponded with his looks and his lungs. I can never think it sin- ful that Burns would be humorous in such a pulpiteer." But if any one wishes to see clerical hirelings lashed, let him turn up the "Progress of Error," by Cowper. If Burns "chastis- ed them with whips," Cowper "chastised them with scorpions." Burns's drinking habits. This is a subject about which there has been too much said. One of the most violent of Burns's assailants on this score was the celebrated Geo'rge Gilfillan, (See his Martyrs and Heroes of the Covenant"). Now it so happens that that book was not more than one hundred years old when Rev. George Gilfillan had to mount the cutty stool himself, and do penance for his own drinking habits. That Burns at times drank to excess has never been denied. He him- self, with shame and sorrow, confessed it. But it can be proved by contemporary evidence, that he was habitually a man of temperate habits, and that excesses were the exception. He was the lion of the day. His company was much sought after by strangers from a distance, and by acquaintances in his vicinity ; and the custom of the time was to repair to some adjacent inn for social enjoyment. It is admitted that, on these occasions, our poet too often forgot himself. But it is also claimed, in extenu- ation, that, in those days drinking was not considered such an evil as it is now. At that time, not only in Scotland but Nova Scotia — and by clergy and laity — drinking up to the verge of intoxication was ;w/ considered immoral. Ardent spirits were then considered one of the necessaries of life. Temperance Societies were unheard of, and toral abstinence would be regarded as the dream of a madman. Besides, the humble fireside of the unlettered bard was too much frequented by those whom his fame had attracted from afar, encroaching seriously on his time, and subjecting him to unnecessary temptation. It is also a well-known physiological fact that some can drink to excess and not be intoxicated — their coarser nature is not easily overcome by strong drink. It was the reverse of this with Burns. His physical system was so finely strung as to render him peculiarly susceptible to the effects of the intoxicating cup. * 16 But one thing is true; and he is entitled to the benefit of it. He was a kind husband and the most loving of fathers. " Poor fellow, he never, at any time, said a harsh or unkind word to me." This was the testimony of his wife after the grave had closed over him. Burns has also beert charged with imprudence. One thing however is certain — he was a mar led man with a family. For some time his income was twenty-eight dollars a year. Latterly, it swelled up to the fabulous sum of two hundred and eighty dollars per annum. Still, he always kept out of debt. Was that imprudence ? In his writings he unsparingly lashed some of the most prominent men of his day. But neither Dr. Hornbook nor Holy Willie, nor any of the dramatis personcs in the " Holy Fair" prosecuted him for libel. In this respect, he was more successful than Shakespeare, who, at the very commencement of his career^ subjected himself to a double prosecution — one for stealing, another for a libellous poem. Said the late George R. Young, •' I may say a stupid thing, but catch me doi^ig a stupid thing,"* So with Burns. He was guilty of his indiscretions. If so, he did not need that any one would point them out to him. He was aware of them himself His better judgment condemned them ; and his honesty freely confessed them. Can this much be said for some other distinguished erring mortals } But whatever Burns's aberrations were, it becomes those favored beings that are " without sin " to indulge in the recreation of " casting the first stone at him." " But see him on the edge of life. With cares and sorrows worn." He knew well that his days were nearly ended. At that solemn period — his health gone, and forsaken by man — he "girded up his loins !" He sent abroad no wailing cry for help.f In the prospect of death, he displayed fully as much fortitude, and made far less fuss than ever John Knox did. Unlike Sir Walter Scott he did not ask any one to " read to him out of the Book." He performed that sacred office for himself. Sankey and Bliss had not, as yet, appeared on the horizon. If they had, there is reason to believe that the languishing Burns would have welcomed their advent. And, while reviewing the past. * These words were addressed by Mr. Y. to the writer shortly before hi» death. Geori^e R. Young may not have been the Robert Burns of Nova Scotia in Xht poetic line ; but he possessed not a few of the poet's manly qualities. Like the poet also, his merits were recognized when it was too late. t Spiritual help. 17 surveying the present, or anticipating the future, with what ecstatic joy would he sing, " There is a gate that stands ajar ?" With what seraphic might would his deep-toned voice join in the strain : " Jesus paid it all, All to him I owe, Sin had left a crimson stain : He washed It white as snow." " When from my dying bed, My ransom'd soul shall rise, Jesus paid it all, Shall rend the vaulted skies'* ■* On the 1 8th July, 1796, he came home from his sea-bathing quarters, but so weak that it was with difficulty he could walk into his own house. The three following were gloomy days in Dumfries and its neighborhood. From house to house the word spread that Burns was dying. That well-known figure would never again be seen on their pavements. These same streets are now filled with anxious groups. All their talking was about Burns. Many were the glances directed to the humble cottage. It was now felt that a " great man and a prince " was dying. On the 2ist he breathed his last. His funeral was on the 26th, when peer and peasant vied to do him honor. Two Regiments —one of infantry and one of cavalry— lined the streets from the Town Hall to the burying ground, a distance of half a mile. From ten to twelve thousand took part in the procession ; and, as the body was laid in the grave, it has been recorded that " few faces were dry." •^ -^^ SELECTIONS FROM BURNS'S POEMS. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 'Commencing at the 100th line, yfheve family worship ia described.) *' The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serioiis face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, once his father's pride ; ^ His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. His lyart haffets ^ wearing thin and bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales '^ a portion with judicious care, And " Let us worship God," lie says with solemn au'. They chant their ;irtless notes in simple guise ; They tune their hearts, l)y far the noblest aim :_ Perhaps " Dundee's" wild, warbling measures rise, Or plantive " Martyrs " worthy of the name ; Or noljle '* Elgin " beats the heavenward flame. The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : Compared with these, Italian trills are tame ; The tickled ear no heartfelt raptures raise ; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny : _ Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic iire ; Or other holy seers tluit tune the lyre. Perhaps the Christian Volume is the theme, ' How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He who bore in heaven the second name. Had not on earth Avhereou to lay His head i How His first followers and servants sped, The precepts sage they wrote to many a laud : , How he who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand ; , , „ , And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven a command. I Grey temples, * Selects. 20 Then, kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, tlie father, anil tlie husband prays ; Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days : There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or slied the hitter tear. Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear ; While circliug times moves round in an eternal sphere. Compared with this, how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method aiul of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's every grace, except the heart. The Power incensed, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole : But, haply, in some cottage far apart. May hear, well-pleased, the language of the soul ; And, in his Book of Life, the inmates poor enrol. Then homeward all take off their several way ; The youngling cottfigers retire to rest : The parent-pair their secret homage pay. And proffer up to Heaven the warm requeet That He who stills the raven's chunorous nest And decks tlie lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way his wisdom seems the best. For them and for their little ones provide ; But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her loved at home, revercrou8 load. Disguising oft the wretch of human kind. Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! O Scotia, my dear, my native soil ! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, Long may tlie hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content : And, Oh ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, week and vile ! Then, how'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle, O Thou who poured the patriotic tide That streamed through Wallace's undaunted heart : Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride. Or nobly die, the second glorious part, (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art. His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) Oh, never, never, Scotia's realm desert ; But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard 2" 21 TO MARY IN HEAVEN, On the third anniversary of Highland Mary's death, Burns's wife noticed that towards evening " he grew sad ahout something, went out into the barn- yard where he strode restlessly up iinvas torn. Mary ! dear departed shade. Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? That sacred hour can I forget ? Can I forget the hallowed grove, • Where by the winding Ayr we met,* To live one day of parting love ? Eternity will not efiace . ' Those records dear of transpoi-ts past ; Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods thick'ning green ; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar ' Twined am'rous round the raptured scene ; The flowers sprang wanton to be prest. The birds sang love on every spray- Till soon, too soon, the glowing West Proclaimed the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes. • And fondly liroods with miser care. Time but the impression deeper makes. As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast I MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. ** When chill November's surly blast Made fields an