my hand seems to know instinctively the weil-worn path of my imagination, the favourite theme of my song; and it is with diffi. culty restrained from giving you a couple of paragraphs on the love adventures of my compeers, the humble inmates of the farm-house and cottage: but the grave sons of science, ambition, or avarice, baptize these things by the name of follies."

In 1777. William Burns removed from Mount Oliphant to the farm of Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton. Here he and his family resided nearly seven years. During the whole of this period our poet continued to assist his father in the most labo. rious operations of the farm. The lease, however, not being extended on stamp-paper, some misunderstanding arose about the conditions, which were submitted to arbitration. The deci sion involved his father's affairs in ruin. His health, which had long been on the decline, from the joint effects of hard labour, poverty, and sorrow, now sunk under the pressure. "My father," says Robert, "was just saved from the horrors of a jail by a consumption, which, after two years' promises, kindly stepped in, and carried him away, to where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest."

About a twelvemonth previous to the death of his father, Burns, who had then attained his twenty-fourth year, became anxious to be fixed in a situation to enable him to marry. His brother Gilbert and he had for several years held a small portion of land from their father, on which they chiefly raised flax. In disposing of the produce of their labours, our Author took it into his head to commence flax-dresser. "My twenty-third year (says he) was to me an important era. Partly through whim, and partly that I wished to set about doing something in life, I joined a flax dresser in a neighbouring town, to learn his trade. This was an unlucky affair. My ***, and to finish the whole, as we were giving a welcome carousal to the new year, the shop took fire and burnt to ashes, and I was left, like a true poet, not worth a sixpence." This, combined with an attachment he had formed with a young woman, (who, in his letter to Dr. Moore, he says, had jilted him with peculiar circumstances of mortificat n,), threw him almost into a state of despair, which shadowed, with a gloomy despondency, a considerable period of his life, and induced him, in a strongly expressive letter to bis father, to decre his weariness of life, and occasioned many errors in his future conduct, by forcing him to seek refuge from the keenness of his feelings, in company that he should have avoided, to indulge in excesses which he detested, and to plunge into the pollution of inebriation, " over which (Dr. Currie observes) humanity and delicacy draw the veil."

In Irvine the first seeds were sown of his future irregularity in life. Here he became acquainted with several free-thinking.

and, as they termed themselves, liberal-minded companions, whose manner of life was quite the reverse of what he had hi therto been accustomed to. Here also he was entered a freemason, which first introduced him to the life of a boon companiou. Yet, notwithstanding all this, so frugal was he, for a considerable time afterwards, that his brother affirms, he nad never seen him intoxicated. Immediately before the death of their father, they took the farm of Mossgeil, consisting of 118 acres at 90l. per annum. It was stocked by the property and individual savings of the whole family, and was a joint concern. "I entered on this farm," says our Author in his letter to Dr. Moore, "with a full resolution, come, go to, I will be wise! 1 read farming books; I calculated crops; I attended markets; and in short, in spite of the devil, the world, and the flesh, I believe I should have been a wise man; but the first year, from unfortunately buying bad seed, the second from a late harvest, we lost half our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and I returned, like the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was washen, to wallowing in the mire."

It was about this time that he formed the connection with Miss Jean Armour, afterwards Mrs. Burns, and made the follow. ing ballad upon her.

There was a lass and she was fair,

At kirk aud market to be seen,
When a' the fairest maids were there,
The fairest maid was bonnie Jean.

Young Rabie was the brawest lad,
The flower and pride of a' the glen;
And he had owsen, sheep, and kyes,
And wanton nagies nine or teu.

He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste,
He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down;

And long ere witless Jeanie wist,

Her heart was tint, her peace was stown.

As in the bosom o' the stream,

The moon beam dwells at dewy e'en,
So trembling pure was tender love
Within the breast o' bonny Jean.

And now she works her mammie's wark,
And ay she sighs wi' care and pain,
Yet wist na what her ail might be,
Or what wad mak her weel again.

But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,
And did na joy blink in ber e'e,
As Rabie tauld a tale o' love,
Ae e'enin on the lily lear

O Jeanie fair, I looe thee dear;
O canst thou think to fancy me?
Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,
And learn to tint the farm with me?

Now, what could artless Jeanie do?
She had na will to say him na;
At length she blush'd a sweet consent,

And love was ay between them twa."

When the effects of this intimacy could no longer be concealed, our Poet, in order to screen his partner from the consequences of their imprudence, agreed to make a written acknowledgment of their marriage, and then endeavoured to push his fortune in Jamaica,till Providence enabled him to support a family comfortably. This was, however, strenuously opposed by her father. She was therefore prevailed upon to cancel the papers, and thus render the marriage null and void. When this was mentioned to Burns, he was in a state bordering on distraction: He offered to stay at home, and provide for his family in the best manner possible; but even this was rejected. He then agreed with a Dr. Douglas to go to Jamaica, as an assistant overseer or clerk, and made every preparation to cross the Atlantic.

In the interim, urged by the solicitations of Mr. Gavin Ha milton (the gentleman to whom they were dedicated) and some other friends, he resolved to print his Poems at Kilmarnock by subscription. The event answered his highest expectations: what these expectations were, may be learnt from the letter to Dr. Moore, already quoted. "To know myself (says he) had been along my constant study. I weighed myself alone; I balanced myself with others; I watched every means of infor mation, to see how much ground I occupied as a man and as a poet; I studied assiduously nature's design in my formation; where the lights and shades in my character were intended. I was pretty confident my poems would meet with some applause; but at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic would deafen the voice of censure; and the novelty of West Indian scenes make me forget neglect.-My vanity was highly gratified by the reception I met with from the public; and besides, I pocketed, ail expences deducted, uearly 201. This sum came very seasonably, for

'Hungry ruin had me in the wind."

I had been for some days skulking from covert to covert, under all the terrors of a jail; as some ili-advised people had uncoupled the merciless pack of the law at my heels. I had aken the last farewell of my friends; my chest was on the road

to Greenock; I had composed the last song I should ever measure in Caledonia:

The gloomy night is gathering fast,

when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine, overthrew all my schemes, by opening new prospects to my poetic ambition. The Doctor belonged to a set of critics, for whose applause I had not dared to hope. His opinion that I would meet with encouragement at Edinburgh, for a second edition, fired me so much, that away I posted for that city, without a single acquaintance, or a single letter of introduction."

Burns arrived at Edinburgh in 1786. His fame had reached the metropolis before him, and he was caressed by every one into whose society he was introduced. He immediately began to prepare his poems for a second edition. At this time, it might with justice be said, " he was steeped in poverty to the very lips." The following circumstance, which occurred only two months after his arrival, will therefore do him the more honour. Hitherto no public mark of attention had ever been paid to the memory of the young unfortunate Fergusson, whose poetical abilities will never cease to be the theme of admiration, while a spark of true taste remains. Fired with indignation at this national neglect, Burus addressed the following letter to the magistrates of Canongate, of the date 6th of February, 1787. "Gentlemen, I am sorry to be told that the remains of Robert Fergusson, the so justly celebrated Poet, a man whose talents for ages to come will do honour to our Caledonian name, lie in your church-yard among the ignoble dead, unnoticed and unknown. Some memorial to direct the steps of the lovers of Scotish Song, when they wish to shed a tear over the narrow house' of the bard who is no more, is surely a tribute due to Fergusson's memory: a tribute I wish to have the honor of paying. I petition you, then, geutlemen, to permit me to lay a simple stone over his revered ashes, to remain an unalienable property to his deathless fame."

"Here lies ROBERT FERGUSSON, Poet.

Born September 5th, 1751-Died 16th October, 1774.

No sculptur'd marble here nor pompous lay,
No storied urn nor animated bust:"

This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way

To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust."

The following effusion of Burns, on this occasion, does honour to his feelings." Poor Fergusson! If there be a life beyond the grave, which I trust there is; and if there be a good God presiding over all nature, which I am sure there is: thou art now enjoying existence in a glorious world, where worth of the

heart alone is distinction in the man: where riches, deprived of all their pleasure-purchasing powers, return to their native sordid matter; where titles and honours are disregarded reveries of an idle dream; and where that heavy virtue, which is the negative consequence of steady dulness, and those thoughtJess though often destructive follies, which are the unavoidable aberrations of frail human nature, will be thrown into equal blivion, as if they had never been!"

In April, 1787, the second edition made its public appearance, The fame of our Poet, which had hitherto begun to dawn, now burst forth in meridian splendour. From the palace to the cottage nothing was heard but his praises; his company was universally courted, and every person vied with another in rendering him civilities.

The attention (says Professor Stewart) which 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 that 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 acquaint

The late Principal Robertson, Dr. Blair, and many other eminent literary characters, paid him particular attention. He was introduced by the Earl of Glencairn to the festivals of tl.e Caledonian Hunt; and to the Gentlemen who composed it he dedicated the improved and enlarged edition of his Poems.

From the extraordinary success of this edition, Burns acquired a sum of money which enabled him not only to indulge in the Juxuries of the metropolis, but to gratify a long formed propensity for visiting those parts of his native country which were either renowned in song, or celebrated for the beauty and sublimity of their scenery. Ilaving spent some weeks in a delightful tour through the south of Scotland, and part of Northumberland, he returned to his friends in Ayrshire, after an absence of six months, by whom he was received with entotions of admiration and rapture. In July, 1787, he again proceeded to Edinburgh, from whence he set out on a journey to the Highlauds, in company with Dr. Adair of Ilarrowgate. They rode by Linlithgow, visited the Carron works, and then proceeded to Sterling; from whence they explored the romantic scenery of the Devon, in the shire of Clackmannan, and beheld the much-admired falls of the Rumbling Bridge and Cauldron Lynn.

They returned to Edinburgh by Kinross, and stopped at Dumferline, where they visited the magnificent 10ins of that