oldish-warm-hearted and chatty-a most judicious, sensible farmer. Mr Lee detains me till next morning. Company at dinner-My rev. acquaintance Dr Bowmaker, a rattling old fellow. Two sea lieutenants; a cousin of the landlord's, a fellow whose looks are of that kind which deceived me in a gentleman at Kelso, and have often deceived me: a goodly handsome figure and face, which incline one to give them credit for parts which they have not. Mr Clarke a much cleverer fellow, but whose looks a little cloudy, and his appearance rather ungainly, with an everyday observer may prejudice the opinion against him. Dr Brown, a medical young gentleman from Dunbar, a fellow whose face and manners are open and engaging. Leave Skateraw for Dunse next day, along with Collector abilities, and bashfully diffident to an extreme. 6 a lad of slender Found Miss Ainslie-the amiable, the sensible, the goodhumoured, the sweet Miss Ainslie-all alone at Berrywell. Heavenly powers, who know the weakness of human hearts, support mine! What happiness must I see, only to remind me that I cannot enjoy it! 'Lammermuir Hills, from East Lothian to Dunse, very wild. Dine with the Farmers' Club at Kelso. Sir John Hume and Mr Lumsden there, but nothing worth remembrance when the following circumstance is considered—I walk into Dunse before dinner, and out to Berrywell in the evening with Miss Ainslie-how wellbred, how frank, how good she is! Charming Rachel! may thy bosom never be wrung by the evils of this life of sorrows, or by the villany of this world's sons!' [From this point Burns loses the company of Mr Robert Ainslie, who returned to Edinburgh.] Thursday [May 24.]—Mr Ker and I set out to dinner at Mr Hood's, on our way to England. 'I am taken extremely ill with strong feverish symptoms, and take a servant of Mr Hood's to watch me all night-embittering remorse scares my fancy at the gloomy forebodings of death. I am determined to live for the future in such a manner as not to be scared at the approach of death-I am sure I could meet him with indifference, but for "the something beyond the grave." Mr Hood agrees to accompany us to England if we will wait till Sunday. 'Friday.-I go with Mr Hood to see a roup of an unfortunate farmer's stock-rigid economy, and decent industry, do you preserve me from being the principal dramatis persona in such a scene of horror! 'Meet my good old friend Mr Ainslie, who calls on Mr Hood 1 Miss Ainslie died unmarried. I remember meeting her about forty years after her acquaintance with Burns-a good-looking elderly lady, of very agreeable man ners. BURNS AT NEWCASTLE AND CARLISLE. 93 in the evening to take farewell of my bardship. This day I feel myself warm with sentiments of gratitude to the Great Preserver of men, who has kindly restored me to health and strength once more. 'A pleasant walk with my young friend Douglas Ainslie-a sweet, modest, clever young fellow. 'Sunday [May 27.]-Cross Tweed, and traverse the moors, through a wild country, till I reach Alnwick-Alnwick Castle, a seat of the Duke of Northumberland, furnished in a most princely manner. A Mr Wilkin, agent of his Grace's, shews us the house and policies. Mr Wilkin a discreet, sensible, ingenious man. 'Monday.—Come, still through by-ways, to Warkworth, where we dine. Hermitage an old castle. Warkworth situated very picturesquely, with Coquet Island, a small rocky spot, the seat of an old monastery, facing it a little in the sea, and the small but romantic river Coquet running through it. Sleep at Morpeth, a pleasant enough little town, and on next day to Newcastle. Meet with a very agreeable, sensible fellow, a Mr Chattox, who shews us a great many civilities, and who dines and sups with us. Wednesday.-Left Newcastle early in the morning, and rode over a fine country to Hexham to breakfast-from Hexham to Wardrew, the celebrated Spa, where we slept. Thursday [May 31.-Reach Longtown to dine, and part there with my good friends, Messrs Hood and Ker. A hiring day in Longtown. I am uncommonly happy to see so many young folks enjoying life. I come to Carlisle. (Meet a strange enough romantic adventure by the way, in falling in with a girl and her married sister. The girl, after some overtures of gallantry on my side, sees me a little cut with the bottle, and offers to take me in for a Gretna-green affair. I, not being quite such a gull as she imagines, make an appointment with her, by way of vive la bagatelle, to hold a conference on it when we reach town. I meet her in town, and give her a brush of caressing and a bottle of cider; but finding herself un peu trompée in her man, she sheers off.) Next day [June 1] I meet my good friend Mr Mitchell, and walk with him round the town and its environs, and through his printing-works, &c.— four or five hundred people employed, many of them women and children. Dine with Mr Mitchell, and leave Carlisle. Come by the coast to Annan. Overtaken on the way by a curious old fish of a shoemaker, and miner, from Cumberland mines.' [Here the manuscript abruptly terminates.] In the following letter, we for the first time encounter the name of Mr William Nicol of the High School, though Burns must have been for some time acquainted with him. The friendship and admiration which the poet entertained for Nicol has been usually regarded as one of the least intelligible circumstances of this portion of his life, for all contemporary report describes the pedagogue as a man of extraordinary rudeness, albeit gifted with some ability. Burns's letter is written in a broad vernacular, which he must have expected to be pleasing to Nicol: TO MR WILLIAM NICOL, MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, EDINBurgh. CARLISLE, June 1, 1787. KIND, HONEST-HEARTED WILLIE -I'm sitten' doun here, after seven-and-forty miles' ridin', e'en as forjèskit and forniaw'd as a forfochten cock, to gie you some notion o' my land-lowper-like stravaigin sin' the sorrowfu' hour that I sheuk hands and parted wi' Auld Reekie. My auld, ga'd gleyde o' a meere has huchyall'd up hill and down brae, in Scotland and England, as teugh and birnie as a very devil wi' me. It's true she's as poor's a sangmaker and as hard's a kirk, and tipper-taipers when she taks the gate, just like a lady's gentlewoman in a minuwae, or a hen on a het girdle; but she's a yauld, poutherie girran for a' that, and has a stomach like Willie Stalker's meere, that wad hae disgeested tumbler-wheels, for she'll whip me aff her five stimparts o' the best aits at a down-sittin, and ne'er fash her thumb. When ance her ringbanes and spavies, her crucks and cramps, are fairly soupl'd, she beets to, beets to, and aye the hindmost hour the tightest. I could wager her price to a threttie pennies, that for twa or three ooks' ridin' at fifty mile a day, the deil-sticket a five gallopers acqueesh Clyde and Whithorn could cast saut on her tail.1 I hae dander'd owre a' the kintra frae Dunbar to Selcraig, and hae forgather'd wi' mony a guid fallow, and mony a weel-far'd hizzie. I met wi' twa dink queynes in particular, ane o' them a sonsie, fine, fodgel lass, baith braw and bonnie; the tither was a clean-shankit, straught, tight, weel-far'd wench, as blythe's a lintwhite on a flowerie thorn, and as sweet and modest's a new-blawn plum-rose in a hazle shaw. They were baith bred to mainers by the beuk, and onie ane o' them had as muckle smeddum and rumblegumption as the half o' some presbyteries that you and I baith ken. They played me sick a deevil o' a shavie, that I daur say, if my harrigals were turned out, ye wad see twa nicks i' the heart o' me like the mark o' a kailwhittle in a castock. 1 This wonderful beast had been named Jenny Geddes by the poet, with some reference to the old woman so named, to whom tradition assigns the credit of having cast the first stool at the dean's head in St Giles's church, July 23, 1637, when the liturgy imposed on Scotland by Charles I. was first read. I suspect that some jocular circumstance was referred to in the beast's christening. LETTER IN BROAD SCOTCH TO MR NICOL. 95 I was gaun to write you a lang pystle, but, guid forgie me, I gat mysel' sae notouriously bitchify'd the day, after kail-time, that I can hardly stoiter but an' ben. My best respecks to the guidwife and a' our common friens, especiall Mr and Mrs Cruikshank, and the honest guidman o' Jock's Lodge. I'll be in Dumfries the morn gif the beast be to the fore, and the branks bide hale. Guid be wi' you, Willie! Amen! R. B. [Anglice, thus: KIND, HONEST-HEARTED WILLIE—I have sat down here, after fortyseven miles' hard riding, even as jaded and fatigued as an overfought cock, to give you some notion of my vagabond-like wandering since the sorrowful hour that I shook hands and parted with Auld Reekie [Edinburgh.] My old galled mare has hobbled up hill and down slope in Scotland and England, as tough and lively as a very devil with me. It is true she is as poor as a song-maker, and as hard as a church, and totters when she takes the road, just like a lady's gentlewoman in a minuet, or a hen on a hot oven; but she is an alert, spirited beast notwithstanding, and has a stomach like Willie Stalker's mare, that would have digested cart-wheels, for she'll whip me off five-eighths of a Winchester bushel of the best oats at a time, with no sort of difficulty. When once her ill-assorted joints and spavins, her lameness and cramps, are fairly suppled, she improves by little and little, and always the last hour is her best. I could wager her price against twopence-halfpenny, that for two-three weeks' riding at fifty miles a day, the devil a gallopper between Clyde and Whithorn could cast salt on her tail. I have sauntered over the whole country from Dunbar to Selkirk, and have met with many a good fellow and many a well-favoured maiden. I met with two neat girls, in particular, one of them a fine, plump, comfortable-looking lass, well dressed and pretty; the other a well-limbed, straight, tight, well-favoured wench, as blithe as a linnet on a flowering thorn, and as sweet and modest as a new-blown primrose in a hazel wood. They had both acquired manners from the book, and any one of them had as much smartness and sense as the half of some presbyteries that you and I know of. They played me such a devil of a prank, that if my viscera were turned out, you would see two nicks in the heart of me, like the mark of a knife in a cabbage-stalk. I was going to write a long epistle; but, God forgive me, I got myself so dreadfully besotted to-day after dinner, that I can hardly crawl from one room to another. My best respects to your lady and all our common friends, especially Mr and Mrs Cruikshanks, and the honest goodman of Jock's Lodge. I shall be in Dumfries to-morrow if the beast survive, and the bridle keep whole. God be with you, Willie. Amen!] After a brief sojourn in Dumfries, he proceeded to Dalswinton, the estate of Mr Patrick Miller, who, it will be remembered, had expressed a wish to see the poet settled on one of his farms. Burns must have admired the general scenery-a noble stream, as pure as crystal, flowing through fine haughs and slopes, backed by lofty hills; but the state of the estate could scarcely afford much pasture to his professional hopes, for it was at this time, even by the confession of its owner, exceedingly bad. Burns would see how much the grounds were out of heart, and ask if it was to be his fate to sow the profits of his muse upon these stony fields. He seems to have lingered about a week in the district. Proceeding at length by Sanquhar to Mauchline, he arrived there on the 9th of June. 'It will easily be conceived,' says Dr Currie, ' with what pleasure and pride he was received by his mother, his brothers, and sisters. He had left them poor, and comparatively friendless; he returned to them high in public estimation, and easy in his circumstances. He returned to them unchanged in his ardent affections, and ready to share with them to the uttermost farthing the pittance that fortune had bestowed.' Mrs Begg remembers the arrival of her brother. He came in unheralded, and was in the midst of them before they knew. It was a quiet meeting-for, as formerly remarked, the Mossgiel family had the true Scottish reticence or reserve; but though their words were not 'mony feck,' their feelings were strong. I could not, however, pretend to speak with any precision of the emotions of even a rustic and unlettered mother, on the first embrace of a son whose country had just invested his brows with the imperishable laurel. Burns seems to have taken an early opportunity of calling at Mr Armour's, professedly to see his little daughter there. His reception was more cordial than he desired. This appears from a letter to Smith, who had now left Mauchline : TO MR JAMES SMITH, LINLITHGOW. MAUCHLINE, 11th June 1787. MY DEAR SIR-I date this from Mauchline, where I arrived on Friday evening last. I slept at John Dow's, and called for my daughter; Mr Hamilton and family; your mother, sister, and brother; my quondam Eliza, &c.—all, all well. If anything had been wanting to disgust me completely at Armour's family, their mean, servile compliance would have done it. Give me a spirit like my favourite hero, Milton's Satan Hail! horrors, hail! |