pathy with his literary habits, tastes and ambition. Moir and Macnish were now linked hand in hand in literary projects and labours. Magazines, Reviews and Annuals were flooded by them with sparkling or graceful contributions: and the two fagged on, strong in heart and health, and stronger still in hope. For the Edinburgh Literary Gazette, Delta had performed so many services that a presentation of plate was determined on by the proprietors, and in July, 1829, he became the joyful possessor of this note of admiration. In April, 1830, Dr. Bowring being in Edinburgh, paid Moir a visit as a brother poet. On the 6th of the same month he became a father, and accepted cheerfully from Mrs. Moir the presentation of a daughter; and about the same time sat for his bust to Mr. Ritchie, the sculptor, then a young man full of promise. In 1830, he edited "Weeds and Wild Flowers," a collection of the posthumous papers of Alexander Balfour, who had long been a friend of Delta's, and of whom he wrote a life, and prefixed it to the volume, which was published for the benefit of Mr. Balfour's family. every papist the civil rights of a citizen. In May, 1831, he appeared before the public in a new light, as the author of Outlines of the Ancient History of Medicine," a work, as he himself tells us, undertaken at the suggestion of his friend Galt. The work, as it stands, is only a history of the medical science of the ancients; the projected volumes, bringing down the history to the present time, were never written. The year 1832 brought the cholera to Musselburgh. This town was the first point of its attack in Scotland, and in the month of January, it broke out with mortal virulence. Moir was one of the first to go forth in this season of danger and trial; and with unflinching courage and sleepless zeal he faced the new foe with the armaments of his medical skill. And here we meet with one of the most pleasing evidences of the strength and soundness of his character, in that, while he gave so much of his attention to the culture of letters, he never sacrificed the interests of his profession; but, on the contrary, attained to a perfection of skill in this, as simultaneously with it, he attained such high perfection in "the accomplishment of verse." Day after day is the adage repeated and applied to secular things, that "a man cannot serve two masters;" and it is an established rule to doubt the medical capabilities of a literary physician. Moir, however, was one of the few literary physicians who never suffered under the smart of this article of the popular faith; for, so far from neglecting his vocation, in order to cultivate his hobby, he never ceased to improve his knowledge and extend his practice of medicine, so as to merit the large confidence which was always reposed in him. As far as serving two masters, then, it depends very much on the capabilities of the man, a point which biography would never be slow in proving. Identified as he was with the conservative party, both by his avowed principles of church and state, and by his literary connections, it is somewhat pleasing to find Delta breaking through prescriptive rule, under the impulse of a strong conviction, and, in 1831, becoming a zealous advocate of the Reform Bill. In a letter to Macnish, he thus explains himself—“You have become a Reformer, have you? Well, so so have I; and not only that, but secretary to the Reform committee, in which capacity I have had correspondence with Jeffrey and Lord Rosebery. We were last night brilliantly illuminated, and all went off as smack and smooth as a Quaker Meeting. It is absurd to deny the necessity of reform, when a Moir was medical secretary of the House of Commons could pass a detest- Board of Health, at Musselburgh, and able Catholic Bill, against the consti- hence, the extra pressure of a cholera tution of the country, and the petitions season fell doubly on him; and to anof nineteen-twentieths of its inhabi-swer collectively the numerous inquiries tants; it was quite time that an end should be put to such a delusive mockery of representation." Here the keynote is catholicism, which it is plain enough he not merely hated as a thing of error, but opposed with a spirit of intolerance which would have denied to from all parts of the country, as to the prevention and treatment of the malady, he hurriedly threw together his "Practical Observations on Malignant Cholera," which flew through the country like wildfire, and came to a second edition in a few days. To follow this, he sent forth his "Proofs of the Contagion Blackwood was still more rapidly has of Malignant Cholera," a masterly pro-tening away from the circle of earthly duction, in which the doctrine of con- friendships. Mr. Blackwood died in tagion was established in a manner at the autumn of 1834, and Delta was aponce clear and philosophical. pointed one of his executors, as much at the desire of Mr. Blackwood's sons, who entertained the highest regard for Delta as an adviser and a guardian, as of Mr. Blackwood himself. In 1885, another friend perished, and the green grave closed over the heart of the Ettrick Shepherd. Next, William Motherwell, author of "Jeannie Morrison," and one of the most pathetic of ballad writers ever born, went the same night-journey, and was closely followed by another friend, Michael Scott, the author of Tom Cringle's Log," and the "Cruise of the Midge," a man of extraordinary qualities, and as subtle, if not so large a wizard, as his immortal namesake. Then again, on the 16th of January, 1837, died Dr. Macnish, Delta's almost brother, " in the bloom of his fame; a man who could not be known without being beloved, and whom Scotland may well be proud to number among her gifted children." To the memory of Macnish, Delta built an altar of love by collecting his fugitive pieces, and publishing them along with a well-written, though partial, biography. In the autumn of 1832, Delta attended the meeting of the British Association at Oxford, and visited Cheltenham and London. While in London, he sat to Maclise, for his portrait, which appeared in a full-length etching in "Frazer's Magazine." While in the south, he visited Coleridge, and lost himself, as Chalmers and Carlyle did also, in the theosophic infinitudes of the Highgate philosophy. But the chief object of his visit to London was to see his old friend Galt, who was now on the descending side of that perpetual see-saw, of which the lives of literary men mostly consist. "When we parted, seven years before," says Delta, "he was in the prime and vigour of manhood, his eye glowing with health and his step full of elasticity. Before me now sat the drooping figure of one old before his time, crippled in his movements, and evidently but half-resigned to this premature curtailment of his mental and bodily exertions." This is the old story of genius wasting under the bleak breath of bitter disappointment-a story too often told, not to be, alas! too true. Death had thus thinned the ranks of his friends, and now the destroyer came In 1833, Dr. Browne, Moir's senior to his home and hearth, and the spring partner, retired from business, and of 1888 found Delta and his wife weepMoir succeeded him in the practice, ing the loss of two of their children. with a junior partner. Under the new In the next year, another fine boy, pressure of increased duties, his literary David Macbeth Moir, was cut off. exercises were now a little abridged." The desolation among my little ones," Still he was active in many other things said he, in a letter to his friend Aird, besides his medical practice. Municipal" has proved to me a very staggering and general political affairs he still took an active interest in; and was so genuine a man of business, that into whatever committee he might happen to be elected, he was always appointed secretary. Among his friends he now numbered Thomas Hood, and Mr. Ritchie, the sculptor; while scores of young men in Musselburgh and Edinburgh, looked to him for counsel in life, and sought his friendly assistance in the realization of their schemes and projects. Ritchie was especially indebted to him for his warm-hearted services. Delta's efforts to assist him in his early career, must afford many pleasant memories to that now eminent sculptor. Mr. Galt was now residing in Edinburgh, dying by inches; while Mr. blow." To complete this catalogue of domestic sorrows, Mr. Galt died on the 11th of April, 1839, and was buried in the new churchyard of Greenock. Of this friend Delta wrote a truthful memoir, tinctured through with the essence of his own fine friendship for him, yet darkened throughout by the shadow of his heavy grief. Looking at these events, who is to wonder that Delta's mind wore a tone of permanent sadness, which neither the resources of literary study, nor strong religious faith had power in dispelling. It is to the expression of this feeling that his "Domestic Verses," published in 1843, are chiefly devoted. Seldom, in the history of literature, have the home affections been so faithfully, yet so poetically portrayed. These are the tender translations of private feelings, in which we trace the predominance of a sanctified sorrow made still more touching by the fine religious earnestness which plays about their pleasing personalities. In the churchyard of Invernesk, there is a simple tombstone, bearing the name of three of Delta's children, Charles Bell, William Blackwood, and David Macbeth, all snatched away in infancy, one at the age of fifteen months, the other two at the respective ages of four years and four months, and four years and six months-to these all the poems in the volume, with the exception of the sonnets, bear reference. Here we have the pieces which have made Delta's name a "household word." The little gushes of home grief and parental affection which come home to the hearts of us all, because appealing to our common humanity, and reminding us continually of the little ones whom we most dearly love. Here are the dirges fresh from his grief-throbbing heart, rich in the fine music of his poet's nature, yet evidently wrung from him by the very intensity of his sorrow. Here is "Wee Willie," "Casa's Dirge," "To the Memory of D. M. M.," and that finest of all the Songs of the Domestic Afflictions, "Casa Wappy." To mention this is sufficient to call tears into thousands of eyes of those who have read it again and again, each time accepting it as the embodiment and expression of some sorrow of their own. While it has afforded consolation in the hour of keen pain to many a soul from whom death had snatched the dearest joy, it has knit them more closely with that beloved triangle which, for so many years, has stood mysteriously representing the sympathies of the fireside. Regarding "Casa Wappy" as the finest song of domestic affection in modern literature, we quote it here entire. The nursery shows thy pictur'd wall, Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball, Even to the last, thy every word- In outward beauty undecayed, It cannot be; for were it so Thus man could die, Life were a mockery-Thought were woe- Heaven were a coinage of the brain-- And all our hopes to meet again, Then be to us, O, dear lost child! A star, death's uncongenial wild Soon, soon, thy little feet have trode Yet, 'tis sweet balm to our despair, That heaven is God's and thou art there, There past are death and all its woes, Farewell, then-for a while, farewell- Thus torn apart. Time's shadows like the shuttle flee; In 1844, Delta suffered a slight abridgment of his usual robust health. With his usual disregard of self, and sensitive dislike to have the attention of strangers directed towards him, he had very imprudently sat a whole night in his wet clothes by the bed-side of a patient, and the illness which followed this, gave his nervous system a shock from which he never recovered. beginning of the summer of 1846. He was on his way, with a small party of friends in a phaton, to visit Borthwick Castle, when the horse took fright and ran off, and at last went smash with the vehicle over a low wall. The party were dashed out upon the ground. None of them, however, was much hurt, except Mr. Moir himself, who received a severe injury in one of his hip joints. It confined him for months and made him lame for life. His general health was impaired and his spirits depressed; but he bore up and resumed his laborious professional duties as speedily as possible. In November of the same year, he took an active share in the proceedings of the inaugural opening of the Edinburgh Philosophical Institution. Archbishop Whately, Professor Wilson, Professor Nicoll, Mr. Macaulay, and other distinguished men were present. Mr. Moir's part in the programme was to propose Mr. Macaulay's health. He was introduced to Macaulay in the course of the evening. An excerpt from his correspondence at this time will throw considerable light on his character and domestic affairs. In a letter to his friend, Mrs. Alexander, he says "I am glad to say that all my little ones have been keeping remarkably well during this severe winter, as has also Mrs. Moir-whose inexhaustible attention and devotion to me, by night and by day, through three months of suffering and confinement to bed, make me humbly feel myself a poor creature in comparison. Elizabeth still continues to go three days weekly to Edinburgh, and has made very considerable advances in Italian, German, and French. She also draws well; and so pleased is her music teacher with her progress, A memorable day in Delta's life, the that, to her consternation, he is publishmore memorable considering his fasting a set of Scottish airs with a dedicagrowing fame as a poet, was that on which took place the Burns' festival, in | 1814. Delta was invited, but he took no part in the proceedings, though he made amends by contributing to Black wood a commemorative poem, entitled, "Stanzas for the Burns' Festival," which was the only composition he had produced during twelve months. These were "popular beyond any other thing that I have ever written," and were quickly reprinted in nearly every journal in the country. A sore mishap befel Mr. Moir in the tion to his pupil. Robert is attending Greek, Latin, and mathematics, at college, and German with Dr. Nachot, and is going on very well. He must soon now turn his mind to the business of life. There is the Church, and medicine. I should almost like the former for him, but fear his bent is towards the latter. He shall have his will. Catherine, Anne Mary, and Jane, are all attending school. The first shows rather a musical bias, having of her own accord picked up some tunes on the piano. Anne Mary shows the same told :-"Last week, Mrs. Moir and I, after seven year's meditation on the subject, at length effected our escape from the trammels of home for two days and a half." The home birds did wonders in their short flight. They visited Penrith, Keswick, Derwentwater, Windermere, Kendall, Carlisle, Newcastle, and Berwick; saw the tomb of Southey, devotion to reading; morning, noon, and night, nothing but a book-a book! Her health, however, is keeping good, and she is full of life and animation. The little Professor [John Wilson Moir] is healthy and strong; and Emily is running about, and chatting like a magpie: there is no truth in phrenology if she be deficient in the organ of language. So you see we are, taken in the" from which we brought home with us lump, a very astonishing family!" grass and wild flowers." He was at All Mr. Moir's children then alive this time engaged in preparing the are named in the foregoing quotation. single volume edition of Mrs. Hemans' Another son was born to him on the works for the Messrs. Blackwood, for 5th of August following, and named whom he prepared the edition in seven Oswald. This was the last, making volumes, some years previously. Visitthe eleventh, that blessed the poet's ing and returning visits, prosecuting marriage! those who were prematurely his professional calling with unabated cut off having, in the sanctities of sor-zeal, despite his lameness and failing row, lent their due share in the blessing health, and still clinging to literature, to father and mother; for as a crutch," not "as a staff," we find him "gilding the pill of life" with that unalloyed metal of which true friendship is composed; still numbering among his friends the choicest spirits in the world of art and letters. 'Tis better to have loved and lost, At the opening of the Glasgow Athenæum, at the close of 1847, Delta once more shook hands with his old friend Charles Dickens, who was the president of the evening. Among the speakers of the evening were Sheriff Alison, professors Aytoun and Gregory, Colonel Mure, of Caldwell, George Combe, Robert Chambers, and Delta. When the distinguished guests of the evening were proposed, Delta was enthusiastically called upon to reply; and, in a speech of graceful construction, and with a dash of that warm feeling which was a part of his nature, he paid a fine tribute to the intellect of his country, and to the peculiar national characteristics from which the greatness of Scotland has chiefly sprung. Delta was a staunch churchman, and a zealous worker in the government of the Scottish church. In 1844 he was elected a member of the Kirk-session of Inveresk, and during the remainder of his life discharged the office with exemplary fidelity. In 1848, he was appointed to represent the burgh of Annan, in the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and during the remainder of his life the office and honour were every succeeding year conferred upon him. Soon after this, as we find from Mr. Moir's correspondence, his son Robert made choice of the medical profession, and commenced his curriculum at the Edinburgh University. There an unusual event transpired, which is thus 66 He was the man for friends-he could not only make but keep them. Towards the end of June, 1849, Delta took a June jaunt into the Highlands with professor Wilson, Mr. Henry Glassford Bell, and one or two other friends. Delta's health had been failing for some time, and the fresh air of the hills, and the excitement of trout-fishing brought him round again, so that he soon felt "again very much himself." The professor, true to his alter ego, Christopher, was in "great force, and up to the waist in water, day after day, for six or eight hours, fishing." Delta was happy "all the while, central in his double web of family ties! He had a strength round about him more than the munition of rocks." Nothing of particular interest occurs till the spring of 1851, when Mr. Moir delivered his lectures on the Poetical Literature of the Past Half Century, at the Edinburgh Philosophical Institution. He was, at this time, in a delicate state of health, his nerves much shaken, and his constitution impaired by his close application to professional labours, which left him but little leisure for home peace, and broke into the hours of his rest. His friends, who were aware of this, were not a little uneasy as to how he should get through his task, and were pleasantly disappointed to find that his strength increased as he pro |