him parading the streets of Fochabers, before the door of the inn, venting his anger on the postilion for the slowness with which he obeyed his commands. As no explanation nor entreaty could change the purpose of his fellow-traveller, our poet was reduced to the necessity of separating from him entirely, or of instantly proceeding with him on their journey. He chose the last of these alternatives; and seating himself beside Nicol in the post-chaise, with mortification and regret, he turned his back on Gordon Castle, where he had promised himself some happy days. Sensible, however, of the great kindness of the noble family, he made the best return in his power, by the following poem: CASTLE-GORDON. ""Streams that glide in orient plains, Spicy forests, ever gay, Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil: I leave the tyrant and the slave; Wildly here, without control, In that sober, pensive mood, Dearest to the feeling soul, She plants the forest, pours the flood; Life's poor day I'll musing rave, And find at night a sheltering cave, Where waters flow and wild woods wave, By bonnie Castle-Gordon."' 1 Allan Cunningham states that the Duchess of Gordon was good enough to plan a visit of Mr Henry Addington (afterwards Lord 1 Designed to be sung to Morag,' a Highland tune, of which Burns was extremely fond.-CURRIE. Sidmouth) to Gordon Castle, when Burns and Dr Beattie should meet him, knowing that the English statesman was a warm admirer of the poetry of the former, and might readily be of use to him. The future premier,' says Allan,' was unable to accept the invitation; but wrote and forwarded, it is said, these memorable lines-memorable as the first indication of that deep love which England now entertains for the genius of Burns: ""Yes! pride of Scotia's favoured plains, 'tis thine To bid it throb with sympathy divine, To glow with friendship or to melt with love. What though each morning sees thee rise to toil, And Fancy strews thy moorland with her flowers! And dost thou blame the impartial will of Heaven, Then, to the want of worldly gear resigned, Be grateful for the wealth of thy exhaustless mind." Dr Walker, in his Life of Burns, expresses in pretty strong terms his sense of Burns's misfortune in being accompanied on this occasion by a man whom he could scarcely introduce to scenes where delicacy and self-denial are so much required. At Blair, Dr Walker informs us, the impatience of the rude pedagogue had been suspended by engaging him in his favourite amusement of angling.] Come to Cullen to lie-hitherto the country is sadly poor and unimproven.' [The travellers breakfasted next morning, Saturday, 8th September, at Banff, with the master of the grammar-school there, Dr Chapman, who had been Nicol's superior in the same situation at Dumfries, in years long gone by. A boy of thirteen, who was then a pet pupil of the morning Greek class, and was asked by Chapman to join the party, related many years afterwards his recollections of what passed: 1 'During breakfast, Burns played off some sportive jests at his touchy compagnon de voyage, about some misunderstanding which took place between them at Fochabers, in consequence of Burns having visited the castle without him; and the good old doctor 1 The narration appeared in Chambers's Journal, vol. viii. p. 405. seemed much amused with the way the poet chose to smoothe down the yet lurking ire of the dominie. After breakfast, Dr Chapman sent me to the bookseller's shop for a new copy of the Antiquities and Scenery of the North of Scotland, by the Reverend Charles Cordiner, minister of the English Chapel in Banff, which he presented as a mark of his regard to Mr Nicol, and for a useful guide-book to the travellers in their progress. As they were to visit Duff House, the splendid mansion of the Earl of Fife, and drive through the park on their way south, after delivering the book to Mr Nicol I accompanied the two gentlemen from the town to the house, carrying a note to the steward there from my father, that they might see the interior of the house, the paintings, and valuable library. In driving through the park, Mr Nicol, while engaged in looking at the plates of the book, asked me whether I was aware that the gentleman who was speaking to me about the park was the author of the poems I had no doubt heard of. "Yes," I replied; "Dr Chapman told me so when he asked me to breakfast." "Then have you read the poems ?" "Oh yes! I was glad to do that," was my reply. "Then which of them did you like best?" Nicol asked. I said, "I was much entertained with the Twa Dogs, and Death and Dr Hornbook; but I like best by far the Cotter's Saturday Night, although it made me greet when my father had me to read it to my mother." 'Burns, with a sort of sudden start, looked in my face intently, and, patting my shoulder, said: "Well, my callant, I don't wonder at your greeting at reading the poem; it made me greet more than once when I was writing it at my father's fireside." 'I recollect very well that while Mr Nicol loitered in the library, looking at the fine collection of old classics there, Burns, taking me with him for a guide, went a second time through some of the rooms to look at the old paintings, with the catalogue in his hand, and remarked particularly those of the Stuart family in the great drawing-room, on which he seemed to look with intense interest, making some remarks on them to his boy-guide, which the man fails to recollect. But the face and look of Robert Burns were such as, either boy or man, he never could forget.'] 'Come to Aberdeen-meet with Mr Chalmers, printer, a facetious fellow-Mr Ross, a fine fellow, like Professor Tytler-Mr Marshall, one of the poetæ minores-Mr Sheriffs, author of Jamie and Bess, a little decrepit body, with some abilities 1-Bishop Skinner, a nonjuror, son of the author of Tullochgorum; a man whose mild, venerable manner, is the most marked of any in so young a 1 Mr Sheriffs published, in 1790, a volume of Poems in the Scottish Dialect, one of many such brought forth by the éclat of the Ayrshire bard, but brought forth in vain. PARSON SKINNER-ABERDEEN. 135 man-Professor Gordon, a good-natured, jolly-looking professorAberdeen a lazy town.' [It was at the printing-office of Mr Chalmers that Burns met the mild, composed-looking man who bore the title of Bishop Skinner. To the Ayrshire poet this was an interesting person, not so much on account of the office he bore in the cavalier Episcopal Church of Scotland, as because he was the son of one who had written popular songs in the vernacular language. Burns, being made aware of the parentage of the worthy bishop, entered into conversation with him regarding his father; and on learning that he lived at Linshart, near Longmay, a village to the west of Peterhead, which he had now thrown far into his rear, expressed great regret for his ignorance of the old poet's locality, as he said he would have gladly gone twenty miles out of his way to see him. Such was the importance which he attached to the composition of the song of Tullochgorum. It is a pity that he did not see the venerable Skinner at his cottage-parsonage, for it would have been a lesson of religious contentment that could scarcely have failed to touch and improve his spirit. He would have found the old parson living in what was literally a cottage-what is called in Scotland a butt and a ben-with earthen floors and grateless fireplaces, not enjoying an income equal to that of a foreman in a common workshop, yet cheerful, and even mirthful, and the centre of a family circle in which would have been found many elegances and accomplishments. It would be well for more than unendowed poets to see how independent is the truest luxury of life, the refinement and joy of an elevated and cheerful nature, upon the external accidents of fortune. From Aberdeen Burns proceeded southward into Kincardineshire, the native county of his father, and where the most of his paternal kindred still resided. As he had eminently that Scottish heart which acknowledges 'bluid to be thicker than water,' he felt deep interest in entering upon this district, where he expected to meet with many hitherto unseen relatives. Unfortunately he has not been very communicative as to these persons, or the incidents of his sojourn amongst them.] 'Near Stonehive [Stonehaven],' he says, 'the coast a good deal romantic. Meet my relations. Robert Burns, writer in Stonehive, one of those who love fun, a gill, and a punning joke, and have not a bad heart—his wife a sweet, hospitable body, without any affectation of what is called town-breeding. Tuesday.-Breakfast with Mr Burns-lie at Lawrence-kirk— Album-library-Mrs, a jolly, frank, sensible, love-inspiring widow-Howe of the Mearns, a rich, cultivated, but still unenclosed country. 'Wednesday.-Cross North Esk River and a rich country to Craigow.' [He then says, with provoking brevity, 'Go to Montrose, that finely-situated, handsome town.' He here found his cousin, Mr James Burnes, in creditable circumstances as a writer or legal agent, and therefore a member of the upper circle of society. The present Mr James Burnes, son of that gentleman, and father of Sir Alexander Burnes of Cabul memory, was then a little boy, and he only remembers sitting for a while upon the bard's knee. The journal proceeds]—' Breakfast [Sep. 13] at Muthie, and sail along that wild, rocky coast, and see the famous caverns, particularly the Gairiepot-land and dine at Arbroath— stately ruins of Arbroath Abbey-come to Dundee through a fertile country-Dundee a low-lying but pleasant town-old steeple-Tayfrith-Broughty Castle, a finely-situated ruin, jutting into the Tay. 'Friday.-Breakfast with the Miss Scotts-Miss Bess Scott like Mrs Greenfield-my bardship almost in love with her-come through the rich harvests and fine hedgerows of the Carse of Gowrie, along the romantic margin of the Grampian Hills to Perth-fine, fruitful, hilly, woody country round Perth.' [From the little which remains of the journal, it is observable how vigilant was his interest regarding the localities of Scottish songs. He seems to have taken measures for being introduced to the Belches family at Invermay, near Perth, in order that he might see the pretty little valley of that name celebrated in a well-known song, The Birks of Invermay. He also was studious to learn the whereabouts of the spot consecrated by the hapless ballad history of Bessie Bell and Mary Gray.] 'Saturday Morning.-Leave Perth-come up Strathearn to Endermay-fine, fruitful, cultivated Strath-the scene of Bessie Bell and Mary Gray near Perth-fine scenery on the banks of the May-Mrs Belches, gawcie, frank, affable, fond of rural sports, hunting, &c.-Lie at Kinross-reflections in a fit of the colic. 'Sunday [Sep. 16].-Pass through a cold, barren country to Queensferry-dine-cross the ferry, and on to Edinburgh.' TO MR GILBERT BURNS. EDINBURGH, 17th September 1787. MY DEAR SIR 1-I arrived here safe yesterday evening, after a tour of twenty-two days, and travelling near 600 miles, windings 1 This appears a singular term for Burns to have employed in addressing his brother, but so it is in the original manuscript, possibly by oversight. |