our walk in Ireland, we had too much opportunity to see the worse than nakedness, the rags, the dirt and misery, of the poor common Irish-A Scotch cottage, though in that sometimes the smoke has no exit but at the door, is a palace to an Irish one. We could observe that impetuosity in Man and Woman-We had the pleasure of finding our way through a Peat-bog, three miles long at least dreary, flat, dank, black, and spongyhere and there were poor dirty Creatures, and a few strong men cutting or carting Peat-We heard on passing into Belfast through a most wretched suburb, that most disgusting of all noises, worse than the Bagpipes the laugh of a Monkey—the chatter of women—the scream of a Macaw-I mean the sound of the Shuttle. What a tremendous difficulty is the improvement of such people. I cannot conceive how a mind "with child" of philanthrophy could grasp at its possibility-with me it is absolute despair— At a miserable house of entertainment, half-way between Donaghadee and Belfast, were two men sitting at Whisky-one a labourer, and the other I took to be a drunken weaver-the labourer took me to be a Frenchman, and the other hinted at bounty-money; saying he was ready to take it-On calling for the letters at Port Patrick, the man snapped out "what Regiment?" On our return from Belfast we met a sedan -the Duchess of Dunghill. It is no laughing matter though. Imagine the worst dog-kennel you ever saw, placed upon two poles from a mouldy fencing-In such a wretched thing sat a squalid old woman, squat like an ape half-starved, from a scarcity of biscuit in its passage from Madagascar to the Cape, with a pipe in her mouth, and looking out with a round-eyed skinny-lidded inanity; with a sort of horizontal idiotic movement of her headSquat and lean she sat, and puffed out the smoke, while two ragged tattered girls carried her along. What a thing would be a history of her life and sensations; I shall endeavour when I have thought a little more, to give you my idea of the difference between the Scotch and Irish-The two Irishmen I mentioned were speaking of their treatment in England, when the weaver said"Ah you were a civil man, but I was a drinker." Till further notice you must direct to Inverness. Your most affectionate Brother JOHN. LIX. TO THOMAS KEATS. Belantree [for Ballantrae,] July 10. Ah! ken ye what I met the day Out oure the Mountains A coming down by craggies gray Ah goud-hair'd Marie yeve I pray For that I met upon the way Is past expressing. As I stood where a rocky brig A torrent crosses I spied upon a misty rig A troup o' Horses And as they trotted down the glen I sped to meet them To see if I might know the Men To stop and greet them. First Willie on his sleek mare came At canting gallop His long hair rustled like a flame On board a shallop, Then came his brother Rab and then Young Peggy's Mither And Peggy too-adown the glen They went togither I saw her wrappit in her hood Frae wind and raining Her cheek was flush wi' timid blood Twixt growth and waning She turn'd her dazed head full oft For there her Brithers Came riding with her Bridegroom soft And mony ithers Young Tam came up and eyed me quick Braw Tam was daffed like a chick- Ah Marie they are all gane hame An' every heart is full on flame An' light as feather. Ah! Marie they are all gone hame Frae happy wadding, Whilst I-Ah is it not a shame ? My dear Tom-The reason for my writing these lines was that Brown wanted to impose a Galloway song upon Dilke-but it won't do. The subject I got from meeting a wedding just as we came down into this place-where I am afraid we shall be imprisoned a while by the weather. Yesterday we came 27 Miles from Stranraer -entered Ayrshire a little beyond Cairn, and had our path through a delightful Country. I shall endeavour that you may follow our steps in this walk-it would be uninteresting in a Book of Travels-it can not be interesting but by my having gone through it. When we left Cairn our Road lay half way up the sides of a green mountainous shore, full of clefts of verdure and eternally varying—sometimes up sometimes down, and over little Bridges going across green chasms of moss, rock and trees-winding about everywhere. After two or three Miles of this we turned suddenly into a magnificent glen finely wooded in Parts- -seven Miles long-with a Mountain stream winding down the Midst-full of cottages in the most happy situations-the sides of the Hills covered with sheep the effect of cattle lowing I never had so finely. At the end we had a gradual ascent and got among the tops of the Mountains whence in a little time I descried in the Sea Ailsa Rock 940 feet high-it was 15 Miles distant and seemed close upon us. The effect of Ailsa with the peculiar perspective of the Sea in connection with the ground we stood on, and the misty rain then falling gave me a complete Idea of a deluge. Ailsa struck me very suddenly-really I was a little alarmed. [Girvan, same day, July 10.] Thus far had I written before we set out this morning. Now we are at Girvan 13 Miles north of Belantree. Our Walk has been along a more grand shore to-day than yesterday-Ailsa beside us all the way.— From the heights we could see quite at home Cantire and the large Mountains of Arran, one of the Hebrides. We are in comfortable Quarters. The Rain we feared held up bravely and it has been "fu fine this day."To-morrow we shall be at Ayr. [Kirkoswald, July 11.] 'Tis now the 11th of July and we have come 8 Miles to Breakfast to Kirkoswald. I hope the next Kirk will be Kirk Alloway. I have nothing of consequence to say now concerning our journey-so I will speak as far as I can judge on the Irish and Scotch-I know nothing of the higher Classes—yet I have a persuasion that there the Irish are victorious. As to the profanum vulgus I must incline to the Scotch. They never laugh-but they are always comparatively neat and clean. Their constitutions are not so remote and puzzling as the Irish. The Scotchman will never give a decision on any pointhe will never commit himself in a sentence which may be referred to as a meridian in his notion of things-so that you do not know him—and yet you may come in nigher neighbourhood to him than to the Irishman who commits himself in so many places that it dazes your head. A Scotchman's motive is more easily discovered than an Irishman's. A Scotchman will go wisely about to deceive you, an Irishman cunningly. An Irishman would bluster out of any discovery to his disadvantage. A Scotchman would retire perhaps without much desire for revenge. An Irishman likes to be thought a gallous fellow. A Scotchman is contented with himself. It seems to me they are both sensible of the Character they hold in England and act accordingly to Englishmen. Thus K the Scotchman will become over grave and over decent and the Irishman over-impetuous. I like a Scotchman best because he is less of a bore-I like the Irishman best because he ought to be more comfortable.—The Scotchman has made up his Mind within himself in a sort of snail shell wisdom. The Irishman is full of strongheaded instinct. The Scotchman is farther in Humanity than the Irishman-there he will stick perhaps when the Irishman will be refined beyond him—for the former thinks he cannot be improved-the latter would grasp at it for ever, place but the good plain before him. Maybole, [same day, July 11]. Since breakfast we have come only four Miles to dinner, not merely, for we have examined in the way two Ruins, one of them very fine, called Crossraguel Abbey-there is a winding Staircase to the top of a little Watch Tower. Kingswells, July 13. I have been writing to Reynolds-therefore any particulars since Kirkoswald have escaped me from said Kirk we went to Maybole to dinner-then we set forward to Burness' town Ayr-the approach to it is extremely fine quite outwent my expectations-richly meadowed, wooded, heathed and rivuleted—with a grand Sea view terminated by the black Mountains of the isle of Arran. As soon as I saw them so nearly I said to myself "How is it they did not beckon Burns to some grand attempt at Epic ?" The bonny Doon is the sweetest river I ever sawoverhung with fine trees as far as we could see-We stood some time on the Brig across it, over which Tam o'Shanter fled-we took a pinch of snuff on the Key stone-then we proceeded to the "auld Kirk Alloway." As we were looking at it a Farmer pointed the spots where Mungo's Mither hang'd hersel' and "drunken Charlie brake's neck's bane." Then we proceeded to the Cottage he was born in-there was a board to that effect |