secure more favourable criticisms if he appealed to Cromek's weak side by saying they were traditionary remains. The bait took; the patron became enthusiastic, and the result was "The Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song." Certain general similarities between Cunningham and Motherwell have already been pointed out, but it may be proper to mention in connection therewith that they overlapped each other in their lives as well as their writings. Born in 1784 the boy Cunningham was just beginning to scribble his first lines when Motherwell was born in 1797. The first survived his brother poet seven years, dying in 1842, at the age of fifty-eight, while the younger, born in 1797, the year after Burns's death, was just spared to exceed the age of Burns by one year, being laid with honour in our Necropolis in 1835 at the early age of thirtyeight. Cunningham commenced rhyming young, although his more important printed pieces did not see the light till the "Remains" were printed in 1810, when the poet had reached the mature age of twenty-six. Motherwell's earliest work, in the "Harp of Renfrewshire," appeared in 1819, when he was about twenty-two. Each forsook his first business in life for journalism, Cunningham contributing to the London press between the period when he abandoned the mason trade in Scotland, when he became connected with Chantrey; while Motherwell forsook his clerkly duties in the Sheriff's office to assume editorial work, first in connection with the Tory "Advertiser" in Paisley, but latterly, and with greater prominence, because in his best known days, on the Tory "Courier" in Glasgow, from 1830 till his death. Cunningham was nothing of a politician. Motherwell, on the other hand, was both zealous and informed in the cause he espoused; and, though it may seem a strange transition to pass from the serene heights of poetry to the noisy jostling of party strife, the author of Sigurd's "Battle Flag" was early embroiled in the Reform excitement, and there is no reason for doubting that he wrote on politics with as much sincerity, and even with as great a measure of contentment, as he brought to bear on his ballads and songs. There was still other kindred work engaged in by the two poets. Cunningham issued his collection of "The Songs of Scotland, Ancient and Modern," in 1825, and Motherwell his Scottish "Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern," in 1827, each having followed out in his own way the lines laid down by Scott in his Border "Minstrelsy," issued from Ballantyne's Kelso press in 1802. Again, both poets were ardent admirers of Burns, and each issued an edition of his works, which appeared the same year (1834), Motherwell being associated in his task with James Hogg. Each of them also imitated the ancient ballads, and amused friends with them as genuine antiques. In gifts they were not far removed. It may be, and indeed it is certain, that there is nothing in Cunningham quite up to the level of "Jeannie Morrison," or "My Heid is Like to Rend, Willie;" but, as in the case of his townsman, Alexander Wilson (see p. 296), it should be remembered that Motherwell himself nowhere else rises to the same height. So sound a judge as Miss Mitford doubted if even among all the writings of Burns there was anything so exquisitely finished, so free from a line too many or a word out of place as these two lyric ballads. In other pieces, whether they be songs or ballads, the advantage will often be found to lie with the author of "A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea." For a landsman, never familiar with the sea beyond an occasional trip in a Margate hoy, to have written such a song at all is in itself a marvel. "The Mermaid of Galloway," and "Bonnie Lady Ann," both included in the "Remains," are quite equal to either "The Master of Weemys" or "The Song of the Danish Sea King." But where so much is excellent in both, further distinction or parallel may appear invidious. The old words used by Motherwell in dedicating the "Poems" to his friend Kennedy may be applied to each-"A posie of gilly-flowers, each differing from other in colour and odour, yet all sweete." The claim made by Dr. M'Connechy to a distinguished place for his friend among the minor poets is not likely to be disputed, as he has undoubtedly enriched the language with many noble specimens of song. The Doctor's carefully written memoir of his friend, whom he succeeded in the editorial chair of the "Courier," is prefixed to Mr. Gardner's "Reprint," as prepared for the edition of 1846. "Christopher North" found concentrated in Motherwell clearness in perception, soundness in sense, and fine but strong sensibilities, all leading him to the true haunts of inspiration-the woods and glens of his native country, and the music of her old songs. The closing verses of "Wearie's Well" are inexpressibly touching Farewell, and for ever, My first love and last; May thy joys be to come Mine live in the past. In sorrow and sadness It fleet over thee. Then there is that plaintive touch of humble life in "Oh, wae be to the Orders," which Motherwell placed first among his songs: I never think o' dancin', and I downa try to sing, But a' the day I speir what news kind neibour bodies bring; I sometimes knit a stocking, if knittin' it may be, Syne for every loop that I cast on, I am sure to let doun three. In a dedication to his friend, W. Kennedy, Motherwell writes of his Norse legends as intended only to be a faint shadow of Norse poetry:-"All that is historical about them is contained in the proper names. The first, Sigurd's Battle Flag,' does not follow the story as given in the Northern Sagas, but only adopts the incident of the Magic Standard, which carries victory to the party by whom it is displayed, but certain death to its bearer. 'Jarl Egill Skallagrim's Wooing Song' is entirely a creation, and nothing of it is purely historical, save the preserving of the name of that warrior and Skald. From the memorials, however, he has left us of himself, I think he could not well have wooed in a different fashion. As for Thorstein Raudi,' or the Red, that is a name which occurs in Northern history; but, as may well be supposed, he never said so much in all his life about his sword or himself, as I have taken the fancy of putting into his mouth." THE BARNS OF AYR. THE Marquis of Bute's lecture on the "Burning of the Barns of Ayr" places the history of this event in the clearest possible light before the reader, divested alike of the fierce prejudices manifested against Scotland by early English chroniclers, and of the equally misleading credulity swarming over the pages of native rhymers of the "Blind Harry" order. That a representative member of the Royal Stuart family so personally popular as the present Marquis of Bute, connected moreover with Ayrshire by descent no less than possessions, should address the people of the county on an event so interesting as the "Burning of the Barns" by Wallace and his ancestor, Bruce, will be generally accepted as an occurrence not more interesting than it was appropriate. The list of royal and noble authors has in recents days got so much enlarged that Walpole's once famous "Catalogue" of the order is now useful for little beyond purposes purely antiquarian. Since his day there falls to be added, in English literature alone, names no less important than Her Majesty, the Prince Consort, and— to mention only a few others-living representatives of the houses of Argyll, Keppel, Lennox, Mandeville, Wellesley, and Stuart. To Scotch audiences the young Marquis of Bute has addressed at least two lectures-one to his neighbours at Rothesay in the winter of 1875 on the "Daily Life of King Robert I. at Cardross," and a second at Ayr in the February of 1878, concerning that event in the War of Independence known as "The Burning of the Barns of Ayr." The brochure differs a little from the lecture as delivered. It contains some matter which the Marquis had not before him at the time, and a good deal also which he had written but omitted, in order, as he modestly explains, not to be even more burdensome to a patient audience than the extreme dryness and intricacy of the inquiry demanded. Second, the original lecture has been altogether pulled to pieces, and arranged anew under the six following heads: (1) The Capitulation of Irvine, July, 1297, with a sketch of the events leading to it, being the epoch to which Lord Hailes believed that the burning was to be assigned; (2) a sketch of the English invasion of 1293, which the Marquis believes to be the time when any event possible to be identified with the "Burning of the Barns" really took place; (3) a discussion as to who the burners were; (4) a notice of King Edward's residence at Ayr and retirement from Scotland after the burning; (5) the account of the burning in Blind Harry; (6) the executions connected by Blind Harry with the burning. Disappointed with his campaign in Flanders, chafing under the limitations imposed upon him by his Parliament at Westminster, and incensed beyond endurance by the renewed hostile attitude of the Scottish patriots, King Edward would appear to have crossed into Scotland by way of Berwick, during the summer of 1298, in a mood boding but slight mercy to those concerned in resisting his usurped authority. His army was great beyond all precedent. -magnificent, it has been said, and overwhelming. Burton, following contemporary authorities, writes of 7,000 mounted men-at-arms as being in the muster, 3,000 of them in coats of mail; and this host, overwhelming as it was in numbers, was joined by 500 other horsemen from Gascony. After this, footmen might be reckoned of little moment, but the number has been put down at 80,000, among them being many auxiliaries from Wales and Ireland. The disastrous defeat at Falkirk followed on the 22nd. Wallace contrived to convey a small body of his troops off the field, and made an attempt to hold Stirling. Finding this useless, they destroyed what food could not be used, and marched, it has been said, nobody knows whither, the commander and his followers alike disappearing from the history of the war. In July of the preceding year (1297), Wallace, according to the noble lecturer, would appear to have entirely dissented from the conduct of those who swore allegiance at the capitulation of Irvine. The patriot and his friends left the army and retreated into the forest of Selkirk, as a great part of the centre of Scotland south of Forth was then called. On July 17, eight days later than the last documents of Irvine, it was proposed at Roxburgh "that an attack should be made upon William Wallace, who lay there |