one, probably in anticipation of his journey to Edinburgh. The book contains no notice of the circumstance; but it was faithfully remembered a few years ago by a surviving brother, named John Lees. John said that Burns came in a pair of buckskins, out of which he would always pull the other shilling for the other bowl, till it was five in the morning. An awfu' night that!' It may be mentioned, in connection with the preceding paragraphs, that Burns joined on at least one occasion in the festivities of the Kilmarnock Lodge, presided over by his friend William Parker; on which occasion he produced an appropriate song: THE SONS OF OLD KILLIE. TUNE-Shawnboy. Ye sons of Old Killie, assembled by Willie, Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another I've little to say, but only to pray, As praying 's the ton of your fashion; A prayer from the Muse you well may excuse, Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide, Who formed this frame with beneficent aim, Within this dear mansion may wayward Contention Or withered Envy ne'er enter; May Secrecy round be the mystical bound, We thus see that in the midst of the labours of the press, and the vexations connected with Jean Armour, there were hours of mirth, and something beyond mirth. There were also hours of the finest poetical inspiration. The beautiful estate of Ballochmyle on the Ayr, near Mauchline, had recently been transferred from the Whitefoords to Mr Claud Alexander, a gentleman well connected in the west of Scotland, who had realised a large fortune as paymaster-general of the East India Company's troops in Bengal. He had lately come to reside at the mansion-house. The steep banks of the river at this place form a scene of natural loveliness which has few matches, and Burns loved to wander there. In an evening of early summer, Miss Wilhelmina Alexander, the sister of the new laird, walking out along the braes after dinner, encountered a plainlooking man in rustic attire, who appeared to be musing, with his shoulder leaning against a tree. According to her own account: "The grounds being forbidden to unauthorised strangers-the evening being far advanced, and the encounter very sudden-she was startled, but instantly recovered herself, and passed on.' When Burns wrote to the lady some months afterwards, he gave his own account of the rencontre:-'I had roved out,' he says, 'as chance directed, in the favourite haunts of my Muse, on the banks of the Ayr, to view nature in all the gaiety of the vernal year. The evening sun was flaming over the distant western hills; not a breath stirred the crimson opening blossom, or the verdant spreading leaf. It was a golden moment for a poetic heart. I listened to the feathered warblers, pouring their harmony on every hand, with a congenial kindred regard, and frequently turned out of my path, lest I should disturb their little songs, or frighten them to another station. Surely, said I to myself, he must be a wretch indeed, who, regardless of your harmonious endeavours to please him, can eye your elusive flights to discover your secret recesses, and to rob you of all the property nature gives you—your dearest comforts, your helpless nestlings. Even the hoary hawthorn-twig that shot across the way, what heart at such a time but must have been interested in its welfare, and wished it preserved from the rudely-browsing cattle, or the withering eastern blast? Such was the scene, and such the hour, when, in a corner of my prospect, I spied one of the fairest pieces of nature's workmanship that ever crowned a poetic landscape, or met a poet's eye; those visionary bards excepted who hold commerce with aërial beings! Had Calumny and Villainy taken my walk, they had at that moment sworn eternal peace with such an object. 'What an hour of inspiration for a poet! It would have raised plain, dull, historic prose into metaphor and measure.' He then added, that during his walk homeward he composed a song descriptive of the scene and the meeting : THE BONNIE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE. "Twas even-the dewy fields were green, 1 Hang, Scotticism for hung. In every glen the mavis sang, All nature listening seemed the while, Fair is the morn in flowery May, And sweet is night in Autumn mild; Oh had she been a country maid, The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle. Then pride might climb the slippery steep, Give me the cot below the pine, To tend the flocks, or till the soil, With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle. It was in the subsequent November that Burns addressed Miss Alexander, his object being, as stated at the close of the letter, to obtain her consent to the publication of the song, which he cnclosed. To his mortification, the lady took no notice of either letter or song. Dr Currie says: 'Her modesty might prevent her 1 Variation The lily's hue and rose's dye from perceiving that the Muse of Tibullus breathed in this nameless poet, and that her beauty was awakening strains destined to immortality on the banks of the Ayr. It may be conceived also, that, supposing the verse duly appreciated, delicacy might find it difficult to express its acknowledgments.' The apology now presented by the family for Miss Alexander's conduct is, that, on inquiring regarding the person who had addressed her, she unfortunately fell amongst those who entertained an unfavourable opinion of his character. Feeling it to be necessary to decline yielding to his request, she thought that that resolution would be intimated most delicately towards him, as well as in the manner most agreeable to herself, by simply allowing the letter to remain unanswered. It is easy to enter into the feelings of a sensible woman of thirty in adopting this course, and even to make some allowance for others not acknowledged, which might cause her to shrink from the acquaintance of a humble tenant of her brother-for Mossgiel now belonged to Mr Alexander-who, in the exercise of an assumed poctic privilege, dared to imagine her as his mistress. However this might be, Miss Alexander and her kindred learned afterwards to think the woods of Ballochmyle classic, and herself immortal, through the genius of Burns. On a question occurring many years after as to the disposal of the original manuscript of the song, Miss Alexander said that there could be no dispute on that point: wherever she went, it must go. The late Mr Alexander, her nephew, crected a bower or rustic seat on the spot where she had met the bard; and for the decoration of this retreat, a fac-simile of the song and letter was affixed in a suitable framing.1 The conduct of Jean Armour and her parents had inspired in Burns and all his own relatives a feeling of deep resentment. In the arrangement of his desperate affairs, preparatory to leaving Scotland, he did not feel called upon to make any provision in favour of a family which had contumeliously refused what was the highest justice both to them and to himself. It began to be whispered about Mauchline, that Mr Armour was contemplating legal measures to obtain a guarantee from the poet for the 1 Dr Currie, by omitting the final sentence of the letter, concealed its immediate object, and he did not state or suggest the family account of Miss Alexander's silence. This is now given from the information of the late amiable Mrs Alexander of Ballochmyle, communicated to me at Ballochmyle in 1837, in the next room to that in which, a few minutes before, I had had the pleasure of lunching with the Bonnie Lass herself, then a fine-looking old lady of cheerful manners and demeanour. She died unmarried in 1843, aged eighty-eight. support of his expected progeny. Hearing of this, and dreading that the ultimate issue of such procedure would be a jail, Burns left his home, and was for some time lost to the observation of the Mauchline world. He had an aunt named Allan, living at Old Rome Forest, near Kilmarnock, where he had spent many days of late, in order to be near the press of John Wilson. To this place he conveyed a large chest, containing the articles required for his voyage and colonial outfit. Here also he now took up his abode, though not regularly, in order to be out of the way of legal diligence. TO MR JOHN RICHMOND. OLD ROME FOREST, 30th July 1786. MY DEAR RICHMOND-My hour is now come you and I will never meet in Britain more. I have orders, within three weeks at furthest, to repair aboard the Nancy, Captain Smith, from Clyde to Jamaica, and to call at Antigua. This, except to our friend Smith, whom God long preserve, is a secret about Mauchline. Would you believe it? Armour has got a warrant to throw me in jail till I find security for an enormous sum. This they keep an entire secret, but I got it by a channel they little dream of; and I am wandering from one friend's house to another, and, like a true son of the gospel, 'have no where to lay my head.' I know you will pour an execration on her head, but spare the poor, ill-advised girl, for my sake. * I write in a moment of rage, reflecting on my miserable situation— exiled, abandoned, forlorn. I can write no more; let me hear from you by the return of coach. I will write you ere I go. I am, dear sir, yours, here and hereafter, R. B. Follows another letter, probably written about the second week of August: TO MONS. JAMES SMITH, MAUCHLINE. Monday Morning, Mossgiel. MY DEAR SIR-I went to Dr Douglas yesterday, fully resolved to take the opportunity of Captain Smith; but I found the doctor with a Mr and Mrs White, both Jamaicans, and they have deranged my plans altogether. They assure him that to send me from Savannah la Mar to Port Antonio, will cost my master, Charles Douglas, upwards of fifty pounds, besides running the risk of throwing myself into a pleuritic fever, in consequence of hard travelling in the sun. On these accounts he refuses sending me with Smith; but a vessel sails from Greenock the 1st of September, right for the place of my destination. The captain of her is an intimate friend of Mr Gavin |