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BRAXFIELD'S CONNUBIAL FELICITY.

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"listen to him; and Braxfield apologised to a lady "whom he had damned at whist for bad play, by declaring that he had mistaken her for his wife."

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Braxfield was the giant of the bench, who "shocked the feelings even of an age which with more of the "formality had far less of the substance of decorum Ithan our own. Thousands of his sayings have been preserved, and the staple of them is indecency. Almost "the only story of him I ever heard that had some fun in it without immorality, was when a butler gave up his "place because his lordship's wife was always scolding "him, he exclaimed, 'Ye've little to complain o'; ye "may be thankful ye're no married to her.""

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Burns wrote from Mauchline just before he went to Ellisland, "I have fought my way severely through the savage hospitality of this country, the object of all 'hosts being to send every guest drunk to bed if they "can."

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"Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and "men of strength to mingle strong drink"-"that con"tinue until night till wine inflame them (Isaiah). In Scotland, where the religion of the Bible was honoured, its many precepts to this effect were then disregarded, and some men gloried in their transgression. Burns un

happily was led astray by the savage customs he complained of, and had more than once to apologize for what had been said and done under their evil influence. Nor did the penitential apology of the morrow completely repair the previous breach of good manners, and of friendship. He confessed that by such convivial habits he parted with "a slice of his constitution," they also consumed time, and were followed by self reproach and other evil results. Wives, mothers, and daughters had good reason to deplore the social excesses of those times, and in houses where they were frequent, they could rarely welcome the return of their male friends and relations to the drawing-room, so unfit did they become for the company of ladies of education and refinement.

Lord Cockburn mentions in his life of Jeffrey, that when

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favour, keep his commandments, and be solicitous to prepare for a happy eternity." Her meeting with her husband was disappointing, for such was his character and conduct, and so injurious to her was the climate of Jamaica, that she returned to Scotland in August. Having lived to a good old age, she survived Burns for many years, and ever cherished his memory.

Dismissing this episode of the Platonic loves of Clarinda and Sylvander, she had doubtless, been his charming companion, while there was a temporary void in his affections, which he was always prompt to fill (as his brother said) with one supreme love, and also subordinate plots. But having taken the farm of Ellisland, and married his Jean, the duties and realities of life claimed his attention. The old farm house was a miserable hovel, unfit for his young bride, whom unhappily he had to send to Mauchline from Whitsuntide till November, while he was left alone to attend to the repairs and the farm, himself being exposed to inconveniences and disadvantages by no means favourable to his welfare. But the Muse was his solace, and Jean his inspiration and sweetly melodious were the lays he sent to her.

I LOVE MY JEAN.

Tune-"Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey."

"OF a' the airts* the wind can blaw,

I dearly like the west,

For there the bonnie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo'e best;

There wild woods grow, and rivers row,

And monie a hill between ;

By day and night my fancy's flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.

I see her in the dewy flowers,

I see her sweet and fair;

*Points of the Compass.

LOVE SONG TO HIS WIFE.

I hear her in the tunefu' birds,

I hear her charm the air;

There's not a bonnie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green;
There's not a bonnie bird that sings.
But minds me o' my Jean.

HILL.

O, WERE I ON PARNASSUS' HILL.

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Tune-"My love is lost to me.”

O, WERE I on Parnassus' hill,
Or had of Helicon my fill,
That I might catch poetic skill,

To sing how dear I love thee!
But Nith maun be my Muse's well,
My Muse maun be thy bonnie sel;
On Corsincon* I'll glow'r and spell,

And write how dear I love thee.

Then oome, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
For a' the lee-lang simmer's day,

I coud na sing, I coud na say,

How much, how dear I love thee.
I see thee dancing o'er the green,
Thy waist sae jimp,† thy limbs sae clean,
Thy tempting looks, thy roguish een-
By Heaven and earth I love thee!

By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
The thoughts of thee my breast inflame;
And aye I muse and sing thy name,
I only live to love thee.

Tho' I were doom'd to wander on,
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun,
Till my last weary sand was run;
Till then-and then I'd love thee.

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LIFE AT ELLISLAND.

On those ambrosial hill pastures of Parnassus, there was no fit fodder for Nithsdale kine, and both his warm heart and strong sense told him that his Jean was a far better wife for the farmer at Ellisland than any poetess would have been. The higher education of women up there might include Milton, Shakspere, Bacon, and ornithology, but the rearing of pigs and poultry, churning and cheese making it could not comprehend. His Jean was equal to all that, and as for the poetry, she could be his muse down in the vale, and by Nith's flowing stream, and with such inspiration Burns could make verses to flow like a river from day to day, and from age to age. His kind landlord, Mr. Miller, allowed him to choose his farm, but dreading failure, Burns obtained an appointment as exciseman, with a small salary to fall back upon in case of a reverse. arrangement was not an advantage; it interfered with that strict attention to the farm which was necessary to make it prosper. It was fatiguing and harassing, and incongruous with agriculture and with poetry, to have to watch and pursue smugglers, and inspect their open or concealed stores of grocery, tobacco, and spirituous liquors, and still more to ride two hundred miles a week in that sad vocation, which in those days was not favourable to steady and temperate habits.

The

Lord Cockburn, who was born about 20 years after Burns, and long survived him, states in "Memorials of his Time" that nothing was more common than for gentlemen who had dined with ladies and meant to rejoin them to get drunk. "To get drunk in a tavern seemed "to be considered as a natural if not an intended consequence of going to one. Swearing was thought "right, and the making of a gentleman. And tried by this test, nobody who had not seen them could now be I made to believe how many gentlemen there were."

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In the army it was universal by officers towards soldiers, and far more frequent than is now credible, "by masters towards servants. The naval chaplain "justified his cursing the sailors because it made them

BRAXFIELD'S CONNUBIAL FELICITY.

47

listen to him; and Braxfield apologised to a lady "whom he had damned at whist for bad play, by declaring that he had mistaken her for his wife.”

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Braxfield was the giant of the bench, who "shocked 'the feelings even of an age which with more of the 'formality had far less of the substance of decorum than our own. Thousands of his sayings have been preserved, and the staple of them is indecency. Almost "the only story of him I ever heard that had some fun in

66

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it without immorality, was when a butler gave up his "place because his lordship's wife was always scolding "him, he exclaimed, 'Ye've little to complain o'; ye "may be thankful ye're no married to her.'

Burns wrote from Mauchline just before he went to Ellisland, "I have fought my way severely through the savage hospitality of this country, the object of all "hosts being to send every guest drunk to bed if they can."

"Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and "men of strength to mingle strong drink"-"that con"tinue until night till wine inflame them (Isaiah). In Scotland, where the religion of the Bible was honoured, its many precepts to this effect were then disregarded, and some men gloried in their transgression. Burns unhappily was led astray by the savage customs he complained of, and had more than once to apologize for what had been said and done under their evil influence. Nor did the penitential apology of the morrow completely repair the previous breach of good manners, and of friendship. He confessed that by such convivial habits he parted with "a slice of his constitution," they also consumed time, and were followed by self reproach and other evil results. Wives, mothers, and daughters had good reason to deplore the social excesses of those times, and in houses where they were frequent, they could rarely welcome the return of their male friends and relations to the drawing-room, so unfit did they become for the company of ladies of education and refinement.

Lord Cockburn mentions in his life of Jeffrey, that when

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