shortly thereafter we chose Robert Ritchie for another member. In May, 1781, we brought in David Sillar, and in June, Adam Jamaison as members. About the beginning of the year 1782, we admitted Matthew Patterson, and John Orr, and in June following we chose James Patterson as a proper brother for such a society. The club being thus increased, we resolved to meet at Tarbolton on the race night, the July following, and have a dance in honour of our society. Accordingly we did meet, each one with a partner, and spent the evening in such innocence and merriment, such cheerfulness and good humour, that every brother will long remember it with pleasure and delight." To this preamble are subjoined the rules and regulations. The philosophical mind will dwell with interest and pleasure on an institution that combined so skilfully the means of instruction and of happiness; and if grandeur look down with a smile on these simple annals, let us trust that it will be a smile of benevolence and approbation. It is with regret that the sequel of the history of the Bachelor's Club of Tarbolton must be told. It survived several years after our poet removed from Ayrshire, but no longer sustained by his talents, or cemented by his social affections, its meetings lost much of their attraction; and at length, in an evil hour, dissension arising amongst its members, the institution was given up, and the records committed to the flames. Happily the preamble and the regulations were spared; and, as matter of instruction and of example, they are transmitted to posterity. After the family of our bard removed from Tarbolton to the neighbourhood of Mauchline, he and his brother were requested to assist in forming a similar institution there. The regulations of the club at Mauehline were nearly the same as those of the club at Tarbolton; but one laudable alteration was made. The fines for nonattendance had at Tarbolton been spent in enlarging their scanty potations: at Mauchline it was fixed, that the money so arising, should be set apart for the purchase of books: and the first work procured in this manner was the Mirror,' the separate numbers of which were at that time recently collected and published in volumes. After it followed a number of other works, chiefly of the same nature, and among these the Lounger." The society of Mauchline still subsists, and was in the list of subscribers to the first edition of the works of its celebrated associate. The members of these two socleties were originally all young men from the country, and chiefly sons of farmers; a description of persons, in the opinion of our poet, more agreeable in their manners, more virtuous in their conduct, and more susceptible of improvement, than the self-suffieient mechanic of country towns. With deference to the Conversation-society of Mauchline, it may be doubted, whether the books which they purchased were of a kind best adapted to promote the interest and happiness of persons in this situation of life. The Mirror" and the "Lounger" though works of great merit, may be said, on a general view of their contents, to be less calculated to increase the knowledge, than to refine the taste of those who read them; and to this last object their morality itself, which is however always perfectly pure, may be considered as subordinate. As works of taste, they deserve great praise. They are indeed, refined to a high degree of delicacy; and to this circumstance it is perhaps owing, that they exhibit little or nothing of the peculiar manners of the age or country in which they were produced. But delicacy of taste, though the source of many pleasures, is not without some disadvantages; and to render it desirable, the possessor should perhaps in all cases be raised above the necessity of bodily labour, unless in deed we should include under this term the exercise of the imitative arts, over which taste immediately presides. Delicacy of taste may be a blessing to him who has the disposal of his own time, and who can choose what book he shall read, of what diversion he shall partake, and what company he shall keep. To men so situated, the cultivation of taste affords a grateful occupation in itself, and opens a path to many other gratifications. To men of genius, in the possession of opulence and leisure, the cultivation of the taste may be said to be essential; since it affords employment to those faculties which, without employment, would destroy the happiness of the possessor, and corrects that morbid sensibility, or, to use the expression of Mr. Hume, that delicacy of passion, which is the bane of the temperament of genius. Happy had it been for our bard, after he emerged from the condition of a peasant, had the delicacy of his taste equalled the sensibilty of his passions, regulating all the effusions of his muse, and presiding over all his social enjoyments. But to the thousands who share the original condition of Burns, and who are doomed to pass their lives in the station in which they were born, delicacy of taste, were it even of easy attainment, would, if not a positive evil, be at least a doubtful blessing. Delicacy of taste may make many necessary labours irksome or disgusting; and should it render the cultivator of the soil unhappy in his situation, it presents no means by which that situation may be improved. Taste and literature, which diffuse so many charms throughout society, which sometimes secure to their votaries distinction while living, and which still more frequently obtain for them posthumous fame, seldom procure opulence, or even independence, when cultivated with the utmost attention, and can scarcely be pursued with advantage by the peasant in the short intervals of leisure which his occupations allow. Those who raise themselves from the condition of daily labour, are usually men who excel in the practice of some useful art, or who join habits of industry and sobriety to an acquaintance with some of the more common branches of knowledge. The penmanship of Butterworth, and the arithmetic of Cocker, may be studied by men in the humblest walks of life; and they will assist the peasant more in the pursuit of independence, than the study of Homer or of Shakspere, though he could comprehend, and even imitate, the beauties of those immortal bards. These observations are not offered without some portion of doubt and hesitation. The subject has many relations, and would justify an ample discussion. It may be observed, on the other hand, that the first step to improvement is to awaken the desire of improvement, and that this will be most effectually done by such reading as interests the heart and excites the imagination. The greater part of the sacred writings themselves, which in Scotland are more especially the manual of the poor, come under this description. It may be farther observed, that every human being is the proper judge of his own happiness, and, within the path of innocence, ought to be permitted to pursue it. Since it is the taste of the Scottish peasantry to give a preference to works of taste and of fancy, it may be presumed they find a superior gratification in the perusal of such works; and it may be added, that it is of more consequence they should be made happy in their original condition, than furnished with the means, or with the desire, of rising above it. Such considerations are doubtless of much weight; nevertheless, the previous reflections may deserve to be examined, and here we shall leave the subject. Though the records of the society at Tarbolton are lost and those of the society of Mauchline have not been transmitted, yet we may safely affirm, that our poet was a distingui hed member of both these associations, which were we 1 calculated to excite and to develope the powers of his mind. From seven to twelve persons constituted the society at Tarbolton, and such a number is best suited to the purposes of information. Where this is the object of these socicties, the number should be such, that each person may have an opportunity of imparting his sentiments, as well as of receiving those of others; and the powers of private conversation are to be employed, not those of public debate. A limited society of this kind, where the subject of conversation is fixed beforehand, so that each member may revolve it previously in his mind, is, perhaps, one of the happiest contrivances hitherto discovered for shortening the acquisition of knowledge, and hastening the evolution of talents. Such an association requires indeed somewhat more of regulation than the rules of politeness established in common conversation: or, rather, perhaps, it requires that the rules of politeness, which in animated conversation are are liable to perpetual violation, should be vigorously enforced The order of speech established in the club at Tarbolton appears to have been more regular than was required in so small a society; where all that is necessary seems to be, the fixing on a member to whom every speaker shall address himself, and who shall in return secure the speaker from interruption. Conversation, which among men whom intimacy and friendship have relieved from reserve and restraint, is liable, when left to itself, to so many inequalities, and which, as it becomes rapid, so often diverges into separate and collateral branches, in which it is dissipated and lost, being kept within its channel by a simple limitation of this kind, which practice renders easy and familiar, flows along in one full stream, and becomes smoother and clearer, and deeper, as it flows. It may also be observed, that in this way the acquisition of knowledge becomes more pleasant and more easy, from the gradual improvement of the faculty employed to convey it. Though some attention has been paid to the eloquence of the senate and the bar, which in this, as in all other free governments, is productive of so much influence to a few who excel in it, yet little regard has been paid to the humbler exercise of speech in private conversation, an art that is of consequence to every description of persons under every form of government, and on which eloquence of every kind ought perhaps to be founded. The first requisite of every kind of elocution, a distinct utterance, is the offspring of much time, and long practice. Children are always defective in clear articulation, and so are young people, though of a less degree. What is called slurring in speech prevails with some persons through life, especially in those who are taciturn. Articulation does not seem to reach its utmost degree of distinctness in men before the age of twenty, or upwards: in women it reaches this point somewhat earlier. Female occupations require much use of speech, because they are duties in detail. Besides, their occupations being generally sedentary, the respiration is left at liberty. Their nerves being more delicate, their sensibility, as well as fancy, is more lively; the natural consequence of which is, a more frequent utterance of thought, a greater fluency of speech, and a distinct articulation at an earlier age. But in men who have not mingled early and familiarly with the world. though rich perhaps in knowledge, and clear in apprehension, it is often painful to observe the difficulty with which their ideas are commnnicated by speech, through the want of those habits, that connect thoughts, words, and sounds together; which, when established, seem as if they had arisen spontaneously, but which, in truth, are the result of long and painful practice, and, when analyzed, exhibit the phenomena of most curious and complicated association. Societies then, such as we have been describing, while they may be said to put each member in possession of the knowledge of all the rest, improve the powers of utterance, and by the collision of opinion, excite the faculties of reason and reflection. To those who wish to improve their minds in such intervals of labour as the conditions of a peasant allows, this method of abbreviating instruction may, under proper regulations, be highly useful. To the student, whose opinions, springing out of solitary observation and meditation, are seldom, in the first instance, correct, and which have, notwithstanding, while confined to himself, an increasing tendency to assume in his own eye the character of demonstrations, an association of this kind, where they may be examined as they arise, is of the utmost importance: since it may prevent those illusions of imagination, by which genius being bewildered, science is often debased, and error propagated through successive generations. And to men who, having cultivated letters or general science in the course of their education, are engaged in the active occupations of life, and no longer able to devote to study or to books the time requisite for improving or preserving their acquisitions, associations of this kind, where the mind may unbend from its usual cares in discussions of literature or science, afford the most pleasing. the most useful, and most rational of gratifications. Whether, in the humble societies of which he was a member, Burns acquired much direct information, may perhaps be questioned. It cannot, however, be doubted, that by collision, the faculties of his mind would be excited, that by practice, his habits of enunciation would be established, and thus we have some explanation of that early command of words and of expression which enabled him to pour fourth his thoughts in language not unworthy of his genius, and which, of all his endowments, seemed, on his appearance in Edinburgh, the most extraordinary. For associations of a literary nature. our poet acquired a considerable relish; and happy had it been for him, after he emerged from the condition of a peasant, if fortune had permitted him to enjoy them in the degree of which he was capable, so as to have fortified his principles of virtue by the purification of his taste, and given to the energies of his mind habits of exertion that might have excluded other associations, in which it must be acknowledged they were too often wasted, as well as debased. The whole course of the Ayr is fine; but the banks of that river, as it bends to the eastward above Mauchline, are singularly beautiful, and they were frequented, as may be imagined, by our poet in his solitary walks. Here the muse often visited him. In one of these wanderings, he met among the woods a celebrated Beauty of the west of Scotland, a lady of whom it is said, that the charms of her person corresponded with the character of her mind. This incident gave rise, as might be expected, to a poem, of which an account will be found in the letter, in which he enclosed it to the object of his inspiration: enclosed poem, which he begs leave to present found precedents for such freedoms among the It may easily be presumed, that the beautiful nymph of Bullochmile whoever she may have been, did not reject with scorn the adorations of our poet, though she received them with silent modesty and dignified reserve. The scenery was nearly taken from real life though I dare say, madam, you do not recollect it, as I believe you scarcely noticed the poetic reveur as he wandered by you I had roved ont out 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 The sensibility of our bard's temper, and the harmony on every hand, with a congenial kin- force of his imagination, exposed him in a partidred regard, and frequently turned out of my cular manner to the impressions of beauty; and path, lest I should disturb their little songs, or these qualities united to his impassioned elofrighten them to another station. Surely, said I quence gave him in turn a powerful influence to myself, he must be a wretch indeed who, re- over the female heart. The banks of the Ayr gardless of your harmonions endeavour to please formed the scene of youthful passions of a still him, can eye your elusive flights to discover tenderer nature, the history of which it would your secret recesses, and to rob you of all the be improper to reveal, were it even in our property nature gives you, your dearest com- power, and the traces of which will soon be disforts, your helpless nestlings Even the hoary coverable only in those strains of nature and hawthorn-twig that shot across the way, what sensibility to which they gave bir h. The song heart at such a time but must have been in-entitled "Highland Mary," is known to reterested in its welfare, and wished it preserved late to one of these attachments. from the rudely browsing cattle, or the withering written," says our bard, on one of the most ineastern blast? Such was the scene, and such the teresting passages of my youthful days." The hour, when in a corner of my prospect I spied object of this passion died in early life, and the one of the fairest pieces of Nature's workman- impression left on the mind of Burns seems to ship that ever crowned a poetic landscape, or have been deep and lasting. Several years met a poet's cye, those visionary bards afterwards, when he was removed to Nithsdale, cepted who hold commerce with aerial beings! he gave vent to the sensibility of his recollecHad Calumny and Villany taken my walk, they tions in the impassioned lines addressed "To had at that moment sworn eternal peace and Mary in Heaven," and commencing thus-such an object. ex What an hour of inspiration for a poet! It would have raised plain, dull, historic prose into metaphor and measure. The enclosed song was the work of my return home and perhaps it but poorly answers what might be expected from such a scene. "I have the honour to be, "Your most obedient, and very [The song alluded to is the one commencing, It was "Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray." To the delineations of the poet by himself, by` his brother, and by his tutor, these additions are necessary, in order that the reader may see his character in its varions aspects, and may have an opportunity of forming a just notion of the variety, as well as the power of his original genius. We have dwelt the longer on the early part of his life, because it is the least known, and because, as has been already mentioned, this part of his history is connected with some views of the condition and manners of the humblest ranks of society, hitherto little observed, and which will perhaps be found neither useless nor uninteresting. About the time of leaving his native country, his correspondence commences; and in the series of letters now given to the world, the chief incidents of the remaining part of his life will be found. This authentic, though melancholy, record. will supersede in future the necessity of any extended narrative. Burns set out for Edinburgh in the month of November, 1786, and arrived on the second day afterwards, having performed his journey on foot. He was furnished with a letter of introduction to Dr. Blacklock, from the gentleman to whom the doctor had addressed the letter which is represented by our bard as the immediate cause of his visiting the Scottish metropolis. He was acquainted with Dr. Stewart, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University, and had been entertained by that gentleman at Catrine, his estate in Ayrshire. He had been introduced by Mr. Alexander Dalzell to the Earl of Glencairn, who had expressed his high approbation of his poetical talents. He had friends therefore who could introduce him into the circles of literature as well as of fashion, and his own manners and appearance exceeding every expectation that could have been formed of them, he soon forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He took his share in conversation, but not more than belonged to him; and listened, with apparent attention and deference, on subjects where his want of education deprived him of the means of information. If there had been a little more of gentleness and accommodation in his temper, he would, I think, have been still more interesting: but he had been accustomed to give law in the circle of his ordinary acquaintance; and his dread of anything approaching to meanness or servility, rendered his manner somewhat decided and hard. Nothing, perhaps, was more remarkable, among his various attainments, than the fluency, and precision, and originality of his language, when he spoke in company; particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn of expression, and avoided more successfully than most Scotchmen the peculiarities of Scottish phraseology. more became an object of general curiosity and admi- | and worth; but without anything that indicated ration. The following circumstance contributed to this in a considerable degree. At the time when Burns arrived in Edinburgh, the periodical paper, entitled The Lounger, was publishing, every Saturday producing a successive number. His poems had attracted the notice of the gentlemen engaged in that undertaking, and the ninety-seventh number of those unequal, though frequently beautiful, essays, is devoted to "An Account of Robert Burns, the Ayrshire ploughman, with extracts from his Poems," written by the elegant pen of Mr. Mackenzie. The Lounger had an extensive circulation among persons of taste and literature, not in Scotland only, but in various parts of England, to whose acquaintance therefore our bard was immediately introduced. The paper of Mr. Mackenzie was calculated to introduce him advantageously. The extracts are well selected; the criticisms and reflections are judicious as well as generous; and in the style and sentiments there is that happy delicacy, by which the writings of the author are so eminently distinguished. The extracts from Burns' poems in the ninety-seventh number of The Lounger were copied into the London, as well as into many of the principal papers, and the fame of our bard spread throughout the island. Of the manners, character, and conduct of Burns at this period, the following account has been given by Mr. Stewart, in a letter to the editor, which he is particularly happy to have obtained permission to insert in these memoirs. PROFESSOR DUGALD STEWART, OF EDINBURGH, TO "He came to Edinburgh early in the winter following, and remained there for several months. By whose advice he took this step, I am unable to say. Perhaps it was suggested only by his own curiosity to see a little more of the world; but, I confess, I dreaded the consequences from the first, and always wished that his pursuits and habits should continue the same as in the former part of life; with the addition of, what I considered as then completely within his reach, a good farm on moderate terms, in a part of the country agreeable to his taste. "The attentions he received during his stay in town from all ranks and descriptions of persons were such as would have turned any head but his own. I cannot say that I could perceive any unfavourable effect which they left on his mind. He retained the same simplicity of manners and appearance which had struck me so forcibly when I first saw him in the country; nor did he seem to feel any additional self-importance from the number and rank of his new acquaintance. His dress was perfectly suited to his station, plain and unpretending, with a sufficient attention to neatness. If I recollect right, he always wore boots; and, when on more than usual ceremony, buckskin breeches. "The variety of his engagements, while in Edinburgh, prevented me from seeing him so often as I could have wished. In the course of the spring he called on me once or twice, at my request, early in the morning, and walked with me to Braid-Hills, in the neighbourhood of the town, when he charmed me still more by his private conversation, than he had ever done in company. He was passionately fond of the beauties of nature; and I recollect once he told me, when I was admiring a distant prospect in one of our morning walks, that the sight of so many smoking cottages gave a pleasure to his mind, which none could understand who had not witnessed, like himself, the happiness and the worth which they contained. "I cannot positively say, at this distance of time, whether, at the period of our first acquaintance, the Kilmarnock edition of his poeems had been just published, or was yet in the press. I suspect that the latter was the case, as I have still in my possession copies, in his own handwriting, of some of his favourite performances; particularly of his verses "on turning up a Mouse with his plough;"-"on the Mountain Daisy" and "the Lament." On my return to Edinburgh, I showed the volume, and mentioned what I knew of the author's history, to several of my friends, and, among others, to Mr. Henry Mackenzie, who first recommended him to pub-nor very consistently. He had a very strong lic notice in the 9th number of The Lounger. "At this time, Burns' prospects in life were so extremely gloomy, that he had seriously formed a plan of going out to Jamacia in a very humble situation, not, however, without lamenting, that his want of patronage should force him to think of a project so 'repugnant to his feelings, when his ambition aimed at no higher an object than the station of an exciseman or a gauger in his own country, "His manners were then, as they continued ever afterwards, simple, manly, and independent; strongly expressive of conscions genius "In his political principles he was then a Jacobite; which was perhaps owing partly to this, that his father was originally from the estate of Lord Mareschell. Indeed he did not appear to have thought much on such subjects, sense of religion, and expressed deep regret at the levity with which he had heard it treated occasionally in some convivial meetings which he frequented. I speak of him as he was in the winter of 1786-7; for afterwards we met but seldom, and our conversations turned chiefly on his literary projects, or his private affairs. "I do not recollect whether it appears or not from any of your letters to me, that you had ever seen Burns. If you have, it is superfluous for me to add, that the idea which his conversation conveyed of the powers of his mind, exceeded, if possible, that which is suggested by |