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"UBI MEL,

IBI MUSCA."

No. 8-NEW SERIES.]

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23.

[TWOPENCE.

Every purchaser of this number of "THE FLY," is entitled to an exquisitely-executed Lithographic PRINT of "Robert Burns and Highland Mary," which is presented gratuitously.-[A similar print with every number.]

THE FLY'S PICTURE GALLERY.

ROBERT BURNS AND HIS HIGHLAND

MARY.

"How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk
How rich the hawthorn blossom,
As underneath its fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom;

The golden hours on angel's wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary."

MEMOIR OF ROBERT BURNS. There are few individuals who have not heard of the name of Burns. No poet ever lived more constantly and more intimately in the hearts of his countrymen. With their mirth or with their melancholy, how often do his native "wood-notes wild" affect the sons of poverty and toil, till their hearts overflow with feelings which render them happier than the opulent and proud, and more than reconcile them to the condition assigned them in life by Providence. In his poetry they see, with pride, the reflection of the sentiments and manners of their own order. Supported by this elevation of mind, the poor envy not the rich. They exult to know and to feel that they have had treasures bequeathed to them by one of themselves, treasures of the intellect, the fancy, and the imagination, of which the possession and the enjoyment are one and the same, as long as they preserve their integrity and their indepen. dence. The poor man, when he speaks of Burns, considers him as one who transcribes the griefs and joys, the hopes and fears, of his own breast. A tender thought of "Highland Mary,"-an heroic impulse of "Scots wha hae,"—and a convivial recollection of "Auld lang syne," alternately came across him; and he surrenders himself by turns to the emotions which they inspire.

Robert Burns was born on the 25th of January, 1759, in a cottage near the river Doon, about two miles from Ayr, and in the immediate vicinity of the ruins of the kirk of Alloway. His father, William Burns, was the son of a farmer in Kincardineshire, and was thrown by early misfortunes on the world at large; when, after many years of wanderings and sojournings, he at last settled as gardener to a worthy gentleman in the neighbourhood of Ayr, and in December, 1757, married Agnes Brown, who brought him seven children, of whom Robert was the eldest. In this situation he acquitted himself so much to the satisfaction of his master, that, with the view of promoting his interest, he leased him a small farm on his own estate. His wife managed her family and little dairy; and in this state of unambitious content they continued for several years.

Burns was sent to school in his sixth year, where he was taught to read and write; and by the time he was ten or eleven, he was a critic in substantives, verbs, and participles.

At this time he was frequently entertained, by an old woman who resided in the family, with tales and songs concerning witches, ghosts, giants, dragons, and enchanted towers. This cultivated the latent seeds of poetry in his mind; and had a powerful effect on his imagination.

The earliest composition that afforded him real delight was "The Vision of Mirza," and hymn of Addison's, one half stanza of which was music to his boyish ear:

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John Cunningham, Printer, Crown-court, Fleet-street.

ing the crop of corn, and at fifteen was the principal labourer on the farm; for his father had no hired servant, either male or female. While employed in this manner-uniting the cheerless gloom of a hermit with the unceasing moil of a galley slave-he unconsciously fell in love with a bewitching creature, a year younger than himself. He did not know why he liked so much to loiter behind with her, when returning in the evening from their labours; why the tones of her voice made his heart-strings thrill like an Æolian harp; and particularly why his pulse beat such a furious rattan when he looked and fingered over her little hand to pick out the cruel nettle-stings and thistles. Among her other love-inspiring qualities, she sung sweetly; and it was her favourite reel to which he attempted giving an embodied vehicle in rhyme. Thus with him began love and poetry.

He spent his nineteenth summer on a smuggling coast, some distance from home, at a noted school, to study the lower branches of the mathematics, in which he made considerable progress. Scenes of riot and dissipation were at this time new to him; and, as he was no enemy to social life, he learned to fill his glass, and to mix without fear in convivial orgies. In his twenty-third year, wishing to set about doing something in life, he joined a flax-dresser in Irvine, to learn his trade. This employment, however, agreed neither with his health nor his inclination. At the end of six months, as he and his partner were giving a welcome carousal to the new year, the shop took fire, and burnt to ashes; and he was left, like a true poet, not worth sixpence.

In the mean time his father's generous master died. The farm proved a ruinous concern, for the soil was the poorest in a state of cultivation; and, to heighten the misfortune, the factor was insolent and tyrannical. His father, however, struggled on till he reached the freedom in his lease, when he entered on

a larger farm, about ten miles further up the country. For four years the family lived comfortably here; but a difference happening with the landlord as to terms, a law-suit was com menced, during which his father was carried off by a consumption. After his death, his all went among the hell-hounds that prowl in the kennel of justice,

Burns and the rest of the family, however, made a shift to collect a little money amongst them; and, to keep them together, he and his brother took a neighbouring farm. He entered on it with a full resolution to be wise. He read agricultural books, calculated crops, and attended markets; but the first year, from unfortunately buying bad seed, the second from a late harvest, half the crops were lost. This overset all his wisdom; and his anticipations of success as a farmer were at an end. 49 He now began to be known in the neigh bourhood as a maker of rhymes. The first of his productions that saw the light was a burlesque lamentation on a quarrel between two reverend Calvinists, both of them dramatis persone in "The Holy Fair." With a certain description of the clergy, as well as laity, it met with a roar of applause. "Holy Willie's Prayer" next made its appearance, and alarmed the authorities of the kirk to such a degree that they held several meetings to look over their spiritual artillery, to ascertain whether many of it might be pointed against profane rhymers. Unfortunately, a circumstance shortly afterwards occurred which placed him within reach of their heaviest metal.

He had a strong attachment to a young woman named Jean Armour. His love was har tender and sincere, and if he was hurried by its ardour beyond the limits of propriety, he was anxious to shield his partner from the consequences of their imprudence. It was, therefore, agreed between them, that they should make a legal acknowledgment of a pri

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vate marriage; that he should go to Jamaica to push his fortune; and that she should remain with her father till it was in his power to support a family. Her father, however, refused his assent to this arrangement; for, notwithstanding her unfortunate situation, he thought she might still look to a better connexion than that of a friendless and unhappy poet. Burns was obliged to yield to his wishes, but his feelings on the occasion were of the most distracting nature.

In this state of mind, he wished to leave the country as soon as possible. He gave up his part of the farm to his brother, and made what little preparation was in his power for Jamaica. But before leaving his native land, he resolved to publish his poems. He weighed them as impartially as was in his power; he thought they had merit; and it was to him a delicious idea, that his abilities should be applauded, even though the applause should never reach his ears.

He threw off six hundred copies, of which he had procured subscriptions for three hundred and fifty, and was highly gratified by the reception they met with from the public. As Aoun as they appeared, old and young, high and low, grave and gay, were alike delighted, agitated, and transported. They found, by

turn, satire to gratify malignity; ridicule of fanaticism to captivate the fancies of the profane; and even hymns for the pious, in which the language of devotion came with fresh in. spiration from his pen. After defraying all expenses, he cleared twenty pounds. When he was master of nine guineas, the price of a passage to the torrid zone, he took a place in the steerage of the first vessel that was to sail from the Clyde, for

'Hungry ruin had him in the wind."

In the mean time, he was skulking from covert to covert under the terrors of a gaol, as the emissaries of the kirk had uncoupled the merciless pack of the law at his heels, to make him find security for the maintenance of the twin-children, whom his future father-in-law would not permit him to legitimate. He had taken the last farewell of his few friends; his chest was on the road to Greenock; and he had composed the last song which he thought he should ever measure in Caledonia, The gloomy night is gathering fast," when a letter from Dr. Blacklock opened new prospects to his view. The doctor belonged to a set of critics for whose applause he had not dared to hope; and he expressed an opinion that he might meet with encouragement in Edinburgh for a second edition. This hint changed his intention of going abroad; and he set out for that city, without a single acquaintance, or a single letter of introduction.

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He arrived there in November, 1786. In a few days he became an object of general curiosity and admiration. His society was courted by men of all ranks; and had their liberality been equal to their ostentation they might have rendered him independent for life. But their sordid minds were incapable of rewarding the merit they acknowledged. They knew not how to call genius from obscurity, and place it where it might profit and delight

the world.

The new edition of his poems was attended with considerable success; but no one interposed to prevent him from returning to the plough. He was invited to the tables of the great, not as a man of genius, but as a prodigy. They solicited his company that they might enjoy the spectacle of his inebriation, and afterwards reproach him with the intemperance which they had urged. Burns, at first, was not aware of this; but he soon discovered the nature and extent of their kindness. "When the hollow-hearted wretch," says he, "takes me by the hand, the feeling spoils my dinner; and the proud man's wine so offends my palate that it chokes me in the gullet."

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In February, 1788, after settling with his publisher, he found himself in possession of four hundred pounds, including one hundred for copyright. With this sum he hastened to Ayrshire, and immediately advanced hundred and eighty to his brother, who was struggling to support their aged mother, a younger brother, and three sisters, on the farm which he had previously relinquished. His generous heart next turned to the object of his attachment; and he entered into a permanent union with her by a regular marriage. But before he was admitted to the fellowship

of the kirk, he was obliged, along with his wife, to do penance on the Stool of Repentance. In his own words

"Before the congregation wide,
Lpass'd the muster fairly;
My handsome Jeanie by my side,
We gat our ditty rarely."

With little more than two hundred pounds

he again entered into the humble and laborious pursuits of agriculture, without any other prospect than constant personal exertion, and

a

frugality approaching to extreme penury, He was in consequence occasionally subject to a depression of spirits. The heart of the man," said he, "and the fancy of the poet are the two great considerations for which I live. If miry ridges and dirty dunghills are to engross the best part of the functions of my soul immortal, I had better been a rook or a magpie at once; and then I should not have been plagued with any ideas superior to breaking of clods and picking up grubs; not to mention barn-door cocks and mallards, creatures with which I could almost exchange lives at any time." He endeavoured, however, to with draw his mind from his cheerless situation by composing songs for Johnson's "Scots Musi cal Museum," then in the course of publication.

(To be continued.)

not a tributary to the East India Company, War in the East.-Runjeet Sing, though has nevertheless agreed to furnish a contingent of 50,000 men to repel the insidious designs of Russia upon Afghanistaun and Northern India. Some people wonder at this-but can Runjeet Sing ever forget the advantage to his wounded followers, derived from Holloway's Ointment, which was first received by Company? It is well known that the Comhim, with other presents, from the East Indis pany now supply all their surgeons with this invaluable preparation.

Penetration.-Many people pretend to this quality who never made a fortunate guess into character in their life. They who possess great penetration into character, who can trace the secret springs of action, and peep behind the curtain of manoeuvring and affectation, do not enjoy the drama of human life half so much as the ignorant spectator, who merely gates on the stage, and admires the passing splen dour of the show.

Parsley.In the hieroglyphie language of flowers, the gift of parsley implies a wish of the person's death to whom it is presented; for parsley has ever been the herb with which the Greeks decorate their graves and tombe; and hence to want parsley was an expression applied to a person in his last extremity.

This stool was fashioned like an arm-chair, than the other seats, directly frouting the pulpit. and raised on a pedestal, nearly two feet higher Here the culprit was exposed and admonished for three Sundays successively, during divine service. The rigour of this penalty has of later years beca relaxed; and in many places it has been/.commuted for a small fine and private admonition.

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201

THE SECRETAIRE OF A LADY. "To yield to remedies is half the cure."

(For the FLY.)

"Let me read over again," said Eugenia, "those letters dictated by love, taste, friendship, caprice, and what besides I know not. Let us make a review of my secretaire. Perhaps I may find some secret remembrancer. Perhaps my thoughts, looking back to brighter days, may enable me to indulge a moment in that happiness which fled before I could well call it by that name."

She seated herself, opened a drawer, and the first letters of the friend of her youth caught her eye. One was filled with lamentations on the death of a favourite bird; at this spot a tear had fallen on the paper and blotted out a

word. "Happy times," said Eugenia, and her smile was faint and melancholy; 66 a romance in manuscript. Poor Augustus!" said she, "he knew not one note of music. We must, however, give him credit for his complaisance; I shall keep the romance. A volume of parchments; are these my title deeds? Let us read: Imprimis, &c.' It is my marriage contract; many letters; my portrait in verse. If I may credit the author, I was handsome, with good eyes, a light graceful figure, and an easy air. The writer was gallant at least. My account book when a young lady. A rosecoloured crape dress; how handsome it was. A wager of petits gateaux (confectionary) at Felix's, lost to Ernestine; a benefaction to a young girl who maintained her mother, and then wanting work. My extracts of Grecian history; with what enthusiasm I expatiate upon these noble figures of the antique. Pah! What a smell of amber! The perfumed notes of that petit maitre whose words escaped at the ends of his mouth; 65 years, and yet amorous! I remember that visit, when all the stores of art had been lavished upon his person. friend of my mother's at that time was staying with me. Ah! sir,' said she,' what an age it is since I saw you. It was at those balls in the Marais that our acquaintance began; you were then a famous dancer; it was in 96.'

A

Poor man! to call back his feats so anterior to

those he meditated. His forehead was more wrinkled than usual; his mouth affected: to smile, and made a most shocking grimace.

never saw him afterwards. A letter with

black edges and seal, a note accompanying it. "My first friend-tears, sad recollections, and a heart that will never cease to remember her! This is all she has left me," taking up a portrait; the head of a young woman is leaning on her hand; in the other she holds a lock of hair, which the note enclosed. "Dear, dear Ernestine!" murmured she; "those locks were once crowned with flowers, and now they are moistened by my tears," and she wept.

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A drawer was locked, it was the only one so fastened; the hand of Eugenia trembled the drawer contained nothing more than a withered rose. She took it up with emotion.

The

day you were given me by him," said she,

was truly happy. In the midst of a large

and homage, I felt nothing but the pleasure of
being near him; I saw nothing but his looks,
looks of regard and tenderness. He was be-
loved in return. I should bury in oblivion all
traces of his passion; thou alone art preserved.
In thy freshness thou wert placed on my heart,
it was there that thy colours faded. The beauty
of the flower endured but for a moment, like
my happiness; neither was destined to outlive
the morrow." Eugenia no longer wept, but
her countenance expressed a deep and settled
grief. A box forming part of the writing
table, enveloped a great quantity of letters;
these were separated from the rest, and ar-
ranged with order. "Ah! my mother," said
she, hastily placing her hand upon one of
them, "thy Eugenia suffered indeed, and had
need of her mother;" she read this sheet so
tender and consolatory, it relieved the bitter-
ness of her heart, she again found her tears,
and was able to weep. "What have I gathered
from the past?" said she, "the days of my
childhood are gone, and early recollections
have all lost their charms; Ernestine is no
more, and my dear mother, alas!" then cast
ing her eyes once more on the flower, "from
my youth," added she, "I have preserved one
souvenir, painful and wearing; and a rose
faded like it."
F. E.

THE SON TO HIS MOTHER.

BY S. LOVER, ESQ.

There was a place in childhood that I remem-
ber well,

HISTORICAL ANECDOTE OF THE
EMPEROR NAPOLEON.

(For the FLY.)

It was at Munich, in the midst of fetes and rejoicings, that the Emperor received intelligence of the entry of the English into Naples. Queen Caroline had declared war against France the moment the grande armie inundated the Austrian provinces. Napoleon, without loss of time, marched his troops upon Naples. He had an old grudge against the Queen, because he had so often cause to complain of her acts and duplicity; so when the news was brought, he said in vastly bad humour to those about him, "Upon that if I go to Naples, that woman will never put score nothing surprises me. But have a care; her foot there again." In after times, when the court took up her cause, he contented himself with saying, in his dry, caustic way, "She has finished her reign."

At the end of January, Napoleon quitted Munich to return to St. Cloud, at which time the Court was in all its splendour and attraction. He even manifested some intention himself of directing the balls, concerts, spectacles, and all those amusements which for five years made the Imperial Court, of all others, the most surprising and sumptuous in Europe. He only stopped at Strasbourg, where he remained twenty-four hours, and from thence he purposed going direct to St. Cloud, without enforcing on the postilions that rapidity which four months previously he exacted when travelling with the Empress. No incident particularly occurred on the jourwhile the carriage leisurely ascended the hill, ney; only, on his arriving at Meaux, and taigne's Essays, which he had brought with and he himself wholly absorbed with Monhim purposely, as he said, "to minister to his mind en route," and paying no attention to what was passing around him. On a And kiss'd and laid me down to sleep within efforts that were opposed by the officer besudden, and in spite of the rather feeble my tiny bed; And holy words she taught me there-me-gular beanty opened the chaise door, made her longing to the escort, a young female of sin

And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairy
tales did tell ;

And gentle words, and fond embrace, were
given with joy to me,

When I was in that happy place, upon my
mother's knee.

When fairy tales were ended, "Good night!"
she softly said,

thinks I yet can see

Her angel eyes, as close I knelt beside my

In

mother's knee.

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The sorrows of my riper years, the cares of
When doubt or danger weigh'd me down, then
ev'ry time;
pleading all for me,

It was a fervent prayer to Heaven that bent
my mother's knee!

And can I this remember, and e'er forget to

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down at his knees. Confounded at seeing way into the carriage, and crouched herself he endeavoured to disengage himself, and himself, so to express it, "taken by assault," cried out, "What the d-1 does this crazy woman want here?" But immediately callperson -"How, Mademoiselle, is it you come ing to mind the countenance of the young again ?" rejoined he in a menacing tone, and seizing her two delicate hands in his own, as if to restrain her within bounds of respect, demoiselle, will you let me be quiet, and do added, with greater composure, "Now, Mame the pleasure to descend, tout de suite?"

But she, without being alarmed at this sort of reception, though not without shedding a power of tears, remained at Napoleon's feet, the position was not in truth the most easy for who again became restless and agitated, for

him.

60

Sire," said she, "it is the favour of once more changing my father's prison, that I im

By speaking truth to the really beautiful, plore your Majesty to grant ine," replied the

assembly and festivity, flattered by attentions we learn to flatter other women.

beautiful pleader.

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