["The verses to the Mouse' and 'Mountain Daisy' were composed on the occasions mentioned, and while the author was holding the plough I could point out the particular spot where each was composed. Holding the plough was a favourite situation with Robert for poetic compositions, and some of his best verses were produced while he was at that exercise."GILBERT BURNS.]

["The charm," says Jeffrey, "of the fine lines, written on turning up a mouse's nest with the plough, will be found to consist in the simple tenderness of the delineation." It has higher beauties, viz. the poet's regret that man's power has broken the social union of nature, and induces a "fellow-mortal" to fly in terror from his face, and the pathetic reference to his own condition-he shrinks from the contemplation of the present, and he dreads the future. The field on the farm of Mossgiel is still pointed out and visited in which Burns composed this grand moral poem.-ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.]

["This beautiful poem is one of the most exquisite of the poet's productions. John Blane, who was farm-servant at Mossgiel at the time of its composition, still (1838) lives at Kilmarnock. He stated to me that he recollected the incident perfectly. Burns was holding the plough, with Blane for his driver, when the little creature was observed running off across the field. Blane, having the pettle, or plough-cleaning utensil, in his hand at the moment, was thoughtlessly running after it, to kill it, when Burns checked him, but not angrily, asking what ill the poor mouse had ever done him? The poet then seemed to his driver to grow very thoughtful, and, during the remainder of the afternoon, he spoke not. In the night time he awoke Blane, who slept with him, and, reading the poem which had in the meantime been composed, asked what he thought of the mouse now?" -CHAMBERS.]

Food fills the wame, an' keeps us livin';
Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin'
When heavy dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin';
But, oil'd by thee,

The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin',
Wi' rattlin' glee.

Thou clears the head o' doited Lear;
Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care;
Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair,
At 's weary toil;
Thou even brightens dark Despair
Wi' gloomy smile.

Aft, clad in massy, siller weed,
Wi' gentles thou erects thy head ;
Yet humbly kind in time o' need,

* Bannocks made of barley meal, which when baked are so flexible as to admit of being easily rolled together.

In cog or bicker,

An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in,t An' gusty sucker!

When Vulcan gies his bellows breath, An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith, O rare! to see thee fizz an' freath

I' th' lugget caup! Then Burnewin‡ comes on like death At ev'ry chaup.

Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel;
The brawnie, bainie, ploughman chiel,
Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel,
The strong forehammer,

Till block an' studdie ring an' reel
Wi' dinsome clamour.

Gies famous sport.-1st EDIT. For services and expenses on the public account at the Revolution, Forbes of Culloden was empowered, by an act of the Scottish Parliament in 1690, to distil whiskey on his barony of Ferintosh in Cromarty-shire, free of duty. This inconsiderately-conferred privilege in time became the source of a great revenue to the family; and Ferintosh was at length recognised as something like a synonyme for whiskey, so much of it was there distilled. By the act relating to the Scotch distilleries in 1785, this privilege was declared to be abolished, the Lords of the Treasury being left to make such

Thee, Ferintosh! O sadly lost!
Scotland lament frae coast to coast!
Now colic grips, an' barkin' hoast,
May kill us a';

For loyal Forbes's charter'd boast,||
Is ta'en awa!

Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise,
Wha mak the whiskey stells their prize!
Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
There, seize the blinkers!

An' bake them up in brunstane pies
For poor d-n'd drinkers.

Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still
Hale breeks, a scone, an' whiskey gill,
An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,

compensation to the existing Mr. Forbes as should be deemed just, or, should they fail to make a satisfactory arrangement, the case was to be decided by a jury before the Scottish Court of Exchequer. The Lords failing to satisfy Mr. Forbes, the case was accordingly tried by a jury, November 29, 1785, when it was shown by Mr. Henry Erskine, the plaintiff's counsel, that the privilege could be made to yield no less than seven thousand a-year to the family, though the actual annual gains from it, at an average of the last thirteen years, was but a little more than one thousand. He further showed that, while the right was an undoubted piece of property, which nothing could justly take away, the family had not failed to deserve it, as they had ever continued useful and loyal servants to the government; Mr. Duncan Forbes, the late Lord President, having, in particular, spent no less than £20,000 of his private fortune in suppressing the rebellion of 1745-6. The jury surprised the Lords of the Treasury by decreeing the sum of £21,580 for "loyal Forbes' chartered boast."-CHAMBERS. Q

Tak' a' the rest, An' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best.

["This poem was written in the spring of 1786, upon the model, as is sufficiently evident, of the Caller Water of Fergusson. The tone of this composition, and of the Earnest Cry and Prayer, was probably in a greater measure an emanation of Burns's fancy than of his genuine feelings; for, up to this period, he was not more accustomed to indulge in potations than nine of every ten of his acquaintance. perance societies had not then given bacchanalianism that dubious character, as a theme of verse, which it now has; and Burns, who liked to spend a social evening, would not, of course, see any impropriety in celebrating what, in its excesses, is now generally and justly held as the curse of our country."-CHAMBERS.]

Tem

This is one of our bard's early pieces, having been written on the 20th of March, 1786. here enclose you," says Burns to one of his correspondents, Robert Muir, Kilmarnock, my Scotch drink, and may the follow with a blessing for your edification. I hope, some time, before we hear the gowk, to have the pleasure of seeing you at Kilmarnock, when I intend we shall have a gill between us, in a mutchkin stoup, which will be a great comfort and consolation to

Dear Sir, your humble servant,

R. B."

Paint Scotland greeting owre her thrissle, Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whissle; An' d-mn'd excisemen in a bussle,

Seizin' a stell,
Triumphant crushin't like a mussel
Or lampit shell.
Then on the tither hand present her,
A blackguard smuggler, right behint her,
An' cheek-for-chow a chuffie vintner,
Colleaguing join,
Picking her pouch as bare as winter
Of a' kind coin.

Is there, that bears the name o' Scot,
But feels his heart's bluid rising hot,
To see his poor auld mither's pot

Thus dung in staves,
An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat
By gallows knaves?

Alas! I'm but a nameless wight,

Trode i' the mire an' out o' sight!
But could I like Montgomeries fight,*
Or gab like Boswell,+

There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight,
An' tie some hose well.

God bless your honours, can ye see❜t,
The kind, auld, cantie carlin greet,
An' no get warmly to your feet,

An' gar them hear it,

An' tell them wi' a patriot heat,

Ye winna bear it?

James Boswell of Auchinleck, the well-known biographer of Dr. Johnson. Boswell frequently spoke at the Ayr-shire county meetings.]

Some o' you nicely ken the laws,
To round the period an' pause,
An' wi' rhetoric clause on clause

To mak harangues ;
Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's
Auld Scotland's wrangs.
Dempster, a true blue Scot I'se warran';
Thee, aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ;†
An' that glib-gabbet Highland baron,

The Laird o' Graham ; An' ane, a chap that's d-mn'd auldfarran, Dundas his name.§

Erskine, a spunkie Norland billie;
True Campbells, Frederick, an' Ilay;
An' Livingstone, the bauld Sir Willie ;
An' monie ithers,

Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully

Might own for brithers.

Thee, Sodger Hugh, my watchman stented,
If bardies e'er are represented;
I ken if that your sword were wanted,
Ye'd lend your hand:
But when there's ought to say anent it,
Ye're at a stand.

Arouse, my boys; exert your mettle,
To get auld Scotland back her kettle;
Or, faith! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle,
Ye'll see't or lang,

She'll teach you, wi' a reekin' whittle,
Anither sang.

This while she's been in crankous mood,
Her lost militia fir'd her bluid;
(Deil na they never mair do guid,)

Play'd her that pliskie ! A' now she's like to rin red-wud

About her whiskey.

[George Dempster of Dunnichen, in the county of Forfar, an eminent Scottish Whig representative in the time of Fox and Pitt. He commenced his parliamentary career in 1762, and closed it in 1790, after having sat in five successive parlaments. Every patriotic and liberal scheme had the support of this excellent man, who died in 1818, at the age of 82.]

[Sir Adam Ferguson of Kilkerran, Bart. He had several times represented Ayr-shire, but at this period was member for the city of Edinburgh.]

[The Marquis of Graham, eldest son of the Duke of Montrose. He afterwards became the third Duke of Montrose, and died in 1836.]

[The Right Hon. Henry Dundas, Treasurer of the Navy, and M.P. for Edinburgh-shire, afterwards Viscount Melville.] [Thomas Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine.] [Lord Frederick Campbell, second brother of the Duke of Argyle, Lord Register of Scotland, and M.P. for the county of Argyle in four successive parliaments.]

**Ilay Campbell, Lord Advocate for Scotland, then representative in parliament of the Glasgow group of burghs. He was afterwards president of the Court of Session, and died in 1823, at an advanced age.]

[Mr. Pitt's father, the Earl of Chatham, was the second son of Robert Pitt of Boconnock, in the county of Cornwall.]

[Scones made from a mixture of oats, peas, or beans, with wheat or barley, ground fine, and denominated mashlum, are in general use in Scotland, and form a wholesome and palatable food.]

(A worthy old hostess of the author's in Mauchline, where he sometimes studied politics over a glass of guid auld Scotch drink.-R. B.]

["Nance Tinnock is long deceased, and no one has caught up her mantle. She is described as having been a true ale

An' L-d, if ance they pit her till 't,
Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt,
An' durk an' pistol at her belt,

She'll tak the streets,

An' rin her whittle to the hilt,

I' th' first she meets! For G-d's sake, sirs! then speak her fair, An' straik her cannie wi' the hair, An' to the muckle House repair, Wi' instant speed, An strive, wi' a' your wit and lear, To get remead.

Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks; But gie him 't het, my hearty cocks! E'en cowe the caddie!

An send him to his dicing box

An sportin' lady.

Tell you guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's ††
I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks, II
An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock's, SS
Nine times a-week,

If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks, || ||
Wad kindly seek.

Could he some commutation broach,
I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch,
He need na fear their foul reproach
Nor erudition,

Yon mixtie-maxtie queer hotch-potch
The coalition.

Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue;
She's just a devil wi' a rung;
An' if she promise auld or young
To tak' their part,
Tho' by the neck she should be strung,

She'll no desert.

wife, in the proverbial sense of the word-close, discreet, civil, and no tale-teller. When any neighbouring wife came, asking if her John was here, 'Oh no,' Nance would reply, shaking money in her pocket as she spoke, he's no here,' implying to the querist that the husband was not in the house, while she meant to herself that he was not among her half-pence-thus keeping the word of promise to the ear, but breaking it to the hope. Her house was one of two stories, and had a front towards the street, by which Burns must have entered Mauchline from Mossgiel. The date over the door is 1744. It is remembered, however, that Nanse never could understand how the poet should have talked of enjoying himself in her house nine times a-week.' "The lad,' she said, hardly ever drank three half-mutchkins under her roof in his life.' Nanse, probably, had never heard of the poetical license. In truth, Nanse's hostelry was not the only one in Mauchline which Burns resorted to: a rather better-looking house, at the opening of the Cowgate, kept by a person named John Dove, and then and still bearing the arms of Sir John Whiteford of Ballochmyle, was also a haunt of the poet, having this high recommendation, that its back windows surveyed those of the house in which his 'Jean' resided. The reader will find in its proper place a droll epitaph on John Dove, in which the honest landlord's religion is made out to be a mere comparative appreciation of his various liquors."-CHAMBERS.

Her portrait was taken by Brooks in 1799, and has been engraved. The original drawing is in the possession of Mr. Pickering, of Chancery Lane, London.]

The young Chancellor of the Exchequer had gained some credit by a measure introduced in 1784, for preventing smuggling of tea by reducing the duty, the revenue being compensated by a tax on windows.

228

LET half-starv'd slaves in warmer skies
See future wines, rich clust'ring, rise;
Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies,

But blythe and frisky,
She eyes her free-born, martial boys,
Tak' aff their whiskey.

What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms,
While fragrance blooms and beauty charms!
When wretches range, in famish'd swarms,
The scented groves,
Or hounded forth, dishonour arms
In hungry droves.

Their gun's a burthen on their shouther;
They downa bide the stink o' pouther;
Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither
To stan' or rin,

Till skelp-a shot-they're aff, a' throu'ther,
To save their skin.

But bring a Scotsman frae his hill,
Clap in his cheek a Highland gill,
Say, such is royal George's will,

An' there's the foe;
He has nae thought but how to kill
Twa at a blow.

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him; Death comes-wi' fearless eye he sees him; Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him ;

An' when he fa's,

His latest draught o' breathin' lea’es him ;

In faint huzzas!

Sages their solemn een may steek,
An' raise a philosophic reek,

An' physically causes seek,

In clime an' season;

But tell me whiskey's name in Greek, I'll tell the reason.

Scotland, my auld, respected mither! Tho' whiles ye moistify your leather, Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather, Ye tine your dam; Freedom and whiskey gang thegither!Tak aff your dram !

“This poem was written," says Burns, "before the act anent the Scottish Distilleries of Session 1786, for which Scotland and the author return their most grateful thanks."

["Towards the close of the year 1785, loud complaints were made by the Scottish distillers respecting the vexatious and oppressive manner in which the excise laws were enforced at their establishments-such rigour, they said, being exercised at the instigation of the London distillers, who looked with jealousy on the success of their northern brethren. So great was the severity of the excise that many distillers were obliged to abandon the trade, and the price of barley was beginning to be affected. Illicit distillation was also found to be alarmingly on the increase. In consequence of the earnest remonstrances of the distillers, backed by the county gentlemen, an act was passed in the session of 1786 (alluded to by the author), whereby the duties on low wines, spirits, &c., were discontinued, and an annual tax imposed on stills, according to their capacity. This act gave general satisfaction. It was during the general outcry against fiscal oppression that the poem was composed."-CHAMBERS.

"Burns' postscripts are oftentimes, like those of a lady's letter, the more important part of the piece to which they are attached. In this case it is eminently so: few passages have been more frequently cited than the fourth and fifth stanzas, the last of which is quite pictorial, while there are many who must have heard the sentiment, "Freedom and Whiskey gang thegither," urged as an adage for the further prolongation of convivial enjoyments. Though we are no enemies to boon companionship, still with Hector Macneil we must say,

Robin Burns, in monie a ditty,

Loudly sings in whiskey's praise:
Sweet his king!-the mair's the pity
E'er on it he waur'd sic lays.

O' a' the ills poor Caledonia

E'er yet pree'd, or e'er will taste,
Brew'd in hell's black Pandemonia,
Whiskey's ills will skaith her maist.'"'
MOTHERWELL.

Address to the Unco Guid,

OR THE

Rigidly Righteous.

My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them aye thegither;
The rigid righteous is a fool,
The rigid wise anither;

The cleanest corn that e'er was dight

May hae some pyles o' caff in ;

So ne'er a fellow-creature slight
For random fits o' daffin.

SOLOMON.-Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16.