duced him considerable emolument. In the year 1795, the Editor of a London newspaper, high in its character for literature and independence of sentiment, made a proposal to him, that he should furnish them once a week with an article for their poetical department, and receive from them a recompense of fifty-two guineas per annum; an offer which the pride of genius disdained to accept. Yet he had for several years furnished, and was at that time furnishing, the Museum of Johnson with his beautiful lyrics, without fee or reward, and was obstinately refusing all recompense for his assistance to the greater work of Mr. Thomson, which the justice and generosity of that gentleman was pressing upon him. The sense of his poverty, and of the approaching distress of his infant family, pressed heavily on Burns as he lay on the bed of death. Yet he alluded to his indigence, at times, with something approaching to his wonted gaiety." What business," said he to Dr. Maxwell, who attended him with the utmost zeal, "has a physician to waste his time on me? I am a poor pigeon not worth plucking. Alas! I have not feathers enough upon me to carry me to my grave." And when his reason was lost in delirium, his ideas run in the same melancholy train; the horrors of a jail were were continually present to his troubled imagination, and produced the most affecting exclamations. As for some months previous to his death he had been incapable of the duties of his office, Burns had imagined that his salary was reduced one half, as is usual in such cases. The Board however, to their honour, continued his full emoluments, and Mr. Graham of Fintry, hearing of his illness, though unacquainted with its dangerous nature, made an offer of his assistance towards procuring him the means of preserving his health. Whatever might be the faults of Burns, ingratitude was not of the number. Amongst his manuscripts, various proofs are found of the sense he entertained of Mr. Graham's friendship, which delicacy towards that gentleman has induced us to suppress; and on this last occasion there is no doubt that his heart overflowed towards him, though he had no longer the power of expressing his feelings.* On the death of Burns, the inhabitants of *The letter of Mr. Graham alluded to above, is dated on the 13th July, and probably arrived on the 15th. Burns became delirious on the 17th or 18th, and died on the 21st. Dumfries and its neighbourhood, opened a subscription for the support of his wife and family, and Mr. Miller, Mr. M'Murdo, Dr. Maxwell and Mr. Syme, gentlemen of the first respectability, became trustees for the application of the money to its proper objects. The subscription was extended to other parts of Scotland, and of England also, particularly London and Liverpool. By this means a sum was raised amounting to seven hundred pounds, and thus the widow and children were rescued from immediate distress, and the most melancholy of the forebodings of Burns happily disappointed. It is true, this sum, though equal to their present support, is insufficient to secure them from future penury. Their hope in regard to futurity depends on the favourable reception of these volumes from the public at large, in the promoting of which the candour and humanity of the Reader may induce him to lend his assistance, Burns, as has already been mentioned, was nearly five feet ten inches in height, and of a form that indicated agility as well as strength. His well-raised forehead shaded with black curling hair, indicated extensive capacity. His eyes were large, dark, full of ardour and intelligence. His face was well formed; and his countenance uncommonly interesting and expressive. His mode of of dressing, which was often slovenly, and a certain fulness and bend in his shoulders, characteristic of his original profession, disguised in some degree the natural symmetry and elegance of his form. The external appearance of Burns was most strikingly indicative of the character of his mind. On a first view, his physiognomy had a certain air of coarseness, mingled however with an expression of deep penetration, and of calm thoughtfulness approaching to melancholy. There appeared in his first manner and address perfect ease and self-possession, but a stern and almost supercilious clevation, not indeed incompatible with openness and affability, which however bespoke a mind conscious of superior talents. Strangers that supposed themselves approaching an Ayrshire peasant, who could make rhymes, and to whom their notice was an honour, found themselves speedily overawed by the presence of a man who bore himself with dignity, and who possessed a singular power of correcting forwardness and of repelling intrusion. But though jealous of the respect due to himself, Burns never enforced it where he saw it was willingly paid; and though inaccessible to the approaches of pride, he was open to every advance of kindness and of benevolence. His dark and haughty countenance easily relaxed into a look of goodwill, of pity, or of tenderness; and as the various emotions emotions succeeded each other in his mind, assumed with equal ease the expression of the broadest humour, of the most extravagant mirth, of the deepest melancholy, or of the most sublime emotion. The tones of his voice happily corresponded with the expression of his features, and with the feelings of his mind. When to these endowments are added, a rapid and distinct apprchension, a most powerful understanding, and a happy command of language-of strength as well as brilliancy of expression-we shall be able to account for the extraordinary attractions of his conversation-for the sorcery which in his social parties he seemed to exert on all around him. In the company of women this sorcery was more especially apparent. Their presence charmed the fiend of melancholy in his bosom, and awoke his happiest feelings; it excited the powers of his fancy as well as the tenderness of his heart; and by restraining the vehemence and the exuberance of his language, at times gave to his manners, the impression of taste, and even of elegance, which in the company of men they seldom possessed. This influence was doubtless reciprocal. A Scottish Lady, accustomed to the best society, declared with characteristic naiveté, that no man's conversation ever carried her so completely off her feet as that of Burns; and an English Lady, familiarly acquainted with several of |