"AULD BRIG" OF DOON.

In the accompanying print, the spectator is presumed to stand on the south or Carrick side of the river Doon, looking towards the north, and commanding a considerably foreshortened view of the old-fashioned bridge of one arch which figures so conspicuously in the tale of Tam o' Shanter—

"Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the keystane o' the brig
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they daurna cross.
But ere the keystane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie press'd,
And flew at Tam with furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie's mettle-
Ae spring brought aff her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail;
The carline caught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump."

The old bridge, thus introduced to the notice of the public, and since visited and viewed by thousands with that peculiar interest which genius calls forth in favour of insensible matter, was, in Burns's day, and had long been, the chief communication between the districts of Kyle and Carrick, being on the highway leading from Ayr to Maybole, and nearly two miles from the former town. The age of the structure is unknown; but we may well suppose, from the appearance of the masonry, and the high sweep taken by the arch, that it is of great antiquity. Our conjectures on this subject receive a support of but little consequence, from our finding the bridge spoken of, in the history of the Kennedies, published by Mr Pitcairn, as existing at comparatively so recent a period as the beginning of the seventeenth century. "The laird of Bargany," says this curious history, “cumis to the Brig of Done, quhair he stayit; and calling all his friendis and seruandis thair togidder, he said in this sort, Sirs, I am here to protest before God, I am nocht to seek the bluid of me lord [Cassillis, with whom he was at feud, and who was waiting for him near Maybole], nor his dishonour in na sortt, but ryd hame to my hous, in peace, giff he will let me. And giff me lord be to pursew me, I hoip ye will all do your dewitteis, as becumis men; and he that will not be willing to do this, for my luif and kyndness, he will aither say he will tairy with me to the end, or leaff me now at this present.' And they all answered, we will all die in your defense, giff ony will pursew you."" The remainder of the story is, that the Laird, a youth of five and twenty, was killed in an encounter with a large force under Cassillis, near Maybole. This event happened a short time before the departure of James VI. to take possession of the English throne.

The old bridge being, from its narrowness and height, not only inconvenient but difficult of passage, a new edifice, of more ample proportions, and perfectly level with the road, was latterly erected, and of which a view has been given in a preceding print. The old bridge was then left in disuse, and, if it had been a common piece of stone and lime,

H

it would probably have soon been reduced to a condition more picturesque than firm. The coping stones had already been thrown over into the river by unsentimental boys, and the whole edifice was, to all appearance, hastening to decay. But poetry can raise up friends even to old bridges. Mr David Auld, of Ayr, to whose public spirit and taste so much of what is pleasing in the external aspect of this part of the Land of Burns is owing, resolved to make an effort to preserve the venerable object to posterity. At his instigation, the Rev. Mr Hamilton Paul, of Broughton, editor of a collection of Burns's poetical works, wrote and forwarded to the proper quarter the following whimsical address:

"Unto the Honourable the Trustees of the Roads in the County of Ayr, the Petition and Complaint of the Auld Brig of Doon.

Must I, like modern fabrics of a day,

Decline, unwept, the victim of decay?

Shall my bold arch, that proudly stretches o'er

Doon's classic stream, from Kyle's, to Carrick's shore,

Be suffer'd in oblivion's gulf to fall,

And hurl to wreck my venerable wall?

Forbid it! every tutelary power!

That guards my keystane at the midnight hour.

Forbid it, ye who, charm'd by Burns's lay,
Amid these scenes can linger out the day!
Let Nannie's sark, and Maggie's mangled tail,
Plead in my cause, and in that cause prevail,
The man of taste, who comes my form to see,
And curious asks, but asks in vain, for me,
With tears of sorrow will my fate deplore,
When he is told, The Auld Brig is no more."
Stop then, O stop, the more than Vandal rage,
That marks this revolutionary age,

And bid the structure of your fathers last,
The pride of this, the boast of ages past;
Nor ever let your children's children tell,
By your decree, the ancient fabric fell.

"May it therefore please your Honours to consider this petition, and grant such sum as you may think proper for repairing and keeping up the Old Bridge of Doon.

Signed)

For the Petitioner."

The eight or ten gentlemen, before whom this petition came, found that it was not within their powers to lay out any of the public money upon a disused road; but, amused by the manner of the document, and moved in feeling by its prayer, they instantly subscribed a sufficient sum to put the bridge into complete repair. Its further preservation may safely, we believe, be entrusted to succeeding generations.

SHANTER FARM AND BAY.

THE engraving represents a portion of the Carrick coast, between Turnberry and Colzean, in the parish of Kirkoswald, with part of the slope forming the farm of Shanter, in the middle ground. It is designed at once to gratify curiosity by showing the residence of the renowned "TAM," and to communicate some notion of a romantic district with

which Burns was familiar in early life, and the features of which, physical and moral, are understood to have had no small effect in the formation of his character. It was in his nineteenth year, (1777) while residing with his uncle, Samuel Brown, at Ballochneil, and studying geometry under Rogers, at Kirkoswald school, that Burns was introduced to the race of half farmers, half smugglers, who dwelt along the Carrick coast, of whom the gudeman of Shanter was a notable specimen. We are informed by the writer of the statistical account of the parish in Sir John Sinclair's collection, that the contraband trade was "at first carried on here from the Isle of Man, and afterwards to a considerable extent from France, Ostend, and Gottenburgh,” the rude nature of the coast, and the thinness of its population, fitting it in a remarkable manner for the purpose, though no part of the shore of Britain is more dreaded by ordinary mariners, on account of its total want of sheltering inlets and harbours. The effect of such a trade upon the manners of a primitive pastoral people was most remarkable. Their simple modes of life were deranged by the occasional possession of luxuries which only the wealthy of cities usually enjoy, such as silks, teas, and the finer kinds of spirituous liquors. It is said that the family of what had once been a douce farmer, was on one occasion so much put out of its usual way by a landing of smugglers and their goods, that they were surprised one morning to find their porridge had been made with brandy, instead of the wonted lymph of the burn or well. On another occasion, after a party had been entertained for a considerable time within doors, with the best of all possible liquors, it was proposed, as the bringing of water was troublesome, that they should adjourn to the brink of the neighbouring spring from which the family was usually supplied, and there sip their punch from a bowl of nature's making. A keg of generous fluid was accordingly broached and emptied into the spring, round which the party sat for several hours, drinking the mixture out of caups and luggies, until the larger became too much for the lesser element. Once a quarter, the smugglers met the natives and other interested parties, in certain out of the way public-houses along the coast, for the purpose of squaring accounts; and on these occasions, there was always an unusual amount of festive indulgence. What with habits of nocturnal adventure, association with bold and desperate characters, and so much more than all the common convivialities of rural life, the farmers of the Carrick coast became a very peculiar set, retaining much of the external decencies of a church-frequenting people, much of the simplicity and superstition which then characterised all departments of Scottish society except the highest, and much of their primitive honesty of nature, but adding to all this, irregular, adventurous, and unsettled habits, and a love of " "tipsy jest and jollity," which knew no reasonable bounds. Such was the school of life, which Burns was, if not precipitated into, at least brought in contact with, by his residence at Ballochneil. We have his own acknowledgment that it wrought some alteration in his mind and manners. "Scenes," says he, "of swaggering riot and dissipation were till this time new to me; but I was no enemy to social life. Here I learned to fill my glass, and to mix without fear in a drunken squabble."