Yet, O ye everlasting hills!

Buildings of God, not made with hands,
Whose word performs whate'er He wills,
Whose word, though ye shall perish, stands;
Can there be eyes that look on you,

Till tears of rapture make them dim,
Nor in his works the Maker view,
Then lose his works in Him?

By me, when I behold Him not,

Or love Him not when I behold,
Be all I ever knew forgot-

My pulse stand still, my heart grow cold;
Transformed to ice, 'twixt earth and sky,
On yonder cliff my form be seen,
That all may ask, but none reply,
What my offence hath been.

HAMILTON PAUL.

BORN 1773- DIED 1854.

banks of Lochgoil. The friends then, as well as previously during the college vacations, car

verse, which was continued for several years,
until both returned to Glasgow, Campbell to
enter upon the career of a man of letters, Paul
to prepare for the ministry. The latter, during
his residence in the Highlands as well as on
his return to Glasgow, continued to indulge
his poetic predilections, contributing verses of
variable quality to several journals and maga-
zines. On obtaining his license to preach
the poet returned to Ayrshire, and during
a probation of thirteen years he was an assist-
ant to several ministers. At the age of forty
he obtained ordination to the pastoral office
in the united parish of Broughton, Kilbucho,
and Glenholm, in Peeblesshire.
tained during a lengthened incumbency the
character of an able and affectionate pastor,
and amidst his clerical duties still found
time to engage in literary pursuits. In 1819
his admirable edition of Burns, accompanied
by a memoir of the poet from his pen, was pub-
lished at Ayr, and very highly commended by
Professor Wilson.

In the classic county of Ayr there are not a few cottages of which it can be said that within their walls a poet was born. But on the fairy-ried on a humorous correspondence, chiefly in haunted banks of the Girvan, at a point in the parish of Dailly about a quarter of a mile from the old manor house of Bargeny, there is a cottage still standing distinguished from all other dwellings in that lovely land of song. Within that finely situated but humble home | two poets first saw the light. There, in the month of April, 1792, the venerable Hew Ainslie was born, and there, on April 10, 1773, little more than a hundred years ago, Hamilton Paul first opened his eyes. He received the elements of his education at the parish school, and completed it at the University of Glasgow, where he had for a friend and classmate Thomas Campbell, from whom he carried off a poetical prize. Several of Paul's first poetical efforts, composed while a student, attracted a great deal of attention, particularly one entitled "Paul's First and Second Epistles to the Dearly Beloved the Female Disciples or Female Students of Natural Philosophy in Anderson's Institution, Glasgow," an 8vo brochure which appeared anonymously in the year 1800. Another of his productions of this period, a witty description of one of the college classes, enjoyed a wide popularity; as was the case with his ballad "The Maid of Inverary," written in honour of Lady Charlotte Campbell.

He main

It is, however, rather as a humorist than as a poet that Paul is best remembered at Ayr and Broughton, where many amusing anecdotes are still told about him. Ainslie relates that when the Burns Club was founded at AlAfter leaving the university Paul became loway Paul furnished an annual ode; and when tutor to a family in Argyleshire, Campbell ob- Chalmers, who was then engaged on his Caletaining a similar position in the family of donia, saw one of them in the Ayr newspaper, General Napier, then residing on the romantic | he wrote from London to a friend, saying that

published, and they are only to be found in the periodicals and papers of his day. He died February 28, 1854, aged eighty-one years. One who knew him well writes: "His society was courted by rich and poor, the learned and unlearned. In every company he was alike affable and unostentatious; as a companion he was the most engaging of men; he was the best storyteller of his day."

he would give "all Ayrshire" for copies of the | No collection of his prose and verse has been previous eight odes. "I would be contented with a single farm," said the impecunious Paul, when he was told of Chalmers' request. On another occasion, knowing that a lady to whom he was attached would be present-a certain Lydia with whom his suit had not prospered the preacher took for his text, "And a certain woman named Lydia, which worshipped God, heard us, whose heart the Lord opened, and she attended unto the things which were spoken of Paul." His eloquence was in vain, the maiden's heart was obdurate to the poet and preacher, and Hamilton Paul lived and died a bachelor.

Many more anecdotes could be told of his facetious selections of texts, but another must suffice. It is certainly a practice that cannot be justified, although many distinguished divines, such as Dean Swift, Dr. Paley, and Sydney Smith, have indulged in the habit. When Paul was about to leave for his new field of labour he was invited to deliver a farewell discourse in the parish church of Ayr-in which town he had occasionally preached during his residence there, though he had no charge in the place and on this occasion his troops of friends and admirers, including a large number of ladies, gathered together to listen to the departing poet. He accordingly took for his text, "And they all wept sore, and fell on Paul's neck and kissed him!"

The

When by reason of advancing years the poet became too infirm to properly discharge the duties of his charge, an assistant was employed, somewhat to the annoyance of Mr. Paul. young preacher soon became popular in the parish, his pulpit services being greatly enjoyed by the congregation, to whom the change was an agreeable one. The large crowds attracted by his lieutenant were not viewed with unmingled satisfaction by the superannuated incumbent. "So you think yourself a very great man because ye're followed by the multitudes," remarked Mr. Paul; "a still greater crowd, let me tell you, my man, would gather to see you hanged."

Hamilton Paul composed with rapidity and ease, many of his effusions being dashed off at a sitting. His verses are characterized by tenderness and simplicity, and it is to be regretted that so many of his productions have been lost.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his pleasant volume entitled Our Old Home, says he never saw a lovelier scene than the one at the Brig o' Doon. "The ivy-grown ancient bridge," he writes, "with its high arch, through which we had a picture of the river and green banks beyond, was absolutely the most picturesque object, in a quiet and gentle way, that ever pleased my eyes. Bonny Doon, with its wooded banks, and the boughs dipping into the water! The memory of them, at this moment, affects me like the song of birds, and Burns crooning some verses, simple and wild, in accordance with their native melody! It was impossible to depart without crossing the very bridge of Tam's adventure; so we went thither, over a now disused portion of the road, and standing on the centre of the arch gathered some ivy leaves from that sacred spot." It ought to be remembered gratefully that Hamilton Paul did much to keep the Auld Brig o' Doon in existence. While he was resident at Ayr the road trustees actually sold the old bridge as a quarry to the contractor for the new one. No sooner was he informed of this intended act of sacrilege than Paul at once wrote the "Petition of the Auld Brig o' Doon," which was printed and circulated over the county, and in two or three days a sufficient sum was subscribed to repurchase the materials of the old bridge, and also to keep it in repair. A good many years afterwards, the waters of the Doon had so much undermined the buttresses of the old bridge as to threaten its speedy overthrow. David Auld, a hairdresser of Ayr, who had made a fortune by the exhibition of Thom's statues of Tam o'Shanter and Souter Johnny, and who built the inn and shell palace in the vicinity of Burns' Monument, applied to the new set of trustees for money to prevent the menaced ruin of the ancient fabric; but they told him that as it was only a private footpath, they would not

be justified in applying any portion of the pub- | which the new trustees were ignorant; and on

On Stinchar's banks, while wild-woods grow, Decline, unwept, the victim of decay?

ROBERT TANNAHILL.

BORN 1774-DIED 1810.

He had an ex

of his most celebrated songs.
cellent ear for music, and was an expert with
the fife and flute; and whenever an air greatly
pleased him, it immediately became his
ambition to wed it to words of his own. The
first poem of Tannahill's which appeared in
print was in praise of Ferguslee Wood, which
was one of his favourite haunts, and often rang
in the summer evenings to the notes of his
flute. The lines were sent to a Glasgow maga-
zine, and obtained immediate insertion, ac-
companied by a request for other contributions
of a similar character.

Since the days of Robert Burns, no Scottish poet has written so many lyrics that have been sung both in hall and cottage throughout the land "where blooms the red heather and thistle sae green," as Robert Tannahill. If, as was said by Fletcher of Saltoun, song-writers are to be classed above lawgivers, then may we hail Tannahill as one of the foremost Scottish legislators-ruling by the sceptre of song. He was born at Paisley, June 3, 1774, and was the fourth child of a poor silk-gauze weaver there, named James Tannahill, and Janet Pollock, a farmer's daughter. Both of the poet's parents were much respected for their intelligence and worth; the mother, in particular, was a woman of more cultivation than is usually met with among persons of her station in life. From her Tannahill inherited the poetic tempera-loom-work, then beginning to be manufactured ment, and when a school-boy distinguished himself by writing verses, many of which have been preserved as literary curiosities by the poet's family and friends. On a well-known character, who used daily to parade the streets of Paisley during the last quarter of the last century-old grumbling Peter Anderson-he composed the following juvenile lines:

"My colour's brown, my shape's uncouth,
On ilka side I hae a mouth;
And, strange to tell, I will devour
My bulk of meat in half an-hour."

This enigma, on being solved, was discovered to allude to the big, brown, unshapely nose of the notorious Peter, who consumed enormous quantities of snuff.

From the school Robert was sent to the loom, the high wages then realized from weaving inducing parents to teach their children the handicraft at a very early age, so that their apprenticeships were generally finished by the time they were sixteen years of age. It was young Tannahill's custom, while at work, to occupy his thoughts with the composition of verses, which he jotted down upon a rude desk he had attached to his loom. In this way he was enabled, without rising from his seat, to compose some

For a period of two years at the commencement of the century he pursued his vocation at Bolton, England, to which place he was attracted by the increased wages paid for figured

there. His stay in England was cut short by the intelligence of the fatal illness of his father. He hurried home, and arrived in time to receive his dying blessing. Filial duty was perhaps the strongest of all Tannahill's traits; and it is recorded to his honour, that the vow which he made in those energetic lines beginning"Why heaves my mother oft the deep drawn sigh?" were most faithfully kept to the last hour of his life.

He was now offered the situation of overseer of a manufacturing establishment, but he preferred to resume his labours at the loom, and remain master of his own thoughts, that he might continue to cultivate his poetic gifts. Very soon after his return to Paisley he had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Robert Archibald Smith, the celebrated musical composer, which was the means of stimulating him to still higher efforts. Wedded to his music, some of Tannahill's songs were now known and sung from one end of Scotland to the other; among them, "Jessie the Flower o' Dumblane," "The Braes o' Balquhither," "The Lass o' Arranteenie," and "Loudoun's Bonnie Woods and Braes." In 1807 he published the first edition of his "Songs and Poems," which

was favourably received, the previous popu- | that Robert had left the house. Arousing the larity of his lyrics making it eagerly sought for. The poems, indeed, properly so called, are few in number, and are inferior to the songs contained in the volume, which are the very perfection of that species of composition, so far as it consists in the simple and natural expression of feelings common to all. "The lyre of Scotland in his hand retained its native, artless, sweet, and touching notes, and the hills and valleys of Scotland recognized and welcomed the Doric strain."