EPITAPH ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER.

Here souter Hood in death does sleep

To hell, if he 's gane thither,
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep,
He'll haud it weel thegither.

money

ON WEE JOHNNY'

HIC JACET WEE JOHNNY.

Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know

That Death has murdered Johnny!
And here his body lies fu' low—

For saul he ne'er had ony.

It is curious that in a rare old work, Nuga Venales, sive Thesaurus ridendi et jocandi, &c., bearing date 1663, but no place or publisher's name, there is a Latin epigram turning upon exactly the same jest:

'Oh Deus omnipotens, vituli miserere Joannis,

Quem mors præveniens non sinit esse bovem :
Corpus in Italia est, habet intestina Brabantus,
Ast animam nemo: Cur? quia non habuit.'

Among Burns's acquaintance at Mauchline was a mason named James Humphry, who, if devoid of the genius of the poet, at least possessed equal flow of language, and a scarcely less remarkable gift for theological controversy. Burns and he had had many collisions on the subject of New Light, and it appears that the mason entertained somewhat strong views both as to the bard's heterodoxy and his morals. Burns, passing along the street of the village one evening, and seeing Humphry lounging at a corner, stopped for a moment, and asked him what news. 'Oh, nothing very particular on earth,' answered the polemic; but there's strange news from below.' Ah, what's that?' inquired Burns, opening his eyes pretty wide. Why, they say that the auld deil has died lately, and that when the imps met to elect a successor, they fell sadly by the ears. Some of them were for taking one of their own number; but others had heard that there was one Rob Burns upon earth, that was likely to make a much better deil, and it seems they are determined, if they can, to elect him!' The poet, though he could not have helped

1 Mr John Wilson, the printer of his Poems at Kilmarnock.

being amused with the insinuation, left Humphry with a pettish exclamation. He afterwards penned a quatrain on Humphry, which, it must be admitted, contains not merely less wit than his antagonist's story of the infernal election, but no wit at all:

ON A NOISY POLEMIC.

Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes :

O Death, it's my opinion,

Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin' bitch
Into thy dark dominion!

Humphry, nevertheless, lived to be in such poverty, as to be glad to claim being the subject of the satire of Burns, for the sake of the scraps of charity which it obtained for him.1

EPITAPH ON A HEN-PECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE.

As Father Adam first was fooled,
A case that's still too common-
Here lies a man a woman ruled,
The devil ruled the woman.

EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION.

O Death, hadst thou but spared his life,
Whom we this day lament!

We freely wad exchanged the wife,
And a' been weel content.

E'en as he is, cauld in his graff,

The swap we yet will do 't;

Tak thou the carline's carcass aff,

Thou 'se get the saul to boot.

exchange

'Poor Humphry latterly found shelter in one of a set of free cottages built at Blackhill, in Torbolton parish, by the late Mr Cooper of Smithston, enjoying at the same time a pension of 3s. a week from a fund left by the same benevolent gentleman. He died in 1844, at the age of eighty-six. To the last, he took a keen interest in matters pertaining to theological and ecclesiastical disputes. The parish minister called for him when he was near his end, and, after a prayer, took leave of him without any expectation of again seeing him in life. Humphry seemed to have something on his mind-he waved the minister back, and said: Man, what d'ye think o' the Frees?' Such, in the crisis of the Disruption, was the man who had battled with Burns on points respecting the New Light sixty years before.

In his early days, he was a member of a dissenting congregation at Mauchline, and of course had seats in the meeting-house. He had often offended by his over-free life, and been warned at length, energetic measures were determined on, and he was forbidden to approach the communion-table. Hereupon Humphry sent the bellman through the town, to proclaim 'Seats in the meeting-house to be had cheap-cheap-cheap as dirt-apply to James Humphry!' This gives some idea of the man.

ANOTHER.

One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,

When deprived of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love and affection he shewed her,
She reduced him to dust, and she drank off the powder.

But Queen Netherplace, of a different complexion,
When called on to order the funeral direction,
Would have ate her dead lord, on a slender pretence,
Not to shew her respect, but-to save the expense!

TAM THE CHAPMAN.

As Tam the Chapman on a day
Wi' Death forgathered by the way,

Weel pleased, he greets a wight sae famous,
And Death was nae less pleased wi' Thamas,
Wha cheerfully lays down his pack,
And there blaws up a hearty crack;

His social, friendly, honest heart
Sae tickled Death, they couldna part:
Sae, after viewing knives and garters,

Death taks him hame to gie him quarters.

Tam the Chapman was a person named Kennedy, whom Burns had known in boyhood, and whom he afterwards encountered as an itinerant merchant, when he found him a pleasant companion and estimable man. Tam, in old age, was known to William Cobbett, who printed these lines, either from a manuscript or from recollection.

VERSES TO JOHN RANKINE.

Ae day, as Death, that greusome carle,
Was driving to the tither warl'

A mixtie-maxtie, motley squad,

And monie a guilt-bespotted lad;
Black gowns of each denomination,
And thieves of every rank and station,

From him that wears the star and garter,
To him that wintles in a halter:
Ashamed himsel' to see the wretches,
He mutters, glowrin' at the bitches:
'By G-, I'll not be seen behint them,
Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them,

grim

Without, at least, ae honest man,
To grace this d-d infernal clan.'
By Adamhill a glance he threw,
‘L— G— !' quoth he, 'I have it now;
There's just the man I want, i' faith!'
And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath.

ON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AY R.

Oh, had each Scor of ancient times,
Been JEANY SCOTT, as thou art;
The bravest heart on English ground,
Had yielded like a coward.

THE BOOK-W OR M S.

'Burns,' says Allan Cunningham, 'on a visit to a nobleman, was shewn into the library, where stood a Shakspeare, splendidly bound, but unread, and much worm-eaten. Long after the poet's death, some one happened to open, accidentally perhaps, the same neglected book, and found this epigram in the handwriting of Burns: '

Through and through th' inspirèd leaves,
Ye maggots, make your windings;
But oh! respect his lordship's taste,
And spare the golden bindings.

O Thou, in whom we live and move,
Who mad'st the sea and shore;
Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And grateful would adore."
And if it please Thee, Power above,
Still grant us, with such store,
The friend we trust, the fair we love,
And we desire no more.

EXTEMPORANEOUS GRACE ON A HAGGIS.

Ye powers wha gie us a' that's guid,
Still bless auld Caledonia's brood,

Wi' great John Barleycorn's heart's bluid,
In stoups or luggies;

And on our board the king o' food,
A glorious haggis!

It has been stated, that being present at a party where a haggis formed part of the entertainment, and being asked to say something appropriate on the occasion, Burns produced this stanza by way of grace; which being well received, he was induced to expand it into the poem entitled To a Haggis, retaining the verse in an altered form as a peroration.

When Burns was in Edinburgh, he was introduced by a friend to the studio of a well-known painter, whom he found engaged on a representation of Jacob's dream; after minutely examining the work, he wrote the following verse on the back of a little sketch which is still preserved in the painter's family: