The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1866-11-15


to the sea. 1t was too late for the GLOW
ering thorn but the birds were singing
on bush and spray. and the wild rose and
the woodbine four honeysackle) twining
in many fragrant bower, fair as when
the poet felt their charms and celebrated
their sweetness in song
The only relatives of Burns now liv-
ing in the neighborhood are his nieces-
the Misses Beggs-daughters of his
Youngest sister, who inhabit small
flower encircled cottage, halfway be-
tween the monument and the town. As
they cherish with fond pride their uncle's
name and fame, and are happy to see
his admirers, | went to call on them the
morning of my second day in Ayr. L
did not see the eldest sister; but the
Younger came in from the garden, where
she was at work, and, throwing off the
large sunbonnet she wore, greeted me
with much cordiallty She cannot be
less than fifty years of age; but her
| bright, dark eyes and fresh color, and
the sprightliness and warmth of her
manner, make her seem far younger
| She spoke with much feeling of the hon
or given to her uncle in America, and
especially of Mr.. Beecher's address at
the Burns Centennial Celebration IN
New York, and brought forth her treas
! ures to show me in the way of photo
graphs of aer uncle's children and grand
children, and autograph letters to va
rious members of the family Judging
from portraits, his only surviving son,
now long in retirement near London, Is
not so much like the poet in looks as IS
| this kindly, appreciative niece
1t is pleasant drive of twelve miles
to Mauchlne, much of the way along
the banks of the winding Ayr, and
through scenes sacred to the memory OF
Highland Mary" Mauchline is com
mon place, poorly built town OF l,3oO
inhabitants. having, in Burns day, as
now, neither much beauty nor dignity,
but only the ordinary elements OF lie,
which is genius illuminated ct 1t VIII
always be place of surprising interest,
for in these narrow streets so often trod-
den by the poet, dwelt John Armour;
and a mile to the north, on that high,
open slope, lies Mossgiel, where he spent
the three most eventtul years of his life;
where the hawthorn hedge he planted as
q screen from the winter winds, rises
high before the cottage in whose spence
be saw 1.-The vision;" where he wrote
s.The Cottar's Saturday Night" the '.Ad
poem beautiful forever. The house
where the Armours lived has been re-
Gently taken down, and a similar one
erected in its place. AS l stood survey
ing it, a very old woman, with her knit
ting in her hand, came out of door op-
posite, and accosted me;
ssThats no the old Armour house,
Miss, but it's vera like it; and there was
the window, (pointing to the gable end
where Robbie Burns used 20 climb up to
steal word wi Jean"
said to her, Il suppose you have al
ways lived here. Did all whe knew
Jean Armour call her beautiful?'
mo sac bonnie as some, Miss; but
weel made, aceef made, and blithe- spoken.
They say the first time Robbie Burns
saw her was in the bleachin' field, as he
was comm by. His dog ran down over
her linen an he called him back, an told
her he wished he could get some o the
lasses to like him as weers his dog
Frae that day he set store by her.
Like Burns at Ayr, Jean ArInours
only relative left in Mauchline is niece,
q Mrs. McIlyaine, whom l chanced to
meet, and be presented to, in my walk; a
middle aged. rather handsome woman,
with much quiet dignity in her manner.
She spoke with reverence of both Burns
and her aunt, and afterWard showed me,
at her house, some articles of dress
which she said Mrs. Burns had worn in
her later years; among them large
silk scarf sent her from India by her
son, Col. Burns, which she had highly
priced. \ day at Mauchline shows you
all it has of interest; SO at evening re-
turned to Ayr
Thus, gathering up through several
days stay these slender memorials, /
draw near, in spite of death and time, to
the poet departed. l cannot tell You
how ineNpressihly mournful seems to me
the contrast between his present felicity
of fame and the neglect which embitter
ed his life. He died alone and almost
unfriended; the horrors of an impending
Jail, for debt of six pounds, added to
the paugs of disease. A few years later,
and Scotland set his name as precious
jewel in her crown. and princes and
| people alike delighting to honor him,
came together, and with imposing cere-
monies, reared stately monument to his
memory amid the scenes eonsecrated by
| his song He was aman much of whose
life was inspired by the noblest and
purest emotions, a man possessing that
| exquisite appreciation of friendship and
kindness shown him. and that warm and
abiding gratitude, inseperable from a
noble nature, which made the recollec-
| ton thereof part Of the vital current of
his soul. He pos
sessed such great and varied intellectual
/ ability that the scholars and philosophers
Of Edinburg-Dugal Stewart, Robertson,
the historian, and others-said of him
that his conversation was far more won
derful than his poetry, and that he was
capable of success in any feld-a man
/ whom all women, from the brilliant
, duchess to the simple peasant girl. in
stinctively admired: yet, Notwithstanding
his admitted superiority, so wretchedly
| blind and dull were his contemporaries,
that, instead of recognizing ftly the frs,
genius of their time. and placing hin,
where he could cultivate his gifts under
favorable circumstances, they left him
to spend his days in drudgery, earning a
paltry subsistence as an excise man,
| and exposed on every side to ANNOYANCE