The morning call., 1890-08-03
y nMNER oF me PRoPERTY.


TIE OWNER OF THE PROPERTY,
Which, while she still vigorously presides
over the proprieties of the place, she rents
to her sOn-in-law at 932 per year. Enter
ing the shadowy old ''howf" you pass
through tiny public room where now as
then dozen or more gawk-eyed ruStics are
drinking while discussing countryside Cos
sip. From this room door, so low you
will need minding your head-gear in pass
ing, leads to the little parlOr, which was
tie real haunt of Burns in Dumfries OF
the more than 100 songs composed by Burns
i'll Dumfries-which, had they comprised
the limit of his production, would Stlll
have given him rank as Scot!and's
greatest lyric bard-by far the larger num-
er were produced in this little paTl0r,
or in the chamber above Next the nre-
place of the former was burns corner.
The veritabe chair in which lie sat, pre-
served from the attack of relic-hunters by
cupboard, lock and key, is still here. Sew
erRl other chairs, i table, and even many
faded pictures upon the low walls, are Just
as he knew them. The window-panes are
covered with verses he scratched upon them
with his diamond. OF these perhaps the
following three are the most famous:
Oh lovely Polly Stewart,
On charming Polly Stewart
There's not flower that blooms in May
That's half SO fair as thou art.
Burns apostrophe to the Globe Tavern,
Nhate'er you choose bet ale or beer
hateyer fit your mob,
At moderate fare you may have here,
The best that's IN the Globe!
And that more debatable sentiment,
Gin a body meet body
Comm through the grain,
Gin body kiss a body.
The things bodyS AIM
Every one of these inscribed wind ow
panes is worth $500 in gold. The old inn is
quite museum of relics, and better than
all, they are genuine ones, for which fabu-
Lon, nffprad Rut the
venality and thrift Of the place are loath-
ONE 1t is GROCERY to-day, precisely as
it was when it stole away the life of Burns :;
and ones presence is quickly made a
matter of supererogation, ii liquor is
not purchased or gratuities bestowed.
The little wench that locks after
you in this respect reminds one
of Annie WI the gowden locks" the
Helen Ann Park Of Burns passionate
verse. The Globes bqr-maid Of to-day is
''syren-servant" as of old, and another soft
hearted bard would be likely to meet the
same ill-fortune at her hands.
One is fascinated by the place and its
memories, but leaving is as grateful thing
as reaching it. a curse on the curse that
cursed him every true heart win pray;
particularly if one follows his old way
through the "close" to the cottage, and
pauses by the stables where poor Burns,
bewildered and bTain-b eclOuded that bitter
January night Of 1876. upon the straw and
refuse, just
AT THE EDGE OF SHAKESPEARE STREET,
And, insensiDle.unt the morn, received
the chill uf death that never left him,
though he fingered, conscious of his fate,
until the 21st of July following.
The home Of Burns. that is the struc-
tural habitation, in what is now known as
Burns street. Is precisely as 1t was when
the poets life ended within it, and his loyal
Jean, IS years later, breathed her laStin the
now historic dwelling, save that it has been
freshened up bit with paint, and the roof,
some little time since, was given q new
sheathing of tiles. 1t is the property Of To-
cal school board, and was granted to it on
condition of slight annuities TO the poets de-
cendants, and also in consideration of prop
erly caring for the sculpture of the bard and
his wife and children IN the ST. MichaePs
kirk-yard mausoleum, quite near at hand.
1t is permanently occupied by the master OF
the National Board Ragged School, Mr..
Mcintosh, who is not only distinguished by
his residence in the Burns cottage, but as
having, through his discipline and training,
the most remarkable housing of truant-
school lads in all Scotland. The cottage
itself is almost prototype OF the ceIe-
brated Poe cottage at Fordham. New York
City, where Edgar Poe, haraSSed 10y pow
erty and fighting his heroic battle against
desperation and strong drink, passed the
last few dreadful years of his life. And
more than one startling similarity between
the later experiences of these two meteors
of genius will occur among the saddening
reflections to which a visit here Will give
rise. The first story OF the cottage COM
prises "Dut and a ben that is. a kitchen
ard a sitting-rOom. The second or attic
story has a tiny dreSSing-room over the
front door, a. sort OF double dormtory at
the north end, where the children slept,
and at the south end the chamber
to which, precisely as at the Poe
cottage and as with Poe, Burns would re-
treat when poetic inspiration Of surprising
intensity possessed him. 1t was from this
room that Burns passed out, the wreck of
| his former self, in the spring of 1896 for the
hoped-for help at the waters of Brow Well.
He knew the hand of death was upon him,
and said to his Jean, on departing with
that precious and well-worn pocket Bible as
"hiS chief Luggage: Don't fear, wife,
years more than nowl" And it was to this
room they brought him back, a trembling
shadow that blended into the eternal sun
shine on that balmy July day, little later
on.
1t NAV be altogether weak and humanity,
but | can scarcely read these inscriptions,
where records of birth and death, in the
stately mausoleum OF St. MiehaePs kirk
yard, for the tears through which the black
lettering is so blurred and dim.
OH, THE PITY
And glory of it ALL subs the heart, as the
vision of his brief years, his bitter fortunes
and his supreme achievement PUSHES
overwhelmingly into the memory. An
inspired sculptor has craven above his
tomb the apotheosis of his eonseera-
ton to the Muse - POesy descending
| from heaven and discovering the rus
tic rhYmer at his pillow. The sun never
sets where there are no monuments to his
mem0ry. There are few tradueers now.
We are growing to remember only how gen.
erous he was, how magnanlmOus; how he
bettered humankind by his matchleSs pleas
for the brotherhood of man; how his pen
was ever blazing scimitar against injustice.
false aristocracy. hypocrisy, sham; how. IS
no other failing or aillng nature ever has
done, he was more nerciiess toward his
own follies than to all others misfortunes
and weaknesses; how human and humane,
not conscious ana vulgar, was he in every
! sad and glad hour Of his life; and then how,
in his short period of accomplishment. what
n stupendous and majestic legacy, absolute
ly untainted by yenal diplomacy and re-
ward, he left to all mankind. For one, l
| come to this shrine with no battling apollo
/ giles tor his character or memory. And as
| this night falls upon the place where he
| lies ] would count il an all-sufficient fame
| had the power to at one stroke blot out all
| the lessening interpretations OF the past
one hundred years, and make this his
| memory and monument in every human
| heart
| His known and secret struggles were his
| own and his Makers sacredly. Infinitely
well was it for the world that he lived and
! loved and bequeathed TO mankind.
AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS.
| Slow fell the velvet curtains OF the dusk
Around st. Michaei's kIrk-yard weird and dim;
While Nithsdaie's fiow'ry braes breathed summers
musk
| From LoWther HUI to Critters hoary rim.
| The drowsy CHATTER of old Dumfries streets:
The plants OF rocks within the steeple old:
The swallows Groom: the backblrdS tunefui sweets;
| The night was come. Fingered still alone;
| ImpassiOned pilgrim by insensate stone.
/ "If thou art here. departed shadeI" cried.
| by pure ambitions hottest faith and prayer,
| Let me come closer to thy kingiy side;
Call me one step upon thy regal stair!
Cropping and footSOre in the path OF song,
| faln would consecrate my lay
To humDest strivers IN the countless throng.
That, guileless, faltei on the worlds highway,
| d spirit iucarnate afp oesy