Morning journal and courier., 1892-01-27
''Done nae thing But stringitg blethers up in rhyme For fOOls t0 Sinp''

ASSAe w SAAn'
 We are one and at all times, like to "gang clean daft" At least that is what we are accused of, and fear the accusa- tion has grain of truth in it. Wherever the Scot is found tonight, at home or abroad, he must be ''feckless, fusionless bodie," if he does not get up little en- thusiasm about the lad that was born in Kyle, one hundred and thirty odd years ago.
 And now, oh ye wise ones, to whom every why has it's wherefore, how do you account for this "hare brained sentimen- tai trace" in this otherwise hard-headed, sober sided douce matter of fact people?
 What was Burns, or what has he done that at the mention of his name or the singing of his songs. we should "a talk low thigether?"
 We'll, the reason is not far to seek. This man was not mere echo in nature. He was living voice charged with rare, won derful power to
 ''Thirl the a heart ar. strings through the breast
 Men listen to him because even in this weary, work-a-day world, through his ut. terance, they hear the "eternal melodies" and catch glimpses of the glory that en- virons them. De Quincey has divided books into those which belong to the liter ature of knowledge and those which be- long to the literature of power.
 The life work of Burns, so far as we think of it as literature, belongs to the literature of power. But who ever thinks of his songs as forming part of literature in the ordinary sense! As connected with dusty leaves in moth-eaten books, read in dim lighted ibrariess
 His songs rather are like bird songs, heard under the open sky, filling the air with 8 melody that compels us to listen and blessing us unawares as they steal through the senses to the heart.
 We never learn them; they just sing themselves.
 The baby hears them in the first faint dawn of consciousness as it looks in it's mother's eyes, and it never forgets them. In youth and throug h mature life, and up to the very edge and verge of the dark val ley of shadow, they nestle and sing with out effort of ours in tke heart.
 They sprang straight from the heart of the singer, and ''as face answereth to face Tn water," so does the heart respond to his songs. To him was given the rare power to move and melt the heart. It is great gift, this power to play upon men as upon of the wood are moved by the wind," to
 
 to make life nobler and sweeter and freer and better worth living.
 Now this power was possessed in a very large measure by Burns, and by reason thereof he touches and moves ''all sorts and conditions of men" 'as one having authority, and not as the scribes."
 His race and nation had remained con- parstively unmoved at the thunder and the earthquake and storm of it's reformers and preachers and philosophers. But at the ''stiil small voice" that was lifted up to sing of "Bonnie Doon," and "Afton Wa tsr," and Cragie Burn Woods," and Highland Mary'' and "Auld Lang Syne," it was swayed and moved as never before. Aye, is moved and swayed today in spite of itself, and hardly knowing how or why, as it listens to the fit rendering of the sim pie words of the simple songs of this won derful singer. .-.-.-
 In the eloquent words of another, Burns "gave to all man gifts that seemed to be for each of them. They find him in writ ing of their own desires, their own disap- pointments, their own longings. He put before them scenes to which they turn with rest and refreshment.
 "He brings tears of pity to their eyes. He fills their hearts with tenderness and love. He inhames their souls with . noble patriotism
 Surely it is allowable to lot the heart t'get the upper hand" once in Q while, and "0ang daft a wee" about such . man. In an age when hard, awful system of the ology worked out in . heartless way, op- pressed the souls of men like nightmare, this man, from pulpit which no synod could silence, proclaimed the Larger hope"