Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1898-04-26
IN THE LAND OF THE 6LUeBEll
AND HEATHER.

Inn THE LAND OF THE BLUEBELl
| AND HEATHER.
| NO. 2.
THE LAND OF BURNS.
tFrom the Democrats Foreign Correspondent
| AYR, SCOTLAND.
"Ye banks and braes o. Bonnie Doom,
| How can ye bloom sse fresh and fair'"
1t Is indeed worth journey across the
Atlantic to breathe for one moment the
same air, Of the same Ayr where Natures
most beautiful and tender poet first saw
the light. The Land Of Burns may
truly be said to embrace the whole OF
Scotland, but the term as here applied,
refers to the district where the poet lived
and sang-from Ayr his birthplace to
| Dumfries where he died. The town OF
AYR is situsted on the seacoast at the
mouth of the river Ayr, which is crossed
by Burns iva Brigs, "fhe Briggs OF
Ayr" the suld brig and the new brig.
The old brig was built In the reign Of
Alexander Ill, by two maiden sisters
whose efiigies were carved on the para
pet. Ii Is still ft to walk over, though
centuries old. There Is q statue OF Wal
lace on the site Of the tower In which he
Was confined.
1t is Saturday night, and one can think
of nothing but 1.-The Cotter's Saturday
Night" the poem written, with many
| others, while following the plow:
| "Thc toll worn Cotter frae his labour goes;
This night his weekly moil Is at an end;
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoee,
Hoping the morn In ease and rest 70 spend"
But ah, what very different stmos-
phere has the Ayr OF to-day from that Of
which the poet wrote more than u
hundred years ago. Ii Was then little
hamlet with few shops. kirk and n
little inn, but now, but now, II Is the
steam engine that rolls the traveller into
town, instead Of the steed OF Tam
o. Shsnter.
"Wel mounted on his grey marc Meg
better never lifted leg"
And the pilgrim alights from the train
To the very platform OF n palatisl hotel
OF immense proportions and msgnifi-
cence, equal 10 service and sumptuous-
ness TO any of our fashionable summer
hotels-snd as palatial In It's prices, too,
IL five dollars day Is anything 10 go by.
We couldn't help but wonder what the
humble plowboy poet would say IL he
could see this great magnificent hotel,
which might be called monument To
himself, for IL Is his fame that has built
IL for the accommodation Of the thou
sands who come here To worship at the
shrine Of genius-and OF love, we might
also say, Tor surely there are no love
poems in any language that can equal
his love songs. The following verse IL
the one which Sir Walter Scott said
.contaiued the essence OF u thousand
love tales:
Had We never loved sac kindly,
Had We never loved sac blindly.
Never met-or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken hearted"
The traveller steps from the train into
an elevator luxury not often seen In
Europe-snd Is landed In large aud
we'll furnished room whose most attract
i've feature Is fireplace, In which tire
Is soon giving forth warmth and light,
for Scotland Is s cold country. An
elaborate dinner Is served at O'Clock,
aud il Is somewhat unique to s 9 only
two solitary guests in this great banquet
hall, served by half dozen walters In
their clawhammer suits.
Thinking 10 be able TO see all the
interesting objects la the neighborhood
and get train 10 Edinburgh on the
morrow, so AS 10 save time and money,
on making enquiries at the Office OF the
hotel, our informant WAS horritied at the
idea Of hsrboring an individual that
would travel on the sabbath Also
volunteering the Information thst there
were no trains on Sunday. After n while
il daw ned upon Us that we were In Scot
land, and that they have no Sunday
trsins--the one nation on the face OF the
earth. so far AS We know. that has that
respec, for the Sabbath Day untouched
ana unclouded. All honor TO IL. Would
that there were more countries To follow
In It's footsteps.
All through the night the elements
had ragged With such tumult that fears
were entertained Of the possibility OF
getting out TO see anything on the NOR
row, but In the t~inkling OF An eye, as
| II we're, the sun burst forth, aud the
cl,uds dispersed, aud the furious ele-
m-nts we're stilled, so preparations were
I'd made To take the journey on foot To the
.'auid biggin," the birthplace OF the
poet. This could be easily accomplished,
IL being but two mile, from the village,
but no sooner had the psraphernalia been
douned for travelling, than presto
change! down came the pouring rain in
such torrents that one could not see half
way across the street, and the winds
no y led, the trees rocked and the very
demon Of turbulence reigned supreme.
Iu less time than IL takes To tell it,
whisk. out came the sun again, and the
clouds disappeared and the face OF
Nature smiled once more. So another
attempt Was made, and this time few
steps from the door had been essayed,
when The dOwnpour and the hurricane
sgain compelled hasty retreat Z"
shelter. Having, however, explicit faith
In the old adsge that "the third time
never fails"-fOr are We not now on the
very soil on which the immortal Bruce
and the immortal spider made the con-
quest Of history :-the next time the
services of Sandy, the coschman, were
procured, and the lowly thatched cot
,ge soon came in sight, where Scotland
greatest bard first saw the light.
II any one can gaze on this lowly cot
for the first time unmOved, II Ia not the
one who is writing these words. The
structure to-day Is long low cottage
with whitewsshed walls, and roof
thatched with straw, but at the time Of
the poets birth there were but two COM
% ,rtmeuts, a clay built "biggin," thu
~ork Of his fathers own hands.
Ii Is estimated that more people CONE
here to visit this lowly dwelling, than go
to the greatest show palaces In the world.
I'm glad that IL Is so, for 1t Is the great
est eulogy on human nature that coul
possibly be written-and this humble
cottage Is the most sublime monument
that could be erected to human genius
rs is also the humble lean-tO where our
own most glorious and greatest hero,
Abraham Lincoln, was born. The most
gorgeous sceptre Of gold and gems, ever
welded by king or emperor, WAS meagre
In comparison to that sceptre OF wood,
from the rail fence, welded by the
brawny arm Of our hero OF lean-tO and
rail-spiitting glory. Let those eulogize
the Father of His Country who will,
though he deserves it indeed, but he wa>
A born sristocrat, and no one loved him
a. taey did him, ~ho though their Presi-
deuf, was stil their modest brother II
toii-,ud whose journey TO rhe White
Hou-e, e. part Of IL at leasD was not In
a chariot and four, but In the old farm
wagon. When they were shaking hi
hand nearly of at the reception given
him there, how eloQu' ntly the simple