As ye gae up by yon hillside,
Speer in for bonnie Bessy;

She'll gie ye a beck, and bid ye light,
And handsomely address ye.

courtesy

There's few sae bonnie, nane sae guid,
In a' King George' dominion;

If

ye should doubt the truth o' this-
It's Bessy's ain opinion!

It is rather remarkable that the young bard overlooks in this catalogue of damsels, a group who were certainly the predominant belles of the district, seeing that they were not merely good-looking girls, rather better educated than the Torbolton sisterhood, but the children of a man of considerable substance. Robert and Gilbert Burns were both on intimate terms in this family. The latter at one time made tender advances, which were not destined to be accepted. Robert was too proud to venture on a refusal. This appears from a set of verses much resembling the last quoted, but more valuable for the illustration they afford of the poet's feelings and circumstances at this early period :

In Torbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men,
And proper young lasses and a', man;

But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals,'
They carry the gree frae them a', man.

palm

Their father's a laird, and weel he can spare't,
Braid money to tocher them a', man,

portion

To proper young men, he'll clink in the hand
Gowd guineas a hunder or twa, man.

There's ane they ca' Jean, I'll warrant ye've seen
As bonnie a lass or as braw, man;

But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best,
And a conduct that beautifies a', man.

The charms o' the min', the langer they shine,
The mair admiration they draw, man;
While peaches and cherries, and roses and lilies,
They fade and they wither awa, man.

If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this frae a frien',
A hint o' a rival or twa, man,

The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire,

If that wad entice her awa, man.

The Bennals is a farm in the western part of the parish, near Afton Lodge, and several miles from Lochlea.

The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed,
For mair than a towmond or twa, man;
The Laird o' the Ford will straught on a board,
If he canna get her at a', man.

Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin,
The boast of our bachelors a', man:
Sae sonsy and sweet, sae fully complete,
She steals our affections awa, man.

If I should detail the pick and the wale
O' lasses that live here awa, man,

The fault wad be mine, if they didna shine,
The sweetest and best o' them a', man.

I lo'e her mysel, but darena weel tell,
My poverty keeps me in awe, man,
For making o' rhymes, and working at times,
Does little or naething at a', man.

Yet I wadna choose to let her refuse,

Nor hae't in her power to say na, man; For though I be poor, unnoticed, obscure, My stomach's as proud as them a', man.

Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride,
And flee o'er the hills like a craw, man,
I can haud up my head wi' the best o' the breed,
Though fluttering ever so braw, man.

My coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best,
O' pairs o' guid breeks I hae twa, man,
And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps,
And ne'er a wrang steck in them a', man.

My sarks they are few, but five o' them new,
Twal' hundred,' as white as the snaw, man,

A ten shillings hat, a Holland cravat;

There are no mony poets sae braw, man.

I never had frien's, weel stockit in means,
To leave me a hundred or twa, man;

comely

shirts

Nae weel-tochered aunts, to wait on their drants, long prayers And wish them in hell for it a', man.

1 A kind of cloth.

I never was canny for hoarding o' money,
Or claughtin't together at a', man,
I've little to spend, and naething to lend,
But deevil a shilling I awe, man.

lucky
catching

Mingled with these moods of tenderness and raillery, there were doubtless others involving deeper emotions. The story of Wallace, as reduced by Hamilton of Gilbertfield from the ancient poem of Blind Harry, had made a great impression on Burns's mind, as it usually does, or did, on those of all young Scotsmen possessed of ardent and generous feelings. He tells us that, in his earlier years, he often stole out after the labours of the day to spend a solitary hour of tearful sympathy over the tale of 'Scotia's ill-requited chief.' One couplet relative to an adventure which took place near his own locality had struck him—

'Syne to the Leglen Wood, when it was late,

To make a silent and a safe retreat.'

'I chose,' he says, 'a fine summer Sunday, the only day my life allowed, and walked half-a-dozen miles to pay my respects to the Leglen Wood, with as much enthusiasm as ever pilgrim did to Loretto; and as I explored every den and dell where I could suppose my heroic countryman to have lodged, I recollect-for even then I was a rhymer-that my heart glowed with a wish to be able to make a song on him in some measure equal to his merits.' To only a more general purport of the same character is his thrilling verse—

Even then a wish (I mind its power)-
A wish that to my latest hour

Shall strongly heave my breast,
That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake,
Some usefu' plan or beuk could make,
Or sing a sang at least.

The rough, bur-thistle spreading wide
Among the bearded bear,

I turned the weeder-clips aside,

And spared the symbol dear!

Dr Currie touches well the higher emotions of the young genius in these days which he himself thought aimless:-' While the ploughshare under his guidance passed through the sward, or the grass fell under the sweep of his scythe, he was humming the songs of his country, musing on the deeds of ancient valour, or

wrapt in the illusions of fancy, as her enchantments rose on his view. Happily, the Sunday is yet a Sabbath on which man and beast rest from their labours. On this day, therefore, Burns could indulge in a free intercourse with the charms of nature. It was his delight to wander alone on the banks of the Ayr, whose stream is now immortal, and to listen to the song of the blackbird at the close of the summer's day. But still greater was his pleasure, as he himself informs us, in walking on the sheltered side of a wood, in a cloudy winter day, and hearing the storm rave among the trees; and more elevated still his delight to ascend some eminence during the agitations of nature; to stride along its summit, while the lightning flashed around him; and amidst the howlings of the tempest, to apostrophise the spirit of the storm. Such situations he declares most favourable to devotion:Wrapt in enthusiasm, I seem to ascend towards Him who walks on the wings of the winds."

Towards the close of 1780, when the poet was completing his twenty-second year, we find a new exhibition of his intellectual activity in the institution of a debating club at Torbolton, the village forming the centre of the parish in which he lived. The following document, afterwards written in the book of the club, gives an account of this laudable association :—

'HISTORY OF THE RISE, PROCEEDINGS, AND REGULATIONS OF THE BACHELORS' CLUB.

"Of birth or blood we do not boast,

Nor gentry does our club afford;
But ploughmen and mechanics we

In Nature's simple dress record."

'As the great end of human society is to become wiser and better, this ought, therefore, to be the principal view of every man, in every station of life. But as experience has taught us that such studies as inform the head and mend the heart, when long continued, are apt to exhaust the faculties of the mind, it has been found proper to relieve and unbend the mind by some employment or another, that may be agreeable enough to keep its powers in exercise, but at the same time not so serious as to exhaust them. But, superadded to this, by far the greater part of mankind are under the necessity of earning the sustenance of human life by the labour of their bodies, whereby not only the faculties of mind,

1 These lines are by David Sillar.—Professor Walker. The authorship of the prose which follows may be doubted. Though involving some just observations, it is in a style somewhat clumsy, and therefore not very likely to be the production of Burns.

but the nerves and sinews of the body are so fatigued, that it is absolutely necessary to have recourse to some amusement or diversion to relieve the wearied man, worn down with the necessary labours of life.

'As the best of things, however, have been perverted to the worst of purposes, so, under the pretence of amusement and diversion, men have plunged into all the madness of riot and dissipation; and instead of attending to the grand design of human life, they have begun with extravagance and folly, and ended with guilt and wretchedness. Impressed with these considerations, we, the following lads in the parish of Torbolton-namely, Hugh Reid, Robert Burns, Gilbert Burns, Alexander Brown, Walter Mitchell, Thomas Wright, and William M'Gavin-resolved, for our mutual entertainment, to unite ourselves into a club, or society, under such rules and regulations that, while we should forget our cares and labours in mirth and diversion, we might not transgress the bounds of innocence and decorum; and after agreeing on these, and some other regulations, we held our first meeting at Torbolton, in the house of John Richard, upon the evening of the 11th November 1780, commonly called Hallowe'en, and after choosing Robert Burns president for the night, we proceeded to debate on this question "Suppose a young man, bred a farmer, but without any fortune, has it in his power to marry either of two women, the one a girl of large fortune, but neither handsome in person nor agreeable in conversation, but who can manage the household affairs of a farm well enough; the other of them a girl every way agreeable in person, conversation, and behaviour, but without any fortunewhich of them shall he choose?" Finding ourselves very happy in our society, we resolved to continue to meet once a month in the same house, in the way and manner proposed; and shortly thereafter we chose Robert Ritchie for another member. In May 1781, we brought in David Sillar, and in June, Adam Jamieson, as members. About the beginning of the year 1782, we admitted Matthew Paterson and John Orr; and in June following, we chose James Paterson as a proper brother for such a society. The club being thus increased, we resolved to meet at Torbolton on the racenight, the July following, and have a dance in honour of our society. Accordingly, we did meet each one with a partner, and spent the evening in such innocence and merriment, such cheerfulness and good-humour, that every brother will long remember it with pleasure and delight.'

The rules of this club excluded only religious subjects. The last, being the tenth, appears characteristic of Burns:

'Every man proper for a member of this society must have a frank, honest, open heart; above anything dirty or mean; and must be a professed lover of one or more of the female sex.