T'ane was a bonny modest lass, An' nae mair mischief com' to pass I'th' turf-hole nuik, as drunk as muck, Auld Wulson doz'd as nought had been Whent' lave had aw teann off to bed, "Dall them that steek't their winkers!" They drank aw th' yell up, every sup, An' at fair feer days they went ther ways, Jwohn Heyne set off to Worton Rigg, An' Gwordy Waugh to theekin'; Sae this was Worton murry neet An' hey, for sec anither! ROBERT ANDERSON. AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.* I was T six o'clock on the snowy morning of February 1st, 1770, I first beheld the light of this world at the Dam Side, in the suburbs of the ancient city of Carlisle. a poor little tender being, scarce worth the trouble of rearing. Old Isbel, the midwife, entertained many fears that I was only sent to peep around me, shed tears, and then leave them. I was the youngest of nine children, born of parents getting up in years, who with all their kindred had been long kept in bondage by poverty. At an early age I was placed in a charity school, supported by the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle. Well do I remember the neat dress, slow speech, placid countenance, nay, every feature of good old Mrs. Addison the teacher. In this school I studied my letters, the see-saw drone of the primer, and waded through the reading-made-easy; and was then turned over to a long, lean pretender to knowledge. His figure was similar to that of the mad knight of La Mancha. Never have I perused My Cervantes' inexhaustible treasury of humour without having my tutor in view. Impelled probably by necessity he devoted so much time to angling, that the few poor starved-looking scholars were shamefully neglected. He always selected me to accompany him up the banks of the Eden or the Caldew; and I am led to suppose it was during our summer excursions that an attachment to rural scenery first stole over my youthful mind. parents finding I did not make progress equal to their expectations, placed me under Mr. Isaac Ritson, in the Quaker's school; but in a few weeks that learned and ingenious young man left the city. I was then placed under my last and best tutor, Mr. Walter Scott. Under this worthy man I made considerable progress in arithmetic; though to this necessary branch of education I always felt a strong aversion, and would much rather have pursued the study of grammar, of which I never attained any exact knowledge. Among our neighbours was a decent industrious old woman, born in the Highlands of Scotland; and at her fireside I spent many a winter evening, delighted beyond measure with the wild Scottish ballads which she taught me, while labouring at her wheel. Gilderoy, Johnny Armstrong, Sir James the Ross, Barbary Allan, and Binorie, were great favorites. About the expiration of my tenth year it was judged necessary for me to quit the school, and try to earn something by hard labour. I felt exceedingly rejoiced at this proposal; for being of a timid disposition I always crept to school trembling like a culprit going to receive punishment. My first labour was under one of my brothers, a calico printer ; and at the end of the week well do I remember the happiness it afforded me to present my wages (one shilling and sixpence) to my father. My next change was to be bound apprentice to a pattern drawer in 1783; where I enjoyed all the happiness an industrious youth could hope for, being treated with every mark of esteem. From childhood a love of rural life grew with me, and I let slip few opportunities of spending the Sabbath in some village during the summer. It was on paying a visit at a friend's house that I was first smitten with female charms; which then seemed greater to me than I can describe. Picture to yourself a diffident youth in his sixteenth year, daily pouring out the sighs of a sincere heart, for an artless rosy cottage girl, something younger than myself. At church she drew my attention from the preacher; and great was my mortification if she happened to be absent on my visit to the neighbourhood. Had my income-which was then barely sufficient to afford the necessaries of lifebeen adequate to my wishes, with what happiness could I have laid my fortune at her feet and offered myself for better and for worse: but fate decreed otherwise. In the year 1794, being at Vauxhall Gardens, I felt disgusted with many of the songs written in the mock pastoral Scottish style, and supposing myself capable of producing what might be considered equal or perhaps superior, on the following day I wrote four songs. Lucy Gray was my first attempt, and was suggested from hearing a Northumbrian rustic relate the story of two unfortunate lovers. To use the simple language of the relator: "Monie a smart canny lad wad hae gane far efter dark— aye through fire and water!-just to get a luik at her." These songs were set to music by Mr. Hook; and my first poetic effusion was sung by Master Phelps, with great applause, and loudly encored. My poor father, whom I had regularly supported, now paid me an unexpected visit. He was in his seventy-sixth year; and walked from Carlisle to London, a distance of three hundred and one miles, in six days.* Tears of joy greeted our meeting; but such was his aversion to the noise and bustle of London that I could only prevail on him to remain a fortnight. In 1798, ambition led me, like too many of my brother scribblers, to publish a volume of poems, from which I received little more than dear bought * This must be a mistake. Fifty miles a day for six consecutive days is no joke! A man of the same build and "'lishness as Christopher North might in his prime accomplish such a task; but surely not one seventy-six years old! |