THE

MONTHLY VISITOR.

MARCH, 1801.

SKETCH

OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF

ROBERT BURNS.

Enriched with a capital Portrait in Colours.

ROM the survey which we have lately taken

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of an eloquent statesman and an eccentric nobleman, let us now turn to the contemplation of a poet, distinguished by his natural talents, and who has excited much of the public attention. His history is remarkable, and his end to be lamented. The story to be unfolded is, in many respects, of a melancholy cast, yet it holds out many lessons of improvement. But we must not raise the expectations of the reader, lest those expectations should terminate in disappointment. Our province is to draw up the narrative with a sacred fidelity.

ROBERT BURNS was born in the year 1759, near the town of Ayr, in the south part of Scotland. His father, William Burns, was originally a gardener, but afterwards rented a few acres of land for the support of his family. His farm did not succeed-though, on his part, were exercised the greatest industry and economy. After a series of misfortunes the poor man died of a broken heart

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in the year 1784-he was beloved by those who knew him, for a strict and undeviating integrity.

The point of light in which Robert Burns viewed the memory of his father, may be seen in the beautiful picture drawn in one of his poems of him and his family at their evening devotions-it concludes with these soothing lines:

Then kneeling down to heaven's eternal king,
The saint, the father, and the husband prays,
Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing,
That thus they all shall meet in future days;
There ever bask in uncreated rays,

No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear,
Together hymning their creator's praise;
In such society, yet still more dear,

While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere! The education of our poet was very scanty-but the energy of his mind was discernible even in the earlier periods of his life. About the age of six or seven years he was committed to the care of a Mr. Murdoch, who paid his pupil every proper attention. His preceptor, lately, has given an account of this period, in a letter to a friend, out of which shall be taken the following paragraph."Robert, and his younger brother Gilbert, had been grounded a little in English before they were put under my care. They both made a rapid progress in reading, and a tolerable progress in writing. In reading, dividing words into syllables by rule, spelling without book, parsing sentences, &c. Robert and Gilbert were generally at the upper end of the class, even when ranged with boys by far their seniors. The book's most commonly used in the school were, the Spelling-Book, the New Testament, the Bible, Mason's Collection of Prose and Verse, and Fisher's English Grammar. They committed to memory the hymns and other poems of that collection, with uncommon facility."

Soon after, in the year 1772, Mr. Murdoch was appointed to teach the English school at Ayrhither Robert came to increase his knowledge, that he might have it in his power to teach his brothers and sisters at home. He applied, it seems, with intenseness to his learning, and was able to read a little of Telemachus in the French language. "But," says Mr. M. " now the plains of Mount Oliphant (his father's farm), began to whiten, and Robert was summoned to relinquish the pleasing scenes that surrounded the grotto of Calypso, and, armed with a sickle, to seek glory by signalising himself in the fields of Ceres-and so he did, for, although but about fifteen, I was told he performed the work of a man."

Thus Mr. M. lost his promising pupil, though he afterwards visited the house of the father, and was thus the means of conveying incidental instruction. Of the old man, this respectable tutor speaks in terms of high respect-his words are too remarkable to be omitted." I must not pretend to give you a description of all the manly qualities, the rational and christian virtues of the venerable William Burns. Time would fail me. I shall only add, that he carefully practised every known duty, and avoided every thing that was inimical, or, in the apostle's words-Herein did he exercise bimself, in living a life void of offence towards God and towards man. O for a world of men of such dispositions! We should then have no WARS. I have often wished, for the good of mankind, that it were as customary to honour and perpetuate the memory of those who excel in moral rectitude, as it is to extol what are called heroic actions-then would the mausoleum of the friend of my youth overtop and surpass most of the monuments I see in Westminster Abbey.' Mr. M. then almost immediately adds," Mr. Burns, in a short time,