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there was an equality, or alternate advantage, his service was now expired, and they expected among the speakers, were the subjects they talk. him to return in a few weeks, when the old man ed on. Their hours too of riding and walking hoped, as he expressed it in his letter, to join were many, in which Mr ---, as a stranger, their hands, and see them happy before he was shown the remarkable scenes and enriosities died. of the country. They would sometimes make 1 Our philosopher felt himself interested in this little expeditions, to contemplate, in different event; but he was not, perhaps, altogether so attitudes, those astonishing mountains, the cliffs | happy in the tidings of Ma’moiselle La Roche's of which, covered with eternal snows, and some-marriage, as her father supposed him. Not that times shooting into fantastic shapes, form the he was ever a lover of the lady's; but he thought termination of most of the Swiss prospects. Our her one of the most amiable women he had seen, philosopher asked many questions as to their and there was something in the idea of her being natural history and productions. La Roche another's for ever, that struck him, he knew not observed the sublimity of the ideas which the why, like a disappointment. After some little view of their stupendous summits, inaccessible speculation on the matter, however, he could to mortal foot, was calculated to inspire, which look on it as a thing fitting, if not quite agreenaturally, said he, leads the mind to that Being able, and determined on this visit to see his old by whom their foundations were laid. “They friend and his daughter happy. are not seen in Flanders !” said Ma’moiselle, | On the last day of his journey, different acciwith a sigh. “That's an odd remark," said Mr dents had retarded his progress: he was benighted
- , smiling. She blushed, and he inquired no before he reached the quarter in which La Roche further.
resided. His guide, however, was well acquainted It was with regret he left a society in which with the road, and he found himself at last in he found himself so happy; but he settled with view of the lake, which I have before described, La Roche and his daughter a plan of correspon- | in the neighbourhood of La Roche's dwelling. dence; and they took his promise, that, if ever A light gleamed on the water, that seemed to he came within fifty leagues of their dwelling, proceed from the house; it moved slowly along he should travel those fifty leagues to visit them. as he proceeded up the side of the lake, and at
About three years after, our philosopher was last he saw it glimmer through the trees, and on a visit at Geneva; the promise he made to stop at some distance from the place where he La Roche and his daughter, on his former visit, then was. He supposed it some piece of bridal was recalled to his mind, by the view of that merriment, and pushed on his horse that be range of mountains, on a part of which they had might be a spectator of the scene ; but he was a often looked together. There was a reproach, good deal shocked, on approaching the spot, to too, conveyed along with the recollection, for find it proceed from the torch of a person clothed his having failed to write to either for several in the dress of an attendant on a funeral, and months past. The truth was, that indolence accompanied by several others, who, like him, was the habit most natural to him, from which seemed to have been employed in the rites of he was not easily roused by the claims of corres. sepulture. pondence either of his friends or of his enemies; On Mr—'s making inquiry who was the per. when the latter drew their pens in controversy, son they had been burying, one of them, with they were often unanswered as well as the for. | an accent more mournful than is common to their mer. While he was hesitating about a visit to profession, answered, “Then you knew not La Roche, which he wished to make, but found | Mademoiselle, sir ? you never beheld a lovelier." the effort rather too much for him, he received “La Roche !” exclaimed he, in reply. “Alas! a letter from the old man, which had been for it was she indeed !” The appearance of surprise warded to him from Paris, where he had then and grief which his countenance assumed, atfixed his residence. It contained a gentle com. | tracted the notice of the peasant with whom he plaint of Mr — 's want of punctuality, but an talked. He came up closer to Mr — ; "I assurance of continued gratitude for his former perceive, sir, you were acquainted with Madegood offices; and, as a friend whom the writer moiselle La Roche." “ Acquainted with her! considered interested in his family, it informed 1-good God !-when-how-where did she die? him of the approaching naptials of Ma'moiselle Where is her father?" "She died, sir, of heartLa Roche, with a young man, a relation of her break, I believe; the young gentleman to whom own, and formerly a pupil of her father's, of the she was soon to have been married, was killed most amiable dispositions, and respectable char- in a duel by & French officer, his intimate coin. acter. Attached from their earliest years, they panion, and to whom, before their quarrel, he had been separated by his joining one of the had often done the greatest favours. Her worthy subsidiary regiments of the canton, then in the father bears her death, as he has often told us a service of a foreign power. In this situation he Christian should; he is even so composed, as to had distinguished himself as much for courage be now in his pulpit, ready to deliver a few exand military skill, as for the other endowments hortations to his parishioners, as is the custom which he had cultivated at home. The time of with us on such occasions. Follow me, sir, and
you shall hear him." He followed the man with who die without hope; we know that our Reout answering.
deemer liveth, that we shall live with Him, with The church was dimly lighted, except near the our friends, His servants, in that blessed land pulpit, where the venerable La Roche was seated. where sorrow is unknown, and happiness is endHis people were now lifting up their voices in a less as it is perfect. Go then, mourn not for psalm to that Being whom their pastor had taught me; I have not lost my child : but a little while, them ever to bless and to revere. La Roche sat, and we shall meet again never to be separated. his figure bending gently forward, his eyes half But ye are also my children: would ye that I closed, lifted up in silent devotion. A lamp should not grieve without comfort ? So live as placed near him threw its light strong on his she lived : that, when your death cometh, it head, and marked the shadowy lines of age may be the death of the righteous, and your across the paleness of his brow, thinly covered latter end like his.” with grey hairs.
Such was the exhortation of La Roche; his The music ceased; La Roche sat for a moment, audience answered it with their tears. The good and nature wrung a few tears from him. His old man had dried up his at the altar of the people were loud in their grief. Mr — was Lord ; his countenance had lost its sadness, and not less affected than they. La Roche arose. | assumed the glow of faith and of hope. Mr “Father of mercies !” said he, "forgive these - followed him into his house. The inspiratears; assist Thy servant to lift up his soul to tion of the pulpit was past; at sight of him the Thee; to lift to Thee the souls of Thy people! | scenes they had last met in, rushed again on his My friends! it is good so to do: at all seasons it mind; La Roche threw his arms round his neck, is good; but, in the days of our distress, what and watered it with his tears. The other was a privilege it is! Well saith the sacred book, | equally affected; they went together, in silence, “Trust in the Lord; at all times trust in the | into the parlour, where the evening service was Lord.' When every other support fails us, when wont to be performed. The curtains of the the fountains of worldly comfort are dried up, organ were open; La Roche started back at the let us then seek those living waters which flow sight. “Oh! my friend 1” said he, and his from the throne of God. "Tis only from the be- | tears burst forth again. Mr-- had now recol. lief of the goodness and wisdom of a Supreme lected himself; he stepped forward, and drew Being, that our calamities can be borne in that the curtains close—the old man wiped off his manner which becomes a man. Human wisdom tears, and taking his friend's hand, “You see is here of little use; for, in proportion as it be. my weakness," said he, “'tis the weakness of stows comfort, it represses feeling, without which humanity; but my comfort is not therefore we may cease to be hurt by calamity, but we lost.” “I heard you,” said the other, “in the shall also cease to enjoy happiness. I will not pulpit; I rejoice that such consolation is yours." bid you be insensible, my friends! I cannot, I “It is, my friend,” said he; “and I trust I shall cannot, if I would” (his tears flowed afresh) _I ever hold it fast; if there are any who doubt feel too much myself, and I am not ashamed of our faith, let them think of what importance my feelings; but therefore may I the more will religion is to calamity, and forbear to weaken its ingly be heard ; therefore have I prayed God force; if they cannot restore our happiness, let to give me strength to speak to you; to direct them not take away the solace of our affliction.” you to Him, not with empty words, but with Mr— 's heart was smitten; and I have heard these tears; not from speculation, but from ex him, long after, confess, that there were moments perience, that while you see me suffer, you may | when the remembrance overcame him even to know also my consolation.
weakness; when, amidst all the pleasures of “You behold the mourner of his only child,
philosophical discovery, and the pride of literary the last earthly stay and blessing of his declin
fame, he recalled to his mind the venerable figure ing years! Such a child too! It becomes not | of the good La Roche, and wished that he had mne to speak of her virtues; yet it is but grati. never doubted. tnde to mention them, because they were exerted
OF OUR DUTY TO SERVANTS: STORY towards myself. Not many days ago you saw
OF ALBERT BANE * her young, beautiful, virtuous, and happy; ye
In treating of the moral duties which apply to who are parents will judge of my felicity then,
| Chifferent relations of life, men of humanity and ye will judge of my affliction now. But I look towards Him who struck me; I see the hand of | *"You must know I have just met with the Mirror a father amidst the chastenings of my God. and Lormger for the first time, and I am quite in Oh! could I make you feel what it is to pour raptures with them; I shanld be glad to have your out the heart, when it is pressed down with opinion of some of the papers. The one I have just
read, Lounger, No. 61, has cost me more honest tears many sorrows, to pour it out with confidence to
than anything I have read of a long time. Mackenzie Him, in whose bands are life and death, on
has been called the Addison of the Scots, and, in my whose power awaits all that the first enjoys, and
opinion, Addison would not be hurt at the compariin contemplation of whom disappears all that son." —Burns to Mrs Dunlop, April 10, 1790. (The the last can inflict! For we are not as those above is the paper referred to.]
feeling have not forgotten to mention those kindness, attention, or complacency. Some which are due from masters to servants. No- thing of this kind must indeed necessarily hapthing, indeed, can be more natural than the pen in the great and fluctuating establishments attachment and regard to which the faithful of fashionable life; but I am sorry to see it of! services of our domestics are entitled; the con- | | late gaining ground in the country of Scotland, nection grows up, like all the other family where, from particular circumstances, the virtues charities, in early life, and is only extinguished and fidelity of a great man's household were by those corruptions which blunt the others, wont to be conspicuous, and exertions of friend. by pride, by folly, by dissipation, or by vice. ship and magnanimity in the cause of a master
I hold it, indeed, as the sure sign of a mind used to be cited among the traditional memornot poised as it ought to be, if it is insensible to abilia of most old families. . the pleasures of home, to the little joys and en. When I was last autumn at my friend Colonel dearments of a family, to the affection of rela- Caustic's in the country, I saw there, on a visit tions, to the fidelity of domestics. Next to being to Miss Caustic, a young gentleman and his well with his own conscience, the friendship and sister, children of a neighbour of the colonel's, attachment of a man's family and dependants with whose appearance and manner I was pecaseems to me one of the most comfortable circum. liarly pleased. “The history of their parents," stances in his lot. His situation, with regard to said my friend, “is somewhat particular, and I either, forms that sort of bosom comfort or dis. love to tell it, as I do everything that is to the quiet that sticks close to him at all times and honour of our nature. Man is so poor a thing seasons, and which, though he may now and taken in the gross, that when I meet with an then forget it amidst the bustle of public or the instance of nobleness in detail, I am fain to rest hurry of active life, will resume its place in his upon it long, and to recall it often ; as, in coming thoughts, and its permanent effects on his hap- hither over our barren hills, you would look with piness, at every pause of ambition, or of busi. double delight on a spot of cultivation, or of ness,
beauty. In situations, and with dispositions such as “The father of those young folks, whose looks mine, there is perhaps less merit in feeling the you were struck with, was a gentleman of conbenevolent attachment to which I allude, than siderable domains, and extensive influence, on in those of persons of more bustling lives, and the northern frontier of our county. In his more dissipated attentions. To the Lounger, youth he lived, as it was then more the fashion the home which receives him from the indiffer than it is now, at the seat of his ancestors, surence of the circles in which he sometimes loiters | | rounded with Gothic grandeur, and compassed his time, is naturally felt as a place of comfort | with feudal followers and dependants, all of and protection; and an elderly man-servant, whom could trace their connection, at 3 period whom I think I govern quietly and gently, but more or less remote, with the family of their who perhaps quietly and gently governs me, Ichief. Every domestic in his house bore the naturally regard as a tried and valuable friend. family name, and looked on himself as in a cer. Few people will perhaps perfectly understand tain degree partaking its dignity, and sharing its the feeling I experience when I knock at my fortunes. Of these, one was in a particular door, after any occasional absence, and hear the manner the favourite of his master. Albert hurried step of Peter on the stairs; when I see Bane (the sirname, you know, is generally lost the glad face with which he receives me, and the in a name descriptive of the individual) had been look of honest joy with which he pats Cæsar his companion from his infancy. Of an age so (a Pomeranian dog, who attends me in all my much more advanced as to enable him to be a excursions) on the head, as if to mark his kind sort of tutor to his youthful lord, Albert had reception of him too; when he tells me he knew early taught him the rural exercises and rural my rap, makes his modest inquiries after my amusements, in which he himself was eminently health, opens the door of my room, which he skilful; he had attended him in the course of has arranged for my reception, places my slippers | his education at home, of his travels abroad, and before the fire, and draws my elbow-chair to its was still the constant companion of his excur. usual stand; I confess I sit down in it with a sions, and the associate of his sports. self-complacency, which I am vain enough to “On one of those latter occasions, a favourite think a bad man would be incapable of feeling. dog of Albert's, which he had trained himself,
It appears to me a very pernicious mistake, and of whose qualities he was proud, happened which I have sometimes seen parents guilty of to mar the sport which his master expected, in the education of their children, to encourage who, irritated at the disappointment, and having and incite in them a baughty and despotic be. his gun ready cocked in his hand, fired at the haviour to their servants; to teach them an early animal, which, however, in the hurry of his re. conceit of the difference of their conditions; to sentment, he missed. Albert, to whom Oscar accustom them to consider the services of their was as a child, remonstrated against the rashattendants as perfectly compensated by the wages ness of the deed, in a manner rather too warm they receive, and as unworthy of any return of for his master, ruffled as he was with accident,
and conscious of being in the wrong, to bear. you I felt his appearance like the retribution of In his passion he struck his faithful attendant, justice and of Heaven. “Stand !” cried a threat. who suffered the indignity in silence; and re ening voice, and a soldier pressed through the tiring, rather in grief than in anger, left his thicket, with his bayonet charged. It was native country that very night; and when he Albert ! Shame, confusion, and remorse stopreached the nearest town, enlisted with a re ped my utterance, and I stood motionless before cruiting party of a regiment then on foreign him. “My master !” said he with the stifled service. It was in the beginning of the war voice of wonder and of fear, and threw himself with France which broke out in 1744, rendered at my feet. I had recovered my recollection. remarkable for the rebellion which the policy of “You are revenged,” said I, “and I am your the French court excited, in which some of the prisoner.” “Revenged ! alas ! you have judged first families of the Highlands were unfortunately | too hardly of me; I have not had one happy engaged. Among those who joined the standard day since that fatal one on which I left my of Charles, was the master of Albert.
| master; but I have lived, I hope, to save him. "After the battle of Culloden, so fatal to that | The party to which I belong are passed; for I party, this gentleman, along with others who lingered behind them among those woods and had escaped the slaughter of the field, sheltered rocks, which I remembered so well in happier themselves from the rage of the unsparing sol. days. There is, however, no time to be lost. In diery among the distant recesses of their coun a few hours this wood will blaze, though they do try. To him his native mountains offered an not suspect that it shelters you. Take my dress, asylum; and thither he naturally fled for pro. which may help your escape, and I will entection. Acquainted, in the pursuits of the deavour to dispose of yours. On the coast, to chase, with every secret path and unworn track, the westward, we have learned there is a small he lived for a considerable time like the deer of party of your friends, which, by following the his forest, close hid all day, and only venturing river's track till dusk, and then striking over the down at the fall of evening, to obtain from some shoulder of the hill, you may join without much of his cottagers, whose fidelity he could trust, a danger of discovery." I felt the disgrace of scanty and precarious support. I have often owing so much to him I had injured, and remon. heard him, for he is one of my oldest acquaint strated against exposing him to such imminent ances, describe the scene of his hiding-place, at danger of its being known that he had favoured a later period, when he could recollect it in its | my escape, which, from the temper of his comsublimity, without its horror. “At times,' mander, I knew would be instant death. Albert, said he, when I ventured to the edge of the in an agony of fear and distress, besought me to wood, among some of those inaccessible crags think only of my safety. “Save us both," said which you remember a few miles from my house, he; “for if you die, I cannot live. Perhaps we I have heard in the pauses of the breeze, which may meet again ; but whatever becomes of rolled solemn through the pines beneath me, the Albert, may the blessing of God be with his distant voices of the soldiers, shouting in answer master !""" to one another amidst their inhuman search. I Albert's prayer was heard. His master, by have heard their shouts re-echoed from cliff to the exercise of talents, which, though he had cliff, and seen reflected from the deep still lake always possessed, adversity only taught him to below, the gleam of those fires which consumed use, acquired abroad a station of equal honour the cottages of my people. Sometimes shame and emolument; and when the proscriptions of and indignation well-nigh overcame my fear, and party had ceased, returned home to his own I have prepared to rush down the steep, unarmed country, where he found Albert advanced to the as I was, and to die at once by the swords of my rank of a lieutenant in the army, to which his enemies; but the instinctive love of life pre valour and merit had raised him, married to a vailed, and starting as the roe bounded by me, | lady by whom he had got some little fortune, I have again shrunk back to the shelter I had and the father of an only daughter, for whom left.
nature had done much, and to whose native en""One day,' continued he, 'the noise was dowments it was the chief study and delight of nearer than usual ; and, from the cave in which her parents to add everything that art could I lay, I heard the parties immediately below so bestow. The gratitude of the chief was only close upon me, that I could distinguish the words equalled by the happiness of his follower, whose they spoke. After some time of horrible sus honest pride was not long after gratified by his pense, the voices grew weaker, and more distant; daughter's becoming the wife of that master and at last I heard them die away at the farther whom his generous fidelity had saved. That end of the wood. I rose and stole to the mouth master, by the clemency of more indulgent and of the cave; when suddenly a dog met me, and liberal times, was again restored to the domain gave that short quick bark by which they indicate of his ancestors, and had the satisfaction of see. their prey. Amidst the terror of the circum- ing the grandson of Albert enjoy the hereditary stance, I was yet master enough of myself to birthright of his race. I accompanied Colonel discover that the dog was Oscar; and I own to Caustic on a visit to this gentleman's house, and
was delighted to observe his grateful attention will dignify, though we neglected, and pay to to his father-in-law, as well as the unassuming their memory those honours which their conhappiness of the good old man, conscious of the temporaries had denied them. perfect reward which his former fidelity had met There is, however, a natural, and indeed a with. Nor did it escape my notice, that the fortunate, vanity in trying to redress this wrong sweet boy and girl, who had been our guests at which genius is exposed to soffer. In the disthe colonel's, had a favourite brown and white covery of talents generally unknown, men are spaniel whom they caressed much after dinner, apt to indulge the same fond partiality as in all whose name was Oscar.
other discoveries which themselves have made;
and hence we have had repeated instances of EXTRAORDINARY ACCOUNT OF ROBERT
painters and of poets, who have been drawn
from obscure situations, and held forth to public BURNS, THE AYRSHIRE PLOUGHMAN.*
notice and applause by the extravagant encomTo the feeling and the susceptible there is iums of their introductors, yet in a short time "something wonderfully pleasing in the contem. have sunk again to their former obscurity; plation of genius, of that supereminent reach of whose merit, though perhaps somewhat nemind by which some men are distinguished. In glected, did not appear to have been much under. the view of highly superior talents, as in that of valued by the world, and could not support, by great and stupendous natural objects, there is a its own intrinsic excellence, that superior place sublimity which fills the soul with wonder and which the enthusiasm of its patrons would have delight, which expands it, as it were, beyond its assigned it. usual bounds, and which, investing our nature I know not if I shall be accused of such en. 'with extraordinary powers and extraordinary thusiasm and partiality, when I introduce to the 'honours, interests our curiosity, and flatters our notice of my readers a poet of our own country, pride,
with whose writings I have lately become acThis divinity of genius, however, which ad quainted; but if I am not greatly deceived, I miration is fond to worship, is best arrayed in think I may safely pronounce him a genius of the darkness of distant and remote periods, and | no ordinary rank. The person to whom I allude is not easily acknowledged in the present times, | is Robert Burns, an Ayrshire ploughman, whose or in places with which we are perfectly ac- poems were some time ago published in a county quainted. Exclusive of all the deductions which town in the west of Scotland, with no other envy or jealousy may sometimes be supposed to ambition, it would seem, than to circulate among make, there is a familiarity in the near approach the inhabitants of the county where he was born, of persons around us, not very consistent with to obtain a little fame from those who had heard the lofty ideas which we wish to form of him, of his talents. I hope I shall not be thought to who has led captive our imagination in the assume too much, if I endeavour to place him in triumph of his fancy, overpowered our feelings a higher point of view, to call for a verdict of his with the tide of passion, or enlightened our country on the merit of his works, and to claim reason with the investigation of hidden truths. for him those honours which their excellence It may be true, that “in the olden time” genius appears to deserve. had some advantages which tended to its vigour In mentioning the circumstance of his humble and its growth; but it is not unlikely, that, even station, I mean not to rest his pretensions solely in these degenerate days, it rises much oftener on that title, or to urge the merits of his poetry than it is observed; that in “the ignorant present when considered in relation to the lowness of his time," our posterity may find names which they birth, and the little opportunity of improvement
which his education could afford. These par. * The story of this notice, which helped to introduce, ticulars, indeed, might excite our wonder at his and finally settle, Burns' fame as a poet in public productions; but his poetry, considered abstractestimation, is thus told by Robert Chambers in his edly, and with the apologies arising from his “Life and Works of Burns:" “Professor Stewart, on situation, seems to me fully entitled to command leaving the banks of the Ayr at the beginning of Nov.
our feelings, and to obtain our applause. One ember to commence his winter session at the university.
bar, indeed, his birth and education have opposed carried with him a copy of the Kilmarnock volume, which he brought under the notice of Mr Henry to his fame—the language in which most of his Mackenzie, the well-known author of the 'Man of poems are written. Even in Scotland, the pro Feuring,' and who was now conducting a periodical | vincial dialect which Ramsay and he have used entitled the Lounger, published in Edinburgh by Mr is now read with a difficulty which greatly damps Creech. Mr Mackenzie read the poems with the usual
the pleasure of the reader : in England it cannot admiration, and lost no time in writing upon them a
be read at all, without such a constant reference generous critique, which appeared in the Lounger for the 9th of December (1786). By this alone the fame of
to a glossary, as nearly to destroy that pleasure. Burns was perfected in Scotland; for, by the pronounce Some of his productions, however, especially ment of the greatest tribunal in the country, all lesser those of the grave style, are almost English. judges were set free to give their judgment in the From one of those I shall first present my readers direction which their feelings had already dictated." with an extract, in which I think tbey will dis