there was the Stevenson meeting in fully and freely are competent critics Glasgow, at which, unluckily, I could of great genius, and that Carlyle was a not be present, although I earnestly de- great genius—that Carlyle had in him a sired to be; and there was the meeting force and originality of nature which connected with the memorial put up to enabled him to speak to two generaSir Walter Scott in Westminster Ab- tions of his countrymen with a power bey, a meeting in which I had the great and a force on some of the deepest and honor of taking part. Now these four most important subjects which can innames, which have thus within a very terest us—that Carlyle could do that as brief space come up in this public man- perhaps no man has been able to do it, ner for public recognition before differ is a fact which, whether we admire ent audiences in the United Kingdom, Carlyle or do not admire him, we must were, as I have said, all Scotsmen, acknowledge as honest historians he were, in a manner, all men who were succeeded in doing. But if we can not only Scotsmen by birth, but Scots- hardly expect that the author of “Sarmen to the core-by learning, by educa. tor Resartus" and of the “French Revotion, by love of their country. I do not lution" should be a popular favorite suppose that

four such different and a popular friend in the same sense geniuses could be found in the litera- that Burns was and is a popular friend, ture of any country. Of all these four the case is not so easy when we come men without doubt the one who, I will to Sir Walter Scott. For Sir Walter not say is the greatest-for these com- Scott was not only one of the greatest parisons are impossible-but the one men of letters that have ever lived in who is the nearest to the hearts of the any country, but he was also one of the great mass of our fellow countrymen, best and most lovable of men who ever is Robert Burns. Of course, as I have adorned any society; and as time goes just said, it is difficult to make com- on, so far from his fame becoming parisons between two such diverse dimmed or the knowledge of bim begeniuses with any hope of arriving at a coming the property only of the few, fruitful result; and, indeed, Stevenson it seems to me, so far as I can judge, has been too recently taken from us for that he is more likely to defy the rayeven the hardiest critic to venture to ages of time than almost any other of the prophesy the exact position which he writers who have adorned the present is destined ultimately to occupy in the century. And yet, ladies and gentleliterary history of this country. But I men, holding that opinion I return to think, however, we may say of him what I said at the beginning of these that he was a man of the finest and remarks—that of the four great Scotsmost delicate imagination, and that he men thus recently celebrated, all of wielded in the service of that imagina- whom wrote and lived within a little tion a style which for grace, for supple- more than the last one hundred years, ness, for its power of being at once Burns, the first in time of the four, is turned to any purpose which the author the one who at this moment holds the desired, has seldom been matched-in first place also in the hearts of the great my judgment it has hardly been mass of Scotsmen. equalled-by any writer, English or I suppose that if we all set to work Scotch. With regard to Carlyle it to account for this phenomenon we would, perhaps, be absurd to expect should find that, like most other phethat the historian and the philosopher nomena, more than one cause contribshould be as much understood by the utes to it. It seems to me, indeed, that great mass of mankind as a poet or a not only does Robert Burns hold a pewriter of romance, and indeed I do not culiar and unique position in the minds feel myself sufficiently of the straitest of Scotsmen and many Scotsmen of letsect of that great man's admirers to be ters, but that he holds a unique posiable to speak worthily of him here. I tion, so far as I understand the matter, hold that only those who can admire if we survey the whole field of modern


literature. For I know no other case- sank into the popular mind, and which I do not speak dogmatically upon the appealed to the people. The names of point, but I do not recall any other case Wordsworth and Shelley, of Byron and -in which we can say with the same Keats, are names, but little else. confidence that a poet has occupied a I suppose in estimating this double place, and a great place, in universal quality of Burns's fameI mean the literature and that he is also the daily popular quality and the universal litcompanion of hundreds of thousands of erary quality-I must mention one fact men and women who cannot be de- which is obvious enough, but which has scribed as belonging to a class who doubtless had its influence-namely, make an occupation of literary study. I that he wrote in our Scotch vernacular. imagine that this unique fact, if unique Now, it is necessary in a poet who is fact it be, is in part due to the circum- to occupy the position which Burns ocstance that Burns dealt so largely with cupies among his countrymen that he those great elementary feelings, pas- should speak the language of his counsions, and experiences which are com- trymen. It is necessary that every man mon to every human being, whether he should feel, not that he is reading a be literary whether he be not mere literary construction, but that the literary, whatever his occupation in words the poet uses are familiar words life may be, whatever be the labors which he immediately understands and which engross his time. For his best which carry with them a wealth of aspoems, after all, not all his poems but sociation, without which poetry is but the bulk of the best deal with such a vague and empty sound. But the things as love and friendship, the joys misfortune of popular poets has often of family life, the sorrows of parting, been that, while they spoke the vernacall things which come within the circle ular of their country, this vernacular of our daily experience, and he dealt was so restricted in its area that the with them simply as they are in a man- great literary heart, the great literary ner which comes home to every man world, which is confined to no country and every woman, which readily echoes and to no people, was incapable of aptheir own intimate sense of reality. It preciating what he said except through speaks to them, therefore, in tones of the imperfect medium of translation, sympathy and of consolation, and is and, as we all know, translation, howpresent with them in all the experi- ever admirable and however excellent ences of their daily life. And, while and however painstaking, has never, this is the character of the subjects can never, and will never preserve the which Burns made his themes, he inmost life and essence of the work of treated them at a time and in a manner art with which it deals. The fate of which gained him an absolutely unique Robert Burns was happier than the position in the development of British fate of those of whom I have spoken, literature, for he was unconscious of for, though he spoke and wrote in our his mission, he was unconscious of the Scotch vernacular, the vernacular is itgreat work which he was to initiate self but a form of the great language and foreshadow. He was the first of which is now the birth-tongue of more those great revolutionary writers-rev- people born into the world than any olutionary, I mean, in the literary sense other literary language whatever. But, of the word—who made the early years while he appealed, therefore, as only of the present country so rich in in- one writing the Scotch vernacular could struction and so rich in genius. He appeal, to the mind and feelings of was the precursor of Wordsworth and Scotsmen, that great mass of the EnScott and of Byron and Shelley and glish-speaking world do not feel Keats, but while he their pre- towards him as a foreigner must feel cursor, while he heralded this great towards a language which he has not change in the literary fashions of his spoken from his youth. Rather do they country, he spoke in tones which deeply feel, though here and there there may


be words which are strange to them, who values the privilege which you that the language is, after all, the lan- have in no unstinted measure just conguage of their own childhood, and they ferred upon me, I feel that not the least can cherish Robert Burns as a poet of of these privileges is, as you yourself their own language, a poet speaking have said, that I may feel myself a their own tongue. One other cause citizen of this town, so intimately assomay perhaps have done something to ciated with great events in Scottish hisadd to the universal character and tory in general, and in particular with world-wide fame which our poet enjoys Robert Burns. One of the greatest posand seems likely in ever-increasing sessions of any community is the memmeasure to enjoy in the future. That ory of its great men, and much as I cause is that in every part of the world admire the vigor of your community, you will find Scotsmen, you will find and great as I feel the privilege of bepeople who are making their presence ing a citizen of Dumfries, that privilege felt in the communities in which they is enhanced in my eyes, as I believe it live, and wherever you find a Scotsman to be in the eyes of every one whom you will, I am glad to think, also find I am now addressing, by the memory people who are by no means prepared of the distinguished men who have to allow the careless or unthinking been admitted before me into these world to forget the glories of their na- privileges. May the prosperity of your tive land. Therefore it is that the fame burgh, Mr. Provost, go on ever increasof Burns has spread wherever Scots- ing, like the fame of the greatest of its men have spread, and that there is a sons, and may Dumfries be associated kind and degree of worship paid to his in the future, as it has been in the past, genius such as, I believe, is paid to the with the names of men who have rengenius of no other kind nor of any dered Scotland illustrious; and may other country. Mr. Provost, I fear that there be added in the future to the long in these observations, I may seem, at and brilliant roll of your purgesses all events, to have travelled somewhat many a

as yet unknown, but far from the immediate occasion on which our children and our children's which I have the honor of addressing children may revere as ornaments of you, but, after all, that is not the case, their country and as pillars of the for as your youngest burgess, as one State.


The European Bison. – While the years this has dwindled down to less bison of North America is on the point than five hundred, and there is no enof extinction, the European bison, couraging sign of any material increase. which is still found in Russia and the Our contemporary points out that if the Caucasus, is sensibly decreasing in Russian government would only give numbers, in spite of the efforts made instructions to have some of the Caufor its protection by the Imperial gov- casian bison captured alive and transernment. Herr Buchener (says the ported to Lithuania for the purpose of Zoologist), in a memoir on the subject resuscitating the herd there, no doubt in recently presented to the Imperial a few years a marked improvement Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburg, might be effected. The enterprise regards it as likely soon to share the would necessarily be attended with confate of its American rela re. In the side ble difficulty and great expense, forest of Bialowicksa, in the province of but in view of the scientific importance Lithuania, a herd of these fine animals which would attach to the result of the has long been preserved, and forty experiment, it would be well worth years ago, namely in 1856, numbered undertaking. about nineteen hundred, but of late

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wood, II. IN NATURE'S WAGGISH Mood. By Paul

Heyse. Translated for The Living Age

by Harriet Lieber Cohen. Part IV

VENSON. Second Notice,

By Frederick Greenwood,
VI. AT DAWN OF DAY. By a Son of the




Fly. By Rev. A. East,

Title and Index to Volume CCXIV.

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At morn I said, “I go to gather roses,"

And now at eve I'll say, while dayliglit Thou who hast seen for once and all the

closes, vision,

Take incense! breathe from me Thor who hast felt high discontent. And known the bitter sweet of great am

The fragrant memory! bition

MARCELINE VALMOKE. Not for these short-lived follies thou

wast meant.

Yet which to follow of the striving voices,

Faith, knowledge, nature, still to meet Surfeit in pleasure, in faith superstition, In knowledge weariness, in love deceit?


When bed-time came, and childish prayers Forth to the wilderness? Ah, I see only

were prayed, Desert winds shaking the desert recds:

She fell asleep, for all dear tales were Ignorant and thirsting still and lonely

toldShall solitude suffice my


Aladdin's lamp, the dwarf's enchanted lieeds?


And simple rhymes that please a litt). What though the inner eye be filled with

maid. seeing, What though the mountain and the plain And now her curls—how like the soft, dark be great,

braid Only to think and brood in dreams of

Worn next my heart-fall, tangled fola being,

in fold, This cannot solve the riddle of our fate.

Whilst with kissed cheeks deep pillowed

from the cold Sight of the stars and conscious sense of

She dreams, watched close by love, and duty,

unafraid. These are but drop in the still vacant

What silver shapes and shining fantasies heart,

Make night dreams strange as day These have I known and felt and lored dreams, and more fair! their beauty

The red-cloaked witch who climbed With half my soul, nor filled the other Rapunzel's hair part.

Haunts she this slumber? or may now HERBERT WARREN.

arise Her mother's presence stooping softly

there, With shadowy hair, and misty love-lit


EUGENE Mason. This morning I would gather you some

But lo! too many sweets my lap encloses,

The knotted cincture breaks,
The wind my treasure takes.

The stream bears fast away the gathered

It runs flame-red; my raiment never loses

The stain of purple bloom,
Nor yet its sweet perfume.

If some old doctrine of thy youth

Thou may'st no more repeat,
Gaze not as though God's very truth

Lay shattered at thy feet.

The stream flows crimson; gathered are

What though the broken moonbeam spill the roses,

Its silver o'er the tide, Not one bud more, nor red, nor white See through the clouds how sure and stil! uncloses

The fair round moon doth ride!
Its petals wide for love-

I keep the scent thereof.

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