Burns' prose seemed to Dr Robertson to be, considering his circumstances, even more remarkable than his poetry. It has in it, in proportion, a great deal more trash; but it has also some passages which no prose writer has since surpassed. If you regard it as a series of letters, it fails-the true light to look at it is as a succession of fierce fragments torn from a ruin-some distinguished by symmetry and strength, and others only by their rude and jagged angles. Yet from what a noble ruin have his letters to Cunningham, to Dr Moore, and to Mrs Dunlop proceeded! Cowper's letters, as a whole, are more pleasing, easy, and better sustained, but have few passages to compare with the finer flights of the gauger.

What a pity that Burns had no Boswell to track his steps, and catch the fire-syllables which fell in such rapid profusion and bickering brilliance from his touched lips! His talk seems to have been as strong, natural, and rich an essence as ever flowed from the lips of man. It was strong as a native power, and it was of all his powers the most carefully cultivated. Like Dr Johnson, he generally set himself to 'talk his best.' In society, and particularly in that of ladies, he seemed to forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more. His soul expanded, his heart opened, his eye kindled, his rough voice softened into music, and the pent-up waters of wisdom, wit, tenderness, humour, and knowledge of human nature which were in him, 'flowed amain.' Hearts burned within them, eyes moistened, bosoms heaved, as he talked; laughter looked out through eyes that wept, or tears came and drowned laughter; many were agitated and shaken, and others, obeying the calmer and mightier spell of his genius, felt as John Scott so finely says 'their minds touched with a strange joy, which they may recognise in more exalted stages of their being. And all this effect was produced, not by an elaborate artist playing bravuras, not through any assumption of oracular depth or dignity, not through any determination to be the chief speaker, but through the mere outpouring of a mighty soul, which had besides made conversation a study, found in it a fit element, and learned to spring up under the genial influence of society into his fullest power, like the war-horse to the sound of the trumpet. How one wishes that Burke, the greatest talker then alive in England, had met and measured lances with Burns, the greatest talker in Scotland; and that Bozzy, who was still alive, had been subpoenaed to be present! They had been wonderfully well met; for in native genius and wealth of mind they were equal; and Burke's subtle reflection and profound learning would have found a counterpoise in the brilliant wit and robust manhood of the intellect of Burns.

We have left ourselves little room for the last, and as it may seem to some, the most important part of the subject, namely, the influence which Burns and his writings have exerted upon his native country. And yet, perhaps, the whole truth on this subject may be comprised in a very few sentences. His influence has been in part beneficial, and in a larger part pernicious. Burns HAS added an imperishable nimbus of glory to his country; and Scotland, notwithstanding all his errors, is proud of having produced such a son, and produced him, too, from the yeoman class-the same class amid which Shakspeare in England lifted up his refulgent and many-sided head. He has stirred the patriotic flame; he has animated often the 'glow o' weel-placed love; he has once or twice even stirred the altar fires to a brighter and holier blaze. Need we name the 'Cottar's Saturday Night?' He has even, too, in more than one powerful strain, shown the deformity of vice. Need we name his Epistle to a Young Friend?' He has excited, besides, in the peasantry a thirst for knowledge, an ambition for intellectual distinction, a proud and salutary consciousness of themselves and of the dignity of independent toil. What a contrast between the spirit of his song, 'A man's a man for a' that,' and the flunkeyism of many even in our day, who are so glad to get a little vulgar eclat reflected on public meetings from the presence of Lords and literary Baronets, although the life thus given is generally galvanic, the light discoloured, and the glory meretricious and

evanescent!

But there is another side to the picture. Burns has too often fanned the polluted fires of licentiousness and debauchery—he has taught many to identify genius with vice-he has created a race of imitators, who have copied his faults, both of writing and of conduct he has shed a rainbow lustre around mere animalism-he has taught blasphemers a more pithy profanity, and grafted wit upon the dull and rotten tree of vulgar obscenity-he has not unfrequently insulted religion through its forms and its professors-he has treated sacred things with undue levity-he has, in Southey's words, 'supplied furniture to the brothel,' and given a voice and language to bashful and stuttering seduction, and by the memory of his example has produced immeasur able mischief among the young of both sexes in Scotland. God forbid that we should say he has done all this intentionally! We believe, on the contrary, that had he foreseen all the evil effects some of his writings were to produce in that 'dear auld Scotland' which he loved so warmly, he would have burned them and his pen too. As it was, a little before his death, he bitterly deplored the existence of the unworthy progeny of his genius, and declined with horror the proposal of some wretch of a book

seller to publish them in full. But litera scripta manet—alas ! vita too, scripta manet-and ages may elapse ere the evil of the influence of the writings and the life of Robert Burns can be calculated fully or has for ever passed away.

EMIGRATION.

THE emigration from these islands of Great Britain and Ireland has probably been, during the year, at the rate of a thousand a-day! It becomes an interesting question, whether this extraordinary exodus is likely to increase, or to diminish. From all present indications, the emigration may go on for many years without diminution. It is true that there is already, in this country, an increased demand for labour, an increase of its reward, and, consequently, a largely increased command over the necessaries and the ordinary comforts of life; and it might be supposed that the inducement to emigration would thus be lessened. But it must be remembered, that amidst a population reduced, as ours was a few years ago, to excessive poverty and privation, those who most needed change were the least able to make it. The statistics of emigration are not very complete; but, if they were, it would probably be found that it prevails most in periods of comparative prosperity, following periods of great distress. The resolution is formed in distress; it is carried out the moment the means of removal are obtained. Hence a considerable part of the great emigration during the last two years.

From Ireland, probably one-half of the emigrants have had the means of removal furnished by their relatives, who have emigrated before them. It is difficult to conceive how far this sort of operation may be carried amongst a people whose domestic affections are so strong; already there is scarcely an Irish family which has not some immediate relative settled abroad. In the United States, the Irish, and the children of the Irish, are already nearly equal to the whole population of Ireland. The fathers and mothers go to the sons and daughters. The tearing-up of domestic ties is no longer encountered, or if encountered, it has not one-half its former intensity of wretchedness. The choice is between remaining with half the family connexion at home, or joining the other half in America; and when there is a moderate share of prosperity in the one scale, and distress and privation in the other, it may easily be conceived how the balance will incline. Thus the emigration from Ireland may go on in a constantly accelerating ratio.

The impulse given to emigration by the discovery of gold in

California and Australia is obvious to every one. In the United States it has added greatly to the migration westward, and will no doubt continue to do so; for although there may not be a continuation of very profitable employment at the 'diggings,' there will be a demand for labour upon the land, for the production of articles of food, which at present bear a very high price. The westward migration of American labourers will, to that extent, diminish the supply of labour in Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, and thus leave room for the employment of British immigrants. So also in Australia, although the 'diggings' may not continue to absorb the whole of the migratory tribes, there will be a vacuum in the labour market of the other parts of the Continent, which will permit of profitable employment to emigrants from this country.

own.

In addition to these reasons for believing that the present rate of emigration will not diminish, there is the always-operating, perhaps natural, desire of man to possess a piece of land of his It may not be presumptuous to suppose, that this desire has been implanted that the original command might be fulfilled, multiply and replenish the earth, and SUBDUE IT.' There is not yet one-fourth of the surface of the earth that is subdued. Even in that part which is under cultivation, the produce is, on immense tracts, not one-half of what it might be. In the United States, in whole counties, the average growth of wheat is not more than about twelve bushels per acre. Fifteen bushels are accounted a good crop; and this on land which, with a proper employment of labour and manure, would yield from four to five quarters an acre. Taking into consideration the imperfect subjugation, there is not yet one-tenth of the surface of the earth SUBDUED; yet it must have been intended that the whole should be rendered subject, and the desire was implanted to attempt and achieve the subjugation. Looked at in this view, there is more than a querulous expression of impatience at privation, when the Irish peasant says, 'Why should I pay rent for this bit of bog to raise potatoes, when I could grow wheat on my own land on a beautiful prairie in Illinois?' And with all New Zealand, the vast continent of Australia, the Cape of Good Hope, and all Canada our own, with constantly-increasing facilities of conveyance, and with all the United States, in which there is room and to spare for the whole population of Europe, all open to us, almost as if it were our own, could it ever be intended that in any part of these Islands there should be a single square mile of land, on which men should be cooped up unable to earn their daily bread? There is room enough for mankind on the face of the earth, which God has given them to subdue-room for ten times the number; and the process will

go on until the subjugation be complete. Nature has a great storehouse in reserve, of which the door has not yet been opened.

The great exodus has commenced, and nothing can stay it, even were it desirable, in a merely national point of view, that it should be stayed. The Germans, the British, and the Irish, are to subdue, in its proper and peaceful sense, the surface of the earth; the Anglo-Saxon race is to rule the destinies of the world; the English language is to be the medium of thought between all the civilised nations; the English bible is to be the book of books amongst mankind; English truths are to be world-wide truths. How emphatic is the injunction to all who can communicate a truth to be up and doing! How great the encouragement to all who can aid in the extirpation of a pernicious body-destroying and soul-destroying sin, when the conversion of one man in our little island may carry the example of virtuous conduct to the extremities of the earth!

There is a remarkable providence in the peopling of a great portion of the western part of North America. Mr PRENTICE, in his Tour in the United States,' says: 'The Puritans were not very fortunate in the selection of a home in the Bay of Massachussets. Plymouth, Boston, Salem, and Gloucester, offered little scope to the agriculturists, and an early emigration to Newhaven and Hartford took place, where a greater extent of fertile land was available. Thus generation after generation sent forth its active young men, widening their conquests over the forest and the swamp, till all New England became well peopled. In the same manner, emigration goes on now, and a frugal, active, and rapidly-increasing population, pressing closely on the means of subsistence, in this stony territory, keeps sending out hardy adventurers to the more fertile States of the West, there to set an example of activity, sobriety, scrupulous regard to the moral obligations of life, and a decent and seemingly a very sincere observance of religious requirements. Was it "chance" that the early settlers should set themselves down in a country so sterile as this; that their moral and religious habits might remain uncontaminated by the looser principles of men, who sought not freedom from persecution for conscience sake, but merely the means whereby to live? Was it "accident” that they had to send their well-instructed sons and daughters farther into the wilderness to subdue it? Was it merely a fortuitous combination of circumstances, that, two hundred years after their settlement on this rocky land, their descendants, inheriting their principles, are constantly sending out detachments to all the rest of the free States in the Union? To me it appears not chance, but provision, design-design to furnish the leaven for leavening the great future mass.'