What gives to Burns the mighty power? What but the language of his lay, Our mothers soothed us when we wept, And when we feel affliction's rod, In simple strains we plead with God; In death's last hour is comforted. The gallant Captain sat down amidst enthusiastic applause. Mr. Wilson sung with great taste "O let me in this ae night," and "I winna let ye in, Jo." Mr. MACKIE, M.P., proposed "The Peasantry of Scotland." The honourable gentleman, in doing so, said:-The toast which I have the honour to propose is intimately connected with our earliest reminiscences of the life of the Poet Burns, and carries us back to the days when he whistled o'er the lea, and when, doubtless, even while holding the plough, he composed some of those heart-stirring songs which are familiar to us all as household words; which are dear equally to the fireside of the Peer, the Commoner, and the Peasant; and which, by the very vigour of their native manliness, bring the whole world together, as it were face to face, and man to man, pointing and proving the never-to-be-forgotten moral, that whatever our rank or station in life may be, be it high or be it low, an honest man's the noblest work of God, "a man's a man for a' that." (Cheers.) And verily among the peasantry of Scotland are to be found the names of many who have done life's work with an energy, with an honesty, and a nobility of purpose which might well put to the blush those who can boast of longer pedigrees and longer purses. I see him now, in my mind's eye, the herd laddie in the wilds of Minnigaff, poring over his one sole treasure, a rudely carved alphabet, pursuing knowledge under circumstances of extreme difficulty, yet still pursuing it, self-taught and again I see him honoured amongst the honourable, translating the letter which the native Indian Prince sent to King George the Third, the translation of which had puzzled and baffled all the Oriental scholars of the day-a monument perpetuates his memory and his name, and tells the passing traveller on the Galloway road that the herd laddie from the wilds of Minnigaff, the self-taught in infancy, was none other than Dr. Alexander Murray, Professor of Oriental Languages in the university of Edin burgh. (Loud cheers.) Need I name Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd? I do so but to say that he has immortalized the scenery around St. Mary's Loch, the banks and braes of Yarrow, the peasant class to which he belongs, and himself, and the most ardent of his admirers might safely rest his reputation upon the simple, natural, true-ringing, heart-reaching, words of the song which begins,— "Come all ye jolly shepherds who whistle thro' the glen, I'll tell ye o' a secret that courtiers dinna ken, What is the greatest bliss that the tongue o' man can name? 'Tis to woo a bonnie lassie when the kye come hame." (Laughter and great applause.) Is there a peasant in Dumfries-shire but feels the glow of pleasure, the blush of honest pride mantle from cheek to brow, when he hears the name of the sweet singer, the blind poet, Thos. Blacklock, and claims him for his own. And the time would fail me to tell of Beattie and Ferguson, and Leyden, and Lowe (what Gallovidian is there who has not heard of Mary's Dream?) and Hugh Miller, and Allan Ramsay, and Tannahill, and Telford, all born in the peasant rank of life, all men who have approved themselves nature's noblemen, and have thereby ennobled the class to which they belong. And generally, I think that it may be predicated truly and fairly of the peasantry of Scotland collectively, that they do their duty cheerfully, honestly, and faithfully by their employers; that they do their duty, the highest boast of man, in that station of life to which it has pleased God to call them. (Applause.) Then, Sir, when I look around and see the many evidences of the material prosperity which has been recently developed in the agricultural world; when I think how much of this is the creation of the peasantry, I ask myself the question, have the employers of that labour done all they could to make the social condition of the peasantry keep pace with the prosperity thus developed in the country side? (Cheers.) And I am afraid the answer must be given against us, that we have left undone much which we might have done to supply the wants, physical, moral, and social, of the peasantry within our own spheres. For instance, might we not long ere this have tried to find a substitute for those hiring fairs-fairs which have their counterpart only in the "Mops" and "Roasts" of which our friends in England are beginning to be ashamed? But why do I say this? Not to provoke discussion, not to start a debateable subject upon such an evening as this, but to pave the way for the suggestion, that, if those gentlemen in this room, who like myself are more immediately connected with the agricultural interest, leave it with the intention of trying to do something in the future to ameliorate the social condition of the peasantry within our home sphere and circle, then we shall be paying the most graceful, the most handsome, the most practical compliment to the memory of the Peasant Poet, the "lad who was born in Kyle." Then the Centenary of the birth of Burns will not have been celebrated this day in Dumfries fruitlessly and in vain. (Loud and continued cheering.) At the request of the Chairman the Secretary of the Club here read the poem for which the prize was awarded by the directors of the Crystal Palace at their celebration of Burns' Centenary. Mr. AIRD then proposed "The Fine Arts." They were now, he said, met to pay a special tribute to poetry, and he was sure they would extend their loyal good wishes to the whole of the charming sisterhood. Each of them had their own distinctive features, but Beauty based upon Utility was the common soul of all of them, and if any man loved poetry, he was compelled, by the constitution of his nature, more or less to love all the arts. By the consent of critics, he might say of mankind, poetry had been placed foremost of the band. The reason was obvious. From the flexibility and infinite variety of her medium of words, poetry could embody in a moment the subtlest and most complex emotions of the human mind, and could express flux and reflux, transition and progress. After an illustration of this, drawn from one of the ancient poets, Mr. Aird apologized for travelling out of Kyle on such a night. Very well: Burns in his "Twa Dogs," alluding to the fashionable follies of the young buck of his day, says:— "Or by Madrid he takes the route, To thrum guitars, and fecht wi' nowte." Let them mark the power of the word "nowte." Had the poet said that our young fellow went to Spain to fight with bulls, there would have been some dignity in the thing; but think of him going all that way to "fecht wi' nowte." (Laughter.) It was felt at once to be ridiculous. Such was the power of the single word "nowte," as chosen by Burns. It conveyed at once a statement of the folly and a sarcastic rebuke of the folly. Such were those single decisive strokes, as from a sledge hammer, which sent the Burns broad arrow deep and for ever into the very heart of the matter. Such a feat as the word "note" had thus achieved was beyond the reach of any other of the fine arts. (Cheers.) But again: take that extraordinary picture in "Tam o' Shanter:" "Even Satan glower'd and fidg'd fu' fain, And hotch'd an' blew wi' might an' main." Now their own David Wilkie could have made a funny picture of that. He could have done the "glowerin" very well; but he could not have done the "fidgin' fain," far less could he have managed the "hotchin'." (Cheers and laughter.) And here by the way he (Mr. Aird) might ask any English friend present to try to translate "hotchin'" to himself: a queer circumlocution he would make of it. (Cheers and laughter.) Such was the peculiar power of poetry beyond that of the other fine arts. It would have been very pleasant to himself to say a few words about Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture; but he must not detain them at such an hour. With regard to Music, he need not remind such a meeting that it was an art as well as a science. How powerful it was, and how popular it was, their fine orchestra had given proof sufficient. In all other essential respects, Burns was a great poet; but it was mainly by his marvellous faculty of marrying his songs to the divine old music of Scotland that he had won his unparalleled sovereignty over the human heart; and he (Mr. Aird) might be permitted to add that it was this irresistible marriage of the two immortals that had mainly caused such a demonstration in placing the stone of consummation on the monumental century of their poet's fame. (Cheers.) The Fine Arts were the natural handmaids of Virtue; and the man who respected and cultivated them aright, was thereby respecting and cultivating his own intellectual, moral, and religious nature. (Cheers.) Mr. BELL MACDONALD of Rammerscales gave "The Nameless Song and Ballad Writers of Scotland." He pointed out the peculiar construction and influence of the song, observing that though it was perhaps a simpler piece of composition than the melody, it required a great deal more polish. He eulogised our national ballads as conveying a more accurate and truthful picture of the customs and feelings of the times in which they were written, than any history could do-alluding particularly to those of 1715 and 1745-though it was true that now and then a song or ballad might have strayed into our collections which were in reality not worthy of a place in this department of national literature. He said that the spirit for producing as fine compositions in the balladstyle as had ever been written, had not yet disappeared from amongst us, and mentioned especially the beautiful though unacknowledged words by the Rev. Dr. Park of St. Andrews, to the old burden of “O an' I were whar Gadie rins, at the back o' Bennochie," and a very su Mr. M'Morine, Dumfries, sang with much taste "Up in the morning early," which was re-demanded with loud applause. perior composition of this class which not long | a peculiarity of physical temperament. He reago had appeared in Punch, entitled "Kinreen ferred to the "Scarlet Letter" of Nathaniel o' the Dee," a pibroch heard wailing down Hawthorne, which was perhaps rather to be Glentanner on the exile of three generations, considered as a psychological study, than a the subject being "The Clearances in the High-story of common life, and particularly to the lands." In allusion to the occasion of their works of Poe, whose powerful delineations and meeting, he expressed the great gratification love of ideal beauty had a sort of fascination that he felt in being present, and said he could over many minds, in illustration of this. The never forget the high honour which Colonel speaker concluded by saying-The Americans Burns had conferred on him on the anniversary are heirs with us of a glorious inheritance, for of his father's birth last year, on which occa- they speak the language in which Shakspeare sion, in common with many other guests, he had and Milton wrote and our own Burns sangthe pleasure of enjoying his splendid hospitality. in which Burke and Pitt, Fox and Sheridan, Colonel Burns brought out his father's punch- and Brougham have spoken. And we know bowl and glasses, and though there were guests already that they can use it well. And who present of much higher rank than himself, the can doubt that in the future a literature shall Colonel paid him the compliment of asking him be developed worthy of the language which to make the punch and the speech of the they inherit, destined to make our mother evening. (Cheers.) Mr. Macdonald conclud- tongue the speech of a great and powerful ed an able speech by giving the toast, which people who shall bear westward still the torch was duly honoured. that was lighted at our own firesides, and to whom British literature will be a fountain unsealed, to soften the asperities of an advancing, and perhaps more material civilization by the Mr. STRACHAN then, in an able speech, amenities of a more ancient literature that emgave "American Literature." He said he bodies the noble thoughts and heroic deeds of thought it well that on this occasion the labours the race from whence they sprang. (Cheers.) of those of the same race as ourselves who, And, Sir, sure I am that even now from across across the Atlantic, are doing so much for the the broad Atlantic there are many hearts symcultivation of literature, should not be forgot-pathising with us in the tribute which we this ten. After an allusion to the early American day offer to the memory of our own great bard; writers and authors, such as Benjamin Frank- and not a few are, one cannot doubt, celebratlin, Jonathan Edwards, and others of a later peri-ing the day as heartily as ourselves, and reod, whom he characterised as rather belonging to our own literature than that of America, he went on to observe that recently, perhaps beginning with Washington Irving, the literature of America had assumed a distinctive character as separate from that of our own-characteristics, indeed, not very easily defined in so many words, but not less marked or more readily recognisable than an American himself among any number of our own countrymen; and among such writers he alluded to Channing, Cooper, and particularly, as more markedly American, to Emerson, as well as to Hawthorne, Haliburton, Herman, Melville; and among poets to Bryant, Willis, Reade, Poe, and Longfellow-the last of whose books was probably more read in this country than those of any of our own living poets. With much admiration for many of these authors he could not but notice in the works of fiction which America produced, an exaggeration of tone and unre-ings will reach nearly five millions of readers, ality of character, together with a wildness of imagination which seemed to indicate a peculiar development of mind that delighted itself with prying into the secret sources and inner workings of the dark or night side of human nature, and which possibly too indicated in some cases calling more joyously than perhaps even we can do, those glorious words of his that picture forth so beautifully the pleasant memories of their fathers' land. (Loud cheers.) Mr. Strachan coupled the toast with the name of Mr. Fuller of New York. The toast was received with prolonged cheering. Mr. FULLER rose to return thanks and was very warmly received. He said: Mr. Chairman and brother Scots— "If there's a hole in a' your coats, A chield's amang you takin' notes, (Laughter and cheers.) I came not here to for in our country we don't publish editions of newspapers by the ten thousand, but by the five hundred or six hundred thousand. I am here, gentlemen, a stranger in a strange land, and yet, strange as it may seem to you, I feel quite at home. (Cheers.) I have come 3,500 gentlemen, and many a pilgrim from the New "When ranting round in pleasure's ring, Or if she gie a random sting, But when on life we're tempest driven, miles across the broad Atlantic, a pilgrim to the tomb of Robert Burns. (Cheers.) I do not come here to represent America, although I am a member of a Burns Club in the city of New York; but I come here from my own volition-from a spontaneous anxiety to bring, as it were, a wild-flower from the far West to lay upon the shrine of the Immortal. (Loud cheers.) I slept last night in a city which they told me was founded a thousand years before Christ was born,-the city of Carlisle,-and before retiring to my bed, with the spirit of antiquity upon me, I read in the book of Job, and I thought as I read-What is a hundred years? What is the life-time of my own young republic, compared with the duration of the temples, the castles, and the cathedrals that I see around me? What is the generation of man? or in the sublime language of the Hebrew bard, What is man that God should be mindful of him? Every-gion of Christ, the grand religion of nature, was thing seemed, so far as human existence was in him. In proof that he was a religious man, concerned, brief, transitory, feverish, flitting let me quote one verse from his epistle to a away. Yet in my own land this day, there is young friend: everywhere commemorated, from the snow-clad hills of Maine to the golden streams of California, from the fir-fringed heights of Oregon to the orange groves of Florida, the name of a poet whose fame is immortal-the name of Robert Burns. (Cheers.) There is a Burns Club in every city and town of the Union, and though you are five hours in advance of them in point of time in your celebration to-day, we can imagine that about this hour hundreds and thousands of people are convening in the far west around the festive board to commemorate the memory, and honour the genius of Robert Burns. (Cheers.) Your poet was born in Scotland: he lived and died almost within the horizon that lies around us. He scarcely visited England. He never went out of the island; yet to-day he is one of the best known men that ever lived-(cheers)—and taught, as I was, to love and revere his memory in childhood, for the songs of Burns were the cradle hymns that my mother used to sing to me, studying him as I have from my youth up, I do not hesitate to say that I consider him the greatest poet that ever lived, and I tell you that your little city of Dumfries stands this night upon the very top of the world. (Cheers.) Though invited to attend the celebrations in London and Edinburgh, and though having personal reasons to be in Glasgow, or remain in Liverpool to-night, I felt that this was the place where every true lover and admirer of Burns should assemble. It was here that that glowing eye took its last farewell look of the sun, and here that his dust reposes, and may it till repose the resurrection morn. You have a sacred trust, (Loud cheers.) The poetry and songs of Burns have nerved the soldier in the day of battle; they have bid the heavenward flame of devotion arise in the house of God; and where is the young man who, in the blissful rapture of "love's young dream," does not borrow the golden chalice of Burns to carry the libation of his heart to his mistress's lips? Everything he touches he has immortalized. Even old Nance Tinnock, who is not mentioned in his works more than once, has been embalmed and preserved like a fly in amber. (Great laughter, and cheers.) Burns was a lover, and that made him a poet: he worshipped at the shrine of woman :—woman "Whom God created with a smile of grace, And left the smile that made her on her face." The lowly maid to whom was addressed And England triumphant display her proud rose; soldiers in the Crimea singing Annie Laurie in chorus on the eve of an engagement in illustration of the power of song, Mr. Fuller quoted a saying of his friend C. Mackay the poet, that before we can estimate the effect which that simple but noble song, "A man's a man for a' that," has produced in raising the dignity, and patriotism, and loyalty of Britons, and indeed all throughout the world wherever it was known, we must try and estimate the value of one day's sunshine in ripening the corn. In conclusion, said Mr. Fuller, I will simply express my gratitude to the gentleman who did me the honour of mentioning my name in connection with this toast, and I thank you all for the cordiality with which it was received. Though I do not take the compliment to myself, yet I accept it for my country. I can assure you that Scotsmen are in that country found to be a very intelligent, industrious, enterprising, thrifty people. I had the good fortune to be born a New Englander, my ancestors, two brothers, having gone over in the 'Mayflower,' and we have always considered it a great compliment as New Englanders to be called the Scotsmen of America. Mr. Fuller sat down amidst much applause. Mr. Thos. Lindsay of Liverpool sang: Johnnie comin'?" 66 Saw ye Mr. LENY rose amidst enthusiastic cheering, and said that in proposing their Chairman he had a double duty to perform-a double, not a divided duty. Reference had been made to the absence of Sheriff Napier, originally selected, as they knew, to be their chairman, and who would have been proud and happy to preside over this meeting, where so much of heart and feeling had been exhibited, for he was prepared to enter into all their feelings, and make this, as it had been, a very happy occasion. He (Mr. Leny) was certain they would all sympathise in the deep distress arising from the melancholy event by which Sheriff Napier had been prevented from taking the chair. His excellent friend Dr. Browne-had generously come forward at a critical moment, and had admirably discharged the duties of the chair. (Cheers.) He (Mr. Leny) had known Dr. Browne for twenty years: he had found him to be a scholar and a gentleman, a kind-hearted man, and unceasing in his work of humanity; and it was gratifying to see that his eminent merits had been recognised and demanded for the service of his country in the highest capacity that could have been selected. (Loud cheers.) Dr. BROWNE briefly acknowledged the toast, and proposed "The Croupiers"-to which Mr. Leny simply bowed and waved thanks. The CHAIRMAN could not allow the meeting to break up without calling their special notice to the way in which Mr. M'Diarmid, Secretary of the Burns Club, had got all the arrangements of that successful meeting carried out. After an affectionate reference to the memory of the late Mr. M'Diarmid, who had been the life and soul of so many of their Burns meetings, Dr. Browne called for a special token of thanks to Mr. Wm. M'Diarmid. (Heartily responded to.) Mr. M'DIARMID replied, and proposed the Committee, and Mr. Sinclair, bookseller, especially, as entitled to the best share of their gratitude for the success of the arrangements. Mr. SINCLAIR briefly acknowledged the compliment. The meeting was breaking up (about 10 o'clock), when a young American gentleman, Mr. George Francis Train, a friend of Mr. Fuller, detained a good many of them, and gave them an energetic address in praise of Burns. The demonstration in the Assembly Rooms was in every respect a great success. The dinner was supplied by Mr. Wm. Clark of the Commercial Hotel, and was served in a style of elegance. The homely dishes of Scotch fare— cock-o'-leekie, haggis, sheep's head, &c.—were duly represented on the festive board. The musical arrangements were under the charge of Mr. Harkness, who had engaged a small but effective stringed band, conducted by Mr. Allwood of London, a violinist of great ability. The vocalists were Messrs. Wilson of Dalkeith, Lee of Irvine, Thomson and M'Morine of Dunifries, and Lindsay of Liverpool. Mr. Thomas Cooke of Edinburgh acted as accompanist on the piano. Extracts from the speech of SHERiff Napier, who was prevented by indisposition from being present at this meeting. Scotland, throughout the length and breadth of the land, has declared it to be a national duty, and the nation's pleasure and delight, to commemorate the great and glorious fact of the birth of Burns, to proclaim with exultation throughout the whole land, that this day, one hundred years ago, Robert Burns was born: "And Criffel answers, from his misty shroud, Back to the Ailsa Craig, that calls to him aloud.” But it is not only from the banks of the Doon to the banks of the Nith, and the shores of the Solway, that this voice has gone forth. It has been heard, from the Spey to the Tweed: ay, and from the Tweed to the Thames. The sister kingdom, England, the land of Shakspeare, is at this moment re-echoing the feeling, |