"UBI MEL, IBI MUSCA." No. 9-NEW SERIES.] SATURDAY, MARCH 2. [TWOPENCE. Every purchaser of this number of "THE FLY," is entitled to an exquisitely-executed Lithographic PRINT of "A Special Pleader sueing for HALF A CROWN," which is presented gratuitously.-[A'similar print with every number.] THE FLY'S PICTURE GALLERY. (No. VIII-New Series.) ROBERT BURNS AND HIS HIGHLAND MARY. "How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn blossom, As underneath its fragrant shade, I clasp'd her to my bosom; The golden hours on angel's wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; MEMOIR OF ROBERT BURNS. (Continued from page 30.) When his affairs became embarrassed, he was advised to solicit the interest of some of his friends, to get him a place in the excise. But his applications, instead of stirring them up to obtain a more honourable provision for him, only procured an employment which required the strongest efforts of virtue to neutralise its contagion. "I am now," said he, "a poor rascally gauger, condemned to gallop at least two hundred miles every week to inspect dirty ponds and yeasty barrels !" His proud nature, however, like the unfortunate hero of Paradise Lost, could not sink into a station so ignoble and degrading without a feeling of bitterness and disdain. "I have bought," said he, "a pocket' Milton, which I carry perpetually about with me, in order to study the sentiments-the dauntless magnanimity-the intrepid, unyielding independence the desperate daring, and noble defiance of hardship, in that great personageSatan. The many ties of acquaintance and friendship which I have, or think I have, in life--I have felt along the lines-and, damn them, they are almost all of them of such frail contexture, that I am sure they would not stand the breath of the least adverse breeze of fortune." His situation in the excise produced fifty pounds per annum; and his conduct having met the approbation of the Board of Commissioners, he was appointed to a new district, the emoluments of which rose to seventy. Hoping to support himself and his family on this humble income till promotion should reach him, he removed to a small house in Dumfries, about the end of the year 1791. But circumstances occurred which prevented the fulfilment of this anticipation. The early events of the French Revolution interested his feelings; and, in common with others, he imagined that superstition and tyranny were about to terminate their career. He spoke of the happiness which seemed dawning upon mankind with a freedom incompatible with his dependant situation. Even after the transitory illusion had passed away, and the reign of anarchy and blood had commenced, he could not immediately withdraw his partial gaze from a people who had so lately breathed the sentiments of liberty and peace. Information of this was given to the Board of Excise, with the exaggerations so general in such cases; and had not Mr. Graham interfered, he "would have been turned adrift," as he himself observes, "without so much as a hearing, or the slightest previous intimation, to all the horrors of want." This circumstance made a deep impression on his mind. Fame heightened his misfortune, and represented him as actually dismissed from his situation; and this report induced Mr. Erskine, of Mar, to propose a subscription in his favour. He refused the offer in a letter to that gentleman, of great elevation of sentiment, in which he defends himself against the imputation of disloyalty, and the calumny of having made submissions for the sake of his office, unworthy of his character. "The partiality of my countrymen," said he, John Cunningham, Printer, Crown-court, Fleet-street. "has brought me forward as a man of genius, and has given me a character to support. In the poet I have avowed manly and independent sentiments, which I trust will be found in the man. Reasons of no less weight than the support of a wife and family, have pointed out as the eligible, and, situated as I was, the only eligible, line of life for me, my present occupation. Still my honest fame is my dearest concern; and, a thousand times have I trembled at the idea of those degrading epithets that malice or misrepresentation may affix to my name. Burns was a poor man from birth, and an exciseman by necessity; but I will say it, the sterling of his honest worth no poverty could debase, and his 'independent British mind oppression might bend, but not subdue." During the remaining three years of his life, his leisure was gratuitously devoted to the success of a musical publication, projected by George Thomson, of Edinburgh. The songs which he furnished include nearly all he wrote during this period, and many of his happiest efforts in this species of composition. In 1795, when the state of public affairs was supposed to call for a general arming of the people, he entered the ranks of the Dumfries Volunteers, and employed his influence in stimulating their patriotism. Though by nature of an athletic form, his constitution now began to decline. The hard labour and sufferings of the early part of his life produced a depression of spirits which disappointment afterwards contributed to augment. He was no longer capable of those ing cessant mental exertions which he had hitherto made; and he reposed for a few months from the unprofitable drudgery of composing for musical collections. This suspension of his labours alarmed Mr. Thomson; for he had already received seventy of his exquisite lyrics. Am I never," said he, "to hear from you again? I know and I lament how much you have been afflicted of late, but I trust that returning health will now enable you to resume the pen, and delight us with your musings. I have still about a dozen Scotch and Irish airs that I wish married to immortal verse."" In January, 1796, he was confined to his bed by a severe attack of rheumatism. His appetite began to fail; his hand shook; and his voice faltered on any exertion or emotion. His pulse became weaker and more rapid, and pain in the large joints, and in the hands and feet, deprived him of the enjoyment of refreshing sleep. In this distressing situation he employed his intervals of ease in writing to those who professed themselves his friends, not to solicit assistance, but to inform them that he must shortly die. But Burns had no friends. Although his illness, his poverty, and his wants were generally known, no one afforded him relief. Mrs. Dunlop, whom he had uniformly treated with filial tenderness, deserted him in his hour of need. Mr. Thomson, though overwhelmed with a load of obligation, felt no other emotion than that which was expressed by a cold wish for his recovery. When Burns implored him for five pounds, not on account of all that he had done, but of something more that he was willing to perform, he transmitted the paltry sum, with an assurance that he had been "ruminating for three months how to alleviate his sufferings, and that the amount requested was the very sum he proposed sending!" On the 4th of June, a lady, of a similar disposition, advised him, though on the brink of the grave, to go to the birthday assembly to show his loyalty. "Madam,' replied he, "I am in such miserable health, as to be utterly incapable of showing my loyalty in any way. Racked as I am with rheumatism, I meet every face with a greeting like that of Balak to Balaam, 'Come, curse me, Jacob; and come, defy me Israel.' Would you have me, in such circumstances, to copy you out a love song ?" It had been hoped by some of his friends, that, if he could live through the months of spring, the succeeding season might restore him; but they were disappointed. He was advised to try the effect of sea-bathing; and for that purpose he went to Brow, in Annandale, ten miles east of Dumfries. On the 5th of July, Mrs. Riddel, of Glenriddel, who resided in the neighbourhood, and with whom he was formerly acquainted, invited him to dinner; and, as he was unable to walk, she sent her carriage for him. As he entered her apartment, she perceived the stamp of death imprinted on his features. His first salutation was, Well, Madam, have you any commands for the other world?" He ate little, and complained of having entirely lost the tone of his stomach. He spoke of his death without any of the ostentation of philosophy, but with firmness and feeling, as an event likely to happen very soon. His anxiety for his family hung heavily on his mind; and when he alluded to their approaching desolation, his heart was touched with grief. On the 7th, he found it necessary to write to Mr. Cunningham to exert his influence to prevent him from losing half his income. "Alas! my friend," said he, "I fear the voice of the bard will soon be heard among you no more. You actually would not know me if you saw me. Pale, emaciated, and so feeble as occasionally to need help from my chairmy spirits fled! fled! The deuce of the matter is this, when the exciseman is off duty, his salary is reduced to thirty-five pounds instead of seventy. What way, in the name of thrift, shall I maintain myself, and keep a horse in country quarters, with a wife and five children at home, on thirty-five pounds? I mention this, because I had intended to beg your utmost interest, and that of all the friends you can muster, to move our Commissioners of Excise to grant me the full salary. If they do not grant it me, I must lay my account with an exit truly en poete. If I die not of disease, I must perish with hunger ?" At first he imagined that bathing in the sea had been beneficial to him. The pains in his limbs were relieved; but he was afterwards seized by a new attack of fever. countenance uncommonly interesting. His physiognomy had an expression of calm thoughtfulness, approaching to melancholy. His manner and address bespoke a mind conscious of superior talents. His conversation was extremely fascinating rich in wit, humour, whim, and occasionally in serious and apposite reflection. In the society of men of taste he was eloquent and impressive. But it was in female circles that his powers of expression displayed their utmost force. The late Duchess of Gordon declared, with charac teristic naivete, that "no man's conversation ever carried her so completely off her feet as that of Burns ;" and an English lady, particu larly acquainted with the most distinguished characters of the day, remarked that there was a charm about him in his social hours that she had never seen equalled. He was no less amiable in the relations of private life. Although so poor as frequently to be on the brink of ruin, looking forward, now to the situation of a foot-soldier, On the 18th, when brought back to his now to that of a common beggar, as no improhouse in Dumfries, he was no longer able to bable consummation of his evil fortune, he stand upright. The destitute situation of his was as proud and independent as if he pos wife and family preyed deeply on his spirits, sessed a princely revenue. Neither the inand imparted incessant shocks to a frame al-fluence of the low-minded crowd around him, ready exhausted. Yet he alluded to his po- nor the privations which he endured, ever led verty, at times, with something approaching him to incur the burden of pecuniary obligato gaiety. "What business," said he to Dr. tion. No chicanery, no sordidness ever apMaxwell, "has a physician to waste his time peared in his conduct. Through the whole of on me? I am a poor pigeon, not worth his life he had to maintain a hard struggle with plucking. Alas! I have not feathers enough care, and often laboured under those depres to carry me to my grave." sions to which genius is subject; yet his spirit never stooped from its high career, and to the very end of his warfare with himself and with good fortune, he continued strong in his integrity. At this time a tremor pervaded his frame. His tongue was parched; and, when not roused by conversation, his mind sunk into a kind of torpor. On the two following days the fever increased, and his strength diminished. On the 21st he expired, in the thirty-eighth year of his age. Ile left a widow and four sons. The ceremonial of his interment took place on the 28th of July.* It was accompanied by the Volunteers of Dumfries, the Fencible Infantry of Ayrshire, and the Regiment of Cavalry of the Cinque Ports. On the same day, Mrs. Burns was delivered of a fifth child, who did not long survive his father. Burns was nearly five feet ten inches in height, and of a form that indicated agility as well as strength. His wellraised forehead, shaded with black curling hair, bespoke uncommon capacity. His eyes were large, dark-full of ardour and intelligence. His face was well formed, and his ningham; "the sun was almost without a cloud, "The day was a fine one," says Allan Cunand not a drop of rain fell, from dawn to twilight. I notice this-not from my concurrence in the common superstition that happy is the corpse which the rain rains on,' but to confute a pious fraud, of a religious magazine, which made Heaven express its wrath at the interment of a profane poet in thunder, in lightning, and in rain. not who wrote the story, and I do not wish to know; but its utter falschood thousands can attest. I know It is one proof, out of many, how divine wrath is found by dishonest zeal in a common commotion of the elements, and that men whose profession is godliness and truth, will look in the face of Heaven, and tell a deliberate lie." It is melancholy to reflect, that, though Burns possessed a candour which led him to view all the actions of others on the brightest side, the purest of his own have been either overlooked or distorted. His virtues have been denied, and the tenderness of his heart depreciated. But prejudices will pass away, and men of feeling and sentiment will do jus tice to his memory. They will turn aside with loathing from the venom of his enemies; and rejoice, that, while the names of Scott and Jeffrey are rotting in the charnel-house of oblivion, that of Burns will continue to increase in lustre, and to gather fresh laurels in its progress to immortality. There are those who never offend by never blurt out a thousand exceptionable things speaking their minds; as there are others who without intending it, and because they are actuated by no feelings of personal enmity towards any one. Mental cowards are afraid of expressing a strong opinion, or of striking hard, lest the blow should be retaliated. They throw themselves on the forbearance of their antagonists, and hope for impunity in their insignificance. The Missiskoui Standard records the invei glement of Miss Mary Elvira Spoon by Mr. Henry Bowl! Old marvels are enacted anew. The dish runs away with the spoon.-Montreal Gazette. SUSPENSION EXTRAORDINARY. On Friday evening last, a daring fellow entered an outhouse at Audrick (Pas de Calais) and stole thereout a hog, weighing upwards of ten stone. Having contrived to muzzle the animal, he next tied his four feet together, and, throwing the fat companion of St. Anthony over his shoulder, he marched off, thinking no doubt of spare-ribs, puddings, and jambon. The body of the hog was at the back of the robber, while the four trotters, secured by a cord, were held fast on his breast. Wearied after a time, and quite spent with fatigue, he could hold up no longer; so, stopping a moment, he rested his prize against a strong iron railing that lay in his way. But oh, fatality! on a sudden the animal slipped down behind, and the culprit still holding the cord (the surplus of which somehow got hampered around him) he found himself secured by the neck, and so firmly attached was he to the spikes of the railing, that next day he was found strangled, and in that very position. A THUNDERSTORM. There is a blackness on the plain, Old ocean rears his billows high, Wild bursts the thunder of his ire, Soft Nature's face is dark with rage, Go! gaze on many a shatter'd tower Yon blast has levell'd with the sod, THE BONNIE ENGLISH ROSE. Let Britain's patriots tune the lyre, And swell the chords along : Around Britannia's throne of state Oh, ever may her spotless fame A nation's prayers ascend for thee— creature still continued to entreat the clemency of the Emperor with words to melt a heart of stone, and worthy of a better cause. But Napoleon, wearied by her persistance, and little used to find himself so assailed, took her by the arm, which he shook gently, at the same time calling out with a decided and angry voice, "Now, will you allow me peaceably to continue my journey? Descend, Mademoiselle, directly, or I must order my guides to remove you from this." However well, persevering, or eloquent one may be in pleading for one's father, or defending one's mother, the Emperor had pronounced the monosyllable "No, and that word for the most part was deemed irrevocable. It was then that this young person, so mild and humble, raising herself on the instant (for till this time she had constantly clung to the feet of Napoleon) said to him with an energy and accent that no one could have thought her capable of, "Sire! I will spare your Majesty the reproach that would be always recurring to your Majesty should violence be employed, in order to get rid of me. I am a weak girl, having only the courage to endeavour to snatch from destruction a father and a mother, whose untimely fate I could not survive. But I appeal still to your own heart, sire; you also have a mother, whom you cherish: may Heaven pardon you one day those tears you have caused mine to shed. As for me I will no longer weary you with my supplications, and humbly ask Claim Heaven's rich blessings for their pardon of your Majesty for the boldness of my (Continued from page 32.) "Of which they have accused your unhappy During this strange dialogue the carriage had reached the top of the hill, near the posthouse, where it stopped. The poor young | proceedings." Having thus said, she hastily withdrew herself from the feet of the Emperor, and descended from the carriage, covering her face with both her hands, and going to some distance off, kneeled down by the side of the road. Meanwhile, Napoleon, again taken by surprise at the words so filial and truly heroic which he had just heard, enveloped himself in his warm polonaise cloak, and wriggled back into his seat, saying, in the tone of a scholar whose master had thoroughly tutored, "Eh, Mademoiselle, do just what you please. Parbleu! it is quite the same thing to me, provided you only let me alone, and never more show your face here." The horses meantime having been changed, the carriage drove off with the rapidity of lightning During this scene, which had lasted scarcely as long as we have taken in telling it, the officers of the Imperial house, who had mounted the hill on foot, perceiving by the road side a young female, simply but handsomely attired, in a kneeling posture, and appearing absorbed in the deepest sorrow, went immediately to her assistance, and, raising her up, asked with great interest who she was, and what was the cause of her grief. It was Mademoiselle La. jolais, who the greater part of these officers had seen at the chateau of St. Cloud two years before. All most sincerely pitied her condition; but no one imparted his reflections, with which all seemed to be in like manner impressed, to another. Now, how shall we explain this inflexible severity of the Emperor, who, on most occa sions, was so kind and good-so forgetful of injuries on the part of his enemies at a moment too when his heart was especially alive to calm and gentle emotions! A chapter of Montaigne was of itself enough to still the angry passions, "And lay the meddling senses all aside." TO A WATER-FOWL. Whither, 'midst falling dew, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, thee The cause of this seeming moral paradox was this. Upon two memorable occasions, General Lajolais was compromised with the Emperor: first, in that affair of the infernal machine; and, secondly, in the conspiracy of Moreau and Georges Cadoudal. Twice was the General condemned to die, and twice was he pardoned by Napoleon. Upon the second occasion, the penalty of death was changed to four years' detention at Fort de Joux; and this, owing to the powerful and gracious interference of Josephine, seconded by her daughter, Hortense de Beauharnois, There is a power whose care both warmly interesting themselves in the Teaches thy way along that pathless coastcase, on account of their attachment to Made-The desert and illimitable airmoiselle Lajolais. Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned It appeared that in his prison the General had found means to carry on a correspondence with a person of the Faubourg St. Germain, At that far height the cold thin atmosphere; well known for the hatred he bore the Em-Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land. peror and the Imperial Government. A letter, Though the dark night is near. it was said, moreover, had been intercepted by Fouché, the personal enemy of Lajolais, and sent to Napoleon while he was yet staying at Schonbrunn. "What was to be done?" had been asked by the Minister of Police. "Nothing at all," was the Emperor's answer. "Let it fall to the ground;" adding at the same time, with a remarkable bitterness of expression, and shrugging his shoulders, "It is true, there are some incorrigible beings whom one must leave pourrir en prison, in order to ensure peace and tranquillity." However, to justify his own conduct, Fouché had taken upon himself to remove Lajolais from the Fort de Joux, in FrancheCompté, to the chateau d'Iff, near Marseilles, without informing Napoleon of this change in the prison department. Whether the unhappy General was guilty or not to the full extent, certain it is that on seeing Mademoiselle Lajolais all the angry feelings and wrongs of Napoleon, so long stifled in his breast, broke out afresh. However, there is no doubt but that the prisoner ultimately would have recovered his liberty, if it had not so happened that the day before his confinement ended, the unfor tunate man had died. And soon that toil shall end, Soon shalt thou find a summer-home, and TO THE COUNTRY TRADE. Mr. GLOVER, (the publisher of the "Fly," &c.,) in answer to frequent inquiries, informs the Country Trade that he will supply them with all the London Periodicals and Newspapers for cash, at a very reduced scale of charges-equal to any other agent in London. Address (post-paid), to the "Fly" office, Water-lane, Fleet-street, London. and RHEUMATIC PILLS. Cure of Rheumatism, of Forty Years' standing, at Malmsbury, Wilts. (To Mr. Prout, KHEUMATIC PILLS, 229, Strand, London.) 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