To the memory, and for the personality, of St. Magnus himself, Bute always cherished a lively devotion and veneration,[7] which was shown not only in some of his later writings, but in a hymn of seven stanzas which he composed at this time in honour of the saint, and which was printed in the _Orcadian_ over the signature "Oxonian." It is a free paraphrase of the Latin vesper hymn assigned to St. Magnus in the Aberdeen Breviary on his feast day (April 16), and has more merit than was claimed for it by its author, who described it in a letter to Mr. Petrie as "a very indifferent attempt." Another poetical composition of his dating from this period was a pretty set of verses entitled "Our Lady of the Snows," which was published anonymously this year in the _Union Review_ (then edited by Dr. F. J. Lee) after being declined by the editor of the _Month_.[8] He wrote to Miss Skene from Thurso on July 16, 1867: {52} I am tickled pleasurably by the opinion of the editor of the _Union_ about my little poem. Are we to conclude that the standard of the _Month_ is the higher of the two, as it rejects what the Union admits, and even describes as "feeling and beautiful"? I confess that till now that had not been the result produced on my mind by a comparison of their respective "Poet's Corners." [Sidenote: 1867, Lady Elizabeth Moore] Bute continued his yachting cruise from Orkney to Iceland, and spent there his twentieth birthday, viewing the volcano of Hecla in full eruption, as he had seen Etna a year previously. One of his birthday letters was from Lady Elizabeth Moore, with whom he had renewed a regular correspondence, and who was now happy in the belief that her former ward's secession from Protestantism was postponed _sine die_. Her letters are always characteristically kind and affectionate, if every phrase is not altogether judicious. MY VERY DEAR COUSIN, You are much in my thoughts this day.... My most affectionate good wishes on your entering your twenty-first year. May the Almighty bless and protect you. May you be preserved from evil doings and _erroneous opinions_, and prove a bright example of good to others in the elevated position of life in which God has placed you. Ten years ago I spent September 12 at St. Andrews with a little boy, the cherished object of his mother's deepest affection. We little thought how soon he would be deprived of that excellent parent, and how cruel would be the consequences that followed her sad loss. You have wonderfully escaped the dangers and survived the difficulties of your too eventful life in early youth. May the future be more calm, more happy! ... Your mother's _bequest_ to me has {53} been a source of more anxiety than you can ever know. My consolation is that I firmly did my duty towards my cousin who trusted me, and towards her orphan child. Lady Elizabeth wrote a week later: MY DEAREST BUTE,