I am aware that I have said nothing in regard to the nearest relatives and friends of the poet,—his brave, honest parents, those to whom he ever pays filial respect, and those also who receive fraternal sympathy and regard,—his noble sons, that sweet, gentle daughter, the pet and blessing of his heart, whose early loss he mourned until his death; and last, but by no means least, his faithful, forgiving Jean, his counselor and guide to the end. Though I have not mentioned these, it is not that they are remote or separated from our poet. They are with him, as a cluster of stars gather around one brilliant, far-reaching center; and upon him they bestow that true spirit love and sympathy which he reciprocates in kind. But I have dwelt longest upon his connection with the beautiful ideal of his early life; for in her is centered the power to draw forth the noblest and purest aspirations of his soul. As a beacon-light, a radiant star, her undefiled spirit, overflowing with the love that has blest and enriched his being, has ever led him onward and upward over the ruts and pitfalls of sensual life until he has reached the heights of self-conquest and self-respect. In every sense, Mary Campbell has been the savior and sustainer of Robert Burns. CHAPTER XXV. MY SPIRITUAL WORK It would ill become me to speak of my own efforts. There is so much to be done that the individual work of one alone is necessarily small; but if we strive to do good, with a will and a desire to benefit others, we cannot fail to be of use; and that you may know how it is a spirit labors in conjunction with mortals, I will briefly speak of my method of work, and give you a few instances of what I have done or have striven to do. I remember one circumstance well. At a gambling house in a large English city, I encountered a lad, about eighteen years of age, whom I could see had been enticed there by the alluring visions of a fortune to be made, pictured to him by those well versed in the secrets of sinful practices. He was a pale, delicate youth, with an intellectual cast of countenance, a well-bred air, and one evidently worthy of better things. I was attracted to him as he sat at the table, his whole mind concentrated upon the game he was playing. Suddenly, he pushed back his chair, rubbed his brow in a bewildered manner, and muttering: “Lost, everything lost; I counted on this chance to retrieve my luck, but it is no use, everything is against me;” he seized his hat and fled from the place. I followed him, not knowing what he might do, and wishing to serve him if in my power. It was to his room that we went, the attic floor of a dingy lodging-house in an obscure quarter of the city. I found that he was a student, striving to pay his way by literary labor, while gaining an education. His parents were poor, hard-working people, living back in the country, who had done all they could to assist their son.