But let us retrace our footsteps in moralising mood, not unmixed with sadness--to the Mausoleum of Burns. Scotland is abused by England for having starved Burns to death, or for having suffered him to drink himself to death, out of a cup filled to the brim with bitter disappointment and black despair. England lies. There is our gage-glove, let her take it up, and then for mortal combat with sword and spear--only not on horseback--for, for reasons on which it would be idle to be more explicit, we always fight now on foot, and have sent our high horse to graze all the rest of his life on the mountains of the moon. Well then, Scotland met Burns, on his first sunburst, with one exulting acclaim. Scotland bought and read his poetry, and Burns, for a poor man, became rich--rich to his heart's desire--and reached the summit of his ambition, in the way of this world's life, in a--Farm. Blithe Robin would have scorned "an awmous" from any hands but from those of nature; nor in those days needed he help from woman-born. True, that times began by-and-by to go rather hard with him, and he with them; for his mode of life was not "Such as grave livers do in Scotland use," and as we sow we must reap. His day of life began to darken ere meridian--and the darkness doubtless had brought disturbance before it had been perceived by any eyes but his own--for people are always looking to themselves and their own lot; and how much mortal misery may for years be daily depicted in the face, figure, or manners even of a friend, without our seeing or suspecting it! Till all at once he makes a confession, and we then know that he has been long numbered among the most wretched of the wretched--the slave of his own sins and sorrows--or thralled beneath those of another, to whom fate may have given sovereign power over his whole life. Well, then--or rather ill, then--Burns behaved as most men do in misery,--and the farm going to ruin--that is, crop and stock to pay the rent--he desired to be, and was made--an Exciseman. And for that--you ninny--you are whinnying scornfully at Scotland! Many a better man than yourself--beg your pardon--has been, and is now, an Exciseman. Nay, to be plain with you--we doubt if your education has been sufficiently intellectual for an Exciseman. We never heard it said of you, "And even the story ran that he could gauge."