A man of superior shrewdness, and well acquainted with literature and rural affairs, Laidlaw was especially devoted to speculations in science. He was an amateur physician, a student of botany and entomology, and a considerable geologist. He prepared a statistical account of Innerleithen, wrote a geological description of Selkirkshire, and contributed several articles to the "Edinburgh Encyclopedia." In youth, he was an enthusiast in ballad-lore; and he was especially expert in filling up blanks in the compositions of the elder minstrels. His original metrical productions are limited to those which appear in the present work. "Lucy's Flittin'" is his masterpiece; we know not a more exquisitely touching ballad in the language, with the single exception of "Robin Gray." Laidlaw was a devoted friend, and a most intelligent companion; he spoke the provincial vernacular, but his manners were polished and pleasing. He was somewhat under the middle height, but was well formed and slightly athletic, and his fresh-coloured complexion beamed a generous benignity. LUCY'S FLITTIN'.[118] AIR--_"Paddy O'Rafferty."_ 'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk tree was fa'in', And Martinmas dowie had wind up the year, That Lucy row'd up her wee kist wi' her a' in 't, And left her auld maister and neebours sae dear. For Lucy had served in "The Glen" a' the simmer; She cam there afore the flower bloom'd on the pea; An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her, Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her e'e. She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stan'in', Richt sair was his kind heart the flittin' to see. Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! quo' Jamie, and ran in, The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae his e'e. As down the burnside she gaed slaw wi' the flittin', Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! was ilka bird's sang. She heard the craw sayin 't, high on the tree sittin', And robin was chirpin 't the brown leaves amang. Oh, what is 't that pits my puir heart in a flutter? And what gars the tears come sae fast to my e'e? If I wasna ettled to be ony better, Then what gars me wish ony better to be? I 'm just like a lammie that loses its mither; Nae mither or friend the puir lammie can see; I fear I hae tint my puir heart a' the gither, Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my e'e. Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon, The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me; Yestreen, when he gae me 't, and saw I was sabbin', I 'll never forget the wae blink o' his e'e. Though now he said naething but Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see, He cudna say mair but just, Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee.