On rising from our devotions, the old man grasped me by the hand. "I am happy," he said, "that we should have met, Mr. Lindsay. I feel an interest in you, and must take the friend and the old man's privilege of giving you an advice. The sailor, of all men, stands most in need of religion. His life is one of continued vicissitude--of unexpected success, or unlooked-for misfortune; he is ever passing from danger to safety, and from safety to danger; his dependence is on the ever-varying winds, his abode on the unstable waters. And the mind takes a peculiar tone from what is peculiar in the circumstances. With nothing stable in the real world around it on which it may rest, it forms a resting-place for itself in some wild code of belief. It peoples the elements with strange occult powers of good and evil, and does them homage--addressing its prayers to the genius of the winds, and the spirits of the waters. And thus it begets a religion for itself;--for what else is the professional superstition of the sailor? Substitute, my friend, for this--(shall I call it unavoidable superstition?)--this natural religion of the sea, the religion of the Bible. Since you must be a believer in the supernatural, let your belief be true; let your trust be on Him who faileth not--your anchor within the vail; and all shall be well, be your destiny for this world what it may." We parted for the night, and I saw him no more. Next morning, Robert accompanied me for several miles on my way. I saw, for the last half hour, that he had something to communicate, and yet knew not how to set about it; and so I made a full stop. "You have something to tell me, Mr. Burns," I said: "need I assure you I am one you are in no danger from trusting." He blushed deeply, and I saw him, for the first time, hesitate and falter in his address. "Forgive me," he at length said--"believe me, Mr. Lindsay, I would be the last in the world to hurt the feelings of a friend--a--a--but you have been left among us penniless, and I have a very little money which I have no use for--none in the least;--will you not favour me by accepting it as a loan?" I felt the full and generous delicacy of the proposal, and, with moistened eyes and a swelling heart, availed myself of his kindness. The sum he tendered did not much exceed a guinea; but the yearly earnings of the peasant Burns fell, at this period of his life, rather below eight pounds. CHAPTER V. "Corbies an' clergy are a shot right kittle."--_Brigs of Ayr_.