An unexpected glimpse of him, by his own pen, "From my Bower on the Castle Bank of Edinburgh, March 10th, 1747," is obtained from some verses which accompanied a present of his Poems to Dr Boswell, uncle of Johnson's biographer, sent by a descendant of the Doctor to the Athenæum of October 10, 1874. They bear unmistakable marks of their origin, the last three stanzas being specially characteristic, and interesting in reference to the point in his life to which our narrative is brought down.

"From my first setting out in Rhime,

neer fourty years have wheeld,
Like Israel's Sons, so long a Time
through fancy's wiles I've reeled.
May powers propitious by me stand,
since it is all my claim,

As they enjoyed their promised land,
may I my promised fame,

While blythness then on health attends,
and love on Beautys young,

My merry Tales shall have their friends,
and Sonnets shall be sung."

Having about 1755 given up business entirely, he spent a great deal of his time after in the company of his friends, Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik, and Sir Alexander Dick of Prestonfield, who

not only respected him for the ingenuous openness of his character, but delighted in his quaint wit and humour. Nor was he less made of by his city friends, whose children, especially in his latter years, it was his pleasure to entertain about his house. It was his delight to give them juvenile parties—a fact of which Dr Robert Chambers, in 1825, was informed by Mrs Murray of Henderland, who knew Ramsay during the last ten years of his life, and now, near her hundredth year, spoke of him as the most amiable man she had ever known, remarking that his cheerfulness and lively conversational powers made him a favourite among persons of rank, whose guest he frequently was.

In May 1755, he wrote James Clerk, Esq. of Pennycuik, what may be considered the last of his rhymed epistles. After some preliminary remarks, he observes :

"And now in years and sense grown auld,
In ease I like my limbs to fauld.
Debts I abhor, and plan to be
Frae shakling trade and danger free ;
That I may, loose frae care and strife,
With calmness view the edge of life;
And when a full ripe age shall crave,
Slide easily unto my grave.
Now seventy years are o'er my head,
And thirty more may lay me dead."

While thus pleasantly jesting about the addition of other thirty years to his already completed threescore-and-ten, in less than three he was laid beside his gude auld wife in the Greyfriars' Churchyard. He died from an affection of scurvy in the gums, on the 7th, and was buried on the 9th, January 1758, in his 72d year.

Of his personal appearance and habits

he has himself given several particulars, which confirm the report of those who knew him. In height he was only five feet four inches, of a swarthy complexion, active and tidy in his habits, fond of his food and his drink, yet averse to gluttony and drunkenness.

His vanity, which certainly appeared a very prominent feature of his character, was probably not in excess of that of most men who have won equal fame, but, allied to his frank and genial disposition, was less under control; yet, being without pride or affectation, he avoided giving offence either in his writings or conversation.

To the formation of religious and political opinions, it is doubtful if he ever applied himself with sufficient earnestness to have very decided convictions, and his times presented aspects, in both directions, which did not make the study inviting for one of his disposi- | tion. He records himself that he was neither Whig nor Tory; but Chalmers, in a note to this, says that he was a zealous Tory from principle, but being much caressed by Baron Clerk, and other gentlemen of opposite principles, made him affect outward neutrality.

Any one who compares Ramsay's works with those of Burns, and other writers of modern Scotch literature, will at once see how much of the initial work is due to him-work for which none of them was so specially qualified. Had Burns appeared at Ramsay's time, and in Ramsay's circumstances, it is more than likely that he would have met the fate of poor Fergusson, before he had produced any of those unrivalled songs which will ever remain among the noblest

gems of our literature. It is greatly to the credit of Ramsay's character that he kept the golden mean in his conduct, amidst a state of society the most dangerous to a young man with natural sociability, and that, amid the engagements of an exacting occupation, he found time for prosecuting his literary studies so as to have left not only a large number of poetical pieces of great merit, but to have pointed the way in the various directions in which the future genius of his country was to make her fame familiar to the world.

THE LEGEND OF THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. THE time of the action of the drama, which extends only to twenty-four hours, is shortly after the restoration of Charles II., but arises out of events of twenty years' previous occurrence.

A loyalist knight, to whom the poet gives the character-name of Sir William Worthy, proprietor (we shall assume) of the estate of Newhall, about sixteen miles south of Edinburgh, is obliged to quit his native country, during the protectorate of Cromwell, leaving his infant son and heir, Patrick (Patie), in charge of Symon, a faithful pastoral tenant; with strict injunctions to bring him up as his own son. Sir William's sister was married to a landed proprietor about fifty miles westward, in Ayr or Dumfries shire, and both she and her husband died during his exile, leaving an infant daughter, their heiress, to the care of her uncle and aunt. Mause, the child's nurse, having her suspicions roused regarding the safety

of her charge, contrived to steal away with her by night, and having got east'ward the length of Newhall, to avoid discovery, left her at the door of a shepherd named Glaud; and took a cottage in the neighbourhood, that she might watch over her safety. The foundling is named Peggy, and brought up as Glaud's niece.

The action begins on a fine summer morning, "beneath the south side of a craigy bield," or sheltering rock, when Patie, and Roger, a wealthy companion shepherd, hold a confidential tête-à-tête regarding the progress of their love affairs, Patie being in love with Peggy, and Roger with Jenny, Glaud's only daughter. A corresponding dialogue takes place between Peggy and Jenny at the washing-green.

Symon having been in Edinburgh, learns the news of the restoration and Sir William's return, and invites Glaud and the young folk to his house to celebrate the event. While they are amusing themselves, Sir William, disguised as a mendicant fortune-teller, makes his appearance, and reads Patie's fortune; and having found that his injunctions were observed, makes himself known as Sir William, and claims Patie as his son and heir.

The comic interlude which helps to enliven the piece, and leads to the unfolding the mystery of Peggy's parentage, arises out of the presumption of a half-witted hind named Bauldy, who slights his sweetheart Neps, and makes love to Peggy. Failing to make any impression by fair means, he resolves upon foul, and applies to Mause, whom he supposes to be a witch, to help him

with her art to turn Peggy's affections from Patie, and towards himself.

Mause feigns compliance; and with the help of Madge, Glaud's sister, lays a plot for him, by which, through his superstitious fears, he is almost driven out of his senses, and accuses Mause of raising the deil for his destruction. The matter is referred to Sir William, before whom convenes the whole rustic community. Having convinced Bauldy of his errors, Sir William is struck with Peggy's resemblance to his sister, and inquires of Glaud as to her parentage, who relates the story of her “ "finding." Mause then clears up the mystery, and Peggy is recognised by Sir William as his niece. This removes all objections to her union with Patie, the Gentle Shepherd, and minor matters being settled as might be expected, the curtain falls.