, which is close by the road, stands in the
middle of the church-yard, and the first thing I saw, on going in the
gate, was the tomb of the father of Burns. I looked in the old window,
but the interior was filled with rank weeds, and overshadowed by a young
tree, which had grown nearly to the eaves.

The crowd was now fast gathering in the large field, in the midst of
which the pavilion was situated. We went down by the beautiful monument
to Burns, to the "Auld Brig o' Doon," which was spanned by an arch of
evergreens, containing a representation of Tam O'Shanter and his grey
mare, pursued by the witches. It had been arranged that the procession
was to pass over the old and new bridges, and from thence by a temporary
bridge over the hedge into the field. At this latter place a stand was
erected for the sons of Burns, the officers of the day, and
distinguished guests. Here was a beautiful specimen of English
exclusiveness. The space adjoining the pavilion was fenced around, and
admittance denied at first to any, except those who had tickets for the
dinner, which, the price being fifteen shillings, entirely prevented the
humble laborers, who, more than all, should participate on the occasion,
from witnessing the review of the procession by the sons of Burns, and
hearing the eloquent speeches of Professor Wilson and Lord Eglintoun.
Thus, of the many thousands who were in the field, but a few hundred who
were crowded between the bridge and the railing around the pavilion,
enjoyed the interesting spectacle. By good fortune, I obtained a stand,
where I had an excellent view of the scene. The sons of Burns were in
the middle of the platform, with Eglintoun on the right, and Wilson on
their left. Mrs. Begg, sister of the Poet, with her daughters, stood by
the Countess of Eglintoun. She was a plain, benevolent looking woman,
dressed in black, and appearing still active and vigorous, though she is
upwards of eighty years old. She bears some likeness, especially in the
expression of her eye, to the Poet. Robert Burns, the oldest son,
appeared to me to have a strong resemblance of his father, and it is
said he is the only one who remembers his face. He has for a long time
had an office under Government, in London. The others have but lately
returned from a residence of twenty years in India. Professor Wilson
appeared to enter into the spirit of the scene better than any of them.
He shouted and waved his hat, and, with his fine, broa