e by playing on
the flute, and disposing of copies of verses. After wandering over a
wide district as a pedlar, flute-player, and itinerant poet, he resumed
his original occupation of weaving in Kinross. He subsequently sought
employment as a weaver in Aberdeen, where he remained about a year. In
1840 he proceeded to Inverury; and it was while he was resident in this
place that his beautiful stanzas, entitled "The Blind Boy's Pranks,"
appeared in the columns of the _Aberdeen Herald_ newspaper. These verses
were copied into many of the public journals: they particularly arrested
the attention of Mr Gordon of Knockespock, a landed proprietor in
Aberdeenshire, who, ascertaining the indigent circumstances of the
author, transmitted to him a handsome donation, and desired to form his
personal acquaintance. The poet afterwards accompanied Mr Gordon to
London, who introduced him as a man of genius to the fashionable and
literary circles of the metropolis. In 1844 he published a small volume
of poems and songs, with a brief autobiography, under the title of
"Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-loom Weaver." This volume was well
received; and on a second visit to London, Thom was entertained at a
public dinner by many distinguished literary persons of the metropolis.
From admirers, both in India and America, he received pecuniary
acknowledgments of his genius. He now attempted to establish himself in
London in connexion with the press, but without success. Returning to
Scotland, he took up his abode in Dundee; where, after a period of
distress and penury, he breathed his last on the 29th February 1848, in
his 59th year. His remains were interred in the public cemetery of the
town; and it is pleasing to add, that an enthusiastic admirer of his
genius has planted flowers upon his grave. Though long in publishing,
Thom early wrote verses; in Gordon, Barron, & Co.'s factory in
Aberdeen, his fellow-workmen were astonished and interested by the power
and vigour of his poems. That he did not publish sooner, is probably
attributable to his lengthened career of poverty, and his carelessness
regarding intellectual honours.

In respect of pure and simple pathos, some of his lyrics are unequalled
among the compositions of any of the national bards. Than "The
Mitherless Bairn," it may be questioned whether there is to be found in
the language any lyrical composition more delicately plaintive. It is
lamentable to think that one who could write