on."

The success of the first edition of his poems was so pronounced that
Burns soon gave up the idea of going away to Jamaica. Ayrshire was
flattered to discover that within its borders lived a genuine poet.
Robert Heron, a young literary man living in that neighborhood, gives
us an account of the reception of the little book of poems: "Old and
young, high and low, grave and gay, learned or ignorant, were alike
delighted, agitated, transported. I was at that time resident in
Galloway, contiguous to Ayrshire, and I can well remember how even
plowboys and maidservants would have gladly bestowed the wages they
earned most hardly, and which they wanted to purchase necessary
clothing, if they might procure the works of Burns."

When Burns wished a second edition of his poems, he had a very poor
offer from his printer. So he went to Edinburgh to see whether he
could not make a more advantageous bargain in the Scottish capital. He
reached that famous city on the 28th of November, 1786. Here he was
feted and banqueted, admired and criticised. In April, 1787, the
second edition appeared. The volume was a handsome octavo. The
Scottish public had subscribed very liberally, and eventually Burns
received 500 pounds, but Creech, his publisher, was so slow in making
payments that Burns had to wait a long time before he received his
due.

Walter Scott was among the many who met Burns during his stay in
Edinburgh. Scott was but a boy of fifteen, but he never forgot the
glance of approval bestowed upon him by the poet. We are especially
fortunate in having Scott's own account of the incident: "As for
Burns, I may truly say, '_Virgilium vidi tantum_.' I was a lad of
fifteen when he came to Edinburgh. I saw him one day at the late
venerable Professor Adam Fergusson's. Of course we youngsters sat
silent, looked, and listened. The only thing I remember which was
remarkable in Burns' manner, was the effect produced upon him by a
print of Bunbury's, representing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his
dog sitting in misery on one side--on the other his widow, with her
child in her arms. These lines were written beneath:

Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain,
Perhaps that parent wept her soldier slain--
Bent o'er the babe, her eye dissolved in dew,
The big drops mingling with the milk he drew,
Gave the sad presage of his future years,
The child of misery baptized in tears.

"Burns seemed much affected by the