worldly gear resigned,
Be grateful for the wealth of thy exhaustless mind.

It was well enough for Mr. Addington, and such as he, to advise Burns
to be content with the want of worldly gear, and to refer him for
consolation to the dignity of man and the wealth of his exhaustless
mind. Burns had abundance of such sentiments in himself to bring
forth, when occasion required. He did not need to be replenished with
these from the stores of men who held the keys of patronage. What he
wanted from them was some solid benefit, such as they now and then
bestowed on their favourites, but which unfortunately they withheld
from Burns.

An intelligent boy, who was guide to Burns and Nicol from Cullen to
Duff House, gave long afterwards his remembrances of that day. Among
these this occurs. The boy was asked by Nicol if he had read Burns's
poems, and which of them he liked best. The boy replied, "'I was much
entertained with _The Twa Dogs_ and _Death and Dr. Hornbook_, but I
like best _The Cotter's Saturday Night_, although it made me _greet_
when my father had me to read it to my mother.' Burns, with a sudden
start, looked at my face intently, and patting my shoulder, said,
'Well, my callant, I don't wonder at your _greeting_ at reading the
poem; it made me greet more than once when I was writing it at my
father's fireside.'"...

On the 16th of September, 1787, the two travellers returned to (p. 071)
Edinburgh. This tour produced little poetry directly, and what it did
produce was not of a high order. In this respect one cannot but
contrast it with the poetic results of another tour made, partly over
the same ground, by another poet, less than twenty years after this
time. When Wordsworth and his sister made their first visit to
Scotland in 1803, it called forth some strains of such perfect beauty
as will live while the English language lasts. Burns's poetic fame
would hardly be diminished if all that he wrote on his tours were
obliterated from his works. Perhaps we ought to except some allusions
in his future songs, and especially that grand song, _Macpherson's
Farewell_, which, though composed several months after this tour was
over, must have drawn its materials from the day spent at Duff House,
where he was shown the sword of the Highland Reiver.

But look at the lines composed after his first sight of Breadalbane,
which he left in the inn at Kenmore. These Lockhart has pronounced
among "the best of his pure