an's the gowd for a' that."

Because he has regarded himself as the high-priest of Nature, and the
world which we inhabit as the abode not merely of human care and human
joys, but as the temple of the living God, in which praise is due, and
where service is to be performed.--"The memory of Scott, Byron, and
Campbell."

WILLIAM E. AYTOUN, Esq., advocate, said--We are met here to-day not only
to pay due honour to the memory of that bard whose genius has
consecrated this spot, and the scenes around it, as classic ground for
ever, but for a wider, a more important, and even a more generous
purpose. I look upon this assemblage as a great national gathering--a
meeting not only of the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland, but of
kindly strangers also, to testify our reverence and affection for the
living lights of fame that are still burning amongst us, and our undying
gratitude and exultation for those who have already passed away. Thus,
though they belong to the sister countries, we have paid due homage to
the venerable name of Wordsworth and to the sparkling genius of Moore.
Thus the heart of every one that hears me burned within him--am I not
right?--when we saw our own noble Wilson rise amidst us, and heard him,
with an eloquence the most pure--for it flowed spontaneously from his
soul--speak, as perhaps no other man could speak, of the genius of the
immortal dead. Thus, too, we have heard the tribute so touchingly paid
to Campbell, who now sleeps among the sages, and the statesmen, and the
warriors, and the poets of famous England; and to him who has a happier
and a holier sepulture still--for he lies within the bosom of his own
dear native land--to Scott, the master-spirit of the age, for whom we
well may mourn, since we dare not hope to look upon his like again! I
have now, in a few words, to entreat your patience whilst I speak of two
other Scottish poets whose memory is yet green amongst us--both reared,
like Robert Burns, at the lowly hearth of the peasant--both pursuing,
like him, through every discouragement and difficulty, the pathway
towards honourable renown--and both the authors of strains which bear
the stamp of immortality. And first, let me allude to one of them whom I
knew and dearly loved. Who is there that has not heard of the Ettrick
Shepherd--of him whose inspiration descended as lightly as the breeze
that blows along the mountain side--who saw, amongst the lonely and
sequestered glens of the south, fro