e, without the slightest
presumption. He was like a farmer dressed in his best to dine with the
laird. I do not speak in _malam partem_ when I say I never saw a man in
company with his superiors in station and information more perfectly
free from either the reality or the affectation of embarrassment. I was
told that his address to females was extremely deferential, and always
with a turn either to the pathetic or humorous, which engaged their
attention particularly. I have heard the late Duchess of Gordon remark
this."

It needs no effort of imagination to conceive what the sensations of an
isolated set of scholars, almost all either clergymen or professors,
must have been in the presence of this big-boned, brawny stranger, with
his great flashing eyes, who had forced his way among them from the
plough-tail at a single stride; and it will always be a reflection in
their honour that they suffered no pedantic prejudices to interfere with
their reception of the poet.

Shortly after his arrival he arranged with Creech, the chief bookseller
in Edinburgh, to undertake a second edition of his poems. This was
published in March, 1787, the subscribers numbering over 1,500. Out of
money thus derived, he provided a tombstone for the neglected grave of
Robert Fergusson, his "elder brother in the muses," in the Canongate
churchyard. Then he decided to visit some of the classic scenes of
Scottish history and romance. He had as yet seen but a small part of his
own country, and this by no means among the most interesting, until,
indeed, his own poetry made it equal, on that score, to any other.
Various tours were, in fact, undertaken, the chief being, however, in
the Border district and in the Highlands. Usually he returned to
Edinburgh, partly to be near his jovial intimates, and partly because,
after the excitement attending his first appearance in the capital, he
found himself incapable of settling down contentedly in the humble
circle at Mossgiel.

_IV.--The Clarinda Romance_

During the winter of 1787--1788, he had a little romance with Mrs.
McLehose, the beautiful widow to whom he addressed the song, "Clarinda,
mistress of my soul," and a series of letters which present more
instances of bad taste, bombastic language, and fulsome sentiment than
could be produced from all his writings besides. It was the same lady
who inspired the lines which furnished Byron with a motto, and Scott
declared to be "worth a thousand romanc