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addressed to Mrs. Begg by Agnes Burns, the eldest daughter of the

family, show that Agnes likewise

participated in this

family trait. Agnes's letter is dated 30th January, with the year illegible, but from ascertained facts it falls to be assigned to one or other of the opening years of the present century:

"DEAR SISTER,-I received yours of the 18th, which affected me very much. I was indeed accusing you of neglect; but, short-sighted creatures as we are, I did not suspect the cause nor ever once thought (amid all this season of wishing, which always brings to my mind my absent friends) that you were suffering so much from pain and depression of spirits; but I am happy to see you make such good use of affliction. The mind that looks up to heaven through the mist of affliction can never want consolation.

"For friend or happy life, who looks not higher, Of neither will he find the shadow here.

"I have been trying to recollect the verses you mentioned, but I do not remember them all; but here is what I have :

"Sick of this world and all its joy,

My soul in pining sadness mourns ;
Dark scenes of woe my thoughts employ,
The past and present in their turns.

"I see, I feel vain life's a dream,

And never will be cheated more;
Vain hopes, fond wishes, I disclaim,
And fly what I pursued before.

"Fool that I was to dream of peace
In such a stormy land as this!—
To think to hold in firm embrace
The fleeting, airy shade of bliss.

"The blasts that meet us in the way—

The ills by which our life's oppressedThe clouds that hang upon our day

Declare that this is not our rest.

"How kindly are they sent by heaven : Misfortunes serve to make us wise. By joy misled, by folly driven,

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How many lose the heavenly prize!

Far better to be plagued each morn

Than slain by blandishments of sense : Oh! rather hedge my way with thorn

And guard my steps with rugged fence.

"But oh! what fickle hearts we have-
We rush into the world again;

We never rest but in the grave,
But court new vanity-new pain.

"While here below we shift and turn-
The sport of every gale that blows;
Now soar, now sink, now joy, now mourn :
A puff exalts-a puff o'erthrows.

"Oh happy they who ever dwell Beyond mortality's dull scene, Where radiant rays of light dispel

This cloud of sorrow and of pain.

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If you be writing to Morham, send them my best wishes, although they seem to have forgot me. I hope you will write me soon. Give my best wishes to my mother; and with wishing you all many happy years, I shall conclude. Your affectionate sister,

"AGNES BURNS."

The family gift of literary expression above referred to has not passed unnoticed by the numerous biographers Dr. Chambers, in his

of the poet. edition of Burns's Life and Works has the following allusion to the subject. In speaking of the family of William Burness he says:

"It was not alone with the wondrous elderborn that literary feeling resided. Agnes, as she sat with her two sisters, Anabella and Isabella, milking the cows, would delight them by reciting the poetry with which her mind was stored-as

the ballad of 'Sir James the Ross,' 'The Flowers of the Forest,' or the second version of the 145th Psalm in the Scottish translation; while Gilbert was nearly as noted as Robert for his studies in English literature, limited as these were."

This community of taste was no doubt well fostered in the minds of William Burness' children by old "Betty Davidson," a dependant of their father's, who resided in the family, and to whom the poet in his Autobiography acknowledges his indebtedness, her inexhaustible collection of tales and songs, concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, etc., having tended to cultivate in his mind the latent seeds of poesy.

The household of the poet's father, William Burness, even although we

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