DEAR FRIEND,
I take the opportunity of sending you a few lines by my father, who I am happy to state, returns to Paisley in better health than he has enjoyed for several years. He was so ill of the jaundice when he left home that I had scarcely a hope of his recovery; but the “hurl” in the caravan and the fine air of this place has had an amazing effect. I also begin to feel my nerves now strong, but I was so terribly cut up by the severe practice for the 4th June, that it will take some time to set me to rights; I begin to eat with an appetite, which I had not done for a long period before. My reception here has been very flattering ; I have been introduced to the most respectable inhabitants, by whom I am placed on the most intimate footing ; I have two classes to attend of young folks in the afternoon ; not numerous, but of the best families, and one in the evenings of grown gentlemen, who are learning sacred music, among whom I have doctors and even lawyers!; one gentleman of near sixty, and another upwards of sixty. Several of them sat in the band seat with me in church, last Sunday, to give me countenance. This would be rather a novel sight in Paisley. Last week I was at a dinner, given chiefly on my account, with a most genteel party, consisting of some of the gude bailies and a number of their friends. The dinner was given in the most elegant style, and the company behaved most politely. I had almost forgot to mention that we were in the very room where honest Tam, o Shanter sat with his “ancient trusty drouthy crony” Souter Johnny, before he “took the road” to “Alloway's auld haunted kirk,” and on my informing the gentlemen that I was one of the oldest members of the Paisley Burns' Club, I had the honour to be placed on the very spot where Tam is supposed generally to have sat
“Fast by the ingle, blazing finely
Wi reaming swats, that drank divinely.”
We kept it up till the hour “O night's black arch the key stane,” in compliment to the memory of Tam I suppose, and I assure you “the hours flew by on eagle wings,” and we parted unto blythe and happy. By-the-bye my Kirk Alloway box was a great favourite that night; and the company appeared much gratified with the account I gave them of our anniversary meetings in memory of their almost townsman. I would have given something for our ale caup at the moment, it would have put them a-maist daft. I am gathering all the information I can, of what is yet remembered of Burns or the characters mentioned in his works. In the first place, you must know that the 25th of Jany. is his real birthday. I believe it was a mistake of his own that caused the 29th to be understood as the day of his birth. It is yet called the 29th on the cottage wall where he was born, and likewise on the painting of his likeness, which is kept inside the house, but it will be altered soon. I am well acquainted with the session clerk, who has shewn me the session books, from which he extracted the certificate I now send you, to be pasted in the minute book of the Paisley Burns' Club, that is, if they think it a valuable document, worthy of such a place ; if not, keep it safe till I return. What puts its correctness beyond all dispute is, the witnesses that were necessary at that period at all bookings of that nature. I saw the original with my own eyes and seeing's believing you know. There has been also an attempt in a Dumfries newspaper to make it appear that Burns was not born at the cottage at Alloway, but it was only a malicious design of some person to hurt the trade of the house, which is at present a public house ; it being the property of the shoemaker's society in Ayr. They, of course, caught the alarm, and a party was deputed to wait on an old cottager, upwards of ninety years of age, who was very intimate with the poet's father, to ascertain the truth or falsehood of the statement. After some common salutations he was addressed, “Well, Thomas, ye min the nicht whan Robin Burns was born?” “Aye, atweel do I,” says the old man ; “I'se ne'er forget that night as long as I live ; a sair night it was wi storm, a the deils war at wark, an part o the roof was blawn aff the room whare the puir woman—his mither—lay in, an we had a sair faught in getting her and young Rabbie removed to a neighbour's house nearly opposite.” “But they say, Thomas, that he wasna born at the house at Alloway.” “Wha says sae ! Wha says sae !” cried the old man in it terrible passion. “The newspapers, Thomas.” “Newspapers ! the newspaper is a muckle sinfu liar ; what ! will they tell me sic a lie when I was ca'd in to help a haun at the removal, aye, aye ; weel I wat I sal ne'er forget that awfu night.” This, of course, completely puts to silence all sceptcism on that head. I have also seen the redoubtable Souter Johnny, his name is John Lauchlan, he is living in the poorhouse of Ayr. Mr. M‘Derrnid, the session clerk, who is also governor of the poorhouse, has promised to take him out some night soon to get a gill with me. He says he is exactly the character described by Burns, has plenty of queer stories to tell yet; and dearly likes a sup of “reaming swats,” but he also mentions that he must be spoken to with great caution on the subject of his friend Tam, as he has been so plagued about it that he grows quite crabbed whenever the subject is mentioned, and generally denies himself that he is the far-famed Souter. He owns, however, that he ken'd Tam Graham (alias Tam o Shanter) well, and that they whiles had a gill thegither on market days ; also that he ken'd Burns' father well, that auld William was a much better man than his son Rab, who at best was but a “ram shackle deil.” He ken'd him when he was a gay rough cowte, and wore a muckle bue bonnet wi a hole in it, and hair sticking thro the hole. This is such a ludicrous description of our great Bard in his youth that I got a hearty laugh when hearing the story.
Little did the world imagine then that this same ram-shackle rough cowte, with his hair hanging thro the hole of an old blue Ayrshire bonnet was to run such a race of fame in after time. I expect to elicit some information from this droll being if I could once get him to open a little with “swats.”' You see I have begun to glean some local chitchat in earnest, but how could a lover of song remain indifferent even to these little circumstances whilst rambling over such classic ground, where almost every whin-bush carries an interest in it. I have been perambulating the beautiful and romantic “banks and braes o bonnie Doon,” and richly do they deserve the immortality bestowed on them by the Bard. I could not help humming the song involuntarily while sitting on the mild Brig o Doon, and looking at the delightful wild woods that adorn the banks of the stream. I intend to take some sketches before I leave Ayrshire, which perhaps may do for some of Danl. Craig's snuff-boxes. You will greatly oblige me by getting my yew box finished ; and as you are generally in Glasgow on the Wednesdays, if you make it up in a parcel, and send it by the guard of the Ayr coach, directed to me, care of Mr. Robt. Mackay, merchant, Ayr, it will come quite safe. If Mr. Aikin has finished my caup or caups, I would like much they were sent at the same time. It would afford a high treat to some of our antiquarians here. A box of Wallace Oak would be most particularly valued here, but it must be a hinged one. The turned kind are thought nothing of, from the Cumnock box maker living so nigh, whose boxes are in great estimation. I wish D. Craig would lend me one of his best, with a veneer of the yew, and a drawing of Crocstoun Castle on the bottom. I should like to show it off against the Cumnock man's. I have been bragging a little for the honour of Paisley, and have promised to produce some of equal workmanship. At least, you can speak to Danl. He could easily get one finished before the Sacrament, when I must be in Paisley, having promised Dr. Boog; and I could take it with me, and perhaps get it well sold for him—at any rate, I should take particular care of it. Be so good as mention this to him, for I can see nothing in the Cumnock boxes superior to his. I mean D. Craig, jun.
By this time I daresay you will be most heartily tired of my nonsensical scribbling. I sat down with the determination of giving you one sheet, and behold ! I have been led on to almost two imperceptibly, so the best way to punish me will be to pay me back with a double one in the same way. Tell Robert Allan when you see him that I expect to gulp in poetry with the air of this fairyland, and I aiblins may take it in my whimsical head to send him a “bland o rhymes” some o these days. I intended to have written him at this time, but I find a double task too much for me at present, so I must refer him to you for the local cracks I have given you.
Wishing you and yours all well and happy,
I remain,
DEAR ROBT.,
Ever yours,
R. A. SMITH