tained indicates how universally were felt and understood the sentiments which they recorded. It is gratifying to know, that the poet was in some measure a witness of his own success, and lived to hear his songs sung with approbation both in hall and cottage. In a solitary walk, on one occasion, his musings were interrupted by the voice of a country girl in an adjoining field, who was singing by herself a song of his own—
"We'll meet beside the dusky glen, on yon burnside;"—
and he used to say, that he was more pleased at this evidence of his popularity than at any tribute which had ever been paid him.
But his celebrity as a song writer brought its annoyances. Visitors of every description broke in upon his daily labours; an adjournment to the tavern was often the result, and acquaintanceships were formed too frequently over the "bowl.[1] Tannahill at no time was addicted to liquor, but the facility of his nature prevented him from resisting the intrusions of idle and curious people, and the very character of the pieces for which he was distinguished led to convivialities, for how could the merits of a song be tested without the flowing glass? This was the more to be pitied, as the slightest irregularity injured him. His constitution was never strong. His father, his sister, and three brothers had all died of consumption, and he himself was often troubled with a pain in the chest, which was increased by working too hard. For some time before his lamentable end, he was observed frequently to fall into a deep melancholy. His temper became irritable, he was easily agitated, and prone to imagine that his best friends were disposed to injure him. His eyes were observed to sink, his countenance got pale, and his body emaciated. His whole appearance, in short, indicated a breaking up of his mental and bodily powers. The second edition of his Poems, which he had prepared for the press, was offered about this time to Mr Constable of Edinburgh for a very small sum, but was unfortunately declined. This tended still farther to depress him, and he came to the resolution of destroying everything which lie had written. All his songs, to the amount of one hundred, many of which had never been printed, and of those printed all had been greatly corrected and amended, he put into the fire; and so anxious was he that no scrap of his should be preserved, he requested his acquaintances to return any manuscript which they had ever got from him. Of the immediate circumstances connected with his death, we hare received the following account The day previous to that event, he went to Glasgow, and displayed there such unequivocal proofs of mental derangement, that one of his friends, upon whom he called, felt it necessary to convoy him back all the way to Paisley, and to apprize his relations of the state of his mind. Alarmed at the intelligence, his brothers, who were married, and resided at different parts of the town, hastened to their mother's house, where they found that he had gone to bed, and as it was now late, and he was apparently asleep, they did not choose to disturb him, hoping that by the morning he would be better. About an hour after leaving the house, one of the brothers had occasion to pass the door, and was surprised to find the gate that led to it open. On further investigation, it was found that Robert had risen from bed, and stolen out, shortly after their departure. Search was now made in every direction, and by the
- ↑ An exception must here be made in favour of Mr James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, who, much to his own credit, and the credit of Tannahill, made a pilgrimage to Paisley, with the express purpose of seeing him. They spent one happy night together, and, next morning, Tannahill convoyed him half-way on the road to Glasgow. On parting, Tannahill, Tvith tears in his eyes, said, "Farewell! we shall never meet again! Farewell! I shall never see you mere!" a prediction which was too truly verified.
