come, when he settled in
Dumfries, was 'down money L70 per annum,' and there were perquisites
which must have raised it to eighty or ninety. Though his hopes of
preferment were never realised, he tried his best on this slender income
'to make a happy fireside clime to weans and wife,' and in a sense
succeeded.

What he must have felt more keenly than anything else in leaving
Ellisland was, that in giving up farming he was making an open
confession of failure in his ideal of combining in himself the farmer,
the poet, and the exciseman. There was a stigma also attaching to the
name of gauger, that must often have been galling to the spirit of
Burns. The ordinary labourer utters the word with dry contempt, as if he
were speaking of a spy. But the thoughts of a wife and bairns had
already prevailed over prejudice; he realised the responsibilities of a
husband and father, and pocketed his pride. A great change it must have
been to come from the quiet and seclusion of Ellisland to settle down in
the midst of the busy life of an important burgh.

Life in provincial towns in Scotland in those days was simply frittered
away in the tittle-tattle of cross and causeway, and the insipid talk of
taverns. The most trifling incidents of everyday life were dissected and
discussed, and magnified into events of the first importance. Many
residents had no trade or profession whatever. Annuitants and retired
merchants built themselves houses, had their portraits painted in oil,
and thereafter strutted into an aristocracy. Without work, without
hobby, without healthy recreation, and cursed with inglorious leisure,
they simply dissipated time until they should pass into eternity. The
only amusement such lumpish creatures could have was to meet in some inn
or tavern, and swill themselves into a debauched joy of life. Dumfries,
when Burns came to it in 1791, was no better and no worse than its
neighbours; and we can readily imagine how eagerly such a man would be
welcomed by its pompously dull and leisured topers. Now might their
meetings be lightened with flashes of genius, and the lazy hours of
their long nights go fleeting by on the wings of wit and eloquence. Too
often in Dumfries was Burns wiled into the howffs and haunts of these
seasoned casks. They could stand heavy drinking; the poet could not. He
was too highly strung, and if he had consulted his own inclination would
rather have shunned than sought the company of men who met to quaf