that of the poet's father, William Burns. An epitaph in the tombstone,
written by Bobby Burns, reads:--

Here lies an honest man at rest,
As e'er God with His image blest;
The friend of man, the friend of truth,
The guide of age, the guide of youth.
Few hearts like his in virtue warmed;
Few heads with knowledge so informed:--
If there be another world, he lives in bliss,
If there be none, he made the best of this.

Going further into the old kirkyard, one sees the graves of many of the
bard's friends, whom he has immortalised in verse. At the farther end,
close to the river Doon, stands the ancient kirk--

Wi' its winnock bunker i' the east,
Where sat old Nick i' shape o' beast.

Perhaps this old fane has been made more of in poetry by Burns than
anything else. It is inspected by thousands of travellers who visit Ayr.

BURNS' CELEBRATION

While in Ayr, I remember there was a great demonstration to honour the
memory of the national poet. The gathering was held at the Corn Exchange,
and the large hall was densely packed. Among an influential company was
Sir James Fergusson, M.P., late Post-master General. Various patriotic
speeches were delivered, and at one stage, I mind, the meeting was put
into great good humour by the action of an elderly gentleman on the
platform. Stepping to the front he said "I believe I am the only man in
Scotland to-day that ever shook hands with Bobby Burns. He was then--over
seventy years ago--an excise man at Dumfries, and I acted as his
post-boy, taking his letters." These remarks had scarcely been made than
several of the people came forward and grasped the old fellow by the
hand, and, indeed, some all but hugged him. I was prompted to shake hands
with the "living memorial."

And well old Scotland may be proud
To hear her Burns proclaimed aloud,
For to her sons the world hath bowed,
Through Burns's name--
All races of the world are proud of Burns's fame.

THE PEOPLE OF AYR

I found to be of a very genial and sociable disposition. Their dialect is
exceedingly pleasing--a good deal more so than that of many other parts
of Scotland; shires and district vary in dialect quite after the manner
of our own localities and counties. I made many friends in Ayr, among
them being John McKelvey (who, with his daughter, Tina, kept an old
tavern at the end of the quay at Ayr), and Billy Miller (of the
"Thistle"), another celebrity in hi