s works throws a strong colour of
probability over the theory. When Sir William Worthy, who as a Royalist
had been compelled to flee into exile during the times of the
Commonwealth, inquires what were the books his son, whom he had
committed to the care of Symon, his shepherd, to be reared as his own
child, was in the habit of reading, the honest old servant replies--

'When'er he drives our sheep to Edinburgh port,
He buys some books o' hist'ry, sangs, or sport;
Nor does he want o' them a rowth at will,
And carries aye a poochfu' to the hill.
Aboot ane Shakspeare--an' a famous Ben,
He aften speaks, an' ca's them best o' men.
How sweetly Hawthornden an' Stirling sing,
An' ane ca'd Cowley, loyal to his king,
He kens fu' weel, an' gars their verses ring.
I sometimes thought he made owre great a phrase
About fine poems, histories, and plays.
When I reproved him ance, a book he brings,
"Wi' this," quoth he, "on braes I crack wi' kings."'

By the side-light thrown on Ramsay's life from this passage we gain some
idea of his own studies during those years of germination. To the poets
more exclusively Scottish, whether writing in the current literary
medium of the day or in the vernacular of the country; to Robert
Sempill's _Life and Death of the Piper of Kilbarchan_; to William
Cleland's _Highland Host_--in addition to Drummond and the Earl of
Stirling, mentioned in the passage quoted above; to William Hamilton of
Gilbertfield's verses, _The Dying Words of Bonnie Heck_, and to others
of less note, he seems to have devoted keen and enthusiastic attention.
Lieutenant Hamilton it was (as Ramsay admits in the poetical
correspondence maintained between them) who first awakened within him
the desire to write in the dialect of his country--

'When I begoud first to cun verse,
And could your "Ardry Whins" rehearse,
Where Bonny Heck ran fast and fierce,
It warm'd my breast;
Then emulation did me pierce,
Whilk since ne'er ceast.'

There was, however, another influence at work, quite as potent,
stimulating his poetic fancy. Amid the beauties of the 'Queen of Cities'
he lived, and the charms of his surroundings sank deep into his
impressionable nature. In whatever direction he looked, from the ridgy
heights of the Castlehill, a glorious natural picture met his eye. If to
the north, his gaze caught the gleam of the silvery estua