y devoid of genius, but to have possessed a certain
talent for hitting the taste of the hour, was then held in high
esteem; he has long since been forgotten. Even Burns speaks of him
with much respect, "The very name of Peter Pindar is an acquisition to
your work," he writes to Thomson. Well might Chambers say, "It is a
humiliating thought that Peter Pindar was richly pensioned by the
booksellers, while Burns, the true sweet singer, lived in comparative
poverty." Hard measure has been dealt to Thomson for not having
liberally remunerated Burns for the priceless treasures which he
supplied to the Collection. Chambers and others, who have thoroughly
examined the whole matter, have shown this censure to be undeserved.
Thomson himself was by no means rich, and his work brought him nothing
but outlay as long as Burns lived. Indeed once, in July, 1793, when
Thomson had sent Burns some money in return for his songs, the bard
thus replied:--

"I assure you, my dear sir, that you truly hurt me with your (p. 153)
pecuniary parcel. It degrades me in my own eyes. However, to return it
would savour of affectation; but, as to any more traffic of that
debtor and creditor kind, I swear, by that honour which crowns the
upright statue of _Robert Burns's Integrity_, on the least motion of
it, I will indignantly spurn the by-pact transaction, and from that
moment commence entire stranger to you. Burns's character for
generosity of sentiment and independence of mind, will, I trust long
outlive any of his wants which the cold, unfeeling ore can supply; at
least I will take care that such a character he shall deserve."

This sentiment was no doubt inconsistent, and may be deemed Quixotic,
when we remember that for his poems Burns was quite willing to accept
all that Creech would offer. Yet one cannot but honour it. He felt
that both Johnson and Thomson were enthusiasts, labouring to embalm in
a permanent form their country's minstrelsy, and that they were doing
this without any hope of profit. He too would bear his part in the
noble work; if he had not in other respects done full justice to his
great gifts, in this way he would repay some of the debt he owed to
his country, by throwing into her national melodies the whole wealth
and glory of his genius. And this he would do, "all for love and
nothing for reward." And the continual effort to do this worthily was
the chief relaxation and delight of those sad later years. When he
died, h