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Pity when one so gifted employs his skill on himself and family for all patients. We got on, however, to page 46. January 23. I wrought a little to-day. Walked to Chiefswood, or rather from it, as far only as Habbie's Howe. Came home, cold indeed, but hearty. Slept after dinner. I think the peep, real or imaginary, at the gates of death has given me firmness not to mind little afflictions.

Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags, Duddingston Loch, the Braid Hills, Craigmillar Castle, Hawthornden, Roslin, Habbie's How, and the many valleys and rifts in the Pentlands, with Edinburgh and its Castle in the distance; or the scenery by the sea-shore, all round the coast from Newhaven to Gullane and North Berwick Law. The excursionists came home laden with sketches.

At fairs he play'd before the spearmen, And gaily graithed in their gear then, Steel bonnets, pikes, and swords shone clear then As ony bead; Now wha sall play before sic weir men, Since Habbie's dead! Elegy on Habbie Simpson.

The High Street and Habbie's Howe are the true centres of his soul. It would be wrong not to note the collections of songs which made his name dear to all the pleasant singers both of drawing-room and cottage.

'Gae farer up the burn to Habbie's Howe, Where a' the sweets o' spring an' simmer grow: Between twa birks, out o'er a little lin, The water fa's an' mak's a singan din; A pool breast-deep, beneath as clear as glass, Kisses, wi' easy whirls, the bord'ring grass. The Gentle Shepherd.

That is what Peggy says to Jenny in Allan Ramsay's poem, and if you substitute 'Crummylowe' for 'Habbie's Howe' in the first line, you will have a lovely picture of the farm-steadin'.

While Burns was in Edinburgh, my father had many interesting walks with him in the neighbourhood of the city. The Calton Hill, Arthur's Seat, Salisbury Crags. Habbie's How, and the nooks in the Pentlands, were always full of interest; and Burns, with his brilliant and humorous conversation, made the miles very short as they strode along.

At fairs he play'd before the spearmen, And gaily graithed in their gear then, Steel bonnets, pikes, and swords shone clear then As ony bead; Now wha sall play before sic weir men, Since Habbie's dead! Elegy on Habbie Simpson.

The wimpling burn is never called Helicon nor the heathery braes Parnassus, and nothing can be more genuine, more natural, and familiar than the simple scenery of Habbie's Howe in which the eager critics identified every scene, and the sensible poet enhanced his art by a perfect truth to nature.