question whether this Ulster of ours be not really more a part of Scotland than a part of Ireland. My Scotch fellow-countrymen, indeed, have all along been in the habit of acting in reference to Ireland almost as if they held the whole island to be, in some sort, their own. Have they not, in the first place, appropriated the very name of the country? For Ireland was the original Scotland, or Scotia (unless, indeed, we prefer the opposite theory of a certain school of Scotch antiquaries of the last age, and choose to contend that Scotland was the original Hibernia). Then, in modern times, we have quietly assumed and seized upon as Scotch, not only Ossian, and Fingal, and Cathullin, and the other worthies of that early heroic era, but also many of the most distinguished of latter Irish celebrities -beginning with the famous John Scot, of the eighth century, the chief European light of his day, and the most original mind of the middle ages-the designation or epithet attached to whose name, clearly pointing out whence he sprung. Erigena (Erin-born) we ingeniously interpret as meaning, not a native of Ireland, but a native of Ayr. But we have done a great deal more than all this. We have taken possession not only of the saints and the scholars, the poets and the warriors, the literature, the history, and the very name of the country, but, to a considerable extent, of the country itself. We have come over and set up another Scotland here-an Irish or Little Scotland, as it may be called. We have made this Province of Ulster-this Black North-half Scotch, or more than half Scotch, in almost everything-in blood, in language, in religion; even in mind and character. We have covered it all over with Scotch proprietorship and Scotch family names, with Scotch Presbyterianism and Scotch agriculture, and kindled everywhere throughout it, in country and in town, the somewhat rugged it may be, but resolute and indomitable, spirit of Scotch enterprise, Scotch energy, and Scotch industry. It happens, too, that, of all Scotland, the part with which we are here more nearly connected, more intimately linked, is the County of Ayr, the Land of Burns. Its coast is visible from our own; and manifestly the modern colonization of Ulster has been chiefly from Ayrshire. That would be attested, were there no other record or evidence of it, by the leading family names which, as I have just remarked, we find common to the two countries,—such as the Kennedys and the Crawfords, the Montgomerys and the Cunninghams, and others. Nay, more trivial circumstances, even, may be deemed to give Belfast something of a special interest in Burns. His thoughts, probably, sometimes in

his earlier years took wing across to this part of Ireland, and dwelt upon our staple manufacture here; for his first attempt to establish himself in life was as a flax-dresser; he worked at that trade for six months in the town of Irvine. One of the earliest editions of his Poems, too,-the very first, indeed, that appeared after the original Kilmarnock edition of 1786, and the Edinburgh subscription edition of the following year-the first, therefore, that was printed out of Scotland-unless we should except a London one of the same date-was brought out at Belfast. It was published here in the same year, 1787, in which the subscription edition appeared at Edinburgh,-probably immediately upon the back of that. The bibliographers describe it as "an Irish pirated edition." This was a kind of free trade which was carried on with considerable spirit in Ireland in those days. We are met now, Scotchmen and Irishmen together, with united hearts and united voices, to do such honour as we may to the great peasant poet, on this night, which completes the cycle of a hundred years from his birth in that humble clay-built cottage on the banks of the Doon, the work of his admirable father's own hands, still to be seen standing by the wayside, not far from the ruins of his own "Kirk Alloway"-a hundred years from the date of his birth, and nearly sixtythree even from that of his death. His celebrity began about ten years before his death, so that, at the present hour, it stretches over a little more than the threescore years and ten assigned by the Psalmist as the natural limit of healthy and active human life. A man now of the age of seventy-three has just lived through the period of our literature which the poetry of Burns lights up. Burns, therefore, might not yet be allowed by such a chronological critic as Horace sets before us, to have quite made good his place among the immortals. "Est vetus atque probus, centum qui perficit annos' "Who lasts a century," as Pope gives it," have no flaw; I hold that wit a classic good in law." But, at any rate, if it be, indeed, the case, that "authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old"—" Si meliora dies, et vina, poemata reddit"-he is not, we see, very far from the accredited point of perfection.

"The generous god, who wit and gold refines,

And ripens spirits as he ripens minds,

can

will very soon have branded him with the necessary mark. But, in truth, it was a famethat of this great poet of the people-which struck firm root at once. His poetry took the heart of his country by storm. Even within some eight or ten years after his death, his name was, I believe, already familiar to every

man, woman, and child, in every dwelling, and higher styles, again, this young and comalike of rich and poor throughout the lowlands paratively uneducated Scottish peasant leaves of Scotland. And not his name only, but more alike such a cultivated verse-writer as Hoor less of what he had written also. I doubt race, and such another great people's poet and if the history of the world's literature affords master of expression as the modern French such another instance of the summit of true Béranger, far behind him—far below him. popularity gained at a bound; a popularity, I (Cheers.) I will not quote any of his more immean rapid, almost instantaneous, as may passioned passages, such as we have in abunhave been its growth-evidently destined never dance in his songs more especially, where every to pass away-never to fade. It embraced all breathing thought finds its burning word; but classes and degrees of persons by whom his take even such a lighter piece of writing as the native dialect was read or understood, from the inimitable commencement of his "Holy Fair.” highest names in rank and in letters to the How faithful here is the word to the thought simple servant girl at her spinning wheel. It throughout; how vividly-how brightly-with was, as we may suppose it to have been when what dramatic life and spirit, with what flashing the song of old Homer first resounded overplay of light and colour, as well as how musiGreece, as if the language itself had acquired a cally, the whole description flows on. There is new voice, a new music, as if a new soul had not a word that is not perfection—not a syllabeen breathed into it. A distinguished literary ble that one would alter, or that does not comfriend and countryman of mine was, some years pletely satisfy both the mind and the ear, both ago, found out in London by a half-crazy men-soul and sense. And so it is with much more dicant poetess from his native district, the South of this wonderful poetry—it is all light and life, of Scotland. Their talk naturally fell upon all air and fire. And yet-with all his passion poets and poetry. Ou, ay," said the lady, -with all his fancy-with all his often reckless with the loftiest self-complacency, "there's enough wit and humour-one would say that plenty o' your book poets-Pope, and Milton, the foundation of Burns' intellectual nature and Cammell, and sic like; but Burns and me, was sound, strong, Scotch sense. Upon that ye see, we're pure nature." (Cheers.) Well, all the rest was based as upon a rock. It is no doubt, there never was a truer, deeper voice this, perhaps, which, as much as anything else, of nature in any poetry than there is in that of has made his popularity wear so well. We all Burns; but, at the same time—and this makes know his errors of conduct. He was not a the miracle-there never was, I think, in any normal character-a character to be put forward other, a more living or more delicate spirit of as a general example. By none was that more art. It is at once the truest nature and the keenly felt than by himself, by none more deeply most perfect art. And wherever he has most deplored; yet how sagacious are always his obof the one he has most of the other also. If servations on life-how wise, as well as how we ought not, indeed, rather to say that the earnest, his words of advice and warning to one is only the other in a different form-in a others! Above all, how admirably clear-sighted, new mode of manifestation:at all times, in all circumstances, is his appreciation of himself. Nothing dazzles, nothing misleads him as to that cardinal matter-that first point of wisdom. Probably, no human being was ever subjected to a heavier test of what true strength of manhood, and real moral, as well as intellectual stability, might be in him than was Burns when he was first exposed to

"That art,

Which you say adds to nature, is an art
Which nature makes-

The art itself is nature."

(Applause.) Take Burns, where he has done best, where he is most himself, in whatever style, and I do not think that he has been sur-the public gaze-lifted up, as he was, from the passed even in the management of the instrument with which the poet works-the instrument of language by any writer of verse that ever lived. There is, for example, his tale, or dialogue, of the "Twa Dogs"-(hear, hear) with which the original collection of his poems opens. It is in that more level style in which Horace excels.-Has Horace anywhere gone beyond what we have here, in what is a chief charm of this sort of poetry-the perfect appropriateness, the exquisite adaptation, of every word and phrase, never either overshooting the mark or falling short of it? In other

bare earth, from the depths, not only of poverty and obscurity, but even of ignominy, to the highest pinnacle of distinction by what was in its suddenness as like enchantment as anything to be found in the " Arabian Nights." Yesterday, a hunted fugitive, hiding himself from the officers of justice till the ship should be ready to sail in which he was to work out his passage, serving before the mast, to the West Indies, there to seek the means of a forgotten existence as a clerk on a slave estate-all that was dearest to his heart left, probably for ever, behind him

-now the most famous of living men in his

native land, with its gay and lettered metro- | as only sport at the former of these dates had polis, we may say, at his feet, its rank and come to be held no laughing matter long before fashion, its learning and beauty, conspiring or the latter. We must judge Burns according contending on all hands how most to do him to the spirit of the time in which he lived and honour. He was at this time only in his twenty- wrote. We know that the most irreverent of seventh year, yet he stood the trial as if he had his early satires upon one party in the church been exercised in the knowledge of himself and his "Holy Fair," his "Holy Willie's Prayer," of mankind by the experience of a long life. I his "Ordination," his "Twa Herds," and others, do not remember an expression that ever after-were received at first with universal acclamation wards dropped, in verse or in prose, from his by the opposite party-clergy as well as laity. pen or from his lips, implying any other than That would scarcely have been the case if they the soberest and most perfectly cool-headed had been produced some five or six years later. appreciation both of his powers and of his per- Still less were men by that time in the humour formances, and also of what he might reason- to enjoy anything of much audacity in the way ably expect to be the results of the success he of political satire or invective, however spirited had achieved upon his future fortunes and the poetry. Burns, probably, gave more offence, worldly circumstances. He repeatedly inti- and did himself more mischief, by some of his mates, in his letters to his friends, in the most escapades in this line than by any moral irreunaffected way, how well aware he was of the gularities into which he may have fallen. essentially temporary and evanescent character Yet the one of these political effusions that is of the blaze of universal observation which the the boldest of them all-that entitled "The first appearance of his productions had drawn Tree of Liberty "—would not be thought anyupon him. He knew, of course, that his poems thing very terrible in our day. The poet, like had merit, but, apparently, his own estimate many of his contemporaries, may have been of their worth was more moderate than that of somewhat too enthusiastic in his anticipations almost any one else, either then or since. It of the new day that had arisen upon France; may be doubted if, to the end of his days, he but Burns' patriotism, notwithstanding, cerreally thought himself a greater poet than his tainly remained to the last perfectly sound at two immediate predecessors and juvenile fa- the core. He was, at heart, in fact, all his life, vourites, honest, homely Allan Ramsay, and much more of a Jacobite than of a Jacobin. rough, rattling Ferguson. He sees clearly, even His real political creed was much nearer to diat the time, how much, in his own case, the vine right and pure monarchy than to democracy mere novelty and unexpectedness of the pheno- or republicanism.-A passionate love for his menon had had to do with the sensation he had country and pride in everything belonging to made, and the uproar of wonder and enthusiasm it, was with him, as it has been with most poets, with which his poetry had been hailed. Ac- a part of his nature. And, as for any reform cordingly, he seems never, all the while, to have of British institutions to be either imposed by, had a thought but of returning to spend the or borrowed from, France, where, or by whom, rest of his days much in his original state of has foul scorn of that been expressed more enlife, in the condition and occupation in which ergetically than it has been by him? Perhaps he had been brought up-that of a small far- the Scotchmen, on the whole, of most worldmer. When we think of the many smaller men wide renown are-George Buchanan, John who have been completely thrown off their Napier, Robert Burns, and Walter Scott; balance by the hundredth part of what failed to Buchanan belonging to the sixteenth century, upset Burns, or even to make his sturdy, self- Napier, we may say, to the seventeenth, Burns to reliant nature reel for a moment, we feel what the eighteenth, Scott to the nineteenth. And a noble, manly fellow he really was. Burns' of the four, Burns is, perhaps, the most famous. biographer, Dr. Currie, remarks of Burns, that, (Cheers.) He is, at least, the most thoroughly as he rose by the strength of his talents, so he and intensely Scotch. He has done the most fell by the strength of his passions. But the for Scotland-most for her language, most for strength of circumstances, too, should not be her people. It has been held by some that its forgotten. He had, in truth, everything against lays-its popular lays are more to a country him. There is one thing, however, which I do than its laws. The songs of Burns are, unnot recollect to have seen noticed, and which doubtedly, to his countrymen, a possession beexplains much. A great event, it is to be re-yond all price. Such a chant as "Scots membered the French Revolution-had shaken wha hae wi' Wallace bled" is enough to regethe earth, and an immense change had come nerate a nation. (Applause.) "My counover men's minds, both in France and in Eng- try!" the modern rhapsodist, in the wellland, between 1786 and 1796. Much that known ode, exclaims to Greece in her degrawould have been looked upon by most people | dation:

"My country, on thy voiceless shore
The heroic lay is silent now."

And what follows?

"The heroic bosom is no more."

(Cheers.) I esteem it no small honour that I have had the privilege of knowing these ladies for some years, and have been often struck with the strong resemblance of Mrs. Everett to the poet, as well in her features as in her independence of mind, and warmth and geniality of disposition. I beg to assure you of the great pleasure she has had in being present when honour is being paid to the memory of one she so much reveres; and, on her behalf and that of her daughter, I now thank you for the honour you have just paid them. (Loud cheers.)

Poetry like this of Burns keeps strong and ardent
in the breast of a people that martial virtue, which
is to the spirit of national independence the air
it breathes, the very breath of life; if it have
it not, it dies. Such a poem as the "Cottar's
Saturday Night," again, in its homely simplicity
and truthfulness so touching to the Scottish
heart, one wonders sometimes if it have not
done almost as much to sustain both the moral
tone and the religious sentiment of the popular
mind in the country in whose language it is
written, as all the sermons that have been
preached since it first appeared. Every Scotch-Walter Scott."
man carries his head the higher for having had
Burns, the inspired peasant, for his country-

man,

"Him who walked in glory and in joy,

Following his plough upon the mountain side." And every poor man-every son of labour all the world over-has something of honour reflected upon his humble lot from the splendour that has gathered around the name of this humbly-born lord of song. [The learned professor concluded his address amidst prolonged applause.]

Mr. F. D. Finlay then gave "The Poets of England, and the Memory of William Shakspeare."

Professor Macdouall proposed "The Minstrelsy of Scotland, and the memory of Sir

The Chairman next proposed "The Town and Trade of Belfast." He said-In such a large company as this assembled here, the town and trade of Belfast may appear a toast of such a selfish nature that I will not say how much I feel interested in its prosperity. Knowing so well as I do that the sympathies of many present are with me, I will simply give you the toast, without further preface. (Cheers.)

The toast having been responded to with great cordiality, the Chairman called on Mr. Heron to respond.

James Heron, Esq., responded.
John Borthwick, Esq., proposed "The Agri-
Manufactures, and Commerce of Ire-
land." (Loud cheers.)

The Chairman then said-The next toast I have to propose, gentlemen, is "The Descend-culture, ants of Robert Burns."

Mr. ROBERT YOUNG, C.E., rose to respond, and was greeted with applause. He said Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen,-I have been requested by my friend, Mrs. Everett, to speak a few words on her behalf. (Hear.) When Robert Burns died-now almost sixty-three years ago he left a widow and five sons behind, a legacy to what was to him an ungrateful country. Only two of this band now survive him. James and William Burns have both served with distinction in the Indian army, but have now retired, and are, I doubt not, at this present moment, honoured guests at festivals similar to this the one in Glasgow, the other in Dumfries. Robert Burns, who was the poet's eldest and favourite son, and who alone of all his brothers retained through after-life a vivid recollection of his father, has, only within the last two years, been laid beside him he loved so well, in Dumfries Churchyard. Of all the children, he bore the strongest resemblance, in face and form, to his father, and was, also, a poet of no mean order himself. The daughter and granddaughter of this worthy man are now honouring us with their presence this evening.

The toast was received with great enthusiasm.

W. R. Anketell, Esq., J.P., being called upon loudly, responded.

Mr. HUGH M'CALL, having been called upon, rose at the lower end of the hall, amid loud cheers and calls of "Platform." Ultimately he was obliged to remove to the upper end of the hall, and ascend the platform, which he did amid renewed and enthusiastic cheering. He spoke as follows:-The centenary of the birthday of Burns has aroused a host of new associations in connexion with that great man's history. Wide as is the fame he has already won in castle and cottage, a more extended range of popularity will in future be given to those stirring strains which have lightened with glee and gladness so many hearths and homes of the toiling millions. There is not a spot of earth trod by Saxon or Celt-not a country or clime inhabited by men with British hearts and sympathies-that will not enjoy its own peculiar burst of enthusiasm while recalling to remembrance the proceedings and events connected with this memorable day. (Loud