LITTLEJOURN HOMES OF ENGLIS By ELBERT HU6BA! I 9 ift The subjects will be as follows i William Morris 7 3 Robert Browning 8 3 Tennyson 9 4 Robert Bums 10 Soi 5 John Milton 1 1 Col( 6 Samuel Johnson ^^^^^ ^^^^ i!|^ One booklet a montn^^^Biifiuei beginning January ist. NEYS will be issued by instead of G. P. Putnam's Si The LITTLE JOURNEYS foi strictly de luxe in form and workmaiiiiilprf'TK^' type is a new set of antique black face. Th< initials were designed especially fo^ by Mr. Samuel Warner (honest The paper is English hand-made. Tl will be stitched by hand with silk, ure portrait on Japan Vellum wi each booklet as a frontispiece. 4|l The price of these booklets will five cents each, or $3.00 for the year. THE ROYCROFTER! East Aurora, N. Y. Anu^edatlhe Postoffice at EMt Aurora, New York, M Mconii^^laM mail ittattar. Copjrright, iBgg, by vxv:' >*>. ^^^"■^^f'Jm.<^■ Robert Burns Pwsj^^ JTt^J^C-i^j^ ^^^^^^ Little Journeys to the Homes of English Authors . . BY . . ELBERT HUBBARD Robert Burns Done into print by the Roy- crofters at the Roycroft Shop, which is in East Aurora, New York, U. S. A, IHE business of Robert Burns was ROBERT love-making. BURNS All love is good, but some kinds of love are better than others. Through Burns* penchant for falling in love we have his songs. A Burns bibliography is simply a record of his love affairs, and the spasms of repentance that followed his lapses are made mani- fest in religious verse. Poetry is the very earliest form of literature, and is the natural expres- sion of a person in love ; and I sup- pose we might as well admit the fact at once, that without love there I would be no poetry. Poetry is the bill and coo of sex. All j poets are lovers, and all lovers, either [actual or potential, are poets. Potential I poets are the people who read poetry ; and so without lovers the poet would never have a market for his wares. If you have ceased to be moved by religious emotion; if your spirit is no [longer surged by music ; and you do I not linger over certain lines of poetry, jit is because the love instinct in your heart has withered to ashes of roses, lit is idle to imagine Bobby Burns as 73 ROBERT a staid member of the Kirk ; had he a* been, there BURNS would now be no Bobby Burns. The literary ebullition of Robert Burns, he himself has told us, began shortly after he had reached the age of indiscretion ; and the occasion was his being paired in the hay-field, according to the Scottish custom, with a bonnie lassie. This custom of pairing still endures, and is what the students of sociology call an expeditious move. The Scotch are great economists — the greatest in the world. Adam Smith, the father of the science of economics, was a Scotchman ; and Draper, author of ** A History of Civilization," flatly declares that Adam Smith's " Wealth of Nations " has influenced the peo- ple of Earth for good more than any book ever written — save none. The Scotch are great conservators of energy. The practice of pairing men and women in the hay- field gets the work done. One man and woman going down the grass-grown path afield might linger and dally by the way. They would never make hay, but a company of a dozen or more men and women would not only reach the field, but do a lot of work. In Scot- land the hay-harvest is short — when the grass is in bloom, just right to make the best hay, it must be cut. And so the men and women, the girls and boys, sally forth. It is a jolly picnic time, looked forward to with fond anticipation, and gazed back upon with sweet, sad memories, or otherwise, as the case may be. But they all make hay while the sun shines, and count 74 it joy. Liberties are allowed during haying-time that ROBERT otherwise would be declared scandalous ; during hay- BURNS ing-time the Kirk waives her censor's right, and priest and people mingle joyously. Wives are not jealous during hay-harvest, and husbands never fault-finding, because they each get even by allowing a mutual li- cense. In Scotland during haying-time every married man works alongside of some other man's wife. To the psychologist it is somewhat curious how the desire for propriety is overridden by a stronger desire — the desire for the shilling. The Scotch farmer says, ** anything to get the hay in " — and by loosening a bit the strict bands of social custom the hay is harvested. In the hay-harvest the law of natural selection holds ; partners are often arranged for weeks in advance ; and trysts continue year after year. Old lovers meet, touch hands in friendly scufifle for a fork, drink from the same jug, recline at noon and eat lunch in the shade of a friendly stack, & talk to heart's content as they Maud Muller on a summer's day. Of course this joyousness of the haying-time is not wholly monopolized by the Scotch. Have n't you seen the jolly haying parties in Southern Germany, France, Switzerland and the Tyrol ? How the bright costumes of the men and the jaunty attire of the women gleam in the glad sunshine ! But the practice of pairing is carried to a degree of per- fection in Scotland that I have not noticed elsewhere. Surely it is a great economic scheme ! It is like that in- 75 ROBERT vention of a Connecticut man, which utilizes the ebb BURNS and flow of the ocean tides to turn a grist-mill. And it seems queer that no one has ever attempted to utilize the waste of dynamic force involved in the maintain- ance of the Company Sofa. In Ayrshire, I have started out with a haying party of twenty — ten men and ten women — at six o'clock in the morning and worked until six at night. I never worked so hard, nor did so much. All day long there was a fire of jokes and jolly jibes, interspersed with song, while beneath all ran a gentle hum of confidential inter- change of thought. The man who owned the field was there to direct our efforts, and urge us on in well doing by merry raillery, threat, and joyous rivalry. The point I make is this — we did the work. Take heed, ye Captains of Industry & note this truth, that where men and women work together, under right influences, much good is accomplished, & the work is pleasurable. ^ Of course there are vinegar-faced philosophers who say that the Scotch custom of pairing young men and maidens in the hay-field is not without its effect on esoterics, also on vital statistics ; & I'm willing to admit there may be danger in the scheme, but life is a dangerous business anyway — few indeed get out of it alive. 76 URNS succeeded in his love- making & succeeded in poetry, but at everything else he was a failure. He failed as a farmer, a father, a friend, in society, as a husband, and in business. From his twenty-third year his days were passed in sinning and repenting. Poetry and love-making should caution : they form a terrific tax on poets die young, not because the ROBERT BURNS be carried on with life's forces. Most gods especially love them, but because life is a bank account, and to wipe out your balance is to have your checks protested. The excesses of youth are drafts payable at maturity. Chatterton dead at eighteen, Keats at twenty-six, Shelley at thirty-three, Byron at thirty- six, Poe at forty, and Burns at thirty-seven are the rule. When drafts made by the men mentioned became due, there was no balance to their credit and Charon beckoned ^^ytf Most life insurance companies now ask the applicant this question, ** Do you write poetry to excess?" Shakespeare, to be sure, clung to life until he was fifty- three, but this seems the limit. Dickens and Thackeray, senile and tottering, died at the same age Shakespeare died. Of course I know that Browning, Tennyson, Morris and Bryant lived to a fair old age, but this was on borrowed time, for in the early life of each there 77 ROBERT was a hiatus of from ten to eighteen years, when the BURNS men never wrote a line, nor touched a drop of any- thing, bravely eschewing all honey from Hymettus. Then the four men last named were all happily mar- ried, and married life is favorable to longevity, but not to poetry. As a rule only single men, or those unhap- pily mated, make love and write poetry. Men hap- pily married make money, cultivate content, and evolve an aldermanic front, but love and poetry are symptoms of unrest. Thus is Emerson's proposition partially proved, that in life all things are bought & must be paid for with a price — even success & happiness. URNS once explained to Thomas ROBERT Moore that the first fine, care- BURNS less rapture of his song was awakened into being when he was sixteen years old, by "a bonie sweet sonsie lass " whom we now know as ** Handsome Nell." Her other name to us is vapor, and history is silent as to her life -pilgrimage. Whether that she had first given voice she lived to realize to one of the great singers of earth — of this we are also ignorant. She was one year younger than Burns, and little more than a child when she and Bobby lag- ged behind the troop of tired hay-makers, and walked home, hand in hand, in the gloaming i^ Here is one of the stanzas addressed to " Handsome Neil : *' She dresses all so clean and neat, Both decent and genteel, And then there 's something in her gait Makes any dress look weel. And how could Nell then ever guess why her cheeks burned scarlet, and why she was so sorry when haying- time was over ? She was sweet, innocent, artless and their love was very natural, tender, innocent. It's a pity that all loves cannot remain in just that idyllic milk- maid stage, where the girls and boys awaken in the early morning with the birds, and hasten forth bare- foot across the dewy fields to find the cows. But love 79 ROBERT never tarries. Love is progressive ; it cannot stand still. BURNS I have heard of the ** passiveness " of woman's love, but the passive woman is only one who does not love — she merely consents to have affection lavished upon her. When I hear of a passive woman, I always think of the befuddled sailor who once saw one of those dummy dress frames, all duly clothed in a flaming bombazine (I think it was bombazine) in front of a clothing establishment. The sailor, mistaking the dum- my for a near and dear lady friend, embraced the wire apparatus and imprinted a resounding smack on the chaste plaster-Paris cheek. Meeting the sure-enough lady shortly after he upbraided her for her cold pas- sivity on the occasion named. A passive woman — one who consents to be loved — should seek occupation among those worthy firms who warrant a fit in ready made gowns, or money refunded, i^ Love is progressive — it hastens onward like the brook hurrying to the sea. They say that love is blind : love may be short-sighted, or inclined to strabismus,or see things all out of their true proportion, magnifying pleasant little ways into seraphic virtues, but love is not really blind — the bandage is never so tight but that it can peep. The only kind of love that is really blind and deaf is Platonic love. Platonic love has n't the slightest idea where it is going, and so there are sur- prises and shocks in store for it. The other kind, with eyes wide open, is better. I know a man who has tried both 1^ Love is progressive. All things that live should 80 progress. To stand still is to retreat, and to retreat is ROBERT death i^ Love dies, of course. All things die, or be- BURNS come something else. And often they become something else by dying. Behold the eternal Paradox ! The love that evolves into a higher form is the better kind. Na- ture is intent on evolution, yet of the myriad of spores that cover earth, most of them are doomed to death ; and of the countless rays sent out by the sun, the number that fall athwart this planet are infinitesimal. Edward Carpenter calls attention to the fact that dis- appointed love, that is, love that is " lost," often affects the individual for the highest good. Love in its essence is a spiritual emotion, and its office seems to be an in- terchange of thought and feeling ; but often thwarted in its object it becomes general, transforms itself into sympathy, and embracing a world, goes out to and blesses all mankind. Very, very rare is the couple that have the sense and poise to allow passion just enough mulberry leaves, so it will spin a beautiful silken thread, out of which a Jacob's ladder can be constructed, reaching to the In- finite. Most lovers in the end wear love to a fringe, and there remains no ladder with angels ascending and descending — not even a dream of a ladder. Instead of the silken ladder on which one can mount to Heaven, there is usually a dark, dank road to nowhere over which is thrown a package of letters & trinkets, all fas- tened 'round with a white ribbon, tied in a lover's knot. The many loves of Robert Burns all ended in a black 8z ROBERT jumping-off-place, and before he had reached high BURNS noon, he tossed over the last bundle of white-ribboned missives and tumbled in after them. The life of Burns is a tragedy, through which are inter- spersed sparkling scenes of gayety, as if to retrieve the depth of bitterness that would otherwise be unbearable. Go ask Mary Morison, High- land Mary, Agnes McLe- hose, Betty Alison, or Jean Armour ! 83 HE poems of Robert Burns fall easily into four divisions. First, those that were written while he was warmly wooing the object of his affection. Second, those written after he had won her. Third, those written when he failed to win her. Fourth, those written when he felt it his duty to write, and really had nothing to say. ^ The first named were written because he could not help it, and are, for the most part, rarely excellent. They are joyous, rapturous, sprightly, dancing, and filled with references to sky, clouds, trees, fruit, grain, birds and flowers. Birds and flowers, by the way, are peculiarly lovers' properties. The song and the plumage of birds, and the color and perfume of flowers are all distinctly sex manifestations. Robert Burns sang his songs just as the bird wings and sings, and for the same reason. Sex holds first place in the thought of Nature ; and sex in the minds of men and women holds a much larger place than most of us are willing to admit. All religious emotion and all art are born of the sex instinct. ^ The second variety of Burns' poems, written after he had won her, are touched with religious emotion, or filled with vain regret and deep remorse, as the case may be, all owing to the quality and kind of success achieved, and the influence of the Dog Star. 83 ROBERT BURNS ROBERT Burns wrote several deeply religious poems. Now, BURNS men are very seldom really religious and contrite, ex- cepting after an excess. Following a debauch a man signs the pledge, vows chastity, writes fervently of as- ceticism and the need of living in the spirit and not in the senses. Good pictures show best on a dark back- ground o^^s^ "The Cotter's Saturday Night," perhaps the most quoted of any of Burns' poems, is plainly the result of a terrible tip to t'other side. The author had gone so far in the direction of Venusburg that he resolved on getting back, and living thereafter a staid & proper life. 1^ In order to reform you must have an ideal, & the ideal of Burns, on the occasion of having exhausted all ca- pacity for sin, is embodied in the ** Saturday Night." It is a beautiful dream. The real Scottish cotter is quite another kind of a person. The religion of the live cot- ter is well seasoned with fear, malevolence and absurd dogmatism. The amount of love, patience, excellence and priggishness shown in "The Cotter's Saturday Night " never existed excepting in a poet's dream. In stanza Number Ten of that particular poem is a bit of unconscious autobiography that might as well ha' been omitted, but in leaving it in, Burns was loyal to the thought that surged through his brain. People who are not scientific in their speech often speak of the birds being happy. My opinion is that birds are not any more happy than men — probably not as much so. Many birds, like the English sparrow and 84 blue jay, quarrel all day long. Come to think of it, I be- ROBERT lieve that man is happier than the birds. He has a sense BURNS of remorse, and this suggests a reformation, and from the idea of reformation comes the picturing of an ideal. This exercise of the imagination is pleasure, for in- deed there is a certain satisfaction in every form of ex- ercise of the faculties. There is a certain pleasure in pain : for pain is never all pain. And sin sometimes is not wholly bad, if through it we pass into a higher life, the life of the spirit. Anything is better than the Dead Sea of neutral noth- ingness, wherein a man merely avoids sin by doing nothing and being nothing. The stirring of the imagi- nation by sorrow for sin, sometimes causes the soul to wing a far-reaching upward flight. Asceticism is often only a form of sensuality ; the man finds satisfaction in overcoming the flesh. And wher- ever you find asceticism you find potential passion — a smouldering volcano held in check by a devotion to duty ; and a gratification is oft found in fidelity. The moral and religious poems of Burns were written in a desire to work off a fit of depression, and make amends for folly. They are sincere and often very ex- cellent. Great preachers have often been great sinners, and the sermons that have moved men most are often a direct recoil from sin on part of the preacher. Re- morse finds play in preaching repentance. When a man talks much about a virtue, be sure that he is clutching for it. Temperance fanatics are men with a taste for 85 ROBERT strong drink, trying hard to keep sober i^ The moral & BURNS religious poems of Robert Burns are not equal to his love songs. The love songs are free, natural, untram- meled & unrestrained ; while his religious poems have a vein of rotten warp running through them in the way of affectation an4 pretence. From this I infer that sin is natural, and remorse partially so. In Burns' moral poems the author tries to win back the favor of re- spectable people, which he had forfeited. In them there is a violence of direction ; and all violence of direction — all endeavors to please and placate certain people are fatal to an artist. You must work to please only your- self r^^ Work to please yourself and you develop and strength- en the artistic conscience. Cling to that and it shall be your mentor in times of doubt : you need no other. There are writers who would scorn to write a muddy line, and would hate themselves for a year and a day should they dilute their thought with the platitude of the fear-ridden peoples. Be yourself and speak your mind to-day, though it contradict all you have said be- fore. And above all, in art, work to please yourself— that Other Self that stands over and behind you look- ing over your shoulder, watching your every act, word and deed — knowing your every thought. Michael An- gelo would not paint a picture on order. ** I have a crit- ic who is more exacting than you," said Meissonier — "it is my Other Self." Rosa Bonheur painted pictures just to please her Other 86 Self, and never gave a thought of anyone else, nor ROBERT wanted to think of anyone else, and having painted to BURNS please herself, she made her appeal to the great Com- mon Heart of humanity— the tender, the noble, the re- ceptive, the earnest,the sympathetic, the loveable.That is why Rosa Bonheur stands first among women art- ists of all time : she worked to please her Other Self. ^ That is the reason Rembrandt, who lived at the same time Shakespeare lived, is to-day without a rival in portraiture. He had the courage to make an enemy. When at work he never thought of anyone but his Other Self, and so he infused soul into every canvas. The limpid eyes look down into yours from the walls & tell of love, pity, earnestness and deep sincerity. Man, like Deity, creates in his own image, and when he por- trays someone else, he pictures himself, too — this pro- vided his work is Art. If it is but an imitation of some- thing seen somewhere, or done by someone else, or done to please a patron with money, no breath of life has been breathed into its nostrils and it is nothing, save possibly dead perfection — no more. Is it easy to please your Other Self ? Try it for a day. Begin to-morrow morning and say, " This day I will live as becomes a man. I will be filled with good cheer and courage. I will do what is right ; I will work for the highest ; I will put soul into every hand-grasp, every smile, every expression — into all my work. I will live to satisfy my Other Self." Do you think it is easy ? Try it for a day. 87 ROBERT Robert Burns wrote some deathless lines — lines writ- BURNS ten out of the freshness of his heart, simply to please himself, with no furtive eye on Dumfries, Edinburgh, the Kirk, or the Unco Gudes of Ayrshire ; & these are the lines that have given him his place in the world of letters ^€^ The other day I was made glad by finding that John Burroughs, Poet & Prophet, says that the male thrush sings to please himself, out of pure delight, and pleas- ing himself, he pleases his mate. ** The female," says Burroughs, ** is always pleased with a male that is pleased with himself." The various controversial poems (granting for argu- ment's sake that controversy is poetic) were written when Burns was smarting under the sense of defeat. These show a sharp insight into the heart of things, and a lively wit, but are not sufficient foundation on which to build a reputation. Ali Baba can do as well. Considering the fact that twice as many people make pilgrimages to the grave of Burns as visit the grave of Shakespeare, & that his poems are on the shelves of every library, his name now needs no defense. The ores are very seldom found pure, and if even the work of Deity is composite, why should we be surprised that man. His creature, should ex- press himself in a varying scale of excellence ! 88 L.oFC. HERE was certainly no Jack Falstaff about Francis Schlat- ter, whose whitened bones were found amid the alkali dust of the desert, a few months ago — dead in an endeavor to do without meat and drink for forty days. Schlatter purported, and be- lieved, that he was the re-incar- nation of the Messiah. Letters were sent to him, ad- dressed simply, ** Jesus Christ, Denver, Colorado," and he walked up to the General Delivery window & asked for them with a confidence, we are told, that relieved the postmaster of a grave responsibility. Schlatter was no mere ordinary pretender, working on the superstitions of shallow-pated people. He lived up to his belief — took no money, avoided notoriety when he could, and the proof of his sincerity lies in the fact that he died a victim to it. Herbert Spencer has said all about the Messianic In- stinct that there is to say, save this— the Messianic Instinct first had its germ in the heart of a woman. Every woman dreams of the coming of the Ideal Man — the man who will give her protection, even to giving up his life for her, and vouchsafe peace to her soul i^ I am told by a noted Bishop of the Catholic Church that most women who become nuns are prompted to take their vows solely through the occasion of an un- 89 ROBERT BURNS ROBERT requited love. They become the bride of the Church BURNS and find their highest joy in following the will of Christ. He is their only Lord and Master. The terms of endearment one hears at prayer meetings, *' Blessed Jesus," ** Dear Jesus," ** Loving Jesus," " Elder Brother," ** Patient, gentle Jesus," etc., were first used by women in an ecstacy of religious trans- portation. And the thought of Jesus as a loving ** per- sonal Savior," would die from the face of the earth did not woman keep it alive. The religious nature and the sex nature are closely akin ; no psychologist can tell where one ends and the other begins. There may be wooden women in the world, & of these I will not speak, but every strong, pulsing, feeling, thinking woman goes through life, seeking the Ideal Man. Whether she is married or single, rich or poor, old or young, every new man she meets is interesting to her, because she feels in some mysterious way, that possibly he is the One. Of course, I know that every good man, too, seeks the Ideal Woman — but that deserves another chapter. The only woman in whose heart there is not the live, warm. Messianic Instinct, is the v^ooden woman, and the one who believes she has already found him. But this latter is holding an illusion that soon vanishes with possession. That pale, low-voiced, gentle and insane man, Francis Schlatter, was followed at times by troops of women. These women believed in him and loved him — in dif- go ferent ways, of course, and with passion, varying ac- ROBERT cording to temperament and the domestic environment BURNS already existing. To love deeply is a matter of propin- quity and opportunity. One woman, whom ** The Healer " had cured of a lin- gering disease, loved this man with a wild, mad, ab- sorbing passion. Chance gave her the opportunity. He came to her house, cold, hungry, homeless, sick. She fed him, warmed him, looked into his liquid eyes, sat at his feet and listened to his voice — she loved him — and partook of his every mental delusion. This woman now waits and watches in her mountain home for his return. She knows the coyotes and buz- zards picked the scant flesh from his starved frame, but she says, *' He promised he would come back to me, and he will. I am waiting for him here." This woman writes me long letters from her solitude, telling me of her hopes & plans. Just why all the cranks in the United States should write me letters, I do not know, but they do — perhaps there is a sort o' fellow feeling. This woman may write letters to others, just as she does to me. Of this I do not know, but surely I would not thus make public the heart tragedy told me in a private letter, were it not that the woman herself has printed a pamphlet, setting forth her faith and veil- ing only those things into which it is not our right to pry v^rfg9 This Mary Magdalene believes her lover was the Chosen Son of God, and that the Father will re-clothe the Son 9< ROBERT in a new garment of flesh and send him back to his be- BURNS loved. So she watches and waits, and dresses herself to receive him, and at night places a lighted lantern in the window to guide the way. She watches and waits. Other women wait for footsteps that will never come, & listen for a voice that will never be heard. All 'round the world there is a sisterhood of such. Some, being wise, lose themselves in loving service to others — in useful work. But this woman, out in the wilds of New Mexico, hugs her sorrow to her heart, and feeds her passion by recounting it, and watches away the leaden hours, crying aloud to all who will listen: " He is not dead — he is not dead ! He will come back to me ! He promised it — he will come back to me ! This long, dreary waiting is only a test of my loyalty and love ! I will be patient, for he will come back to me ! He will come back to me." This world would be a sorry place if most men con- ducted their lives on the Robert Burns plan. Burns was affectionate, tender, generous and kind ; but he was not wise. He never saw the future, nor did he know that life is a sequence, and if you do this, it is pretty sure to lead to that. His loves were largely of the earth. Excess was a part of his wayward, undisciplined na- ture ; and that constant tendency to put an enemy in his mouth to steal away his brains bound him at last, hand and foot.His old age could never have been frosty, but kindly— it would have been babbling, irritable, sen- 92 ile, sickening. Death was kind and reaped him young. ROBERT 1^ Sex was the rock on which Robert Burns split. He BURNS seemed to regard pleasure-seeking as the prime end of life, and in this he was not so very far removed from the prevalent "civilized" society notion of marriage. But it is a fantasmal idea, and makes a mock of mar- riage, serving the satirist his excuse. To a great degree the race is yet barbaric and as a peo- ple we fail utterly to touch the hem of the garment of Divinity. We have been mired in the superstition that sex is unclean, and therefore honesty and expression in love matters have been tabooed. But the day will yet dawn when wc will see that it takes two to generate thought ; that there is the male man and the female man, and only where these two walk together hand in hand is there a perfect sanity and a perfect physical, moral and spiritual health. We will yet realize that a sex relationship which does not symbol a spiritual condition is sacrilege. We reach infinity through the love of one, and loving this one, we are in love with all. And this condition of mutual sympathy, trust, reverence, forbearance and gentleness that can exist between a man and woman gives the only hint of Heaven that mortals ever know. From the love of man for woman we guess the love of God, just as the scientist from a single bone constructs the skeleton — aye ! and then clothes it in a complete garment. In their love a£fairs women are seldom wise nor men 93 ROBERT just. How should we expect them to be when but yes- BURNS terday Woman was a chattel and man a slave-owner? Woman won by diplomacy — that is to say by trick- ery and untruth, and man had his way through force, and neither is quite willing to disarm. An amalgamated personality is the rare exception, because neither church, state nor society yet fully recognizes the fact that spiritual comradeship and the marriage of the mind constitute the only Divine mating. Dr. Blalock once said that Robert Burns had eyes like the Christ. Women who looked into those wide-open, generous orbs lost their hearts in the liquid depths. In the natures of Robert Burns and Francis Schlatter there was little in common ; but their experiences were alike in this : they were beloved by women. Behind him Burns left a train of weeping women — a trail of broken hearts. And I can never think of him except as a mere youth — "Bobby Burns" — one who never came into man's estate. In all his love-making he seemed never to really benefit any woman, nor did he avail himself of the many mental and spiritual excellences of wom- an's nature, absorbing them into his own. He only played a devil's tattoo upon her emotions. If Burns knew anything of the beauty and excellence of a high and holy friendship between a thinking man and a thinking woman, with mutual aims, ideals and ambitions, he never disclosed it. The love of a man for a maid, or a maid for a man, can never last, unless these two mutually love a third something. Then, as 94 they arc travelling the same way, they may move for- ROBERT ward hand in hand, mutually sustained. The marriage BURNS of the mind is the only compact that endures. I love you because you love the things that I love. That man alone is great who utilizes the blessings that God provides ; and of these blessings no gift equals the gentle, trusting companion- ship of a good woman. 95 ROBERT [m,, — _■■!.■ 1 1 AVING written thus far, I find BURNS flS^al^i^v^^y that already I have reached the limit of my allotted space. In closing, it may not be amiss for me to state that Robert Burns was an Irish poet whose parents happened to be Scotch. He was born in Ayrshire in 1759. He died in 1796, and is buried at Dumfries. His mother survived him thirty-eight years, passing out in 1834. Burns left four sons, each of whom was often pointed out as the son of his father — but none of them was. This is all I think of, at present, concerning Robert Burns m^ For further facts I must refer the Gentle Reader to the Encyclopedia Brittanica, a compilation that I cheerfully recommend, it having been vouched for to me by a dear friend, a clergyman of East Aurora, who, the past year, pe- rused the entire work, from A to Z, reading five hours a day, & therefore is compe- tent to speak. so HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF ROBERT BURNS, AS WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUB- BARD : THE TITLE PAGE AND INITIALS BEING DE- SIGNED BY SAMUEL WARNER, THE WHOLE DONE INTO A PRINTED BOOK BY THE ROYCROFTERS, AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, ERIE COUNTY, M.iY., IN THE MONTH OF APRIL IN THE YEAR MCM ^ X AT the AUCTION SALE, held in •^*- New York, March 1900, of the Library of the late Augustin Daly, ROYCROFT BOOKS sold as follows: | Names of Books and Auction Sale prices. Original price. THE PHILISTINE, Vols. 1-7, last three unbound, $3.50 per vol., $24.50 350 RUBAIYAT, No. 763 of 920 copies, green chamois. 7.50 2.00 RUBAIYAT, Half gray levant, 6.50 2.00 RUSKIN-TURNER, inscribed, x6.oo 5.00 ECCLESIASTES, 10.00 2.00 ART AND LIFE, Japan paper, 7.50 5.00 ON GOING TO CHURCH, 3.00 1. 00 BOOK-WORM, Autographs of Irving Browne and Elbert Hubbard, one of 590 copies. 16.00 5.00 UPLAND PASTURES, illuminated copy, 9 aquarelles. 21.00 7.50 SESAME AND LILIES, one of 40 copies. 20.00 10.00 THE LEGACY, Two Vols., 12.00 3.00 JOB, One of 350 copies, 12.00 5.00 DESERTED VILLAGE, 15.00 10.00 IN MEMORIAM, 7-50 2.00 SONNETS FROM THE PORTU- GUESE, Autograph letter from publisher enclosed. 18.50 5.00 FAMOUS WOMEN, De luxe, 13.00 10.00 SEEMS TO ME, On Japan Vellum, one of 40 copies, n.oo 10.00 \ LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS ■H. 014 389 925 1 <# (htfal takei ■cent stamp by George H, ?w Vol York.