wandering affections, here were two people united for life.
Mary came of a superstitious family, so that she perhaps
insisted on these rites; but they must have been eminently to
the taste of Burns at this period; for nothing would seem
superfluous, and no oath great enough, to stay his tottering
constancy.

Events of consequence now happened thickly in the poet's
life. His book was announced; the Armours sought to summon
him at law for the aliment of the child; he lay here and
there in hiding to correct the sheets; he was under an
engagement for Jamaica, where Mary was to join him as his
wife; now, he had "orders within three weeks at latest to
repair aboard the NANCY, Captain Smith;" now his chest was
already on the road to Greenock; and now, in the wild autumn
weather on the moorland, he measures verses of farewell:-


"The bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell the bonny banks of Ayr!"


But the great master dramatist had secretly another intention
for the piece; by the most violent and complicated solution,
in which death and birth and sudden fame all play a part as
interposing deities, the act-drop fell upon a scene of
transformation. Jean was brought to bed of twins, and, by an
amicable arrangement, the Burnses took the boy to bring up by
hand, while the girl remained with her mother. The success
of the book was immediate and emphatic; it put 20 pounds at