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morning shot by Tweedside at rabbits, or at birds for 

 trout-fly feathers, nor a cast of the fly on a very par- 

 ticularly fine fishing day, besides something in the 

 character of occasional romantic scene-haunting around 

 every fairy nook, peak, or corner in the vicinity, from 

 the tops of Eildon and the Bell-race, down to the salmon 

 rock-lair at the bottom of the Hare-crag pool. I felt it 

 not at all easy or agreeable to sink the sentient soul 

 betwixt the soles of a stinking shoe for the term of even 

 this little life-time. . . . No, no ; he who rejects the 

 present free gifts of life sun, moon, and star influences, 

 the open breeze of hill, flood, and forest, with woodland 

 airs, and the music of moving waters may be regarded 

 as throwing all these gifts of supreme goodness back in 

 their author's face, unappreciated and unenjoyed, like 

 a petted urchin refusing the refreshing and delightful 

 enjoyment of them." 



So John Younger' s life ran on smoothly and unevent- 

 fully, its placid surface only broken by literary episodes. 

 The first of these was the publication, in 1834, of a little 

 volume of verse entitled " Thoughts as they Rise." Its 

 contents consisted of one rambling poem in the metre 

 of " Don Juan," but, as the author is careful to inform 

 his readers, " without an imaginary hero romaunting 

 through its cantos." As the effort of a working man, 

 wholly self-educated, the poem is unquestionably a 

 remarkable one. For it displays considerable command 

 of language and ease in versification ; there are passages, 

 too, of genuine poetic feeling and pictures of Nature 

 which could only have come from a sympathetic lover of 

 the " Universal Mother." But the true poetic fire is 



