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Street, and is the same dwelling in which Mrs. 

 Burns lived till her death, in 1834. In the ceme- 

 tery connected with the Church of St. Michael, is the 

 Mausoleum erected to his memory. It was exe- 

 cuted by an Italian artist ; and represents the Poet 

 at the plough, and his attendant genius throwing 

 her " inspiring mantle" over him. Thousands of 

 tourists visit the spot every year. His fame is ever 

 fresh on the memories of men. 



How intense, elevating, and refined, are the feel- 

 ings connected with a visit to the hallowed spot of 

 departed genius ! How deeply is such a rush of 

 thoughts such a commotion of internal sympathies, 

 calculated to strike the mind with surprise and ad- 

 miration, at the wonderful mechanism, if we may so 

 term it, of our spiritual frame. There seem to be 

 two conspicuous elements in this veneration for de- 

 parted worth identity, and memory. As in the 

 case now before us, we believe Robert Burns to be 

 the same identical personage who sojourned, sang, 

 died, and was buried here ; and we have perpetually 

 before us, in our memories, what he said, and 

 thought, and did. What a collection of living- 

 wonders is here ! The mind is pinned down to 

 the physical structure, as sternly as if it were itself 

 a thins: of flesh. It never wanders from its own 

 habitation ; never passes the threshold of its own 

 dwelling. It never fancies itself really severed from 

 the beloved frame which it clothes, and feeds, and 

 cherishes with such unwearied solicitude. Though 

 there is nothing apparently in the human structure 



