ALEXANDER WILSON. xx i 



lie proceeded along the coast to Dunbar, and, crossing to Burnt- 

 island, coasted that side of the Firth to Kinghorn, where his memo- 

 randa stops. This was his first attempt at prose writing which 

 appeared publicly, and is remarkable for the clear observation upon 

 human nature, of incident, and the appearance of the surrounding 

 country. The ill success of this journey disgusted him not only 

 with the pack, but showed him, that hawking poems was not a more 

 profitable trade; and, annoyed at the failure of his plans, he returned 

 to his native town nearly penniless, and much depressed in spirits, 

 thinking that a pedlar and poet stood lower in the scale of rank 

 than he was previously inclined to place them. " A packman," he 

 writes, in a letter from Edinburgh, to his friend Mr Brodie, " is a 

 character which none esteem, and almost every one despises. The 

 idea which people of all ranks entertain of them is, that they are 

 mean-spirited, loquacious liars, cunning and illiterate, watching every 

 opportunity, and using every low and mean art within their power 

 to cheat. When any one applies to a genteel person, pretending to 

 be a poet, he is treated with ridicule and contempt ; and even 

 though he should produce a specimen, it is either thrown back 

 again, without being thought worthy of perusal, or else read with 

 prejudice." Ill success rendered him severe on these often eccen- 

 tric, very generally harmless, professions. 



The sale of his poems being insufficient to procure for him the 

 ordinary necessaries of life, he was obliged to resume occasionally 

 the labours of his loom at Lochwinnoch, at which, by his expertness 

 and diligence when willing, he could always raise a temporary 

 supply. He possessed, however, no " scheming foresight," and 

 sometimes allowed himself to be so hard run as to be unable to pro- 

 cure paper and other writing materials, and the same cause also 

 sometimes produced a scantiness in his wardrobe. An anecdote of 

 his resources, upon an occasion which would have given great 

 annoyance to many, was thus related to me by one of his best 

 friends. Wilson was fond of music and dancing, and, in the latter 

 branch, bore the character of a neat and light performer. In those 

 days, the fashionable ball-dress among persons in his sphere of life 

 was knee-breeches, white stockings, and black gaiters, or, as they 

 are called, Tcutikens. Being one evening invited to a ball given by 

 some young companions, he found himself reduced to a single pair 



