CURRENT LITERATURE.
The centenary of Burns's death would seem likely to produce a flood of verse as well as of prose. Of the poems which the occasion has already produced none can well be more enthusiastic or elaborate than Robert Burns : an Ode on the Centenary of his Death, 1796 to 1896, by Hunter MacCulloch (The Bose and Thistle Publishing Co., Brooklyn). Mr. MacCulloch is a warm admirer of the poet, and has a certain command of a considerable variety of stanzas. By its means he is able to survey the whole of Burns's career from birth to grave. Some of his verses are passable enough; others it is hardly possible not to smile at,— such as "This greatest of lovers The world has seen His true love discovers In bonnie Jean !
His fervent 1011r11 queen,
Oh! comely lass, country lass Jean!"
Considering, too, that Mr. MacCulloch is such a fervid believer in his hero, it is rather curious that he should perpetuate this bit of gossip to his discredit:— "Even t nrists, patrons of the mns,, torso th t uld tempt a ith invitations to the Globe, ltd waste his time and talent wi•host stab. Ant sail with tavern stains his singing robs."
This undoubtedly represents an old and long accepted story to the discredit of Burns, but as the truth of it was absolutely and indig- nantly denied by his widow, it should perhaps be let alone at the present time. It may at least be claimed by or for Mr. MacCulloch that he has written one of the longest poems ever called forth even by the name of Burns.—Robert Burns. By Gabriel Setoun. "Famous Scots Series." (Oliphant, Anderson, and Ferrier.)—This being the Burns year, and Messrs. Oliphant, Anderson, and Ferrier being engaged in the publication of a series of short studies of eminent Scotchmen, it was natural that a sketch of the life and work of Burns should be included among them. Its author would appear, however, to be rather overweighted by his subjecf, and, indeed, to have got it up hurriedly rather than to write with the ease that comes of intimate knowledge. It is evident that he is not familiar with the latest information on matters of cif. tat. Thus he persistently spells the name of Burns's father as " Burness," whereas it is now beyond question that he wrote it " Burnes." He makes what, in the eyes of Scotchmen at least, is a more serious mistake when, alluding to the fact. that Burns met Lord Daer at the house of Dugald Stewart, he says he " dinner'd wi' a laird." There is a very considerable difference between a lord and a laird. While there is nothing specially
original in Mr. Setoun's attitude towards Burns—he may be said to stand midway between Christopher North and Principal Siaairp —his estimate of the man is marked by appreciative generosity,. and of the artist by sound judgment and good taste. He inclines, as Mr. Andrew Lang also appears to do, to regard the unauthen- ticated story of Burns's death being hastened by his falling asleep in the snow after a convivial night at the Globe Inn,' as being on all fours with the similar story that is told of Shakespeare.
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