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then undermining his health, and sowing the seeds of the malady which in so short a time after, was to bring him to his grave. But he was eager to distinguish himself in the field of letters, though then but a poor shop-lad; and, more than all, he was ambitious to be independent, and have the means of aiding his mother in her humble exertions for a living; never losing sight of the comfort and welfare of that first and fastest of his friends. At length, however, his health became seriously impaired, so much so, that his Perth apprenticeship was abruptly brought to a close, and he was sent home by his mistress to be nursed by his mother at Ordie Braes,-not, however, before he had contributed another Radical story, entitled "The Zingaro," a poem on

ticle on "The Life and Times of John Milton," to Johnstone's Edinburgh Magazine. An old friend and schoolfellow, who saw him in the course of this visit to his mother's house, thus speaks of him,—

one to him. He left his native hamlet and | labor and privations with impunity; and went into the world of active life. At the there is little doubt but Nicoll was even age of seventeen he bound himself apprentice to a grocer and wine merchant in Perth. There he came into contact with business, and activity, and opinion. The time was stirring with agitation. The Reform movement had passed over the face of the country like a tornado, raising millions of minds to action. The exciting effects of the agitation on the intellects and sympathies of the youth of that day, are still remembered; and few there were, who did not feel more or less influenced by them. The excitable mind of Nicoll was one of the first to be influenced; he burned to distinguish himself as a warrior on the people's side; he had longings infinite after popular enlargement, enfranchisement, and happiness. His thoughts shortly found vent in verse, and he became a poet. He joined a debating society, and made" Bessy Bell and Mary Gray," and an arspeeches. Every spare moment of his time was devoted to self improvement; to the study of grammar, to the reading of works on political economy and politics in all their forms. In the course of one summer, he several times read through with attention "Smith's Wealth of Nations," not improbably with an eye to some future employment on the newspaper press. He also read Milton, Locke, and Bentham-and devoured all other books that he could lay hands on,with avidity. The debating society with which he was connected, proposed to start a periodical; and Nicoll undertook to write a tale for the first number. The periodical did not appear, and the tale was sent to Johnstone's Edinburgh Magazine, where it appeared under the title of "Jessie Ogilvy," to the no small joy of the writer. It decided Nicoll's vocation-it determined him to be an author. He proclaimed his Radicalism-his resolution to "stand by his order," that of "the many." His letters to his relatives, about this time, are full of political allusions. He was working very hard too, attending in his mistress's shop, from seven in the morning, till nine at night, and afterwards sitting up to read and write; rising early in the morning, and going forth to the North Inch by five o'clock, to write or to read until the hour of shopopening. At the same time he was living, on the poorest possible diet-literally on bread and cheese, and water-that he might devote every possible farthing of his small gains to the purposes of mental improvement.

Few constitutions can stand such intense

"Robert's city life had not spoiled him. His acquaintance with men and books had improved his mind without chilling his heart. At this time he was full of joy and hope. A bright literary life stretched before him. His conversation was gay and sparkling, and rushed forth like a stream that flows through flowery summer vales." His health soon became re-established, and he then paid a visit to Edinburgh, during the period of the Grey Festival,-and there met his kind friends Mrs. Johnstone, William Tait, Robert Chambers, Robert Gilfillan, and others known in the literary world, by all of whom he was treated with much kindness and hospitality. His search for literary employment, however, which was the main cause of his visit to Edinburgh, was in vain, and he returned home disappointed though not hopeless.

He was about twenty when he went to Dundee; there to start a small circulating library. The project was not very successful; but while he kept it going he worked harder than ever at literary improvement. He now wrote his Lyrics and Poems, which were soon afterwards published, and extremely well received by the press. He also wrote for the liberal newspapers of the town, delivered lectures, made speeches, and extended his knowledge of men and society. In a letter to a friend, written in February, 1836, he says, "No wonder I am busy. ˇÍ

am at this moment writing poetry; I have | ful in spirit. The more I think and reflect almost half a volume of a novel written; I-and thinking instead of reading, is now have to attend the meetings of the Kinlock my occupation, I feel that, whether I be Monument committee; attend my shop; growing richer or not, I am growing a wiser and write some half dozen articles a week man, which is far better. Pain, poverty, for the Advertizer; and to crown all, I have and all other wild beasts of life which so affallen in love." At last, however, finding fright others, I am so bold as to think I' the library to be a losing concern, he made could look in the face without shrinking, it entirely over to the partner who had join- without losing respect for myself, faith in ed him, and quitted Dundee, with the in- man's high destinies, and trust in God. tention of seeking out some literary em- There is a point which it costs much mental ployment by which he might live. toil and struggling to gain, but which, when once gained, a man can look down from, as a traveller from a lofty mountain, on storms raging below, while he is walking in sunshine. That I have yet gained this point in life I will not say, but I feel myself daily nearer it."

The Dundee speculation had involved Ni-
coll, and through him his mother, in debt,
though to only a small amount. This debt
weighed heavy on his mind, and he thus
opened his heart in a highly characteristic
letter to his parent about it:-" This mo-
ney of R.'s (a friend who had lent him a
few pounds to commence business with)
hangs like a millstone about my neck. If I
had it paid I would never borrow again from
mortal man. But do not mistake me, mo-
ther;
I am not one of those men who faint
and falter in the great battle of life. God
has given me too strong a heart for that. I
look upon earth as a place where every man
is set to struggle, and to work, that he may
be made humble and pure hearted, and fit
for that better land for which earth is a
preparation to which earth is the gate.
Cowardly is that man who bows before the
storm of life-who runs not the needful race
manfully, and with a cheerful heart. If
men would but consider how little of real
evil there is in all the ills of which they are
so much afraid-poverty included-there
would be more virtue and happiness, and less
world and mammon worship on earth than is.
I think, mother, that to me has been given
talent; and if so, that talent was given to
make it useful to man. To man it cannot
be made a source of happiness unless it be
cultivated; and cultivated it cannot be un-
less, I think, little [here some words are
obliterated); and much and well of purify-
ing and enlightening the soul. This is my
philosophy; and its motto is-

Despair, thy name is written on
The roll of common men.

About the end of the year 1836, Nicoll succeeded through the kind assistance of Mr. Tait, of Edinburgh, in obtaining an appointment as editor of an English newspaper, the Leeds Times. This was the kind of occupation for which he had longed; and he entered upon the arduous labors of his office with great spirit. He threw himself heart and soul into the work, laboring with the energy and devotion of one who felt that there was social and political existence and freedom in the truths he gave utterance to. During the year and a half of his editorship, his mind seemed to be on fire; and, on the occasion of a parliamentary contest in the town in which the paper was published, he wrote in a style which to some seemed bordering on phrenzy. He neither gave nor took quarter. The man who went not so far as he did in political opinion, was regarded by him as an enemy, and denounced accordingly. He dealt about his blows with almost savage violence. This novel and daring style, however, attracted attention to the paper, and its circulation rapidly increased, sometimes at the rate of two hundred or three hundred a week. One can scarcely believe that the tender-hearted poet and the fierce political partizan were one and the same person, or that he who had so touchingly written

"I dare not scorn the meanest thing
That on the earth doth crawl,"

should have held up his political oppo-
nents, in the words of some other poet,

Half the unhappiness of life springs from looking back to griefs which are past, and forward with fear to the future. That is not my way. I am determined never to bend to the storm that is coming, and never to look back on it after it has passed. Fear not for me, dear mother; for I feel myself daily growing firmer, and more hope- I reconcileable in the mental histories of ar

"To grinning scorn a sacrifice
And endless infamy."

But such inconsistencies are, we believe,

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dent and impetuous men. Doubtless had he would on such occasions work himself Nicoll lived, we should have found his sympa- into a state of the greatest excitement. thies becoming more enlarged, and embrac- His breast heaved, his whole frame was agiing other classes besides those of only one tated, and while he spoke, his large lustrous form of political creed. One of his friends eyes beamed with an unwonted fire. His once asked him why, like Elliot, he did not wife feared such outbursts. They were folwrite political poetry. His reply was, that lowed by sleepless nights, and generally by "he could not: when writing politics he could an aggravation of his complaint. be as wild as he chose: he felt a vehement desire, a feeling amounting almost to a wish, for vengeance upon the oppressor; but when he turned to poetry, a softening influence came over him, and he could be bitter no longer."

His literary labors, while in Leeds, were enormous. He was not satisfied with writing from four to five columns weekly for the paper; but he was engaged at the same time in writing a long poem, a novel, and in furnishing leading articles for a new Sheffield newspaper. In the midst of this tremendous labor, he found time to go down to Dundee to get married to a young woman, since dead, for whom he had for some time entertained an ardent affection. The comfort of his home was thus increased, though his labors continued as before. They soon told upon his health. The clear and ruddy complexion of the young man. grew pallid; the erect and manly gate became stooping; the firm step faltered; the lustrous eye was dimmed; and the joyous health and spirits of youth were fast sinking into rest. The worm of disease was already at his heart and gnawing away his vitals. His cough, which had never entirely left him since his illness, brought on by selfimposed privation and study while at Perth, again appeared in an aggravated form; his breath grew short and thick: his cheeks became shrunken; and the hectic, which never deceives soon made its appearance. He appeared as if suddenly to grow old; his shoulders became contracted; he appeared to wither up, and the sap of life to shrink from his veins. Need we detail the melancholy progress of a disease which is, in this country, the annual fate of thousands.

It almost seemed as if, while the body of the poet decayed, the mind grew more active and excitable, and that as the physical powers became more weakened, his sense of sympathy became more keen. When he engaged in conversation upon a subject which he loved-upon human progress, the amelioration of the lot of the poor, the emancipation of mind, the growing strength of the party of the movement-he seemed as one inspired. Usually quiet and reserved,

Throughout the whole progress of his disease, up to the time when he left Leeds, did Nicoll produce his usual weekly quota of literary labor. They little know, who have not learnt from bitter experience, what pains and anxieties, what sorrows and cares, lie hid under the columns of a daily or weekly newspaper. No galleyslave at the oar, tugs harder for life than the man who writes in newspapers for the indispensible of daily bread. The press is ever at his heels, crying "give, give;" and well or ill, gay or sad, the Editor must supply the usual complement "of leading article." The last articles poor Nicoll wrote for the paper, were prepared whilst sitting up in bed, propped about by pillows. A friend entered just as he had finished them, and found him in a state of high excitement; the veins on his forehead were turgid, his eyes were bloodshot, his whole frame quivered, and the perspiration streamed from him. He had produced a pile of blotted and blurred manuscript, written in his usual energetic manner. t was immediately after sent to press. These were the last leaders he ever wrote. They were shortly after followed by a short address to the readers of the paper, in which he took a short but affectionate farewell of them; and stating that he went "to try the effect of his native air, as a last chance for life."

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Almost at the moment of his departure fro Leeds, an incident occurred which must have been exceedingly affecting to Nicoll, as it was to those who witnessed it. Ebenezer Elliot, the "Corn Law Rhymer," who entertained an enthusiastic admiration for the young poet, had gone over from Sheffield to deliver a short course of lectures to the Leeds Literary Institution, and promised himself the pleasure of a kindly interview with Robert Nicoll. On inquiring about him, after the delivery of his first lecture, he was distressed to learn the sad state to which he was reduced. "No words (says Elliot in a letter to the writer of this memoir), can express the pain I felt when informed on my return to my inn, that he was dying, and that if I would

see him I must reach his dwelling before and hasty as they are, it can be read eight o'clock next morning, at which hour there." he would depart by railway for Edinburgh,

Need we cite examples?" We are in the hope that his native air might restore lowly," "The Ha' Bible," "The Hero," him. I was five minutes too late to see him "The bursting of the Chain," "I dare not at his house, but I followed him to the sta- scorn," and numerous other pieces which tion, where about a minute before the train might be named, are, for strength, sublistarted he was pointed out to me in one of mity, and the noble poetic truths contained the carriages, seated I believe, between his in them, equal to anything in the English wife and his mother. I stood on the step language. "The Ha' Bible" is perhaps of the carriage and told him my name. He not unworthy to take equal rank with "The gasped they all three wept; but I heard Cottar's Saturday Night " of Robert Burns. not his voice." To this interesting memoir by our friend.

The invalid reached Newhaven, near Dr. Smiles, we will add a few sentences. Leith, sick, exhausted, distressed, and dy- William Tait, in a note to us, observes, ing. He was received under the hospitable that "Robert Nicoll's manners were unroof of Mrs. Johnstone, his early friend, who commonly gentle, yet he was spirited in tended him as if he had been her own child. conversation. I recollect when he and Mr. Other friends gathered around him, and M'Laren, of the Scotsman, dined with me contributed to smooth his dying couch. It and a few friends more, Mr. M'Laren rewas not the least of Nicoll's distresses, that marked the strange brilliancy of Nicoll's towards his latter end he was tortured by eyes, in which there appeared what might the horrors of destitution; not so much for be supposed to be the true poetic fire, orhimself as for those who were dependent on mayhap, one of the well known signs of conhim for their daily bread. A generous gift of sumption." £50 was forwarded by Sir William Moles- It was in Edinburgh that we ourselves worth, through the kind instrumentality saw Robert Nicoll, just before he went to of Mr. Tait, of Edinburgh, but Nicoll did Leeds to edit the Times; and we thought not live to enjoy the bounty; in a few days that we had never seen any one who so after he breathed his last in the arms of his completely realized the idea of the young wife. poet. Somewhat above the middle size, of

The remains of Robert Nicoll rest in a a free and buoyant carriage, and with a narrow spot in Newhaven Churchyard. countenance which was beautiful in the exNo stone marks his resting place: only a pression of intellect and noble sentiment. small green mound that has been watered His eyes, struck us as most poetical,— by the tears of the loved he has left behind large, blue, and full of enthusiasm. There him. On that spot the eye of God dwells; was an ingenuousness about him that was and around the precincts of the poet's grave, peculiarly charming, and the spirit of freethe memories of friends still hover with a dom and of progres that animated him, fond and melancholy regret. seemed to point him out for a brilliant, arRobert Nicoll was no ordinary man: dent career in the cause of man. Ebenezer Elliot has said of him, "Burns at He accompanied us to breakfast at the his age had done nothing like him." His house of an old Friend, a leading member poetry is the very soul of pathos, tender- of the Society there, and the order, the ness, and sublimity. We might almost quietness, and seriousness of the family, style him the Scottish Keats; though much made a most lively impression upon him. more real and life-like, and more definite After breakfast the old gentleman brought in his aims and purposes than Keats was. the Bible and read a chapter, after which There is a truth and soul in the poetry of we sate some time in silence, and when the Nicoll, which come home to the universal conversation was renewed, it was not of the heart. Especially does he give utterance to ordinary matters of the day, but of the prothat deep poetry which lives in the heart, gress of the Peace Society, the Anti-Slavery and murmurs in the lot of the poor man. Society, and similar topics, all embracing He knew and felt it all, and found for it human improvement and welfare. As we a voice in his exquisite lyrics. These have retired, Nicoll said it was a peep into an truth written on their very front-as Nicoll entirely new life to him, and brought strongly said truly to a friend, "I have written my to his imagination the life of Covenanheart in my poems; and rude, unfinished, ters and Patriarchs. We may well underVOL. XIV. No. I.

7

stand his feelings when we read his “ Ha'

And Thou hast given Earth and Sea and Air

Bible," with which, as a fine specimen of Yea all that heart can ask of Good and Pure and his poetry, we will close this article.

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Fair!

And, Father, Thou hast spread

Before Men's eyes this Charter of the Free,
That all thy Book might read,

And Justice, love, and Truth and Liberty.
The Gift was unto Men-the Giver God!
Thou Slave! it stamps thee Man—go spurn thy
weary load!

Thou doubly-precious Book!

Unto thy light what doth not Scotland owe?— Thou teachest Age to die,

And Youth and Truth unsullied up to grow! In lowly homes a Comforter art thou

A sunbeam sent from God-an Everlasting bow! j

O'er thy broad ample page

How many dim and aged eyes have pored?
How many hearts o'er thee

In silence deep and holy have adored?
How many Mothers, by their Infants' bed,
Thy Holy, Blessed, Pure, Child-loving words have
read?

And o'er thee soft young hands

Have oft in truthful plighted Love been join'd, And thou to wedded hearts

Hast been a bond-an altar of the mind!Above all kingly power or kingly law

May Scotland reverence aye-the Bible of the Ha'.

From Taits Magazine.

POPULAR LECTURERS.-PROFESSOR NICHOL.

BY GEORGE GILFILLAN.

THIS, indeed, is the age of public lecturing, | tant. On the other hand, the quantity of and we might spend a long time in discuss- knowledge communicated by lecturing is ing its pros and cons, its advantages, and seldom large; and, as to its quality, lecturits evils. The open and legitimate objects ers are under strong temptations to dilute which popular lecturing proposes to itself it down to the capacities of their audience; are chiefly the three following: Instruction, and, instead of conducting them from first Excitement, and Communication between principles to details, they give them partithe higher minds of the age, and those of cular facts, and tell them to travel back a lower grade. Now, in reference to its themselves to leading principles, an advice utility as an organ of instruction, much which they seldom, if ever, follow. Too may be said on both sides. In public lec- often the hearers, however strongly urged turing, truth is painted to the eye; it is to the contrary by their instructors, forget enforced and illustrated by voice, gesture, to pursue profounder researches, to seek and action; it stands in the person of the, after higher sources; and the close of the orator, as in an illuminated window. The six or seven lectures is the close of their information thus given, attended by a per- studies, and furnishes the complement of sonal interest, and accompanied by a peculiar emphasis, is more profoundly impressed upon the memory; and many, by the fairy aspect of truth which is presented, are induced to love and learn, who otherwise would have remained indifferent and dis-)

their knowledge. Often, too, the class who have least access to books have also least access to lectures, or even when privileged to attend them, find their special wants but indifferently supplied.

In the excitement produced by good pub

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