A LINK WITH THE PAST.

Dunstan Times, Issue 1275, 6 August 1886, Page 3

A LINK WITH THE PAST.

It will surprise many, and may ins terest a few of your readers to learn that there died at Mofiafc, on the 13th of last month, a veritable, though illegitimate, daughter of the poet Burns. The old lady in question, Helen Armstrong by name, who was S7 or 9S years ot age, resided for many years in Moffat, in the same little back street in which she was born somewhere about the year 1788. The fact of her relationship to Burns was well known in M offat and the neighbourhood. Her mother, Nelly Hyslop, was a beauty in her day, and Burns was foi some time a devoted admirer of hers. Helen is said to have borna strong resemblance to Burns in her earlier days, and in* deed the likeness to the portraits of Bums was traceable to the last in the contour of the face and in the dark bright eyes, dimmed as they were by age and sickness Nor was the likeness confined to physical points; iu her mental powers Helen showed • a strain of the poetic blood. A few years ago her conversational powers and quickness of repartee were most amusing and attractive. Even a few months since, when well enough tc talk, her conversation were highly in« teresting. Helen’s life, so far as I can learn, was not a very eventful one. She went to service at a• very early age —seven, I think. She belonged to that genua of Scotch servants, still enfant though rather rare, who remain years in one “place,” and identify their employers’ interests with their own. She was thirty years in one situation at the Buccleuch Arms inn at Thornhill, with a family named Glendinning. I believe che lived there till all the family had died out. Thornhill, as every school boy knows or ought to know, is close to Drumlanng Castle, one of the ducal palaces of the Buccleuch family. Helen told me she once saw Sir Walter Scott at the old inn on his way to visit the' Duke at .Drutnlani ig. He came into the kitchen and shook hands with the cook in his bright and genial way, and stepping up to the fire, where hung a huge pot of skinny potatoes, he lifted up the lid, took out a potato, and proceeded leisurely to eat it without, the aid of knife or fork. The cock, who was very proud of her kitchen, had all her metal ware brightly burnished, and Sir Walter, looking round on, it, re» marked, “ Eb, Lucky, ye has a r fcricht and shining like the siller.” To which Lucky replied, r Ay, Sir Walter ; but it’s no’ a’ gould that glitters/’ Helen thought that was a very sharp answer, and believed that Sir Walter thought so too, as he subsequently related it at dinner “ amang the gentry.” Helen’s reminiscences, when oho was well enough to be in good conversational trim, were such aa might be expected m the cose of one who, iu her o.vn ward, “ had had a long life and had seen muckle.” Seo a ided, with pious thanksgiving and a touch of true Scottish independence, that in all her long life she had never had tc ask charity from anyone. Tho old lady lived entirely alone, her husband having been dead for many years, and she had no family. It is pleasing to know that her last days were relieved and brightened by the kindness of friends

in Moffat, who had a groat respect and likiug for old Helen, not only aa an interesting link with the past which already seems tar distant, but also as a type ofScotch character which is unfortunately growing rapidly rarer. Independently of the interest attaching to her as a daughter of Burns, she was a character worth knowing.— M M.A,P.R.”in the Pall Mail' Gazette.*