From a village on the coast, where be had gone for the benefit of sea-bathing, he returned to Dumfries, the place of his residence, on the 18th of July 1796, with his constitution fast wearing out. In the words of an eye-witness, “Dumfries was like a besieged place. It was known he was dying, and the anxiety, not of the rich and the learned only, but of the mechanies and peasants, exceeded all belief. Wherever two or three people stood together, their talk was of Burns, and of him alone. They spoke of his history— of his person— of his works— of his fam-ily— of his fame— and of his untimely and approaching fate, with a warmth and an enthusiasm which will ever endear Dumfries to my remembrance.”
When approaching his last hour, says one of his biographers, on the authority of the physieian who attended him, “a tremour pervaded his frame, his tongue was parched, and his mind sunk into delirium when not roused by conversation. On the second and third day the fever increased, and his strength diminished.’ On the fourth day, July 21st 1796, Robert Burns died.
On the 25th, the remains of the poet were removed to the Trades’ Hall, where they lay in state till morning, and next day were interred with military honours, attended by a processio of the chief persons in the town and
