"That night a child might understand
The deil had business on his hand."
It was a little before the now pensive and thoughtful Burns was given to understand that a son was born unto him, as
"The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last,
that a horrid crash was heard; a shriek rose from the affrighted women, as they drew their chairs nearer the fire. "The ghaists and howlets that nightly cry about the ruins o' Alloway's auld haunted kirk" rose on every imagination. The gudeman rose from his chair, lighted a lantern, commanded Thomas to follow him, and left the house. The case was this—the gable of the byre had been blown down, which, as it was of his own building, was not of the most durable nature.
In due time the joyful father had his first-born son laid in his arms: his joy knew no bounds. The bicker was now sent round with increasing rapidity; and Thomas, then in his fourteenth year, was carried to his bed, to use his own words, "between the late and the early, in a gude way, for the first time."—Such was the birth-night of the poet.
How long Thomas Reid remained in the service of William Burns does not appear. It is certain, however, that he was with him when Robert first went to plough, as Thomas has repeatedly told, as an instance of Burns's early addiction to reading, that he has seen him go to, and return from plough, with a book in his hand, and at meal-times "supping his parritch" with one hand and holding the book in the other.
It would appear that he had, in process of time, got better acquainted with his sweetheart at Maybole Fair, for he married her. It was on this occasion that he rented the Shanter farm, which, with the assistance of his father-in-law, he stocked and furnished. But fortune went against him:
"His cattle died, and blighted was his corn;"
and an unfortunate friend, for whom he had become security for 150l., failed. Under such a load of ill, he, like many others, sought for consolation in the "yill cups;" and any errand which served as a pretext to visit the town of Ayr, renewed his worship to the "inspiring, bold John Barleycorn;" and he usually returned, like the Laird of Snotterston,