the mortal remains of a man of genius and of worth. The records of his demise which appeared in the different newspapers were creditable to their conductors, and indicated an anxious desire to do honour to his merits; and I have sincere pleasure in reproducing, after the lapse of eleven years, the handsome testimony which was at that time borne to his character by his public opponent, but private friend, Mr Wm. Weir, then editor of the Glasgow Argus:—
'This accomplished gentleman died suddenly on Sunday morning. Mr Motherwell's antiquarian knowledge was extensive; and, as the bent of his mind towards the past tinged his poetry, so his imagination lent grace and vitality to his knowledge. A small volume of lyrical poems, published some years back by Mr Motherwell, is full of tender and unobtrusive beauty. There are few pieces more touching in the whole range of Scottish poetry than his "Jeanie Morrison." A series of papers published in The Day, entitled "Memoirs of a Paisley Bailie," are full of grave, quiet, exquisite humour. In addition to these, we have had occasion to see fragments of a prose work of some extent, which Mr Motherwell had, we believe, almost completed for the press. It is an embodiment of the old wild legends of the Norsemen (always a favourite theme with the author), and contains passages of surpassing splendour, animated by a wayward spirit, half merriment, half pathos. Mr Motherwell was also engaged in making collections for a life of Tannahill—a work much wanted,
