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and come, defy me the north! Would you have me in such circumstances copy you out a love-song?

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I may perhaps see you on Saturday, but I will not be at the ball. Why should I?" Man delights not me, nor woman either!" Can you supply me with the song, "Let us all be unhappy together?"-do if you can, and oblige le pauvre misérable.-R. B.

No. CCCXXI.

TO G. THOMSON.

66

April, 1796.

ALAS! my dear Thomson, I fear it will be some time ere I tune my lyre again! "By Babel streams I have sat and wept" almost ever since I wrote you last. I have only known existence by the pressure of the heavy hand of sickness; and have counted time by the repercussions of pain. Rheumatism, cold, and fever have formed to me a terrible combination. I close my eyes in misery, and open them without hope. I look on the vernal day, and say with poor Fergusson—

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This will be delivered to you by a Mrs. Hyslop, landlady of the Globe Tavern here, which for these many years has been my howff, * and where our friend Clarke and I have had many a merry squeeze. I am highly delighted with Mr. Allan's etchings. "Woo'd and married an' a'" is admirable! The grouping is beyond all praise. The expression of the figures, comformable to the story in the ballad, is absolutely faultless perfection. I next admire "Turnimspike." What I like least is “Jenny said to Jocky." Besides the female being in her appearance * * * * * if you take her stooping into the account, she is at least two inches taller than her lover.

Poor Cleghorn! I sincerely sympathize with him! Happy I am to think that he yet has a well-grounded hope of health and enjoyment in this world. As for me-but that is a sad subject!

No. CCCXXII.

TO G. THOMSON.

I HAVE no copies of the songs I have sent you, and I have taken a fancy to review them all, and possibly may mend some of them; so, when you have complete leisure, I will thank you for either the originals or copies. I had rather be the author of five well-written songs than of ten

The "howff" of which Burns speaks was a small, comfortable tavern, situated in the mouth of the Globe close, and it held at that time the rank as third among the houses of public accommodation in Dumfries.

otherwise. I have great hopes that the genial influence of the approaching summer will set me to rights, but as yet I cannot boast of returning health. I have now reason to believe that my complaint is a flying gout: a sad business!

This should have been delivered to you a month ago. poorly, but should like much to hear from you.

I am still very

No. CCCXXIII.

TO MR. JAMES JOHNSON,

EDINBURGH.

DUMFRIES, 4th July, 1796.

How are you, my dear friend, and how comes on your fifth volume? You may probably think that for some time past I have neglected you and your work; but, alas! the hand of pain, and sorrow, and care, has these many months lain heavy on me! Personal and domestic affliction have almost entirely banished that alacrity and life with which I used to woo the rural Muse of Scotia.

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You are a good, worthy, honest fellow, and have a good right to live in this world because you deserve it. Many a merry meeting this publication has given us, and possibly it may give us more, though, alas! I fear it. This protracting, slow, consuming illness which hangs over me will, I doubt much, my ever dear friend, arrest my sun before he has well reached his middle career, and will turn over the poet to far more important concerns than studying the brilliancy of wit or the pathos of sentiment! However, hope is the cordial of the human heart, and I endeavour to cherish it as well as I can.

Let me hear from you as soon as convenient. Your work is a great one; and now that it is finished, I see, if we were to begin again, two or three things that might be mended; yet I will venture to prophesy, that to future ages your publication will be the text-book and standard of Scottish song and music.

I am ashamed to ask another favour of you, because you have been so very good already; but my wife has a very particular friend of hers, a young lady who sings well, to whom she wishes to present the "Scots Musical Museum." If you have a spare copy, will you be so obliging as to send it by the very first fly, as I am anxious to have it soon.

Yours ever,

R. B.

[In this humble and delicate manner did poor Burns ask for a copy of a work of which he was principally the founder, and to which he had contributed, gratuitously, not less than 184 original, altered, and collected songs!]

No. CCCXXIV.

TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.

MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,

BROW, SEA-BATHING QUARTERS, 7th July, 1796.

I received yours here this moment, and am indeed highly flattered with the approbation of the literary circle you mention a literary circle inferior to none in the two kingdoms. Alas! my friend, I fear the voice of the bard will soon be heard among you no more! For these eight or ten months I have been ailing, sometimes bed-fast and sometimes not; but these last three months I have been tortured with an excruciating rheumatism, which has reduced me to nearly the last stage. You actually would not know me if you saw me. Pale, emaciated, and so feeble as occasionally to need help from my chair-my spirits fled! fled !—but I can no more on the subject-only the medical folks tell me that my last and only chance is bathing, and country quarters, and riding. The deuce of the matter is this: when an exciseman is off duty, his salary is reduced to 35%. instead of 50%. What way, in the name of thrift, shall I maintain myself, and keep a horse in country quarters, with a wife and five children at home, on 357.? I mention this, because I had intended to beg your utmost interest, and that of all the friends you can muster, to move our Commissioners of Excise to grant me the full salary;* I dare say you know them all personally. If they do not grant it me, I must lay my account with an exit truly en poëte-if I die not of disease, I must perish with hunger.

I have sent you one of the songs; the other my memory does not serve me with, and I have no copy here; but I shall be at home soon, when I will send it you. Apropos to being at home, Mrs. Burns threatens in a week or two to add one more to my paternal charge, which, if of the right gender, I intend shall be introduced to the world by the respectable designation of Alexander Cunningham Burns. My last was James Glencairn, so you can have no objection to the company of nobility. Farewell.-R. B.

DEAR BROTHER,

No. CCCXXV.

TO MR. GILBERT BURNS.

10th July, 1796.

It will be no very pleasing news to you to be told that I am dangerously ill, and not likely to get better. An inveterate rheumatism has reduced me to such a state of debility, and my appetite is so totally gone, that I can scarcely stand on my legs. I have been a week at seabathing, and I will continue there, or in a friend's house in the country, all the summer. God keep my wife and children! if I am taken from

* The Poet's humble request of the continuance of his full salary was not granted.

their head, they will be poor indeed. I have contracted one or two serious debts, partly from my illness these many months, partly from too much thoughtlessness as to expense when I came to town, that will cut in too much on the little I leave them in your hands. Remember me to my mother.

Yours,

R. B.

No. CCCXXVI.

TO G. THOMSON.

BROW, 4th July.

MY DEAR SIR, I received your songs: but my health is so precarious, nay, dangerously situated, that as a last effort I am here at sea-bathing quarters. Besides my inveterate rheumatism, my appetite is quite gone, and I am so emaciated as to be scarce able to support myself on my own legs. Alas! is this a time for me to woo the Muses? However, I am still anxiously willing to serve your work, and, if possible, shall try. I would not like to see another employed, unless you could lay your hand upon a poet whose productions would be equal to the rest. You will see my remarks and alterations on the margin of each song. still Dumfries. Farewell, and God bless you!—R. B.

My address is

[The handwriting of this note is smaller and less steady than the other letters -like the writing of one who, in the interval, had become an old man.— Robert Chambers.]

MY DEAREST Love,

No. CCCXXVII.

TO MRS. BURNS.

BROW, Thursday.

I delayed writing until I could tell you what effect sea-bathing was likely to produce. It would be injustice to deny that it has eased my pains, and I think has strengthened me; but my appetite is still extremely bad. No flesh nor fish can I swallow: porridge and milk are the only things I can taste. I am very happy to hear, by Miss Jess Lewars, that you are all well. My very best and kindest compliments to her, and to all the children. I will see you on Sunday.

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I have written you so often, without receiving any answer, that I would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I I am.

An illness which has long hung about me in all probability will speedily send me beyond that bourn whence no traveller returns. Your friendship, with which for many years you honoured me, was a friendship dearest to my soul. Your conversation, and especially your correspondence, were at once highly entertaining and instructive. With what pleasure did I use to break up the seal! The remembrance yet adds one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart. Farewell ! ! !—R. B.

MY DEAR COUSIN,

No. CCCXXIX.

TO MR. JAMES BURNESS,

WRITER, MONTROSE.

DUMFRIES, 12th July.

When you offered me money assistance, little did I think I should want it so soon. A rascal of a haberdasher, to whom I owe a considerable bill, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process against me, and will infallibly put my emaciated body into jail. Will you be so good as to accommodate me, and that by return of post, with ten pounds? O, James! did you know the pride of my heart, you would feel doubly for me. Alas! I am not used to beg. The worst of it is, my health was coining about finely; you know, and my physician assured me, that melancholy and low spirits are half my disease: guess, then, my horrors since this business began. If I had it settled, I would be, I think, quite well in a manner. How shall I use the language to you, O do not disappoint me! but strong necessity's curst command.

I have been thinking over and over my brother's affairs, and I fear I must cut him up; but on this I will correspond at another time, particularly as I shall [require] your advice.

Forgive me for once more mentioning by return of post ;-save me from the horrors of a jail!

My compliments to my friend James, and to all the rest. I do not know what I have written. The subject is so horrible, I dare not look it over again. Farewell. *-R. B.

No. CCCXXX..

TO G. THOMSON.

BROW, ON THE SOLWAY FRITH, 12th July, 1796 AFTER all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me to implore you for five pounds. A cruel wretch of a haberdasher, to whom I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced

James Burness sent his cousin ten pounds the moment he received his letter, though he could ill spare the money.

The dying Poet wrote entreatingly for five pounds, and Themson sent the exact sum which he requested, from inability to send more; or, as he avers, from a dread of giving offence to the sensitive mind of Burns.

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