cal to the sacred interests of piety and virtue, | for your silence and neglect; I shall only say I than the, even lawful, bustling and straining received yours with great pleasure. I have enafter the world's riches and honours; and I do closed you a piece of rhyming ware for your not see but that he may gain Heaven as well perusal. I have been very busy with the muses (which, by the bye, is no mean consideration), since I saw you, and have composed, among sewho steals through the vale of life, amusing veral others, The Ordination, a poem on Mr. himself with every little flower that fortune M'Kinlay's being called to Kilmarnock; Scotch throws in his way; as he who, straining straight | Drink, a poem ; The Cotter's Saturday Night; forward, and perhaps bespattering all about him, An Address to the Devil, &c. I have likewise gains some of life's little eminences; where, af- completed my poem on the Dogs, but have not ter all, he can only see, and be seen, a little more shewn it to the world. My chief patron now conspicuously, than what, in the pride of his is Mr. Aiken in Ayr, who is pleased to express heart, he is apt to term the poor, indolent devil great approbation of my works. Be so good as he has left behind him. send me Fergusson, by Connel, and I will remit you the money. I have no news to acquaint you with about Mauchline, they are just going on in the old way. I have some very important news with respect to myself, not the most agreeable, news that I am sure you cannot guess, but I shall give you the particulars another time. I am extremely happy with Smith; he is the only friend I have now in Mauchline. can scarcely forgive your long neglect of me, and I beg you will let me hear from you regu

There is a noble sublimity, a heart-melting tenderness, in some of our ancient ballads, which shows them to be the work of a masterly hand: and it has often given me many a heart-ache to reflect, that such glorious old bards-bards who very probably owed all their talents to native genius, yet have described the exploits of heroes, the pangs of disappointment, and the meltings of love, with such fine strokes of nature-larly by Connel. If you would act your part as that their very names (O how mortifying to a a FRIEND, I am sure neither good nor bad for bard's vanity!) are now "buried among the tune should strange or alter me. Excuse haste, wreck of things which were." as I got yours but yesterday.—I am, My dear Sir,

O ye illustrious names unknown! who could feel so strongly and describe so well; the last, the meanest of the muses' train-one who, tnough far inferior to your flights, yet eyes your path, and with trembling wing would sometimes soar after you-a poor rustic bard unknown, pays this sympathetic pang to your memory! Some of you tell us, with all the charms of verse, that you have been unfortunate in the world-unfortunate in love: he too has felt the loss of his little fortune, the loss of friends, and, worse than all, the loss of the woman he adored. Like you, all his consolation was his muse: she taught him in rustic measures to complain. Happy could he have done it with your strength of imagination and flow of verse! May the turf lie lightly on your bones! and may you now enjoy that solace and rest which this world seldom gives to the heart, tuned to all the feelings of poesy and love!

Yours,

ROBT. BURNESS.

No. VIII.

TO MR. M WHINNIE, WRITER, AYR.

Mossgiel, 17th April, 1786. Ir is injuring some hearts, those hearts that elegantly bear the impression of the good Creator, to say to them you give them the trouble of obliging a friend; for this reason, I only tell you that I gratify my own feelings in requesting your friendly offices with respect to the enclosed, because I know it will gratify yours to assist me in it to the utmost of your power.

I have sent you four copies, as I have no less than eight dozen, which is a great deal more than I shall ever need.

Be sure to remember a poor poet militant in your prayers. He looks forward with fear and trembling to that, to him, important moment

which stamps the die with-with-with, per- news to tell you that will give me any pleasure haps the eternal disgrace of,

Mossgiel, June 12, 1786. I RECEIVED your message by G. Paterson, I have been feeling all the various rotations and as I am not very throng at present, I just and movements within, respecting the excise. write to let you know that there is such a worth-There are many things plead strongly against it; less, rhyming reprobate, as your humble servant, the uncertainty of getting soon into business, the still in the land of the living, though I can consequences of my follies, which may perhaps scarcely say, in the place of hope. I have no make it impracticable for me to stay at home;

and besides, I have for some time been pining gressive struggle; and that, however I might under secret wretchedness, from causes which possess a warm heart and inoffensive manners you pretty well know-the pang of disappoint- (which last, by the bye, was rather more than ment, the sting of pride, with some wandering I could well boast), still, more than these passtabs of remorse, which never fail to settle on sive qualities, there was something to be done. my vitals like vultures, when attention is not When all my school-fellows and youthful comcalled away by the calls of society or the vaga-peers (those misguided few excepted, who joinries of the muse. Even in the hour of social ed, to use a Gentoo phrase, the hallachores of mirth, my gaiety is the madness of an intoxica- the human race), were striking off with eager ted criminal under the hands of the executioner. hope and earnest intent on some one or other All these reasons urge me to go abroad; and to of the many paths of busy life, I was "standall these reasons I have only one answer-the ing idle in the market place," or only left the feelings of a father. This, in the present mood chase of the butterfly from flower to flower, to I am in, overbalances every thing that can be hunt fancy from whim to whim. iaid in the scale against it.

You see. Sir, that if to know one's errors were a probability of mending them, I stand a You may perhaps think it an extravagant fair chance; but, according to the reverend fancy, but it is a sentiment which strikes hoine Westminster divines, though conviction must to my very soul: though sceptical, in some points, of our current belief, yet, I think, I have precede conversion, it is very far from always implying it. every evidence for the reality of a life beyond the stinted bourne of our present existence; if so, then how should I, in the presence of that tremendous Being, the Author of existence, how should I meet the reproaches of those who stand to me in the dear relation of children, whom I deserted in the smiling innocency of helpless infancy? O, thou great unknown Power! thou Almighty God! who hast lighted up reason in my breast, and blessed me with immortality! I have frequently wandered from that order and regularity necessary for the perfection of thy works, yet thou hast never left me nor forsaken

me!

No. XII.

TO MRS. DUNLOP, OF DUNLOP.

MADAM,

Ayrshire, 1786

when I was so much honoured with your order I AM truly sorry I was not at home yesterday, for my copies, and incomparably more by the handsome compliments you are pleased to pay my poetic abilities. I am fully persuaded that Since I wrote the foregoing sheet, I have alive to the titillations of applause as the sons there is not any class of mankind so feelingly seen something of the storm of mischief thick-of Parnassus; nor is it easy to conceive how ening over my folly-devoted head. Should you, the heart of the poor bard dances with rapture, my friends, my benefactors, be successful in when those whose character in life gives them your applications for me, perhaps it may not be in my power in that way to reap the fruit of a right to be polite judges, honour him with your friendly efforts. their approbation. Had you been thoroughly What I have written in have touched my darling heart-chord more acquainted with me, Madam, you could not sweetly than by noticing my attempts to celebrate your illustrious ancestor, the Saviour of his Country.

the preceding pages is the settled tenor of my present resolution; but should inimical circumstances forbid me closing with your kind offer, or, enjoying it, only threaten to entail farther misery

"Great, patriot hero! ill-requited chief.”

which I perused with pleasure, was The Life The first book I met with in my early years,

To tell the truth, I have little reason for this last complaint, as the world, in general, has been kind to me, fully up to my deserts. of Hannibal: the next was The History of Sir William Wallace: for several of my earI was, for some time past, fast getting into the lier years I had few other authors; and many a pining distrustful snarl of the misanthrope. I solitary hour have I stole out, after the laborisaw myself alone, unfit for the struggle of life, shrinking at every rising cloud in the chance- their glorious but unfortunate stories. In those ous vocations of the day, to shed a tear over directed atmosphere of fortune, while, all defenceless, I looked about in vain for a cover. boyish days I remember in particular being It never occurred to me, at least never with the force it deserved, that this world is a busy scene, and man a creature destined for a pro

tress of mind occasioned by our Poet's separation from This letter was evidently written ander the disMrs. Burns.

struck with that part of Wallace's story where | scension and affability, they would never stand these lines occur

"Syne to the Leglen wood, when it was late, To make a silent and a safe retreat."

I chose a fine summer Sunday, the only day my line of life allowed, and walked half a dozen of miles to pay my respects to the Leglen wood, with as much devout enthusiasm as ever pilgrim did to Loretto; and, as I explored every den and dell where I could suppose my heroic countryman to have lodged, I recollect (for) even then I was a rhymer), that my heart glowed with a wish to be able to make a song on him in some measure equal to his merits.

No. XIII.

TO MRS. STEWART, OF STAIR.

MADAM,

1786.

so high, measuring out with every look the height of their elevation, but condescend as sweetly as did Mrs. Stewart of Stair.

No. XIV.

DR. BLACKLOCK

ΤΟ

THE REVEREND MR. G. LOWRIE. REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,

I OUGHT to have acknowledged your favour long ago, not only as a testimony of your kind remembrance, but as it gave me an opportunity of sharing one of the finest, and, perhaps, one of the most genuine entertainments, of which the human mind is susceptible. A number of avocations retarded my progress in reading the poems; at last, THE hurry of my preparations for going a-however, I have finished that pleasing perusal. broad has hindered me from performing my pro- Many instances have I seen of Nature's force and mise so soon as I intended. I have here sent you beneficence exerted under numerous and formida parcel of songs, &c. which never made their able disadvantages; but none equal to that with appearance, except to a friend or two at most. which you have been kind enough to present me. Perhaps some of them may be no great enter-There is a pathos and delicacy in his serious tainment to you: but of that I am far from be- poems, a vein of wit and humour in those of a ing an adequate judge. The song to the tune more festive turn, which cannot be too much of Ettrick Banks, you will easily see the impro-admired, nor too warmly approved; and I think priety of exposing much even in manuscript. I shall never open the book without feeling my I think, myself, it was some merit, both as a to- astonishment renewed and increased. It was my lerable description of one of Nature's sweetest wish to have expressed my approbation in verse; scenes, a July evening, and one of the finest but whether from declining life, or a temporary pieces of Nature's workmanship, the finest in- depression of spirits, it is at present out of my deed we know any thing of, an amiable, beauti-power to accomplish that agreeable intention. ful young woman; but I have no common Mr. Stewart, Professor of Morals in this Uni friend to procure me that permission, without versity, had formerly read me three of the poems, which I would not dare to spread the copy. and I had desired him to get my name inserted I am quite aware, Madam, what task the among the subscribers; but whether this was world would assign me in this letter. The ob-done, or not, I never could learn. I have little scure bard, when any of the great condescend intercourse with Dr. Blair, but will take care to take notice of him, should heap the altar with to have the poems communicated to him by the the incense of flattery. Their high ancestry, intervention of some mutual friend. It has been their own great and godlike qualities and actions, told me by a gentleman, to whom I showed the should be recounted with the most exaggerated performances, and who sought a copy with dilidescription. This, Madam, is a task for which gence and ardour, that the whole impression is I am altogether unfit. Besides a certain dis- already exhausted. It were, therefore, much to qualifying pride of heart, I know nothing of be wished, for the sake of the young man, that your connections in life, and have no access to a second edition, more numerous than the former, where your real character is to be found-the could immediately be printed; as it appears cercompany of your compeers and more, I am a-tain that its intrinsic merit, and the exertion of fraid that even the most refined adulation is by the author's friends, might give it a more unino means the road to your good opinion.

One feature of your character I shall ever with grateful pleasure remember-the reception I got, when I had the honour of waiting on you at Stair. I am little acquainted with politeness; but I know a good deal of benevolence of tem. per and goodness of heart. Surely, did those in exalted stations know how happy they could make some classes of their inferiors by conde

Miss A

versal circulation than any thing of the kind which has been published within my memory.†

SIR,

No. XV.

FROM SIR JOHN WHITEFORD.

Edinburgh, 4th December, 1786.

ing talents, and elevate the mind, and exalt and refine the ungination even of a poet.

I hope you will not imagine I speak from suspicion or evil report. I assure you I speak from love and good report, and good opinion, I RECEIVED your letter a few days ago. I do and a strong desire to see you shine as much in not pretend to much interest, but what I have the sunshine as you have done in the shade, and I shall be ready to exert in procuring the attain-in the practice as you do in the theory of virtue. ment of any object you have in view. Your This is my prayer, in return for your elegant character as a man (forgive my reversing your composition in verse. All here join in compliorder), as well as a poet, entitle you, I think, to ments, and good wishes for your further pros the assistance of every inhabitant of Ayrshire. perity. I have been told you wished to be made a gauger; I submit it to your consideration, whether it would not be more desirable, if a sum could be raised by subscription, for a second edition of your poems, to lay it out in the stocking of a small farm. I am persuaded it would be a line of life, much more agreeable to your feelings, and in the end more satisfactory. When you have considered this, let me know, and whatever you determine upon, I will endeavour to promote as far as my abilities will permit. With compli ments to my friend the doctor, I am,

Your friend and well-wisher,

JOHN WHITEFORD.

No. XVII.

TO GAVIN HAMILTON, Esq.

HONOURED SIR,

MAUCHLINE.

Edinburgh, Dec. 7, 1786.

I HAVE paid every attention to your commands, but can only say what perhaps you will

P. S.-I shall take it as a favour when you have heard before this reach you, that Muirat any time send me a new production.

I LAST week received a letter from Dr. Blacklock, in which he expresses a desire of seeing you. I write this to you, that you may lose no time in waiting upon him, should you not yet have seen him.

kirklands were bought by a John Gordon, W. S. but for whom I know not; Mauchlands, Haugh Miln, &c. by a Frederick Fotheringham, supposed to be for Ballochmyle Laird, and Adamhill and Shawood were bought for Oswald's folks.-This is so imperfect an account, and will be so late ere it reach you, that were it not to discharge my conscience I would not trouble you with it; but after all my diligence 1 could make it no sooner nor better.

For my own affairs, I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as Thomas a Kempis or John Bunyan; and you may expect henceforth to see my birth-day inserted among the wonderful events, in the poor Robin's and Aberdeen Almanacks, along with the Black Monday, and the battle of Bothwell Bridge.-My lord Glencairn I rejoice to hear, from all corners, of your and the Dean of Faculty, Mr. H. Erskine, have rising fame, and I wish and expect it may tower taken me under their wing; and by all probastill higher by the new publication. But, as ability I shall soon be the tenth worthy, and the friend, I warn you to prepare to meet with your eighth wise man of the world. Through my share of detraction and envy-a train that al- lord's influence it is inserted in the records of ways accompany great men. For your comfort, the Caledonian hunt, that they universally, one I am in great hopes that the number of your and all, subscribe for the second edition. My friends and admirers will increase, and that you subscription bills come out to-morrow, and you have some chance of ministerial, or even shall have some of them next post. I have met patronage. Now, my friend, such rapid success in Mr. Dalrymple, of Orangefield, what Solomon is very uncommon and do you think yourself emphatically calls," A friend that sticketh in no danger of suffering by applause and a full closer than a brother."-The warmth with purse? Remember Solomon's advice, which he which he interests himself in my affairs is of the spoke from experience, "stronger is he that con- same enthusiastic kind which you, Mr. Aiken, quers," &c. Keep fast hold of your rural sim- and the few patrons that took notice of my earplicity and purity, like Telemachus, by Mentor's lier poetic days, shewed for the poor unlucky aid, in Calypso's isle, or even in that of Cyprus. devil of a poet.

I hope you have a Minerva with you. I I always remember Mrs. Hamilton and Miss need not tell you how much a modest diffidence Kennedy in my poetic prayers, but you both in and invincible temperance adorn the most shin-prose and verse.