cannot place them on as high an elevation in life as I could wish, I shall, if I am favoured so much by the Disposer of events as to see that period, fix them on as broad and independent a basis as possible. Among the many wise adages which have been treasured up by our Scottish ancestors, this is one of the best-Better be the head o' the commonalty, than the tail o' the gentry. But I am got on a subject which, however interesting to me, is of no manner of consequence to you; so I shall give you a short poem on the other page, and close this with assuring you how sincerely I have the honour to be, yours, &c. NO. CCXIX. TO MRS. GRAHAM, OF FINTRY. R. B. Ellisland, 1791. MADAM-Whether it is that the story of our Mary Queen of Scots has a peculiar effect on the feelings of a poet, or whether I have in the enclosed ballad succeeded beyond my usual poetic success, I know not; but it has pleased me beyond any effort of my muse for a good while past; on that account, enclose it particularly to you. It is true, the purity of my motives may be suspected. I am already deeply indebted to Mr. Graham's goodness; and what, in the usual ways of men, is of infinitely greater importance, Mr. G. can do me service of the utmost importance in time to come. I was born a poor dog; and, however I may occasionally pick a better bone than I used to do, I know I must live and die poor: but I will indulge the flattering faith that my poetry will considerably outlive my poverty; and without any fustian affectation of spirit, I can promise and affirm, that it must be no ordinary craving of the latter shall ever make me do any thing injurious to the honest fame of the former. Whatever may be my failingsfor failings are a part of human nature—may they ever be those of a generous heart and an independent mind! It is no fault of mine that I was born to dependence, nor is it Mr. Graham's chiefest praise that he can command influence: but it is his merit to bestow, not only with the kindness of a brother, but with the politeness of a gentieman; and I trust it shall be mine to receive with thankfulness, and remember with undiminished gratitude. R. B. NO. CCXX. TO MR. CUNNINGHAM. Ellisland, March 12th, 1791. strictures, let me have them. For my own Ir the foregoing piece be worth your part, a thing that I have just composed that partial medium in which an author will always appears through a double portion of ever view his own works. I believe, in general, novelty has something in it that inebriates the fancy, and not unfrequently dissipates and fumes away like other intoxication, and leaves the poor patient, as usual, with an aching heart. A striking instance of this might be adduced, in the revolution of many a hymeneal honey-moon. But lest I sink into stupid prose, and so sacrilegiously intrude on the office of my parish priest, I shall fill up the page in my own way, and give you another song of my late composition, which will appear perhaps in Johnson's work, as well as the former. You must know a beautiful Jacobite air, "There'll never be peace till Jamie comes to be the object of princes and patriots, it hame." When political combustion ceases then, you know, becomes the lawful prey of historians and poets. The lad that is dear to my babie and me! Good night once more, and God bless R. B. you! NO. CCXXI. TO MR. ALEXANDER DALZEL (119), FACTOR, FINDLAYSTON. Ellisland, March 19th, 1791. MY DEAR SIR--I have taken the liberty to frank this letter to you, as it encloses an idle poem of mine, which I send you; and, God knows, you may perhaps pay dear enough for it, if you read it through. Not that this is my own opinion: but the author, by the time he has composed and corrected his work, has quite pored away all his powers of critical discrimination. I can easily guess, from my own heart, what you have felt on a late most melancholy event. God knows what I have suffered at the loss of my best friend, my first and dearest patron and benefactor; the man to whom I owe all that I am and have! I am gone into mourning for him, and with more sincerity of grief than I fear some will, who, by nature's ties, ought to feel on the occasion. friendship, and particularly for your kind I will be exceedingly obliged to you, indeed, to let me know the news of the noble family, how the poor mother and the two sisters support their loss. I had a packet of poetic bagatelles ready to send to Lady Betty, when I saw the fatal tidings in the newspaper. I see, by the same channel, that the honoured REMAINS of my noble patron are designed to be brought to the family burial-place. Dare I trouble you to let me know privately before the day of interment, that I may cross the country, and steal among the crowd, to pay a tear to the last sight of my ever revered bene-picious of, because unacquainted with, the factor! It will oblige me beyond expression. R. B. NO. CCXXII. TO MRS. DUNLOP. Ellisland, April 11th, 1791. I AM once more able, my honoured friend, to return you with my own hand, thanks for the many instances of your crooked ways of a selfish, interested, disingenuous world; and the dearest charm of all the rest, a yielding sweetness of disposition, and a generous warmth of heart, grateful for love on our part, and ardently glowing with a more than equal return; these, with a healthy frame, a sound vigorous constitution, which your higher ranks can scarcely ever hope to enjoy, are the charms of lovely woman in my humble walk of life. This is the greatest effort my broken arm has yet made. Do let me hear, by first post, how cher petit Monsieur (121) comes on with his small-pox. May Almighty goodness NO. CCXXIII. TO MR. CUNNINGHAM. LET me interest you, my dear Cunningham, in behalf of the gentleman who waits on you with this. He is a Mr. Clarke, of Moffat, principal schoolmaster there, and is at present suffering severely under the persecution of one or two powerful individuals of his employers. He is accused of harshness to boys that were placed under his care. God help the teacher, if a man of sensibility and genius, and such is my friend Clarke, when a booby father presents him with his booby son, and insists on lighting up the rays of science in a fellow's head whose skull is impervious and inaccessible by any other way than a positive fracture with a cudgel-a fellow, whom, in fact, it savours of impiety to attempt making a scholar of, as he has been marked a blockhead in the book of fate, at the Almighty fiat of his Creator. The patrons of Moffat-school are the ministers, magistrates, and town-council of Edinburgh, and as the business comes now before them, let me beg my dearest friend to do everything in his power to serve the interests of a man of genius and worth, and a man whom I particularly respect and esteem. You know some good fellows among the magistracy and council, but particularly you have much to say with a reverend gentleman, to whom you have the honour of being very nearly related, and whom this country and age have had the honour to produce. I need not name the historian of Charles V. (122) I tell him, through the medium of his nephew's influence, that Mr. Clarke is a gentleman who will not disgrace even his patronage. I know the merits of the cause thoroughly, and say it, that my friend is falling a sacrifice to prejudiced ignorance. his failings; and curse on that privileged To return in this rambling letter to the subject I set out with, let me recommend my friend, Mr. Clarke, to your acquaintance and good offices; his worth entitles him to the one, and his gratitude will merit the other. I long much to hear from you. Adieu. NO. CCXXIV. TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN. MY LORD-Language sinks under the ardour of my feelings, when I wou'd thank your lordship for the honour you have done me in inviting me to make one at the coronation of the bust of Thomson. In my first enthusiasm in reading the card you did me the honour to write me, I overlooked every obstacle, and determined to go; but I fear it will not be in my power. A week or two's absence in the very middle of my harvest, is what I much doubt I dare not venture on. I once already made a pilgrimage up the whole course of the Tweed, and fondly would I take the same delightful journey God help the children of dependence! down the windings of that delightful stream. Hated and persecuted by their enemies, and Your lordship hints at an ode for the too often, alas! almost unexceptionably, re-occasion; but who would write after Collins? ceived by their friends with disrespect and reproach, under the thin disguise of cold civility and humiliating advice. Oh! to be a sturdy savage, stalking in the pride of his independence, amid the solitary wilds of his deserts, rather than in civilized life helplessly to tremble for a subsistence, precarious as the caprice of a fellow-creature! Every man has his virtues, and no man is without I read over his verses to the memory of Thomson, and despaired. I got indeed to the length of three or four stanzas, in the way of address to the shade of the bard, on crowning his bust. I shall trouble your lordship with the subjoined copy of them, which, I am afraid, will be but too convincing a proof how unequal I am to the task. However, it affords me an opportunity of approaching your lordship, and declaring how sincerely and gratefully I have the honour to be, &c. R. B. NO. CCXXV. TO LADY E. CUNNINGHAM. (123) MY LADY-I would, as usual, have availed myself of the privilege your goodness has allowed me, of sending you anything I compose in my poetical way; but, as I have resolved, so soon as the shock of my irreparable loss would allow me, to pay a tribute to my late benefactor, I determined to make that the first piece I should do myself the honour of sending you. Had the wing of my fancy been equal to the ardour of my heart, the enclosed had been much more worthy your perusal: as it is, I beg leave to lay it at your ladyship's feet. (124) As all the world knows my obligations to the late Earl of Glencairn; I would wish to show, as openly, that my heart glows, and shall ever glow, with the most grateful sense and remembrance of his lordship's goodness. The sables I did myself the honour to wear to his lordship's memory, were not the "mockery of woe." Nor shall my gratitude perish with me! If, among my children, I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to his child as a family honour, and a family debt, that my dearest existence I owe to the noble house of Glencairn! I was about to say, my lady, that if you think the poem may venture to see the light, I would, in some way or other, give it to the world. R. B. attachment. It must be a longer period than the longest life "in the world's bald and undegenerate days," that will make me forget so dear a friend as Mr. Sloan. I am prodigal enough at times, but I will not part with such a treasure as that. I can easily enter into the embarras of You know my your present situation. favourite quotation from Young : ❝ On reason build RESOLVE! That column of true majesty in man." And that other favourite one from Thom son's Alfred :— "What proves the hero truly GREAT, Or, shall I quote you an author of your acquaintance? You Whether DOING, SUFFERING, OR FORBEARING, may do miracles-by PERSEVERING.” I have nothing new to tell you. The few friends we have are going on in the old way. I sold my crop on this day se'nnight, and sold it very well. A guinea an acre, on an average, above value. But such a scene of drunkenness was hardly ever seen in this country. After the roup was over, about thirty people engaged in a battle, every man for his own hand, and fought it out for three hours. Nor was the scene much better in the house. No fighting, indeed, but folks lying drunk on the floor, and decanting, until both my dogs got so drunk by attending them, that they could not stand. You will easily guess how I enjoyed the scene, as I was no farther off than you used to see me. Mrs. B. and family have been in Ayrshire these many weeks. Farewell! and God bless you, my dear friend! R. B NO. CCXXVI. TO MR. THOMAS SLOAN. Ellisland, Sept. 1st, 1791. MY DEAR SLOAN-Suspense is worse than disappointment; for that reason, I hurry to tell you that I just now learn that Mr. Ballantme does not chose to interfere more in the business. I am truly sorry for it, but cannot help it. You blame me for not writing you sooner, but you will please to recollect that you omitted one little necessary piece of information-your address. However, you know equally well my hurried life, indolent temper, and strength of NO. CCXVII. TO COLONEL FULLARTON, Ellisland, Oct. 3rd, 1791. SIR-I have just this minute got the frank, and next minute must send it to post, else I purposed to have sent you two or three other bagatelles that might have amused a vacant hour, about as well as "Six excellent new Songs," or the "Aberdeen prognostications for the year to come." (126) I shall probably trouble you soon with another packet, about the gloomy month of Novemper, when the people of England hang and drown themselves-anything, generally, is better than one's own thoughts. Fond as I may be of my own productions, it is not for their sake that I am so anxious to send you them. I am ambitious, covetously ambitious, of being known to a gentleman whom I am proud to call my countryman (127); a gentleman, who was a foreign ambassador as soon as he was a man; and a leader of armies as soon as he was a soldier; and that with an eclat unknown to the usual minions of a court-men who, with all the adventitious advantages of princely connections, and princely fortunes, must yet, like the caterpillar, labour a whole lifetime before they reach the wished-for height, there to roost a stupid chrysalis, and doze out the remaining glimmering existence of old age. If the gentleman that accompanied you when you did me the honour of calling on me, is with you, I beg to be respectfully remembered to him. I have the honour to be, your highly obliged and most devoted humble servant, R. B. NO. CCXXVIII. TO MISS DAVIES. (128) peo my walks of life I have met with a few Why, dear Madam, must I wake from this delightful reverie, and find it all a dream? Why, amid my generous enthusiasm, must I find myself poor and powerless, incapable of wiping one tear from the eye of Pity, or of adding one comfort to the friend I love! Out upon the world! say I, that its affairs are administered so ili! They talk of reform; good Heaven! what a reform would I make among the sons, and even the daughters of men! Down, immediately should go fools from the high places where misbegotten chance has perked them up, and through life should they skulk, ever haunted by their native insignificance, as the body marches accompanied by its shadow. As for a much more formidable class, the knaves, I am at a loss what to do with them had I a world, there should not be a knave in it. But the hand that could give, I would liberally fill and I would pour delight on the heart that could kindly forgive, and generously love. It is impossible, Madam, that the generous warmth and angelic purity of your youthful mind cau have any idea of that moral disease under which I unhappily must rank as the chief of sinners; I mean a torpitude of the moral powers, that may be called a lethargy of conscience. In vain, Remorse rears her Still, the inequalities of life are, among horrent crest, and rouses all her snakes: men, comparatively tolerable; but there is beneath the deadly fixed eye and leaden hand a delicacy, a tenderuess, accompanying of Indolence, their wildest ire is charmed every view in which we can place lovely into the torpor of the bat, slumbering out woman, that are grated and shocked at the the rigours of winter in the chink of a ruined rude, capricious distinctions of Fortune. wall. Nothing less, Madam, could have Woman is the blood-royal of life: let there made me so long neglect your obliging combe slight degrees of precedency among them mands. Indeed, I had one apology-the-but let them be ALL sacred. Whether bagatelle was not worth presenting. Besides, so strongly am I interested in Miss Davies's fate and welfare in the serious business of life, amid its chances and changes, that to make her the subject of a silly ballad is downright mockery of these ardent feelings; 'tis like an impertinent jest to a dying friend. Gracious Heaven! why this disparity between our wishes and our powers? Why is the most generous wish to make others blest, impotent and ineffectual, as the idle breeze that crosses the pathless desert? In this last sentiment be right or wrong, I am NO. CCXXIX. TO MRS. DUNLOP. Ellisland, December 17th, 1791 MANY thanks to you, Madam, for your good news respecting the little floweret and |