We have gotten a set of very decent players here just now. I have seen them an evening FROM WILLIAM BURNS, THE POET'S or two. David Campbell, in Ayr, wrote to me by the manager of the company, a Mr. Sutherland, who is a man of apparent worth. On New-year-day evening I gave him the following prologue, which he spouted to his audience with applause.

But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the ques-panies at Murdoch's, or on his account, when I

He bade me on you press this one word-such instructions now: I never had more need

"Little did my mother think,

No. CXXXIX.

TO MRS. DUNLOP.

Ellisland, 25th January, 1790.

That day she cradled me,
What land I was to travel in,

Or what death I should die."

IT has been owing to unremitting hurry of Old Scottish songs are, vou know, a favourbusiness that I have not written to you, Ma-ite study and pursuit of mine; and now I am dam, long ere now. My health is greatly het. on that subject, allow me to give you two ter, and I now begin once more to share in sa stanzas of another old simple ballad, which I tisfaction and enjoyment with the rest of my am sure will please you. The catastrophe of fellow-creatures. the piece is a poor ruined female, lamenting her fate. She concludes with this pathetic wish:

Many thanks, my much esteemed friend, for your kind letters; but why will you make me run the risk of being contemptible and mercenary in my own eyes! When I pique myself on my independent spirit, I hope it is neither poetic license, nor poetic rant; and I am so flattered with the honour you have done me, in making me your compeer in friendship and friendly correspondence, that I cannot without pain, and a degree of mortification, be reminded of the real inequality between our situations.

that my father had ne'er on me smiled;
O that my mother had ne'er to me sung!
O that my cradle had never been rock'd;
But that I had died when I was young!!

O that the grave it were my bed;

My blankets were my winding sheet;
The clocks and the worms my bedfellows a';
And O sae sound as I should sleep!"

Most sincerely do I rejoice with you, dear. Madam, in the good news of Anthony. Not only your anxiety about his fate, but my own I do not remember in all my reading to have esteem for such a noble, warm-hearted, inanly met with any thing more truly the language of young fellow, in the little I had of his acquaint-misery, than the exclamation in the last line. ance, has interested me deeply in his fortunes. Misery is like love; to speak its language truly, Falconer, the unfortunate author of the Ship-the author must have felt it.

wreck, which you so much admire, is no mote. I am every day expecting the doctor to give After weathering the dreadful catastrophe he so your little god-son the small-pox. They are feelingly describes in his poem, and after weife in the country, and I tremble for his fate. thering many hard gales of fortune, he wet t to By the way, I cannot help congratulating you the bottom with the Aurora frigate! I forget on his looks and spirit. Every person who what part of Scotland had the honour of giving him birth, but he was the son of obscurity and misfortune.* He was one of those doring adventurous spirits, which Scotland beyond any other country is remarkable for producing. Little does the fond mother think, as she hangs delighted over the sweet little leech at her bosom, where the hereafter wanfellow poor I thought to have sent you some rhymes, but der, and what may be his fate. I remember a time forbids. I promise you poetry until you stanza in an old Scottish ballad, which, not-are tired of it, next time I have the honour of withstanding its rude simplicity, speaks feelingly assuring you how truly I am, &c. to the heart:

may

Falconer was in early life a sea-boy, to use a word of Shakspeare, on board a man-of-war, in which capacity he attracted the notice of Campbell, the author of the satire on Dr. Johnson, entitled Lexiphanes, then purser of the ship. Campbell took him as his servant, and delighted in giving him instruction; and when Falconer afterwards acquired celebrity, boasted of him as his scholar. The editor had this information from a surgeon of a man-of-war, in 1777, who knew both Campbell and Falconer, and who himself perished soon after by shipwreck, on the coast of America.

sees him, acknowledges him to be the finest, handsomest child he has ever seen. I am myself delighted with the manly swell of his little chest, and a certain miniature dignity in the carriage of his head, and glance of his fine black eye, which promise the undaunted gallantry of an independent mind.

No. CXL.

FROM MR. CUNNINGHAM.

28th January, 1790.

Though the death of Falconer happened so lately as In some instances it is reckoned unpardonable 1770 or 1771, yet in the biography prefixed by Dr. An- to quote any one's own words; but the value I derson to his works, in the complete edition of the have for your friendship, nothing can more truly Poets of Great Britain, it is said, "Of the family,

birth-place, and education of William Falconer, there or more elegantly express, than

are no memorials." On the authority already given, it may be mentioned, that he was a native of one of the towns on the coast of Fife, and that his parents, who had suffered some misfortunes, removed to one of the sea-ports of England, where they both died, soon after, of an epidemic fever, leaving poor Falconer, then a boy, forlorn and destitute. In conse quence of which he entered on board a man-of-war. These last circumstances are however less certain.CROMEK.

"Time but the impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear."

Having written to you twice without having

❤ The bard's second son, Francis,

heard from you, I am apt to think my letters | does me the honour to mention me so kindly in have miscarried. My conjecture is only framed his works, please give him my best thanks for upon the chapter of accidents turning up against the copy of his book--I shall write him, my first me, as it too often does, in the trivial, ant I leisure hour. I like his poetry much, but I may with truth add, the more important affairs think his style in prose quite astonishing. of life but I shall continue occasionally to inform you what is going on among the circle of your friends in these parts. In these days of merriment, I have frequently heard your name proclaimed at the jovial board-under the roof of our hospitable friend at Stenhouse Mills, there

were no

"Lingering moments number'd with care."

I saw your Address to the New-year in the Dumfries Journal. Of your productions I shall say nothing, but my acquaintance allege that when your name is mentioned, which every man of celebrity must know often happens, I am the champion, the Mendoza, against all snarling critics, and narrow-minded reptiles, of whom a few on this planet do crawl.

With best compliments to your wife, and her black-eved sister, I remain, yours, &c.

No. CXLI.

TO MR. PETER HILL.

Ellisland, Feb. 2. 1790.

Your book came safe, and I am going to trouble you with farther commissions. I call it troubling you-because I want only, BOOKS; the cheapest way, the best; so you may have to hunt for them in the evening auctions. I. want Sinollett's Works, for the sake of his incomparable humour. I have already Roderick Randon, and Humphrey Clinker.-Peregrine Pickle, Launcelot Greaves, and Frederick, Count Fathom, I still want; but as I said, the veriest ordinary copies will serve me. I am nice only in the appearance of my poets. I forget the price of Cowper's Poems, but, I believe, I must have them. I saw the other day, proposals for a publication, entitled, "Banks's new and complet Christian's Family Bible," printed for C. Cooke, Paternoster-row, London.-He promises at least, to give in the work, I think it is three hundred and old engravings, to which he has put the names of the first artists in London.* You will know the character of the performance, as some numbers of it are published; and if it is really what it pretends to be, set me down as a subscriber, and send me the published numbers.

No. CXLII..

TO MR. W. NICOLL.

Let me hear from you, your first leisure miNo! I will not say one word about apolo-nute, and trust me, you shall in future have no gies or excuses for not writing-I am a poor, reason to complain of my silence. The dazzling rascally gauger, condemned to gallop at least perplexity of novelty will dissipate and leave me 200 miles every week to inspect dirty ponds to pursue my course in the quiet path of me and yeasty barrels, and where can I find time thodical routine. to write to, or importance to interest any body? The upbraidings of my conscience, nay the upbraidings of my wife, have persecuted me on your account these two or three months past.I wish to God I was a great man, that my correspondence might throw light upon you, to let the world see what you really are; and then I would make your fortune, without putting my hand in my pocket for you, which, like all other great men, I suppose I would avoid as much as possible. What are you doing, and how are you doing? Have you lately seen any of my few friends? What is become of the BOROUGH Perhaps no set of men more effectually avail themREFORM, or how is the fate of my poor name-selves of the easy eredu'ity of the public, then a cet. sake Mademoiselle Burns decided? O man! hundred and odd engravings and by the first artists tain description of Paternester-row booksellers. Three but for thee and thy selfish appetites, and dis-in London, too! No wonder that Burns was dazzled It is no unusual honest artifices, that beauteous form, and that by the splendour of the promise. thing for this class of impostors to illustrate the Holy once innocent and still ingenuous mind might Scriptures by plates originally engraved for the Hishave shone conspicuous and lovely in the faith-tory of England, ani I have actually seen subjer's de ful wife, and the affectionate mother; and shallied by our celebrated acest Sto hard, from Carissa the unfortunate sacrifice to thy pleasures have no claim on thy humanity!

I saw lately in a Review, some extracts from a new poem, called The Village Curate; send it me. I want likewise a cheap copy of The World. Mr. Armstrong, the young poet, who

MY DEAR SIR, Ellisland, Feb. 9, 1790. THAT d-mned mare of yours is dead. I would freely have given her price to have saved

Harlowe and the Nerelis's Magazine, converted, with incredible dexterity, by these Bookselling-Breslaws, into Scriptura! embellishments! One of these venders of Family Bibles' lately called on me, to consult me professionally, about a folto engraving he brought with him.-It represented MONS. BUFFON, seated, contemplating various groups of animals that surrounded him. He merely wished, he said, to be informed, whether by uncloathing the Naturalist, and

her: she has vexed me beyond description. In-bound the said Nelson to the confession of faith, debted as I was to your goodness beyond what so far as it was agreeable to reason and the I can ever repay,' I eagerly grasped at your of-word of God!

"Peg Nicholson was a good Bay-mare,"— (see p. 77.)

fer to have the mare with me. That I might Mrs. B. begs to be remembered most grateat least shew my readiness in wishing to be fully to you. Little Bobby and Frank are grateful, I took every care of her in my power. charmingly well and healthy. I am jaded to She was never crossed for riding above half a death with fatigue. For these two or thres score of times by me or in my keeping. I drew months, on an average, I have not ridden less her in the plough, one of three, for one poor than two hundred miles per week. I have week. I refused fifty-five shillings for her, which done little in the poetic way. I have given Mr. was the highest bode I could squeeze for her. Sutherland two Prologues; one of which was I fed her up and had her in fine order for Dum-delivered last week. I have likewise strung fries fair; when four or five days before the fair, four or five barbarous stanzas, to the tune of she was seized with an unaccountable disorder Chevy Chase, by way of Elegy on your poor unin the sinews, or somewhere in the bones of the fortunate mare, beginning,— neck; with a weakness or total want of power in her fillets, and in short the whole vertebræ of her spine seemed to be diseased and unhinged, and in eight and forty hours, in spite of the two best farriers in the country, she died and be d-mned to her! The farriers said that she had been quite strained in the fillets beyond cure before you had bought her, and that the poor devil, though she might keep a little flesh, had been jaded and quite worn out with fatigue and oppression. While she was with me, she was under my own eye, and I assure you, my much valued friend, every thing was done for her that could be done; and the accident has vexed me to the heart. In fact I could not pluck up spirits to write you, on account of the unfortunate business.

My best compliments to Mrs. Nicoll, and little Neddy, and all the family. I hope Ned is a good scholar, and will come out to gather nuts and apples with me next harvest.

No. CXLIIL

TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.

Ellisland, 13th February, 1790. I BEG your pardon, my dear and much valued friend, for writing to you on this very unfashionable, unsightly sheet

"My poverty but not my will consents."

There is little new in this country. Our theatrical company, of which you must have heard, leave us in a week. Their merit and character are indeed very great, both on the stage and in private life; not a worthless creature among them; and their encouragement has been acBut to make amends, since of modish post I cordingly. Their usual run is from eighteen to twenty-five pounds a night; seldom less than have none, except one poor widowed half sheet the one, and the house will hold no more than of gilt, which lies in my drawer among my plethe other. There have been repeated instances beian foolscap pages, like the widow of a man of sending away six, and eight, and ten pounds of fashion, whom that unpolite scoundrel, Nein a night for want of room. A new theatre is cessity, has driven from Burgundy and Pineto be built by subscription; the first stone is to apple, to a dish of Bohea, with the scandalbe laid on Friday first to come. Three hun-bearing help-mate of a village priest; or a glass dred guineas have been raised by thirty subscri- of whisky-toddy, with the ruby-nosed yokebers, and thirty more might have been got if fellow of a foot-padding exciseman-I make a wanted. The manager, Mr. Sutherland, was vow to enclose this sheet-full of epistolary fragintroduced to me by a friend from Ayr; and a ments in that my only scrap of gilt-paper. I am indeed your unworthy debtor for three worthier or cleverer fellow I have rarely met with. Some of our clergy have slipt in by friendly letters. I ought to have written to you stealth now and then; but they have got up a long ere now, but it is a literal fact, I have farce of their own. You must have heard how scarcely a spare moment. the Rev. Mr. Lawson of Kirkmahoe, seconded not write to you; Miss Burnet is not more dear by the Rev. Mr. Kirkpatrick of Dunscore, to her guardian angel, nor his grace the Duke to the powers of than my and the rest of that faction, have accused in for- of mal process, the unfortunate and Rev. Mr. He- friend Cunningham to me. It is not that I ron of Kirkgunzeon, that in ordajning Mr. cannot write to you; should you doubt it, take Nelson to the cure of souls in Kirkbean, he, the following fragment which was intended for the said Heron, feloniously and treasonably you some time ago, and be convinced that I can antithesize sentiment, and circumvolute periods, giving him a rather more resolute look, the plate could as well as any coiner of phrase in the regions of not, at a trifling expense, be made to pass for "DA- philology:

NIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN !"-CROMEK.

It is not that I will

On Friday first to come-a Scotticism,

MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM, December, 1789. Where are you? And what are you doing? Can you be that son of levity, who takes up a friendship as he takes up a fashion; or are you, like some other of the worthiest fellows in the world, the victim of indolence, laden with fetters of ever-increasing weight.

man; but like electricity, phlogiston, &e. the subject is so involved in darkness, that we want data to go upon. One thing frightens me much; that we are to live for ever, seems too good news to be true. That we are to enter into a new scene of existence, where, exempt from want and pain, we shall enjoy ourselves and our friends without satiety or separation-how much should I be indebted to any one who could fully assure me that this was certain!

My time is once more expired. I will write to Mr. Cleghorn soon. God bless him and all his concerns! And may all the powers that preside over conviviality and friendship, be present with all their kindest influence, when the bearer of this, Mr. Syme, and you meet! I wish I could also make one.-I think we should be

What strange beings we are! Since we have a portion of conscious existence, equally capable of enjoying pleasure, happiness, and rapture, or of suffering pain, wretchedness, and misery, it is surely worthy of an inquiry, whether there be not such a thing as a science of life; whether method, economy, and fertility of expedients be sot applicable to enjoyment; and whether there be not a want of dexterity in pleasure, which renders our little scantling of happiness still Jess; and a profuseness, an intoxication in bliss which leads to satiety, disgust, and self-abhorrence. There is not a doubt but that health, talents, character, decent competency, respectable friends, are real substantial blessings; and Finally, brethren, farewell! Whatsoever yet do we not daily see those who enjoy many things are lovely, whatsoever things are gentle, or all of these good things, contrive, notwith-whatsoever things are charitable, whatsoever standing, to be as unhappy as others to whose things are kind, think on these things, and lot few of them have fallen. I believe one great think on ROBERT BURNS. source of this mistake or misconduct is owing to a certain stimulus, with us called ambition, which goads us up the hill of life, not as we -ascend other eminences, for the laudable curio. sity of viewing an extended landscape, but rather for the dishonest pride of looking down on others of our fellow-creatures, seemingly diminative, in humble stations, &c. &c.

Sunday, 14th February, 1790. GOD help me! I am now obliged to join

"Night to day, and Sunday to the week."

No. CXLIV.

TO MR. PETER HILL.

Ellisland, 2d March, 1790. Ar a late meeting of the Monkland Friendly Society, it was resolved to augment their libra ry by the following books, which you are to send us as soon as possible :-The Mirror, The Lounger, Man of Feeling, Man of the World, (these for my own sake I wish to have by the first carrier) Knox's History of the Reforma tion; Rae's History of the Rebellion in 1715; If there be any truth in the orthodox faith of any good History of the Rebellion in 1745; these churches, I am - past redemption, A Display of the Secession Act and Testimo and what is worse, — to all eternity. Iny, by Mr. GIBB; Hervey's Meditations; Beam deeply read in Boston's Fourfold State, veridge's Thoughts; and another copy of WatMarshall on Sanctification, Gutherie's Trial of son's Body of Divinity. a Saving Interest, &c. but " There is no balm in Gilead, there is no physician there," for me; so I shall e' en turn Arminian, and trust to "Sincere, though imperfect obedience."

Tuesday, 16th.

I wrote to Mr. A. Masterton three or four months ago, to pay some money he owed me into your hands, and lately I wrote to you to the same purpose, but I have heard from neither one nor other of you.

In addition to the books I commissioned in my last, I want very much, An Index to the Excise Laws, or an abridgment of all the StaLUCKILY for me I was prevented from the tutes now in force, relative to the Excise, by discussion of the knotty point at which I had Jellinger Symons: I want three copies of this just made a full stop. All my fears and cares book; if it is now to be had, cheap or dear, get are of this world: if there is another, an honest it for me. An honest country neighbour of man has nothing to fear from it. I hate a man mine wants, too, A Family Bible, the larger that wishes to be a Deist, but I fear, every fair, the better, but second-handed, for he does not unprejudiced inquirer must in some degree be a choose to give above ten shillings for the book. sceptic. It is not that there are any very stag-I want likewise for myself, as you can pick gering arguments against the immortality of them up, second-handed or cheap, copies of