many a solitary hour have I stole out, after the laborious vocations of the day, to shed a tear over their glorious, but unfortunate, stories. In those boyish days I remember, in particular, being struck with that part of Wallace's story where 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-adozen 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. XX.

TO MR. DAVID BRICE,

SHOE-MAKER, GLASGOW.

R. B.

Mossgiel, 17th July, 1786.

I HAVE been so throng printing my Poems that I could scarcely find as much time as to write to you. Poor Armour is come back again to Mauchline, and I went to call for her, and her mother forbade me the house, nor did she herself express much sorrow for what she has done. I have already appeared publicly in church, and was indulged in the liberty of standing in my own seat. I do this to get a certificate as a bachelor, which Mr. Auld has promised me. I am now fixed to go for the West Indies in October. Jean and her friends insisted much that she should stand along with me in the kirk, but the minister would not allow it, which bred a great trouble, I assure you, and I am blamed as the cause of it, though I am sure I am innocent; but I am very much pleased, for all that, not to have had her company. I have no news to tell you that I remember. I am really happy to hear of your welfare, and that you are so well in Glasgow. I must certainly see you before I leave the country. I shall expect to hear from you soon,

and am,

Dear Brice,

Yours, R. B.

No. XXI.

TO MR. JOHN RICHMOND.

Old Rome Forest, 30th July, 1786.

MY DEAR RICHMOND:

My hour is now come-you and I will never meet in Britain more. I have orders, within three weeks at farthest, to repair a-board the Nancy, Captain Smith, from Clyde, to Jamaica, and to call at Antigua. This, except to our friend Smith, whom God long preserve, is a secret about Mauchline. Would you believe it? Armour has got a warrant to throw me in jail till I find security for an enormous sum. This they keep an entire secret, but I got it by a channel they little dream of; and I am wandering from one friend's house to another, and, like a true son of the gospel, "have no where to lay my head." I know you will pour an execration on her head, but spare the poor, illadvised girl, for my sake; though may all the furies that rend the injured, enraged lover's bosom, await her mother until her latest hour! I write in a moment of rage, reflecting on my miserable situation-exiled, abandoned, forlorn. I can write no more-let me hear from you by the return of coach. I will write you ere I go.

I WENT to Dr. Douglas yesterday, fully resolved to take the opportunity of Captain Smith; but I found the Doctor with a Mr. and Mrs. White, both Jamaicans, and they have deranged my plans altogether. They assure him that to send me from Savannah la Mar to Port Antonio will cost my master, Charles Douglas, upwards of fifty pounds; besides running the risk of throwing myself into a pleuritic fever, in consequence of hard travelling in the sun. On these accounts, he refuses sending me with Smith, but a vessel sails from

the law. These are painful but necessary explanations.CUNNINGHAM.]

† [Of James Smith much has already been written in the Life of the Poet: Burns said he was small of stature, but large of soul; he was a joyous and witty person. The Poet was a frequent visiter at his shop in Mauchline, and shared with him and John Richmond all his little secrets in rhyme and love. The world was not kinder to him than it was to the Poet: his speculations in Scotland failed; he went to Jamaica with the hope of mending his fortune, and there found an early grave. Ibid.]

Greenock the first of September, right for the place of my destination. The Captain of her is an intimate friend of Mr. Gavin Hamilton, and as good a fellow as heart could wish: with him I am destined to go. Where I shall shelter, I know not, but I hope to weather the storm. Perish the drop of blood of mine that fears them! I know their worst, and am prepared to meet it :

"I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg,
As lang's I dow."

On Thursday morning, if you can muster as much self-denial as to be out of bed about seven o'clock, I shall see you as I ride through to Cumnock. After all, Heaven bless the sex! I feel there is still happiness for me among

them:-.

"O woman, lovely woman! Heaven design'd you To temper man!-we had been brutes without you!" R. B.

the prefixed bagatelle (the Calf,) pleased with the thought that it will greet the man of my bosom, and be a kind of distant language of friendship.

You will have heard that poor Armour has re-paid me double. A very fine boy and a girl have awakened a thought and feelings that thrill, some with tender pressure and some with foreboding anguish, through my soul.

The poem was nearly an extemporaneous production, on a wager with Mr. Hamilton. that I would not produce a poem on the subject in a given time.

If you think it worth while, read it to Charles and Mr. W. Parker, and if they choose a copy of it, it is at their service, as they are men whose friendship I shall be proud to claim.

both in this world and that which is to come.

I believe all hopes of staying at home will be abortive, but more of this when, in the lat ter part of next week, you shall be troubled with a visit from,

Your truly facetious epistle of the 3rd instant gave me much entertainment. I was sorry I had not the pleasure of seeing you as I passed your way, but we shall bring up all our lee way on Wednesday, the 16th current, when I hope to have it in my power to call on you and take a kind, very probably a last, adieu, before I go for Jamaica; and I expect orders to repair to Greenock every day. I have at last made my public appearance, and am solemnly inaugurated into the numerous class. - Could I have got a carrier, you should have had a score of vouchers for my Authorship; but now you have them, let them speak for themselves.

R. B.

[The Poet here inserts his "Farewell," which will be found at page 327.]

No. XXIV.

TO MR. ROBERT MUIR,
KILMARNOCK.*

Mossgiel, Friday noon, September, 1786.

MY FRIEND, MY BROTHER:

WARM recollection of an absent friend presses so hard upon my heart that I send him

[Robert Muir of Kilmarnock was a constant and kind friend to the Poet; he promoted his interest in his own wide circle of acquaintance, and set the world an example

No. XXV.

TO MR. BURNESS,

MONTROSE.

Mossgiel, Tuesday noon, Sept. 26, 1786.

MY DEAR SIR:

I THIS moment receive yours-receive it with the honest hospitable warmth of a friend's welcome. Whatever comes from you wakens always up the better blood about my heart, which your kind little recollections of my parental friends carries as far as it will go. Ts there that man is blest! "Tis there, iny friend, man feels a consciousness of something within him above the trodden clod! The grateful reverence to the hoary (earthly) author of his being-the burning glow when he clasps the woman of his soul to his bosom-the tender yearnings of heart for the little angels to whom he has given existence-these nature has poured in milky streams about the human heart; and the man who never rouses them to action, by the inspiring influences of their proper objects. loses by far the most pleasurable part of his

existence.

My departure is uncertain, but I do not think it will be till after harvest. I will be on very short allowance of time indeed, if I do not comply with your friendly invitation. When it will be, I don't know, but if I can make my

I HAVE, along with this, sent the two volumes of Ossian, with the remaining volume of the songs. Ossian I am not in such a hurry about, but I wish the songs, with the volume of the Scotch Poets, returned, as soon as they can be conveniently dispatched. If they are left at Mr. Wilson's, the bookseller, Kilmarnock, they will easily reach me. My most respectable compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Lawrie, and a Poet's warm wishes for their happiness; to the young ladies, particularly the fair musician, whom I think much better qualified than ever David was, or could be, to charm an evil spirit out of Saul. Indeed, it needs not the feelings of a Poet to be interested in one of the sweetest scenes of domestic peace and kindred love that ever I saw, as I think the peaceful unity of St. Margaret's Hill can only be excelled by the harmonious concord of the Apocalypse.

mention this as an apology for the liberties that a nameless stranger has taken with you in the enclosed poem, which he begs leave to present you with. Whether it has poetical merit any way worthy of the theme, I am not the proper judge; but it is the best my abilities can produce; and, what to a good heart will, perhaps, be a superior grace, it is equally sincere as fervent.

The scenery was nearly taken from real life, though I dare say, Madam, you do not recollect it, as I believe you scarcely noticed the poetic reveur as he wandered by you. I had roved out, as chance directed, in the favourite haunts of my muse, on the banks of the Ayr, to view nature in all the gaiety of the vernal year. The evening sun was flaming over the distant western hills; not a breath stirred the crimson opening blossom, or the verdant spreading leaf. It was a golden moment for a poetic heart. I listened to the feathered warblers, pouring their harmony on every hand, with a congenial kindred regard, and frequently turned out of my path, lest I should disturb their little songs, or frighten them to another station. Surely, said I to myself, he must be a wretch indeed who, regardless of your harmonious endeavour to please him, can eye your elusive flights to discover your secret recesses, and to rob you of all the property nature gives youyour dearest comforts, your helpless nestlings. Even the hoary hawthorn twig that shot across the way, what heart at such a time but must have been interested in its welfare, and wished it preserved from the rudely-browsing cattle, or the withering eastern blast? Such was the scene, and such the hour, when in a corner of my prospect I spied one of the fairest pieces of nature's workmanship that ever crowned a poetic landscape or met a poet's eye, those visionary bards excepted who hold commerce with aerial beings! Had Calumny and Villainy taken my walk, they had at that moment sworn eternal peace with such an object.

What an hour of inspiration for a poet! It would have raised plain dull historic prose into metaphor and measure.

The enclosed song was the work of my return home; and perhaps it but poorly answers what might have been expected from such a

offered for her silence and coldness is that she lived to see how much she wronged her own fame and beauty in not accepting the honours which the muse had paid her, and to make such reparation as was in her power, by regarding the original copy of the song as an heir-loom of the house of Alexander. The braes of Ballochmyle are now visited like the braes of Yarrow and the broom of the Cowden-Knowes, by poetic pilgrims, and the scene is eagerly pointed out where the Poet saw the fair vision which inspired him. Miss Alexander is still alive, at Ballochmyle [1840].

THE hurry of my preparations for going abroad has hindered me from performing my promise so soon as I intended. I have here sent you a parcel of songs, &c., which never made their appearance, except to a friend or two at most. Perhaps some of them may be no great entertainment to you, but of that I am | far from being an adequate judge. The song to the tune of "Ettrick Banks" [The bonnie lass of Ballochmyle] you will easily see the impropriety of exposing much, even in manuscript. I think, myself, it has some merit: both as a tolerable description of one of nature's sweetest scenes, a July evening; and one of the finest pieces of nature's workmanship, the finest indeed we know any thing of, an amiable, beautiful young woman;† but i have no common friend to procure me that per

mission, without which I would not dare to spread the copy.

I am quite aware, Madam, what task the world would assign me in this letter. The obscure bard, when any of the great condescend

• [Mrs. Stewart of Stair, afterwards of Afton, was the first person of note who had the sagacity to discover in the Ayrshire ploughman a genius of the first order. Two or three of his songs were sufficient for this: it has already been related how his heart fluttered and his natural boldness forsook him as he walked through the rooms of the "towers of Stair" to see the fair owner for the first time. It is to be regretted that the political impetuosity of Burns, which increased much as he advanced in life, should have found vent in sarcastic sayings and sneering lampoons. Mrs. Stewart remonstrated mildly with the Poet concerning these transgressions, and told him that they furnished many with a pretext for not aiding him in his views in life, and even threw suspicion on the principles of his steadfast friends. Something like a coolness followed this; but, though Burns was nettled, he omitted no opportunity of intimating how much he felt indebted to her for her early kindness and cheering condescension. CUNNINGHAM.]

† Miss Alexander.

[The Edinburgh expedition was undertaken in consequence of the following letter, written by a critic and a poet, Thomas Blacklock, to the Rev. Mr. Lawrie, who communi

to take notice of him, should heap the altar with the incense of flattery. Their high ancestry, their own great and god-like qualities and actions, should be recounted with the most exaggerated description. This, Madam, is a task for which I am altogether unfit. Besides a certain disqualifying pride of beart. I know nothing of your connexions in life. and haven access to where your real character is to be found the company of your compeers: and more, I am afraid that even the most refined adulation is by no means the road to your good opinion.

One feature of your character I shall ever with grateful pleasure remember;-the recep tion 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 ben volence of temper and goodness of heart.Surely did those in exalted stations know how happy they could make some classes of ther inferiors by condescension and affability, they would never stand so high, measuring out with every look the height of their elevation, bet condescend as sweetly as did Mrs. Stewart of Stair.

"REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,-I ought to have acknes ledged your favour long ago, not only as a testimony of y kind remembrance, but as it gave me an opportunity sharing one of the finest, and, perhaps one of the nuine entertainments, of which the human mind is sa ceptible. A number of avocations retarded my progres in reading the poems; at last, however, I have finished the pleasing perusal. to have expressed my approbation in verse; but whether from declining life, or a temporary depression of spirits, ga at present out of my power to accomplish that agreeab intention.

It was my wis

Mr. Stewart, professor of morals in this university, ha formerly read me three of the poems, and I had desired ham to get my name inserted among the subscribers: whether this was done or not, I never could learn. I hav little intercourse with Dr. Blair, but will take care to have the poems communicated to him by the intervention of some mutual friend. *

*

[The passages omitted have been already given in the Lars of the Poet. Sec p. 39.]

No. XXX.

TO DR. MACKENZIE,*

MAUCHLINE;

ENCLOSING HIM VERSES ON DINING WITH LORD DAER.

Wednesday Morning, November, 1786.

DEAR SIR:

I NEVER spent an afternoon among great folks with half that pleasure as when, in company with you, I had the honour of paying my devoirs to that plain, honest, worthy man, the professor [Dugald Stewart). I would be delighted to see him perform acts of kindness and friendship, though I were not the object; he does it with such a grace. I think his character, divided into ten parts, stands thus-four parts Socrates-four parts Nathaniel-and two parts Shakspeare's Brutus.

The accompanying verses were really extempore, but a little corrected since. They may entertain you a little with the help of that partiality with which you are so good as to favour the performances of, Dear Sir,

Your very humble Servant,

R. B.

were it not to discharge my conscience I would not trouble you with it; but after all my diligence I could make it no sooner, nor better.

For my own affairs, I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as Thomas à 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 and the Dean of Faculty, Mr. H. Erskine, have taken me under their wing; and by all probability I shall soon be the tenth worthy, and the eighth wise, man of the world. Through my lord's influence it is inserted in the records of the Caledonian Hunt that they universally, one and all, subscribe for the second edition.My subscription bills come out to-morrow, and you shall have some of them next post. I have met, in Mr. Dalrymple, of Orangefield, what Solomon emphatically calls "A friend that sticketh closer than a brother." -The warmth with which he interests himself in my affairs is of the same enthusiastic kind which you, Mr. Aiken, and the few patrons that took notice of my earlier poetic days shewed for the poor unlucky devil of a poet.

I always remember Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Kennedy in my poetic prayers, but you both in prose and verse.

May cauld ne'er catch you but a hap,
Nor hunger but in plenty's lap!

I HAVE paid every attention to your commands, but can only say what perhaps you will have heard before this reach you, that Muirkirklands were bought by a Mr. John Gordon, W. S., but for whom I know not; Mauchlands, Haugh Miln, &c., by a Mr. Frederick Fotheringham, supposed to be for Ballochmyle Laird, and Adam-hill and Shawood were bought for Oswald's folks. This is so imperfect an account, and will be so late ere it reach you, that

No. XXXII.

TO JOHN BALLANTINE, Esq.,§

BANKER, AYR.

Edinburgh, 13th Dec., 1786.

MY HONOURED FRIEND:

I WOULD not write you till I could have it in my power to give you some account of myself and my matters, which by the bye is often no easy task.-I arrived here on Tuesday was