No. LIII.

To MRS. DUNLOP.

HONOURED MADAM,

Mauchline, 2d August, 1788.

YOUR kind letter welcomed me, yesternight, to Ayrshire. I am indeed seriously angry with you at the quantum of your luckpenny; but, vexed and hurt as I was, I could not help laughing very heartily at the noble lord's apology for the missed napkin.

I would write you from Nithsdale, and give you my direction there, but I have scarce an opportunity of calling at a post-office once in a fortnight. I am six miles from Dumfries, am scarcely ever in it myself, and, as yet, have little acquaintance in the neighbourhood. Besides, I am now very busy on my farm, building a dwelling-house; as at present I am almost

an

an evangelical man in Nithsdale, for I have scarce "where to lay my head."

There are some passages in your last that brought tears in my eyes. "The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and a stranger intermeddleth not therewith." The repository of these

sorrows of the heart," is a kind of sanctum sanctorum: and 'tis only a chosen friend, and that too at particular sacred times, who dares enter into them.

"Heaven oft tears the bosom-chords

That nature finest strung."

You will excuse this quotation for the sake of the author. Instead of entering on this subject farther, I shall transcribe you a few lines I wrote in a hermitage belonging to a gentleman in my Nithsdale neighbourhood. They are almost the only favours the muses have conferred on me in that country.

VOL. II.

Thou whom chance may hither lead,
Be thou clad in russet weed,

Be thou deckt in silken stole,

'Grave these maxims on thy soul.

Life is but a day at most,

Sprung from night, in darkness lost :
Hope not sunshine every hour;

Fear not clouds will ever lour.

M

Happiness

Happiness is but a name,
Make content and ease thy aim.
Ambition is a meteor-gleam;

Fame, an idle restless dream:

Peace, the tenderest flow'r of spring;
Pleasures, insects on the wing.

Those that sip the dew alone,

Make the butterflies thy own;

Those that would the bloom devour,
Crush the locusts, save the flower.
For the future be prepar'd,

Guard wherever thou canst guard;

But thy utmost duly done,

Welcome what thou canst not shun.

Follies past give thou to air,
Make their consequence thy care:

Keep the name of man in mind,
And dishonour not thy kind.
Reverence with lowly heart

Him whose wond'rous work thou art;
Keep his goodness still in view,

Thy trust and thy example too.
Stranger, go! heaven be thy guide!
Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side.

Since I am in the way of transcribing, the following were the production of yesterday jogged through the wild hills of New Cumnock. I intend inserting them, or something like them, in an epistle I am going to write to the gentleman on whose friendship my excisehopes depend, Mr. Graham of Fintry, one of

the

the worthiest and most accomplished gentlemen, not only of this country, but, I will dare to say it, of this age. The following are just the first crude thoughts" unhousel'd, unanointed, unanneal'd."

Pity the tuneful muses' helpless train;

Weak, timid landsmen on Life's stormy main:
The world were blest, did bliss on them depend;
Ah, that "the friendly e'er should want a friend!"
The little Fate bestows they share as soon;
Unlike sage, proverb'd, Wisdom's hard-wrung boon.
Let Prudence number o'er each sturdy son
Who life and wisdom at one race begun;
Who feel by reason, and who give by rule;
Instinct's a brute, and sentiment a fool!
Who make poor will do wait upon I should;
We own they're prudent, but who owns they're good.

Ye wise ones, hence! ye hurt the social
God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy !
But come

eye;

Here the muse left me. I am astonished at what you tell me of Anthony's writing me. I never received it. Poor fellow! you vex me much by telling me that he is unfortunate. I shall be in Ayrshire ten days from this date. I have just room for an old Roman farewell!

No. LIV.

TO THE SAME.

Mauchline, 10th August, 1788.

MY MUCH HONOURED FRIEND,

YOURS of the 24th June is before me.

I found it, as well as another valued friendmy wife, waiting to welcome me to Ayrshire: I met both with the sincerest pleasure.

When I write you, Madam, I do not sit down to answer every paragraph of yours, by echoing every sentiment, like the faithful commons of Great Britain in Parliament assembled, answering a speech from the best of kings! I express myself in the fulness of my heart, and may perhaps be guilty of neglecting some of your kind inquiries; but not from your very odd reason that I do not read your letters. All your epistles for several months have cost me

nothing,