rapidly, as to put it out of my power to pay the last duties to her. I had scarcely begun to recover from that shock, when I became myself the victim of a most severe rheumatic fever, and long the die spun doubtful; until after many weeks of a sick bed, it seems to have turned up life, and I am beginning to crawl across my room, and once indeed have been before my own door in the street.

When pleasure fascinates the mental sight,
Affliction purifies the visual ray,

Religion hails the drear the untried night,
That shuts, for ever shuts! life's doubtful day.

No. 148.

TO MRS. R*****.

Who had desired him to go to the Birth-day Assembly on that day to shew his loyalty.

4th June, 1796.

I AM in such miserable health as to be utterly incapable of shewing my loyalty in any way. Rackt as I am with rheumatisms, I meet every face with a greeting like that of Balak to Balaam--- Come curse me Jacob; and come defy me Israel! So say I---Come curse me that east wind; and come, defy me the north! Would you have me in such circumstances copy you out a love-song?

I may perhaps see you on Saturday, but I will not be at the ball.--- Why should I? Man delights not me, nor woman either! Can you supply me with the song, Let us all be unhappy together--do if you can, and oblige le pauvre miserable. R. B.

No. 149.

TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.

Brow, Sea-bathing quarters,
7th. July, 1796.

MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,

I RECEIVED yours here this moment, and am indeed highly flattered with the approbation of the literary circle you mention; a literary circle inferior to none in the two kingdoms. Alas! my friend, I fear the voice of the bard will soon be heard among you no more! For these eight or ten months I have been ailing, sometimes bedfast and sometimes not; but these last three months I have been tortured with an excruciating rheumatism, which has reduced me to nearly the last stage. You actually would not know me if you saw me.-Pale, emaciated, and so feeble, as occasionally to need help from my chair-my spirits fled fled!-but I can no more on the subjectonly the medical folks tell me that my last and only chance is bathing and country quarters, and riding. The deuce of the matter is this; when an

exciseman is off duty, his salary is reduced to £35 instead of £50-What way, in the name of thrift, shall I maintain myself and keep a horse in country quarters-with a wife and five children at home, on £35? I mention this, because I had intended to beg your utmost interest, and that of all the friends you can muster, to move our commissioners of excise to grant me the full salary.I dare say you know them all personally. If they do not grant it me, I must lay my account with an exit truly en poete; if I die not of disease, I must perish with hunger.

I have sent you one of the songs; the other my memory does not serve me with, and I have no copy here; but I shall be at home soon, when I will send it you.-Apropos to being at home, Mrs. Burns threatens in a week or two, to add one more to my paternal charge, which, if of the right gender, I intend shall be introduced to the world by the respectable designation of Alexander Cunning ham Burns. My last was James Glencairn, so you can have no objection to the company of no bility. Farewell.

No. 150.

TO MRS. BURNS.

MY DEAREST LOVE,

Brow, Thursday.

I DELAYED writing until I could tell

you what effect sea-bathing was likely to produce.

It would be injustice to deny that it has eased my pains, and I think has strengthened me; but my appetite is still extremely bad. No flesh nor fish can I swallow: porridge and milk are the only thing I can taste. I am very happy to hear, by Miss Jess Lewars, that you are all well. best and kindest compliments to her and children. I will see you on Sunday. fectionate husband,

My very to all the

Your af

R. B.

No. 151.

MADAM,

TO MRS. DUNLOP.

12th July, 1796.

I HAVE written you so often, without receiving any answer, that I would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I

An illness which has long hung about me, in all probability will speedily send me beyond that bourn whence no traveller returns. Your friendship, with which for many years you honoured me, was a friendship dearest to my soul. Your conversation, and especially your correspondence, were at once highly entertaining and instructive. With what pleasure did I use to break up the seal! The remembrance yet adds one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart. Farewell!!! R. B.

The above is supposed to be the last production of Robert Burns, who died on the 21st of the month, nine days after

No. 152.

MR. THOMSON TO MR. BURNS.

SIR,

Edinburgh, September, 1792.

FOR some years past, I have, with a friend or two, employed many leisure hours in selecting and collating the most favourite of our national melodies for publication. We have engaged Pleyel, the most agreeable composer living, to put accompaniments to these, and also to compose an instrumental prelude and conclusion to each air, the better to fit them for concerts, both public and private. To render this work perfect, we are desirous to have the poetry improved, wherever it seems unworthy of the music; and that it is so in many instances, is allowed by every one conversant with our musical collections. The editors of these seem in general to have depended on the music proving an excuse for the verses; and hence, some charming melodies are united to

wards. He had however the pleasure of receiving a satisfactory explanation of his friend's silence, and an assurance of the continuance of her friendship to his widow and children; an assurance that has been amply fulfilled.

It is probable that the greater part of her letters to him were destroyed by our bard about the time that this last was written. He did not foresee that his own letters to her were to appear in print, nor conceive the disappointment that will be felt, that a few of this excellent lady's have not served to enrich and adorn the collection.