THE Poetry of BURNS has had such an extensive circulation as to occasion no little surprise that the LETTERS of the Bard could not hitherto be procured without the re-purchase of the poetical volumes, already in the hands of the greater part of his readers; some accommodation, it is presumed, that part of his readers will acknowledge, from the publication of the present volumes. It is not necessary to repeat the biography of the Poet in this place: it has not only been condensed from Dr. Currie's Memoirs, and prefixed to all the later editions of his Poems, but is told by Burns himself in the twenty-sixth Number of this edition, so as to leave nothing to be wished for in a classical edition of his "LETTERS." LETTERS OF ROBERT BURNS. I. TO HIS FATHER. Irvine, Dec. 27, 1781. HONOURED SIR, I HAVE purposely delayed writing, in the hope that I should have the pleasure of seeing you on Newyear's day but work comes so hard upon us, that I do not choose to be absent on that account, as well as for some other little reasons, which I shall tell you at meeting. My health is nearly the same as when you were here, only my sleep is a little sounder; and, on the whole, I am rather better than otherwise, though I mend. by very slow degrees. The weakness of my nerves has so debilitated my mind, that I dare neither review past wants, nor look forward into futurity; for the least anxiety or perturbation in my breast, produces most unhappy effects on my whole frame. Sometimes, indeed, when for an hour or two my spirits are a little lightened, I glimmer a little into futurity; |