humanity and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her to othersthan from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley. Still, with all my admiration of M'Kenzie's writings, I do not know if they are the fittest reading for a young man who is about to set out, as the phrase is, to make his way into life. Do not you think, madam, that among the few favoured of Heaven in the structure of their minds (for such there certainly are), there may be a purity, a tenderness, a dignity, an elegance of soul, which are of no use, nay, in some degree, absolutely disqualifying for the truly important business of making a man's way into life. If I am not much mistaken, my gallant young friend, A, is very much under these disqualifications; and for the young females of a family I could mention, well may they excite parental solicitude, for I, a common acquaintance, or as my vanity will have it, an humble friend, have often trembled for a turn of mind which may render them eminently happy-or peculiarly miserable! I have been manufacturing some verses lately; but as I have got the most hurried season of excise business over, I hope to have more leisure to transcribe any thing that may show how much I have the honour to be, madam, yours, &c. No. XCVII. FROM MR CUNNINGHAM. Edinburgh, 25th May, 1790. MY DEAR BURNS, I AM much indebted to you for your last friendly, elegant epistle, and it shall make a part of the vanity of my composition, to retain your correspondence through life. It was remarkable your introducing the name of Miss Burnet, at a time when she was in such ill health; and I am sure it will grieve your gentle heart, to hear of her being in the last stage of a consumption. Alas! that so much beauty, innocence, and virtue, should be nipt in the bud. Hers was the smile of cheerfulness-of sensibility, not of allurement; and her elegance of manners corresponded with the purity and elevation of her mind. How does your friendly muse? I am sure she still retains her affection for you, and that you have many of her favours in your possession, which I have not seen. I weary much to hear from you. I beseech you do not forget me. COMING into town this morning, to attend my duty in this office, it being collection-day, I met with a gentleman who tells me he is on his way to London; so I take the opportunity of writing to you, as franking is at present under a temporary death. I shall have some snatches of leisure through the day, amid our horrid business and bustle, and I shall improve them as well as I can; but let my letter be as stupid as. ., as miscellaneous as a news-paper, as short as a hungry grace-beforemeat, or as long as a law-paper in the Douglas' cause; as ill-spelt as country John's billetdoux, or as unsightly a scrawl as Betty Byremucker's answer to it; I hope, considering circumstances, you will forgive it; and as it will put you to no expense of postage, I shall have the less reflection about it. I am sadly ungrateful in not returning you my thanks for your most valuable present, Zeluco. In fact, you are in some degree blameable for my neglect. You were pleased to express a wish for my opinion of the work, which so flattered me, that nothing less would serve my over-weening fancy, than a formal criticism on the book. In fact, I have gravely planned a comparative view of you, Fielding, Richardson, and Smollet, in your different qualities and merits as novel-writers. This, I own, betrays my ridiculous vanity, and I may probably never bring the business to bear; but I am fond of the spirit young Elihu shows in the book of Job" And I said, I will also declare my opinion." I have quite disfigured my copy of the book with my annotations. I never take it up without at the same time taking my pencil, and marking with asterisks, parentheses, &c. wherever I meet with an original thought, a nervous remark on life and manners, a remarkably well-turned period, or a character sketched with uncommon precision. this life, as is consistent with the usual mixture of good and evil in the cup of Being! I have just finished a poem, which you will receive inclosed. It is my first essay in the way of tales. I have, these several months, been hammering at an elegy on the amiable and accomplished Miss Burnet. I have got, and can get, no farther than the following fragment, on which, please give me your strictures. In all kinds of poetic composition, I set great store by your opinion; but in sentimental verses, in the poetry of the heart, no Roman Catholic ever set more value on the infallibility of the Holy Father than I do on yours. I mean the introductory couplets as text Ye heathy wastes inmix'd with reedy fens, Ye rugged cliffs o'erhanging dreary glens, Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail; And thou, sweet excellence! forsake our earth, And not a muse in honest grief bewail. We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, And virtue's light that beams beyond the spheres ; But like the sun eclips'd at morning tide, Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears. Let me hear from you soon. Adieu ! No. CV. TO MR PETER HILL. 17th January, 179] TAKE these two guineas, and place them over against that account of yours! which has gagged my mouth these five or six months! I can as little write good things as apologies to the man I owe money to. O the supreme curse of making three guineas do the business of five! Not all the labours of Hercules; not all the Hebrews' three centuries of Egyptian bondage were such an insuperable business, such an task!! Poverty! thou halfsister of death, thou cousin german of hell! where shall I find force of execration equal to the amplitude of thy demerits? Oppressed by thee, the venerable ancient, grown hoary in the practice of every virtue, laden with years and wretchedness, implores a little-little aid to support his existence, from a stony-hearted son of Mammon, whose sun of prosperity never knew a cloud; and is by him denied and insulted. Oppressed by thee, the man of sentiment, whose heart glows with independence, and melts with sensibility, inly pines under the neglect, or writhes in bitterness of soul, under the contumely of arrogant, unfeeling wealth. Oppressed by thee, the son of genius, whose ill-starred ambition plants him at the tables of the fashionable and polite, must see, in suffering silence, his remark neglected, and his person despised, while shallow greatness, in his idiot attempts at wit, shall meet with countenance and applause. Nor is it only the family of worth that have reason to complain of thee; the children of folly and vice, though in common with thee, the offspring of evil, smart equally under thy rod. Owing to thee, the man of unfortunate disposition and neglected education, is condemned as a fool for his dissipation, despised and shunned as a needy wretch, when his follies, as usual, bring him to want: and when his unprincipled necessities drive him to dishonest practices, he is abhorred as a miscreant, and perishes by the justice of his country. But far otherwise is the lot of the man of family and fortune. His early follies and extravagance, are spirit and fire; his consequent wants, are the embarrassments of an honest fellow; and when, to remedy the matter, he has gained a legal commission to plunder distant provinces, or massacre peaceful nations, he returns, perhaps, laden with the spoils of rapine and murder; lives wicked and respected, and dies a and a lord.-Nay, worst of all, alas for helpless woman! the needy prostitute, who has shivered at the corner of the street, waiting to earn the wages of carnal prostitution, is left neglected and insulted, ridden down by the chariot wheels of the coroneted RIP, hurrying on to the guilty assignation: she, who, without the same neces humanity and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her to othersthan from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley. Still, with all my admiration of M'Kenzie's writings, I do not know if they are the fittest reading for a young man who is about to set out, as the phrase is, to make his way into life. Do not you think, madam, that among the few favoured of Heaven in the structure of their minds (for such there certainly are), there may be a purity, a tenderness, a dignity, an elegance of soul, which are of no use, nay, in some degree, absolutely disqualifying for the truly important business of making a man's way into life. If I am not much mistaken, my gallant young friend, A, is very much under these disqualifications; and for the young females of a family I could mention, well may they excite parental solicitude, for I, a common acquaintance, or as my vanity will have it, an humble friend, have often trembled for a turn of mind which may render them eminently happy-or peculiarly miserable! I have been manufacturing some verses lately; but as I have got the most hurried season of excise business over, I hope to have more leisure to transcribe any thing that may show how much I have the honour to be, madam, yours, &c. No. XCVII. FROM MR CUNNINGHAM. Edinburgh, 25th May, 1790. MY DEAR BURNS, I AM much indebted to you for your last friendly, elegant epistle, and it shall make a part of the vanity of my composition, to retain your correspondence through life. It was remarkable your introducing the name of Miss Burnet, at a time when she was in such ill health; and I am sure it will grieve your gentle heart, to hear of her being in the last stage of a consumption. Alas! that so much beauty, innocence, and virtue, should be nipt in the bud. Hers was the smile of cheerfulness-of sensibility, not of allurement; and her elegance of manners corresponded with the purity and elevation of her mind. How does your friendly muse? I am sure she still retains her affection for you, and that you have many of her favours in your possession, which I have not seen. I weary much to hear from you. I beseech you do not forget me. COMING into town this morning, to attend my duty in this office, it being collection-day, I met with a gentleman who tells me he is on his way to London; so I take the opportunity of writing to you, as franking is at present under a temporary death. I shall have some snatches of leisure through the day, amid our horrid business and bustle, and I shall improve them as well as I can; but let my letter be as stupid as... ., as miscellaneous as a news-paper, as short as a hungry grace-beforemeat, or as long as a law-paper in the Douglas' cause; as ill-spelt as country John's billetdoux, or as unsightly a scrawl as Betty Byremucker's answer to it; I hope, considering circumstances, you will forgive it; and as it will put you to no expense of postage, I shall have the less reflection about it. I am sadly ungrateful in not returning you my thanks for your most valuable present, Zeluco. In fact, you are in some degree blameable for my neglect. You were pleased to express a wish for my opinion of the work, which so flattered me, that nothing less would serve my over-weening fancy, than a formal criticism on the book. In fact, I have gravely planned a comparative view of you, Fielding, Richardson, and Smollet, in your different qualities and merits as novel-writers. This, I own, betrays my ridiculous vanity, and I may probably never bring the business to bear; but I am fond of the spirit young Elihu shows in the book of Job" And I said, I will also declare my opinion." I have quite disfigured my copy of the book with my annotations. I never take it up without at the same time taking my pencil, and marking with asterisks, parentheses, &c. wherever I meet with an original thought, a nervous remark on life and manners, a remarkably well-turned period, or a character sketched with uncommon precision. Though I shall hardly think of fairly writ--but the resemblance that hits my fancy best ing out my " Comparative View," I shall is, that blackguard miscreant, Satan, who certainly trouble you with my remarks, such roams about like a roaring lion, seeking, searchas they are. I have just received from my ing whom he may devour. However, tossed gentleman, that horrid summons in the book about as I am, if I choose (and who would not of Revelations" That time shall be no choose) to bind down with the crampets of at"more!" tention, the brazen foundation of integrity, I may rear up the superstructure of Independence, and from its daring turrets, bid defiance to the storms of fate. And is not this a "consummation devoutly to be wished?" The little collection of sonnets have some charming poetry in them. If indeed I am indebted to the fair author for the book, and not, as I rather suspect, to a celebrated author of the other sex, I should certainly have written to the lady, with my grateful acknowledg-« ments, and my own ideas of the comparative excellence of her pieces. I would do this last, not from any vanity of thinking that my remarks could be of much consequence to Mrs Smith, but merely from my own feelings as an author, doing as I would be done by. No. XCIX. TO MRS DUNLOP. DEAR MADAM, 8th August, 1790. AFTER a long day's toil, plague, and care, I sit down to write to you. Ask me not why I have delayed it so long? It was owing to hurry, indolence, and fifty other things; in short, to any thing-but forgetfulness of la plus aimable de son sexe. By the bye, you are indebted your best courtesy to me for this last compliment; as I pay it from sincere conviction of its truth--a quality rather rare in compliments of these grinning, bowing, scraping times. Well, I hope writing to you, will ease a little my troubled soul. Sorely has it been bruised to-day! A ci-devant friend of mine, and an intimate acquaintance of yours, has given my feelings a wound that I perceive will gangrene dangerously ere it cure. He has wounded my pride! No. C. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. Ellisland, 8th August, 1790. FORGIVE me my once dear, and ever dear friend, my seeming negligence. You cannot sit down, and fancy the busy life I lead. I laid down my goose feather to beat my brains for an apt simile, and had some thoughts of a country grannam at a family christening: a bride on the market-day before her marriage; a tavern-keeper at an election dinner; &c. &c. Thy spirit, Independence, let me share; Are not these noble verses? They are the introduction of Smollet's Ode to Independence: If you have not seen the poem, I will send it to you. How wretched is the man that hangs on by the favours of the great. To shrink from every dignity of man, at the approach of a lordly piece of self-consequence, who, amid all his tinsel glitter, and stately hauteur, is but a creature formed as thou art-and perhaps not so well formed as thou art-came into the world a puling infant as thou didst, and must go out of it as all men must, a naked corse.* No. CI. FROM DR BLACKLOCK. Edinburgh, 1st September, 1790. How does my dear friend ?-much I languish to hear, His fortune, relations, and all that are dear; Of this from himself I inclose you a plan, With some rays of your genius her work may *The preceding letter explains the feelings under which this was written. The strain of indignant invective goes on some time longer in the style which our hard was too apt to indulge, and of which the reader has already seen so much. No. CII. EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR CUNNINGHAM. Edinburgh, 14th October, 1790. I LATELY received a letter from our friend B ———what a charming fellow lost to society--born to great expectations-with su perior abilities, a pure heart and untainted morals, his fate in life has been hard indeedstill I am persuaded he is happy; not like the gallant, the gay Lothario, but in the simplicity of rural enjoyment, unmixed with regret at the remembrance of "the days of other years." I saw Mr Dunbar put, under the cover of your newspaper, Mr Wood's Poem on Thomson. This poem has suggested an idea to me which you alone are capable to execute :-a song adapted to each season of the year. The task is difficult, but the theme is charming: should you succeed, I will undertake to get new music worthy of the subject. What a fine field for your imagination, and who is there alive can draw so many beauties from Nature and pastoral imagery as yourself? It is, by the way, surprising that there does not exist, so far as I know, a proper song for each season. We have songs on hunting, fishing, skaiting, and one autumnal song, Harvest Home. As your muse is neither spavied nor rusty, you may mount the hill of Parnassus, and return with a sonnet in your pocket for every season. For my suggestions, if I be rude, correct me; if impertinent, chastise me; if presuming, despise me. But if you blend all my weaknesses, and pound out one grain of insincerity, then am I not thy Faithful friend, &c. I read your letter-I literally jumped for joy-How could such a mercurial creature as a poet, lumpishly keep his seat on the receipt of the best news from his best friend. I seized my gilt-headed Wangee rod, an instrument indispensably necessary, in my left hand, in the moment of inspiration and rapture; and stride, stride-quick and quicker-out skipt I among the broomy banks of Nith, to muse over my joy by retail. To keep within the bounds of prose was impossible. Mrs Little's is a more elegant, but not a more sincere compliment to the sweet little fellow than I, extempore almost, poured out to him in the following verses. See the poem-On the Birth of a Posthumous Child. I am much flattered by your approbation of my Tam o' Shanter, which you express in your former letter, though, by the bye, you load me in that said letter with accusations heavy and many; to all which I plead not guilty! Your book is, I hear, on the road to reach me. As to printing of poetry, when you prepare it for the press, you have only to spell it right, and place the capital letters properly; as to the punctuation, the printers do that themselves. I have a copy of Tam o' Shanter ready to send you by the first opportunity: it is too heavy to send by post. I heard of Mr Corbet lately. He, in consequence of your recommendation, is most zealous to serve me. Please favour me soon with an account of your good folks; if Mrs H. is recovering, and the young gentleman doing well. No. CIV. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. Ellisland, 23d January, 1791. MANY happy returns of the season to you, my dear friend! As many of the good things of |