min route frae the faulde! Be thou a | its leviathan jaws for the vast residue of brownie, set, at dead of night, to thy task mortals!!!" O doctrine! comfortable and by the blazing ingle, or in the solitary healing to the weary, wounded soul of barn, where the repercussions of thy iron man! Ye sons and daughters of affliction, flail half affright thyself as thou perform- ye pauvres miserables, to whom day brings est the work of twenty of the sons of men, no pleasure, and night yields no rest, be ere the cock-crowing summon thee to thy comforted! ""Tis but one to nineteen ample cog of substantial brose. Be thou hundred thousand that your situation will a kelpie, haunting the ford or ferry, in the mend in this world;" so, alas! the expestarless night, mixing thy laughing yell rience of the poor and the needy too often with the howling of the storm and the affirms; and, 'tis nineteen hundred thouroaring of the flood, as thou viewest the sand to one, by the dogmas of ********, perils and miseries of man on the founder- that you will be damned eternally in the ing horse, or in the tumbling boat!-Or, world to come! lastly, be thou a ghost, paying thy nocturnal visits to the hoary ruins of decayed grandeur; or performing thy mystic rites in the shadow of the time-worn church, while the moon looks, without a cloud, on the silent ghastly dwellings of the dead around thee; or taking thy stand by the bedside of the villain, or the murderer, portraying on his dreaming fancy, pictures, dreadful as the horrors of unveiled hell, and terrible as the wrath of incensed Deity!Come, thou spirit! but not in these horrid forms: come with the milder, gentle, easy inspirations which thou breathest round the wig of a prating advocate, or the tete of a tea-sipping gossip, while their tongues run at the light-horse gallop of clish-maclaver for ever and evercome and assist a poor devil who is quite jaded in the attempt to share half an idea among half a hundred words; to fill up four quarto pages, while he has not got one single sentence of recollection, information, or remark, worth putting pen to paper for. I feel, I feel the presence of supernatural assistance! circled in the embrace of my elbow-chair, my breast labours like the bloated Sibyl on her three-footed stool, and like her too, labours with Nonsense. Nonsense, auspicious name! Tutor, friend, and finger-post in the mystic mazes of law; the cadaverous paths of physic; and particularly in the sightless soarings of SCHOOL DIVINITY, Who leaving Common Sense confounded at his strength of pinion, Reason, delirious with eyeing his giddy flight; and Truth creeping back into the bottom of her well, cursing the hour that ever she offered her scorned alliance to the wizard power of Theologic Vision-raves abroad on all the winds. "On earth, Discord! a gloomy Heaven above opening her jealous gates to the nineteen thousandth part of the tithe of mankind! and below, an inescapable and inexorable Hell. expanding But of all Nonsense, Religious Nonsense is the most nonsensical; so enough, and more than enough, of it. Only, by the by, will you, or can you tell me, my dear Cunningham, why a sectarian turn of mind has always a tendency to narrow and illiberalize the heart? They are orderly: they may be just; nay, I have known them merciful; but still your children of sanctity move among their fellowcreatures, with a nostril-snuffing putrescence, and a foot-spurning filth; in short, with a conceited dignity that your titled or any other of your Scottish lordlings of seven centuries' standing, display when they accidentally mix among the many-aproned sons of mechanical life. I remember, in my plough-boy days, I could not conceive it possible that a noble lord could be a fool, or a godly man could be a knave.-How ignorant are ploughboys!-Nay, I have since discovered that a godly woman may be a ***** !—But hold-Here's t'ye again-this rum is generous Antigua, so a very unfit menstruum for scandal. * * * * A-propos; How do you like, I mean really, like the married life? Ah! my friend matrimony is quite a different thing from what your love-sick youths and sighing girls take it to be! But marriage, we are told, is appointed by God, and I shall never quarrel with any of his institutions. I am a husband of older standing than you, and shall give you my ideas of the conjugal state (en passant, you know I am no Latinist: is not conjugal derived from jugum, a yoke?) Well, then the scale of good wifeship I divide into ten parts:Good-nature, four; Good Sense, two; Wit, one; Personal Charms, viz. a sweet face, eloquent eyes, fine limbs, graceful carriage (I would add a fine waist too, but that is soon spoiled you know,) all these, one; as for the other qualities belonging to, or attending on, a wife, such as For- a heart-wounded, helpless young woman tune, Connexions, Education, (1 mean in a strange, foreign land, and that land education extraordinary,) Family Blood, convulsed with every horror that can har&c., divide the two remaining degrees row the human feelings-sick-looking, among them as you please; only remem- longing for a comforter, but finding none ber that all these minor properties must-a mother's feelings too-but it is too be expressed by fractions, for there is not much: He who wounded (He only can) any one of them in the aforesaid scale, en- may He heal!* titled to the dignity of an integer. * * * I wish the farmer great joy of his new acquisition to his family, I cannot say that I give him joy of his life as a farmer. 'Tis, as a farmer paying a dear, unconscionable rent, a cursed As for the rest of my fancies and reveries how I lately met with Miss LB—, the most beautiful, elegant woman in the world-how I accompanied her and her father's family fifteen miles on their journey out of pure devotion, to admire the loveliness of the works of God, in such an unequalled display of them-life! As to a laird farming his own prohow, in galloping home at night, I made a ballad on her, of which these two stanzas made a part Thou, bonnie L- —, art a queen, The very Deil he could na scathe And say, "I canna wrang thee!" -Behold all these things are written in the chronicles of my imaginations, and shall be read by thee, my dear friend, and by thy beloved spouse, my other dear friend, at a more convenient season. Now, to thee, and to thy before designed bosom-companion, be given the precious things brought forth by the sun, and the precious things brought forth by the moon, and the benignest influences of the stars, and the living streams which flow from the fountains of life, and by the tree of life, for ever and ever ! Amen! No. CXXXIV. TO MRS. DUNLOP. Dumfries, 24th September, 1792. I HAVE this moment, my dear Madam, yours of the twenty-third. All your other kind reproaches, your news, &c. are out of my head when I read and think on Mrs. H's situation. Good God! perty; sowing his own corn in hope; and reaping it, in spite of brittle weather, in gladness knowing that none can say unto him, "what dost thou !"-fattening his herds; shearing his flocks; rejoicing at Christmas: and begetting sons and daughters, until he be the venerated, gray-haired leader of a little tribe-'tis a heavenly life!-But devil take the life of reaping the fruits that another must eat! Well, your kind wishes will be gratified, as to seeing me, when I make my Ayrshire visit. I cannot leave Mrs. B until her nine months' race is run, which may perhaps be in three or four weeks. She, too, seems determined to make me the patriarchal leader of a band. However, if Heaven will be so obliging as to let me have them in proportion of three boys to one girl, I shall be so much the with them, to show a set of boys that will more pleased. I hope, if I am spared do honour to my cares and name; but I Besides, I am too poor: a girl should alam not equal to the task of rearing girls. ways have a fortune.-A-propos; your little godson is thriving charmingly, but is a very devil. He, though two years younger, has completely mastered his brother. Robert is indeed the mildest, gentlest creature I ever saw. He has a most surprising memory, and is quite the pride of his schoolmaster. You know how readily we get into You can excuse it. God bless you and prattle upon a subject dear to our heart: yours! * This much lamented lady was gone to the south of France with her infant son, where she died soon after No. CXXXV. TO MRS. DUNLOP. Supposed to have been written on the Death of Mrs. H―, her daughter. I HAD been from home, and did not receive your letter until my return the other day. What shall I say to comfort you, my much-valued; much afflicted friend! I can but grieve with you; consolation I have none to offer, except that which religion holds out to the children of affliction-Children of affliction!-how just the expression! and like every other family, they have matters among them, which they hear, see, and feel in a serious, all-important manner, of which the world has not, nor cares to have, any idea. The world looks indifferently on, makes the passing remark, and proceeds to the next novel occurrence. Alas, Madam! who would wish for many years? What is it but to drag existence until our joys gradually expire, and leave us in a night of misery; like the gloom which blots out the stars one by one, from the face of night, and leaves us without a ray of comfort in the howling waste! I am interrupted, and must leave off. You shall soon hear from me again. No. CXXXVI. TO MRS. DUNLOP. Dumfries, 6th December, 1792. I SHALL be in Ayrshire, I think next week; and, if at all possible, I shall certainly, my much-esteemed friend, have the pleasure of visiting at Dunlop-House. Alas, Madam! how seldom do we meet In this world that we have reason to congratulate ourselves on accessions of happiness! I have not passed half the ordinary term of an old man's life, and yet I scarcely look over the obituary of a newspaper, that I do not see some names that I have known, and which I and other acquaintances, little thought to meet with A a there so soon. Every other instance of the mortality of our kind makes us cast an anxious look into the dreadful abyss of uncertainty, and shudder with apprehension for our own fate. But of how different an importance are the lives of different individuals? Nay, of what importance is one period of the same life more than another? A few years ago, I could have lain down in the dust, " careless of the voice of the morning;" and now not a few, and these most helpless individuals, would, on losing me and my exertions, lose both their "staff and shield." By the way, these helpless ones have lately got an addition, Mrs. B having given me a fine girl since I wrote you. There is a charming passage in Thomson's Edward and Eleanora "The valiant in himself, what can he suffer? Or what need he regard his single woes ?" &c. As I am got in the way of quotations, I shall give you another from the same piece, peculiarly, alas! too peculiarly apposite, my dear Madam, to your present frame of mind: "Who so unworthy but may proudly deck him With his fair-weather virtue, that exults Glad o'er the summer main? the tempest comes, The rough winds rage aloud; when from the helm This virtue shrinks, and in a corner lies Lamenting-Heavens! if privileged from trial, How cheap a thing were virtue!" I do not remember to have heard you mention Thomson's dramas. I pick up favourite quotations, and store them in my mind as ready armour, offensive or defensive, amid the struggle of this turbulent existence. Of these is one, a very favourite one, from his Alfred: "Attach thee firmly to the virtuous deeds And offices of life; to life itself, With all its vain and transient joys, sit loose." Probably I have quoted some of these to you formerly, as indeed when I write from the heart, I am apt to be guilty of such repetitions. The compass of the heart, in the musical style of expression, is much more bounded than that of the imagination; so the notes of the former are extremely apt to run into one another; but in return for the paucity of its com pass, its few notes are much more sweet. I must still give you another quotation, which I am almost sure I have given you before, but I cannot resist the temptation. The subject is religion-speaking of its importance to mankind, the author says, ""Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright, 'Tis this that gilds the horror of our night. When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few; When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue; I see you are in for a double postage, so I shall e'en scribble out t'other sheet. We, in this country here, have many alarms of the reforming, or rather the republican spirit, of your part of the kingdom. Indeed, we are a good deal in commotion ourselves. For me, I am a placeman, you know: a very humble one indeed, Heaven knows, but still so much so as to gag me. What my private sentiments are, you will find out without an interpreter. I have taken up the subject in another view, and the other day, for a pretty Actress's benefit-night, I wrote an Address, which I will give on the other page, called The Rights of Woman.* I shall have the honour of receiving your criticisms in person at Dunlop. babilities against you, that you shall never meet with that valued character more. On the other hand, brief as this miserable being is, it is none of the least of the mise ries belonging to it, that if there is any miscreant whom you hate, or creature whom you despise, the ill run of the chances shall be so against you, that in the overtakings, turnings, and jostlings of life, pop, at some unlucky corner eternally comes the wretch upon you, and will not allow your indignation or contempt a moment's repose. As I am a sturdy believer in the powers of darkness, I take these to be the doings of that old author of mischief, the devil. It is well known that he has some kind of short-hand way of taking down our thoughts, and I make no doubt that he is perfectly acquainted with my sentiments respecting Miss B-; how much I admired her abilities, and valued her worth, and how very fortunate I thought myself in her acquaintance. For this last reason, my dear Madam, I must entertain no hopes of the very great pleasure of meeting with you again. Miss H tells me that she is sending a packet to you, and I beg leave to send you the enclosed sonnet, though, to tell you the real truth, the sonnet is a mere pretence, that I may have the opportunity of declaring with how much respectful esteem I have the honour to be, &c. SOME rather unlooked-for accidents have prevented my doing myself the honour of a second visit to Arbeigland, as I was so hospitably invited, and so positively meant to have done. However, I still hope to have that pleasure before the busy months of harvest begin. I enclose you two of my late pieces, as some kind of return for the pleasure I have received in perusing a certain MS. volume of poems in the possession of Captain Riddel. To repay one with an old song, is a proverb, whose force, you, Madam, I know, will not allow. What is said of illustrious descent is, I believe equaly true of a talent for poetry, none ever despised it who had pretensions to it. The fates and characters of the rhyming tribe often employ my thoughts when I am disposed to be melancholy. There is not among all the martyrologies that ever were penned, so rueful a narrative as the lives of the poets. In the comparative view of wretches, the criterion is not what they are doomed to suffer, but how they are formed to bear. Take a being of our kind, give him a stronger imagination and a more delicate sensibility, which between them will ever engender a more ungovernable set of passions than are the usual lot of man; implant in him an irresistible impulse to some idle vagary, such as arranging wild flowers in fantastical nosegays, tracing the grasshopper to his haunt by his chirping song, watching the frisks of the little minnows, in the sunny pool, or hunting after the intrigues of butterflies-in short, send him adrift after some pursuit which shall eternally mislead him from the paths of lucre, and yet curse him with a keener relish than any man living for the pleasures that lucre can purchase: lastly, fill up the measure of his woes by bestowing on him a spurning sense of his own dignity, and you have created a wight nearly as miserable as a poet. To you, Madam, I need not recount the fairy pleasures the muse bestows to counterbalance this catalogue of evils. Bewitching poetry is like bewitching woman; she has in all ages been accused of misleading mankind from the councils of wisdom and the paths of prudence, involving them in difficulties, baiting them with poverty, branding them with infamy, and plunging them in the whirling vortex of ruin; yet where pay myself a very high compliment in the manner in which I am going to apply the remark. I have owed you money longer than ever I owed to any man. Here is Ker's account, and here are six guineas; and now, I don't owe a shilling to manor woman either. But for these damned dirty, dog's-eared little pages,* I had done myself the honour to have waited on you long ago. Independent of the obligations your hospitality has laid me under; the consciousness of your superiority in the rank of man and gentleman, of itself was fully as much as I could ever make head against; but to owe you money too, was more than I could face. I think I once mentioned something of a collection of Scots songs I have some years been making: I send you a perusal of what I have got together. I could not conveniently spare them above five or six days, and five or six glances of them will probably more than suffice you. A very few of them are my own. When you are tired of them, please leave them with Mr. Clint, of the King's Arms. There is not another copy of the collection in the world; and I should be sorry that any unfortunate negligence should deprive me of what has cost me a good deal of pains. No. CXL. TO MRS. R*****, is the man but must own that all our hap- Who was to bespeak a Play one Evening at piness on earth is not worthy the namethat even the holy hermit's solitary prospect of paradisaical bliss is but the glitter of a northern sun rising over a frozen region, compared with the many pleasures, the nameless raptures that we owe to the lovely Queen of the heart of Man! the DUMFRIES Theatre. I AM thinking to send my Address to some periodical publication, but it has not got your sanction, so pray look over it. As to the Tuesday's play, let me beg of you, my dear Madam, to give us, The Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret! to which please add, The Spoilt Child—you will highly oblige me by so doing. Ah! what an enviable creature you are! There now, this cursed gloomy bluedevil day, you are going to a party of choice spirits * Scottish Bank Notes, |