down to it with as much pleasure, as I would to write an epic poem of my own composition, that should equal the A Iliad. Religion, my dear friend, is the true comfort! strong persuasion in a future state of existence; a proposi To hear their lectures once a week, Thy dedication to G. H., An unco bonnie hamespun speech, Than servile bards, who fawn and fleech When slighted love becomes your theme, But glanc'd by the most frigid dame, The daisy, too, ye sing wi' skill; Did Addison or Pope but hear, Their works would a' in pieces tear Sure Milton's eloquence were faint, Th' attempt would doubtless vex a saint, The task I'll drop, with heart sincere tion so obviously probable, that, setting revelation aside, every nation and people, so far as investigation has reached, for at least near four thousand years, have, in some mode or other, firmly believed it. In vain would we reason and pretend to doubt. I have myself done so to a very daring pitch; but, when I reflected that I was opposing the most ardent wishes, and the most darling hopes of good men, and flying in the face of all human belief, in all ages, I was shocked at my own conduct. I know not whether I have ever sent you the following lines, or if you have ever seen them; but it is one of my favourite quotations, which I keep constantly by me in my progress through life, in the language of the book of Job, 66 Against the day of battle and of war" spoken of religion : ""Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright, When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few; 'Tis this that wards the blow, or stills the smart, Within the breast bids purest raptures rise, Dispens'd by an indulgent care, To Robert Burns! "Sir, I hope you will pardon my boldness in this; my hand trembles while I write to you, conscious of my unworthiness of what I would most earnestly solicit, viz. your favour and friendship; yet hoping you will show yourself possessed of as much generosity and good-nature as will prevent your exposing what may justly be found liable to censure in this measure, I shall take the liberty to subscribe myself, "Sir, "Your most obedient humble servant, "P. S. If you would condescend to honour me with a few lines from your hand, I would take it as a particular favour: and direct to me at Loudon House, near Galston." I have been busy with Zeluco. The Doctor is so obliging as to request my opinion of it; and I have been revolving in my mind some kind of criticisms on novel-writing, but it is a depth beyond my research. I shall, however, digest my thoughts on the subject as well as I can. is a most sterling performance. Zeluco Farewell! A Dieu, le bon Dieu, je vous commende ! SIR, No. CLXIV. TO CAPTAIN RIDDEL, CARSE. ELLISLAND, 16th Oct., 1789. BIG with the idea of this important day at Friars Carse, I have watched the elements and skies in the full persuasion that they would announce it to the astonished world by some phenomena of terrific portent.-Yesternight until a very late hour did I wait with anxious horror for the appearance of some Comet firing half the sky; or aerial armies of sanguinary Scandinavians, darting athwart the startled heavens, rapid as the ragged lightning, and horrid as those convulsions of nature that bury nations. The elements, however, seem to take the matter very quietly they did not even usher in this morning with triple suns and a shower of blood, symbolical of the three potent heroes, and the mighty claret-shed of the day.-For me, as Thomson in his Winter says of the storm-I shall "Hear astonished, and astonished sing" The whistle and the man; I sing The man that won the whistle, &c. Here are we met, three merry boys, Wha first shall rise to gang awa, Wha last beside his chair shall fa' He is the king amang us three. To leave the heights of Parnassus and come to the humble vale of prose.—I have some misgivings that I take too much upon me, when I request you to get your guest, Sir Robert Lawrie, to frank the two inclosed covers for me, the one of them, to Sir William Cunningham, of Robertland, Bart. at Kilmarnock,-the other, to Mr Allan Masterton, Writing-Master, Edinburgh. The first has a kindred claim on Sir Robert, as being a brother Baronet, and likewise a keen Foxite; the other is one of the worthiest men in the world, and a man of real genius; so, allow me to say, he has a fraternal claim on you. I want them franked for to-morrow, as I cannot get them to the post to-night. I shall send a servant again for them in the evening. Wishing that your head may be crowned with laurels tonight, and free from aches to-morrow, I have the honour to be, Sir, No. CLXV. TO CAPTAIN RIDDEL. R. B. ELLISLAND, 1789. SIR, I WISH from my inmost soul it were in my power to give you a more substantial gratification and return for all the goodness to the poet, than transcribing a few of his idle rhymes. However, "an old song," though to a proverb an instance of insignificance, is generally the only coin a poet has to pay with. If my poems which I have transcribed, and mean still to transcribe into your book, were equal to the grateful respect and high esteem I bear for the gentleman to whom I pre sent them, they would be the finest poems in the language -As they are, they will at least be a testimony with what sincerity I have the honour to be, I HAD written you long ere now, could I have guessed where to find you, for I am sure you have more good sense than to waste the precious days of vacation time in the dirt of business and Edinburgh.—Wherever you are, God bless you, and lead you not into temptation, but deliver you from evil! I do not know if I have informed you that I am now appointed to an Excise division, in the middle of which my house and farm lie. In this I was extremely lucky. Without ever having been an expectant, as they call their journeymen excisemen, I was directly planted down to all intents and purposes an officer of Excise; there to flourish and bring forth fruits-worthy of repentance. I know not how the word exciseman, or still more opprobrious, gauger, will sound in your ears. I too have seen the day when my auditory nerves would have felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife and children are things which have a wonderful power in blunting these kind of sensations. Fifty pounds a year for life, and a provision for widows and orphans, you will allow is no bad settlement for a poet. For the ignominy of the profession, I have the encouragement which I once heard a recruiting sergeant give to a numerous, if not a respectable audience, in the |