It is, I believe, upon poor Butler's tomb that this is written. But how many brothers of Parnassus, as well as poor Butler and poor Fergusson have asked for bread, and been served with the same sauce! The magistrates gave you liberty, did they? Oh generous magistrates! ******* celebrated over the three kingdoms for his public spirit, gives a poor poet liberty to raise a tomb to a poor poet's memory! most generous! ******* once upon a time gave that same poet the mighty sum of eighteen pence for a copy of his works. But then it must be considered that the poet was at this time absolutely starving, and besought his aid with all the earnestness of hunger; and, over and above, he received a ******** worth, at least one-third of the value, in exchange, but which, I believe, the poet afterwards very ungratefully expunged. Next week I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in Edinburgh; and as my stay will be for eight or ten days, I wish you or ***** would take a snug, well-aired bed-room for me, where I may have the pleasure of seeing you over a morning cup of tea. But, by all accounts, it will be a matter of some difficulty to see you at all, unless your company is bespoke VOL. II. F bespoke a week before hand. There is a great rumour here concerning your great intimacy of distinction. I am really told that "cards "to invite fly by thousands each night;" and, had one, I "bribes to your old secretary.' It seems you are resolved to make hay while the sun shines, and avoid, if possible, the fate of poor Fergus son, * * * * * ** * * * Quærenda pecunia primum est, virtus post nummos is a good maxim to thrive by: you seemed to despise it while in this country; but probably some philosopher in Edinburgh has taught you better sense. Pray, are you yet engraving as well as printing? Are you yet seized ing?—Are "With itch of picture in the front, With bays and wicked rhyme upon't?" But I must give up this trifling, and attend to matters that more concern myself; so, as the Aberdeen wit says, adieu dryly, we sal drink phan we meet.* *The above extract is from a letter of one of the ablest of our Poet's correspondents, which contains some interesting interesting anecdotes of Fergusson, that we should have been happy to have inserted, if they could have been authenticated. The writer is mistaken in supposing the magistrates of Edinburgh had any share in the transaction respecting the monument erected for Fergusson by our Bard; this, it is evident, passed between Burns and the Kirk Session of the Canongate. Neither at Edinburgh, nor any where else, do magistrates usually trouble themselves to inquire how the house of a poor poet is furnished, or how his grave is adorned. E. F 2 No. No. XXII. To MRS. DUNLOP. Edinburgh, March 22, 1787. MADAM, I READ your letter with watery eyes. A little, very little while ago, I had scarce a friend but the stubborn pride of my own bosom ; now I am distinguished, patronised, befriended by you. Your friendly advices, I will not give them the cold name of criticisms, I receive with reverence. I have made some small alterations in what I before had printed. I have the advice of some very judicious friends among the Literati here, but with them I sometimes find it necessary to claim the privilege of thinking for myself. The noble Earl of Glencairn, to whom I owe more than to any man, does me the honour of giving me his strictures: his hints, with respect to impropriety or indelicacy, I follow implicitly. You You kindly interest yourself in my future views and prospects: there I can give you no light; it is all "Dark as was Chaos ere the infant sun Was roll'd together, or had try'd his beams The appellation of a Scottish bard is by far my highest pride; to continue to deserve it is my most exalted ambition. Scottish scenes and Scottish story are the themes I could wish to sing. I have no dearer aim than to have it in my power, unplagued with the routine of business, for which, heaven knows! I am unfit enough, to make leisurely pilgrimages through Caledonia; to sit on the fields of her battles; to wander on the romantic banks of her rivers; and to muse by the stately towers or venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes. But these are all Utopian thoughts: I have dallied long enough with life; 'tis time to be in earnest. I have a fond, an aged mother to care for: and some other bosom ties perhaps equally tender. Where the individual only suffers by the consequences of his own thoughtlessness, indolence, or folly, he may be excusable: nay, shining abilities, and some of the nobler virtues, may |