arrange the plan in your mind, without beginning to execute any part of it till you have studied most of the best English poets, and read a little more of history.-The Greek and Roman stories you can read in some abridgment, and soon become master of the most brilliant facts, which must highly delight a poetical mind. You should also, and very soon may, become master of the heathen mythology, to which there are everlasting allusions in all the poets, and which in itself is charmingly fanciful. What will require to be studied with more attention, is modern history; that is, the history of France and Great Britain, from the beginning of Henry the Seventh's reign. I know very well you have a mind capable of attaining knowledge by a shorter process than is commonly used, and I am certain you are capable of making a better use of it, when attained, than is generally done.

I beg you will not give yourself the trouble of writing to me when it is inconvenient, and make no apology when you do write for having postponed it ;-be assured of this, however, that I shall always be happy to hear from you. I think my friend Mr. told me that you had some poems in manuscript by you, of a satirical and humorous nature, (in which, by the way, I

think you very strong) which your prudent friends prevailed on you to omit; particularly one called Somebody's Confession; if you will entrust me with a sight of any of these, I will pawn my word to give no copies, and will be obliged to you for a perusal of them.

I understand you intend to take a farm, and make the useful and respectable business of husbandry your chief occupation; this, I hope, will not prevent your making occasional addresses to the nine ladies who have shewn you such favour, one of whom visited you in the auld clay biggin. Virgil, before you, proved to the world that there is nothing in the business of husbandry inimical to poetry; and I sincerely hope that you may afford an example of a good poet being a successful farmer. I fear it will not be in my power to visit Scotland this season; when I do, I'll endeavour to find you out, for I heartily wish to see and converse with If ever your occasions call you to this place, I make no doubt of your paying me a visit, and you may depend on a very cordial welcome from this family.

I am, Dear Sir,

you.

Your friend and obedient servant,
J. MOORE.

No. XXIX.

To Mr. WALKER, Blair of Athole.

MY DEAR SIR,

Inverness, 5th September, 1787.

I HAVE just time to write the foregoing,* and to tell you that it was, (at least most part of it) the effusion of an half-hour I spent at Bruar. I do not mean it was extempore, for I have endeavoured to brush it up as well as Mr. N's chat, and the jogging of the chaise, would allow. It eases my heart a good deal, as rhyme is the coin with which a poet pays his debts of honour or gratitude. What I

Owe

* The humble Petition of Bruar-Water to the Duke of Athole. Vol. iii. p. 355.

owe to the noble family of Athole, of the first kind, I shall ever proudly boast; what I owe of the last, so help me God in my hour of need! I shall never forget.

The "little angel-band!" I declare I prayed for them very sincerely to-day at the Fall of Fyars. I shall never forget the fine familypiece I saw at Blair: the amiable, the truly noble duchess, with her smiling little seraph in her lap, at the head of the table: the lovely "olive plants," as the Hebrew bard finely says, round the happy mother; the beautiful Mrs. G; the lovely, sweet Miss C. &c. I wish. I had the powers of Guido to do them justice! My Lord Duke's kind hospitality—markedly kind indeed! Mr. G. of F's charms of conversation-Sir W. M's friendship. In short, the recollection of all that polite, agreeable company, raises an honest glow in my bosom.

No.

No. XXX.

To MR. GILBERT BURNS.

Edinburgh, 17th September, 1787.

MY DEAR BROTHER,

I ARRIVED here safe yesterday evening after a tour of twenty two days, and travelling near six hundred miles, windings included. My farthest stretch was about ten miles beyond Inverness. I went through the heart of the Highlands, by Crieff, Taymouth, the famous seat of Lord Breadalbane, down the Tay, among cascades and druidical circles of stones, to Dunkeld, a seat of the Duke of Athole; thence cross Tay, and up one of his tributary streams to Blair of Athole, another of the Duke's seats, where I had the honour of spending nearly two days with his Grace and family;

thence