XLII.

TO JOHN BALLANTYNE.

[I have not hesitated to insert all letters which show what Burns was
musing on as a poet, or planning as a man.]

_January_ ----, 1787.

While here I sit, sad and solitary by the side of a fire in a little
country inn, and drying my wet clothes, in pops a poor fellow of
sodger, and tells me he is going to Ayr. By heavens! say I to myself,
with a tide of good spirits which the magic of that sound, Auld Toon
o' Ayr, conjured up, I will sent my last song to Mr. Ballantyne. Here
it is--

Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care![166]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 166: Song CXXXI.]

* * * * *

XLIII.

TO MRS. DUNLOP.

[The friendship of Mrs. Dunlop purified, while it strengthened the
national prejudices of Burns.]

_Edinburgh, 15th January_, 1787.

MADAM,

Yours of the 9th current, which I am this moment honoured with, is a
deep reproach to me for ungrateful neglect. I will tell you the real
truth, for I am miserably awkward at a fib--I wished to have written
to Dr. Moore before I wrote to you; but though every day since I
received yours of December 30th, the idea, the wish to write to him
has constantly pressed on my thoughts, yet I could not for my soul set
about it. I know his fame and character, and I am one of "the sons of
little men." To write him a mere matter-of-fact affair, like a
merchant's order, would be disgracing the little character I have; and
to write the author of "The View of Society and Manners" a letter of
sentiment--I declare every artery runs cold at the thought. I shall
try, however, to write to him to-morrow or next day. His kind
interposition in my behalf I have already experienced, as a gentleman
waited on me the other day, on the part of Lord Eglintoun, with ten
guineas, by way of subscription for two copies of my next edition.

The word you object to in the mention I have made of my glorious
countryman and your immortal ancestor, is indeed borrowed from
Thomson; but it does not strike me us an improper epithet. I
distrusted my own judgment on your finding fault with it, and applied
for the opinion of some of the literati here, who honour me with their
critical strictures, and they all allow it to be proper. The song you
ask I cannot recollect, and I have not a copy of it. I have not
composed anything on the great Wal