y
of my plebeian brethren (who perhaps formerly eyed me askance) since I
returned home, have nearly put me out of conceit altogether with my
species. I have bought a pocket Milton, which I carry perpetually
about with me, in order to study the sentiments--the dauntless
magnanimity, the intrepid, unyielding independence, the desperate
daring, and noble defiance of hardship, in that great personage,
SATAN. 'Tis true, I have just now a little cash; but I am
afraid the star that hitherto has shed its malignant, purpose-blasting
rays full in my zenith; that noxious planet so baneful in its
influences to the rhyming tribe, I much dread it is not yet beneath my
horizon.--Misfortune dodges the path of human life; the poetic mind
finds itself miserably deranged in, and unfit for the walks of
business; add to all, that thoughtless follies and hare-brained whims,
like so many _ignes fatui_, eternally diverging from the right line of
sober discretion, sparkle with step-bewitching blaze in the
idly-gazing eyes of the poor heedless bard, till, pop, "he falls like
Lucifer, never to hope again." God grant this may be an unreal picture
with respect to me! but should it not, I have very little dependence
on mankind. I will close my letter with this tribute my heart bids me
pay you--the many ties of acquaintance and friendship which I have, or
think I have in life, I have felt along the lines, and, damn them,
they are almost all of them of such frail contexture, that I am sure
they would not stand the breath of the least adverse breeze of
fortune; but from you, my ever dear Sir, I look with confidence for
the apostolic love that shall wait on me "through good report and bad
report"--the love which Solomon emphatically says "is strong as
death." My compliments to Mrs. Nicol, and all the circle of our common
friends.

P.S. I shall be in Edinburgh about the latter end of July.

R. B.

* * * * *

LXVI.

TO MR. JAMES CANDLISH.

[Candlish was a classic scholar, but had a love for the songs of
Scotland, as well as for the poetry of Greece and Rome.]

_Edinburgh, 1787._

MY DEAR FRIEND,

If once I were gone from this scene of hurry and dissipation, I
promise myself the pleasure of that correspondence being renewed
which has been so long broken. At present I have time for nothing.
Dissipation and business engross every moment. I am engaged in
assisting an honest Scotch enthusiast,[174] a friend