tropic of plenty, at least enjoy himself in
the comfortable latitudes of easy convenience, or starve in the arctic
circle of dreary poverty; whether he shall rise in the manly
consciousness of a self-approving mind, or sink beneath a galling load
of regret and remorse--these are alternatives of the last moment.

You see how I preach. You used occasionally to sermonize too; I wish
you would, in charity, favour me with a sheet full in your own way. I
admire the close of a letter Lord Bolingbroke writes to Dean
Swift:--"Adieu dear Swift! with all thy faults I love thee entirely:
make an effort to love me with all mine!" Humble servant, and all that
trumpery, is now such a prostituted business, that honest friendship,
in her sincere way, must have recourse to her primitive,
simple,--farewell!

R. B.

* * * * *

CXXVI.

TO MR. GEORGE LOCKHART,

MERCHANT, GLASGOW.

[Burns, more than any poet of the age, loved to write out copies of
his favourite poems, and present them to his friends: he sent "The
Falls of Bruar" to Mr. Lockhart.]

_Mauchline, 18th July, 1788._

MY DEAR SIR,

I am just going for Nithsdale, else I would certainly have transcribed
some of my rhyming things for you. The Miss Baillies I have seen in
Edinburgh. "Fair and lovely are thy works, Lord God Almighty! Who
would not praise thee for these thy gifts in thy goodness to the sons
of men!" It needed not your fine taste to admire them. I declare, one
day I had the honour of dining at Mr. Baillie's, I was almost in the
predicament of the children of Israel, when they could not look on
Moses' face for the glory that shone in it when he descended from
Mount Sinai.

I did once write a poetic address from the Falls of Bruar to his Grace
of Athole, when I was in the Highlands. When you return to Scotland,
let me know, and I will send such of my pieces as please myself best.
I return to Mauchline in about ten days.

My compliments to Mr. Purdon. I am in truth, but at present in haste,

Yours,--R. B.

* * * * *

CXXVII.

TO MR. PETER HILL.

[Peter Hill was a bookseller in Edinburgh: David Ramsay, printer of
the Evening Courant: William Dunbar, an advocate, and president of a
club of Edinburgh wits; and Alexander Cunningham, a jeweller, who
loved mirth and wine.]

MY DEAR HILL,

I shall say nothing to your mad present--you have so long and often
been of important se