ch he alludes were
recited by the lady on her benefit-night, and are printed among his
Poems.]

_Dumfries, December, 1795._

MADAM,

In such a bad world as ours, those who add to the scanty sum of our
pleasures, are positively our benefactors. To you, Madam, on our
humble Dumfries boards, I have been more indebted for entertainment
than ever I was in prouder theatres. Your charms as a woman would
insure applause to the most indifferent actress, and your theatrical
talents would insure admiration to the plainest figure. This, Madam,
is not the unmeaning or insidious compliment of the frivolous or
interested; I pay it from the same honest impulse that the sublime of
nature excites my admiration, or her beauties give me delight.

Will the foregoing lines be of any service to you in your approaching
benefit-night? If they will I shall be prouder of my muse than ever.
They are nearly extempore: I know they have no great merit; but though
they should add but little to the entertainment of the evening, they
give me the happiness of an opportunity to declare how much I have the
honour to be, &c.

R. B.

* * * * *

CCCXXI.

TO MRS. DUNLOP.

[Of the sweet girl to whom Burns alludes in this letter he was
deprived during this year: her death pressed sorely on him.]

_15th December, 1795._

MY DEAR FRIEND,

As I am in a complete Decemberish humour, gloomy, sullen, stupid as
even the Deity of Dulness herself could wish, I shall not drawl out a
heavy letter with a number of heavier apologies for my late silence.
Only one I shall mention, because I know you will sympathize in it:
these four months, a sweet little girl, my youngest child, has been so
ill, that every day, a week or less, threatened to terminate her
existence. There had much need be many pleasures annexed to the states
of husband and father, for, God knows, they have many peculiar cares.
I cannot describe to you the anxious, sleepless hours these ties
frequently give me. I see a train of helpless little folks; me and my
exertions all their stay: and on what a brittle thread does the life
of man hang! If I am nipt off at the command of fate! even in all the
vigour of manhood as I am--such things happen every day--gracious God!
what would become of my little flock! 'Tis here that I envy your
people of fortune.--A father on his death-bed, taking an everlasting
leave of his children, has indeed woe enough; but the man o