but work comes so hard upon us, that I do not choose to be absent on that account, as well as for some other little reasons, which I shall tell you at meeting. My health is nearly the same as when you were here, only my sleep is a little sounder; and, on the whole, I am rather better than otherwise, though I mend by very slow degrees. The weakness of my nerves has so debilitated my mind, that I dare neither review past events nor look forward into futurity; for the least anxiety or perturbation in my breast produces most unhappy effects on my whole frame. Sometimes, indeed, when for an hour or two my spirits are a little lightened, I glimmer a little into futurity; but my principal, and indeed my only pleasurable employment, is looking backwards and forwards in a moral and religious way. I am quite transported at the thought that ere long, perhaps very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to all the pains, and uneasinesses, and disquietudes of this weary life, for I assure you I am heartily tired of it; and, if I do not very much deceive myself, I could contentedly and gladly resign it. 'The soul, uneasy and confined at home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.' It is for this reason I am more pleased with the 15th, 16th, and 17th verses of the 7th chapter of Revelations than with any ten times as many verses in the whole Bible, and would not exchange the noble enthusiasm with which they inspire me for all that this world has to offer. As for this world, I despair of ever making a figure in it. I am not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor the flutter of the gay. I shall never again be capable of entering into such scenes. Indeed, I am altogether unconcerned at the thoughts of this life. I foresee that poverty and obscurity probably await me: I am in some measure prepared, and daily preparing to meet them. I have but just time and paper to return you my grateful thanks for the lessons of virtue and piety you have given me, which were too much neglected at the time of giving them; but which, I hope, have been remembered ere it is yet too late. Present my dutiful respects to my mother, and my compliments to Mr and Mrs Muir; and with wishing you a merry New-year's Day, I shall conclude. I am, honoured sir, your dutiful son, ROBERT BURNS. P.S.-My meal is nearly out; but I am going to borrow, till I get more. 1 The verses of Scripture here alluded to are as follow: 15. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple: and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. 16. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. 17. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. 2 It is no uncommon case for a small farmer, or even cotter, in Scotland to have a son It was probably at this time also a time which he says he could not afterwards recall without a shudder-that he composed a series of poems expressive of deep suffering, including his Winter, a Dirge,' which he spoke of as the eldest of the pieces in his Edinburgh edition : WINTER, A DIRGE. The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or, the stormy north sends driving forth While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, 'The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,'1 Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join ; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want (oh, do Thou grant Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, placed at some distant seminary of learning, or serving an apprenticeship to some metropolitan writer or tradesman; in which case the youth is almost invariably supplied with oatmeal, the staple of the poor Scotsman's life-cheese, perhaps-oaten or barley bread, &c., from the home stores, by the intervention of the weekly or fortnightly carrier. The above passage recalls an anecdote which is related of a gentleman, afterwards high in consideration at the Scottish bar, whose father, a poor villager in the upper ward of Lanarkshire, having contrived to get him placed at Glasgow university, supported him there chiefly by a weekly bag of oatmeal. On one occasion the supply was stopped for nearly three weeks by a snow-storm. The young man's meal, like Burns's, was out; but his pride, or his having no intimate acquaintance, prevented him from borrowing. And this remarkable and powerful-minded man had all but perished before the dissolving snow allowed a new stock of provisions to reach him. ' Dr Young. In the same spirit, and indeed expressive of the same idea, is A PRAYER, WRITTEN UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH. Oh Thou great Being! what Thou art Surpasses me to know: Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Thy creature here before Thee stands, Yet sure those ills that wring my soul Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act Oh free my weary eyes from tears, But if I must afflicted be, To suit some wise design; Then man my soul with firm resolves, After the feelings so pathetically expressed on the 27th of December, it certainly requires some consideration on the irregularity and fitfulness of all human emotions, to enable us to learn without surprise that on the 1st of January the poet was engaged in a merry-making of such a character, that the flaxdressing establishment became a prey to the flames. It might be supposed from his own narrative that he immediately deserted the business and Irvine together; but his sister reports that he did not return to Lochlea till the ensuing March. Of this there is some evidence under his own hand, for in the little garret-room which he occupied, the stone chimney-piece still bears his initials, believed to have been inscribed by himself, together with the date 1782. He tells us that about this time he had hung his harp upon the willows. Shortly, however, after his return to Lochlea and the plough, he took it down from those melancholy boughs, and strung it anew. Its strains were not as yet of witching excellence; but one is of value, as expressive of the poet's present position and prospects in life. MY FATHER WAS A FARMER. TUNE-The Weaver and his Shuttle, O. My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O, He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O; Then out into the world my course I did determine, O; In many a way, and vain essay, I courted fortune's favour, O; And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken, O. Then sore harassed, and tired at last, with fortune's vain delusion, O, I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion, ÓThe past was bad, and the future hid-its good or ill untried, O; But the present hour was in my power, and so I would enjoy it, O. No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me, O; So I must toil, and sweat, and broil, and labour to sustain me, O; To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, O; For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for fortune fairly, O. Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, through life I'm doomed to wander, O, Till down my weary bones I lay, in everlasting slumber, O. No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow, O! I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow, O. But cheerful still I am as well as a monarch in a palace, O, Though fortune's frown still hunts me down with all her wonted malice, O: I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it further, O; But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O. When sometimes by my labour I earn a little money, O, All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, O, The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the further, O: Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, O, A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you, O. We find him writing in a similar strain, but with a larger infusion of world-defying self-esteem, in a letter to his quondam preceptor, Murdoch : TO MR JOHN MURDOCH, SCHOOLMASTER, STAPLES' INN BUILDINGS, LONDON. LOCHLEA, 15th January 1783. DEAR SIR-AS I have an opportunity of sending you a letter without putting you to that expense which any production of mine would but ill repay, I embrace it with pleasure to tell you that I have not forgotten, nor ever will forget, the many obligations I lie under to your kindness and friendship. I do not doubt, sir, but you will wish to know what has been the result of all the pains of an indulgent father and a masterly teacher, and I wish I could gratify your curiosity with such a recital as you would be pleased with; but that is what I am afraid will not be the case. I have, indeed, kept pretty clear of vicious habits, and in this respect I hope my conduct will not disgrace the education I have gotten; but as a man of the world, I am most miserably deficient. One would have thought that, bred as I have been under a father who has figured pretty well as un homme des affaires, I might have been what the world calls a pushing, active fellow; but to tell you the truth, sir, there is hardly anything more my reverse. I seem to be one sent into the world to see and observe; and I very easily compound with the knave who tricks me of my money, if there be anything original about him, which shews me human nature in a different light from anything I have seen before. In short, the joy of my heart is to 'study men, their manners, and their ways;' and for this darling subject I cheerfully sacrifice every other consideration. I am quite indolent about those great concerns that set the bustling, busy sons of care agog; and if I have to answer for the present hour, I am very easy with regard to anything further. Even the last, worst shift of the unfortunate and the wretched,' does not much terrify me: I know that my talent for what country folks call a sensible crack, when once it is sanctified by a hoary head, would procure me so much esteem, that even then I would learn to be happy. However, I am under no apprehensions about that; for though indolent, yet so far as an extremely delicate |