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WRITTEN WITII A PENCIL, STANDING BY THE FALL OF FOYERS,
NEAR LOCH NESS.
AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods
Epistle to a young friend.
I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A something to have sent you, Though it should serve nae other end
Than just a kind memento;
Let time and chance determine ;
Perhaps turn out a sermon.
Ye'll try the world fu' soon, my lad ;
And, Andrew, dear, believe me, You 'll find mankind an unco squad,
And muckle they may grieve ye: For care and trouble set your thought,
Even when your end's attain'd ; And a' your views may come to nought,
Where every nerve is strain'd