the pursuing vengeful hags were so close at his heels, that one of them actually sprung to seize him; but it was too late, nothing was on her side of the stream but the horse's tail, which immediately gave way at her infernal grip, as if blasted by a stroke of lightning; but the farmer was be yond her reach. However, the unsightly, tai less condition of the vigorous steed was to the lat hour of the noble creature's life, an awful waning to the Carrick farmers, not to stay too late in Ayr markets.

The last relation I shall give, though equally true, is not so well identified as the two fomer, with regard to the scene: but as the best autorities give it for Aloway, I shall relate it.

On a summer's evening, about the time tlat nature puts on her sables to mourn the expiry of the cheerful day, a shepherd, boy belonging to a farmer in the immediate neighbourhood of Aloway kirk, had just folded his charge, and wa returning home. As he passed the kirk, in the adjoining field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who were busy pulling stems of the plant of ragwort. He observed that as each person pulled a ragwort, he or she got astride of it, and called out,

up horsie!" on which the ragwort few off, like Pegasus, through the air with its rider. The foolish boy likewise pulled his ragwort, and cried with the rest, up horsie!" and, strange to tell, away he flew with the company. The first stage at which the cavalcade stopt, was a merchant's wine. cellar in Bordeaux, where, without saying by your leave, they quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford, until the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, threatened to throw light on the matter, and frightened them from their earousals.

The poor shepherd lad, being equally a stranger to the scene and the liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk; and when the rest took horse, he fell asleep, and was found so next day by some of the people belonging to the merchant. Somebody

that understood Scotch, asking him what he was, he said he was such-a-one's herd in Aloway, and by some means or other getting home again, he lived long to tell the world the wondrous tale. I am, &c. &c.*

Sir,

No. XLIX.

To R. GRAHAM, Esq. Fintry.

December, 1792.

I have been surprised, confounded, and distracted, by Mr. Mitchel, the collector, telling me that he has received an order from your board to enquire into my political conduct, and blaming me as a person disaffected to government. Sir, you are a husband-and a father.-You know what you would feel, to see the much-loved wife of your bosom, and, your helpless, prattling little ones, turned adrift into the world, degraded and disgraced from a situation in which they had been respectable and respected, and left almost without

This letter was copied from the Censura Literaria, 1786. It was communicated to the editor of that work by Mr. Gilchrist of Stamford, with the following remark.

"In a collection of miscellaneous papers of the antiquary Grose, which I purchased a few years since, I found the following letter written to him by Burns, when the former was collecting the antiquities of Scotland; when I premise it was on the second tradition that he afterwards formed the inimitable tale of "Tam O'Shanter," I cannot doubt of its being read with great interest. were burning day-light" to point out to a reader, (and who is not a reader of Burns?) the thoughts he afterwards transplanted into the rhythmical narrative." O. G.

It

the necessary support of a miserable existence. Alas, sir! must I think that such, soon, will be my lot! and from the d-mned, dark insinuations of hellish groundless envy too! I believe, sir, I may aver it, and in the sight of Omniscience, that I would not tell a deliberate falsehood, no, not though even worse horrors, if worse can be, than those I have mentioned, hung over my head; and I say, that the allegation, whatever villain has made it, is a lie! To the British constitution, on revolution principles, next after my God, I am most devoutly attached! You, sir, have been much and generously my friend.-Heaven knows how warmly I have felt the obligation, and how gratefully I have thanked you.-Fortune, sir, has made you powerful, and me impotent; has given you patronage, and me dependance.-I would not, for my single self, call on your humanity; were such my insular, unconnected situation, I would despise the tear that now swells in my eye-I could brave misfortune, I could face ruin; for at the worst, "Death's thousand doors stand open;" but, good God! the tender concerns that I have mentioned, the claims and ties that I see at this moment, and feel around me, how they unnerve courage, and wither resolution! To your patronage, as a man of some genius, you have allowed me a claim; and your esteem, as an honest man, I know is my due to these, sir, permit me to appeal; by these may I adjure you to save me from that misery which threatens to overwhelm me, and which, with my latest breath I will say it, I have not deserved.

No. L.

To Mr. S. CLARKE, Edinburgh.

July 16, 1792.

Mr. Burns begs leave to present his most respectful compliments to Mr. Clarke.-Mr. B. some time ago did himself the honour of writing Mr. C. respecting coming out to the country, to give a little musical instruction in a highly respectable family, where Mr. C. may have his own terms, and may be as happy as indolence, the Devil, and the gout will permit him. Mr. B. knows well how Mr. C. is engaged with another family; but cannot Mr. C. find two or three weeks to spare to each of them? Mr. B. is deeply impressed with, and awfully conscious of, the high importance of Mr. C.'s time, whether in the winged moments of symphonious exhibition, at the keys of harmony, while listening seraphs cease their own less delightful strains ;-or in the drowsy hours of slumb'rous repose, in the arms of his dearly-beloved elbow-chair, where the frowsy, but potent power of indolence, circumfuses her vapours round, and sheds her dews on, the head of her darling son.But half a line conveying half a meaning from Mr. C. would make Mr. B. the very happiest of mortals.

No. LI.

To Mrs. DUNLOP.

Dec. 31, 1792.

Dear madam,

A hurry of business, thrown in heaps by my absence, has until now prevented my returning my grateful acknowledgments to the good family of Dunlop, and you in particular, for that hospitable

kindness which rendered the four days I spent under that genial roof, four of the pleasantest I ever enjoyed. Alas, my dearest friend! how few and fleeting are those things we call pleasures! On my road to Ayrshire, I spent a night with a friend whom I much valued; a man whose days promised to be many; and on Saturday last we laid him in the dust!

Jan. 2, 1793.

I have just received yours of the 30th, and feel much for your situation. However, I heartily rejoice in your prospect of recovery from that vile jaundice. As to myself I am better, though not quite free of my complaint. You must not think, as you seem to insinuate, that in my way of life I want exercise. Of that I have enough; but occasional hard drinking is the deyil to me. Against this I have again and again bent my resolution, and have greatly succeeded. Taverns I have totally abandoned: it is the private parties in the family way, among the hard-drinking gentlemen of this country, that do me the mischief-but even this I have more than half given over*.

*The following extract of a letter addressed by Mr. Bloomfield to the earl of Buchan, contains so interesting an exhibition of the modesty inhe rent in real worth, and so philosophical, and at the same time so poetical an estimate of the diferent characters and destinies of Burns and its author, that I should deem myself culpable were I to withhold it from the public view.

E.

"The illustrious soul that has left amongst us the name of Burns, has often been lowered down to a comparison with me; but the comparison exists more in circumstances than in essentials. That man stood up with the stamp of superior intellect on his brow; a visible greatness and great and patriotic subjects would only have called into aetion the powers of his mind, which lay inactive