No. XXXII. FROM MR. J. RAMSAY, TO THE REVEREND W. YOUNG, AT ERSKINE. Ochtertyre, 22d October, 1787. DEAR SIR, relli (whom I looked on as the Homer of music) is out of date, it is no proof of their taste;-this, however, is going out of my province. You can show Mr. Burns the manner of singing the same Luinags; and, if he can humour it in words, I do not despair of seeing one of them sung upon the stage, in the original style, round a napkin. I am very sorry we are likely to meet so seldom in this neighbourhood. It is one obscurity, that one has so few opportuof the greatest drawbacks that attends ALLOW me to introduce Mr. Burns, whose poems, I dare say, have given younities of cultivating acquaintances at a much pleasure. Upon a personal ac- distance. I hope, however, some time quaintance, I doubt not, you will relish or other to have the pleasure of beating the man as much as his works, in which up your quarters at Erskine, and of haulthere is a rich vein of intellectual ore. ing you away to Paisley, &c.; meanwhile He has heard some of our Highland Lu-I beg to be remembered to Messrs. Boog inags or songs played, which delighted and Mylne. him so much that he has made words to one or two of them, which will render these more popular. As he has thought of being in your quarter, I am persuaded you will not think it labour lost to indulge the poet of nature with a sample of those sweet, artless melodies, which only want to be married (in Milton's phrase) to congenial words. I wish we could conjure up the ghost of Joseph M‘D. to infuse into our bard a portion of his enthusiasm for those neglected airs, which do not suit the fastidious musicians of the present hour. But if it be true that Co was my duty to protect you. To what my cottage afforded you was most welcome." "Your guest, then," replied the other, "is the Earl of Mar; and if hereafter you fall into any misfortune, fail not to come to the castle of Kildrummie." "My blessing be with you! noble stranger," said Omeron; "If I am ever in distress you shall soon see me." The Royal army was soon after re-assembled, and the insurgents finding themselves unable to make head against it, dispersed. The M'Donalds, however, got notice that Omeron had been the Earl's host, and forced him to fly the country. He came with his wife and children to the gate of Kildrummie castle, and required admittance with a confidence which hardly correspond ed with his habit and appearance. The porter told him rudely, his lordship was at dinner, and must not be disturbed. He became noisy and importunate: at last his name was announced. Upon hearing that it was Omeron Cameron, the Earl started from his seat, and is said to have exclaimed in a kind of poetical stanza, "I was a night in his house, and fared most plentifully; but naked of clothes was my bed. Omeron from Breugach is an excellent fellow." He was introduced into the great hall, and received with the welcome he deserved. gave Upon hearing how he had been treated, the Earl whom it was addressed was Mary Stew-| the author, till a few days ago, when art, of the Castlemilk family, afterwards made a visit to Mrs. Hill, Dr. M'Comb's wife of Mr. John Relches. The Colonel eldest daughter, who lives in town, and never saw Robert Crawford, though he who told me that she was informed of it was at his burial fifty-five years ago. by a letter from her sister in Edinburgh, He was a pretty young man, and had with whom you had been in company lived long in France. Lady Ankerville when in that capital. is his niece, and may know more of his poetical vein. An epitaph-monger like me might moralize upon the vanity of life, and the vanity of those sweet effusions. But I have hardly room to offer my best compliments to Mrs. Blacklock, and am, Dear Doctor, Pray let me know if you have any intention of visiting this huge, overgrown metropolis? It would afford matter for a large poem. Here you would have an opportunity of indulging your vein in the study of mankind, perhaps to a greater degree than in any city upon the face of Your most obedient, humble servant, the globe; for the inhabitants of London, J. RAMSAY. as you know, are a collection of all nations, kindreds, and tongues, who make it, as it were, the centre of their com merce. No. XXXIV. FROM MR. JOHN MURDOCH. London, 28th October, 1787. MY DEAR SIR, As my friend, Mr Brown 13 going Aom this place to your neighbourhood, I embrace the opportunity of telling you chat I am yet alive, tolerably well, and always in expectation of being better. By the much-valued letters before me, I see that it was my duty to have given you this intelligence about three years and nine months ago: and have nothing to allege as an excuse, but that we poor, busy, bustling bodies in London, are so much taken up with the various pursuits in which we are here engaged, that we seldom think of any person, creature, place, or thing that is absent. But this is not altogether the case with me; for I often think of you, and Hornie and Russel, and an unfathomed depth, and lowan brunstane, all in the same minute, although you and they are (as I suppose) at a considerable distance. I flatter myself, however, with the pleasing thought, that you and I shall meet some time or other either in Scotland or England. If ever you come hither, you will have the satisfaction of seeing your poems relished by the Caledonians in London, full as much as they can be by those of Edinburgh. We frequently repeat some of your verses in our Caledonian society; and you may believe, hat I am not a little vain that I have had some share in cultivating such a genius. I was not absolutely certain that you were Present my respectful compliments to Mrs. Burns, to my dear friend Gilbert, and all the rest of her amiable children. May the Father of the universe bless you all with those principles and dispositions that the best of parents took such uncommon pains to instil into your minds from your earliest infancy! May you live as he did! if you do, you can never be unhappy. I feel myself grown serious all at once, and affected in a manner I cannot describe. I shall only add, that it is one of the greatest pleasures I promise myself before I die, that of seeing the family of a man whose memory I revere more than that of any person that ever 1 was acquainted with. SIR, I am, my dear Friend, JOHN MURDOCH. No. XXXV. FROM MR. Gordon Castle, 31st Oct. 1787. If you were not sensible of your fault as well as of your loss in leaving this place so suddenly, I should condemn you to starve upon cauld kail for ae towmont at least! and as for Dick Latine,* your him wi' a' the curses contained in your travelling companion, without banning * JIr. Nicol letter (which he'll no value a bawbee,) I should give him nought but Stra'bogie castocks to chew for sax ouks, or ay until he was as sensible of his error as you seem to be of yours. Your song I showed without producing the author; and it was judged by the Dutchess to be the production of Dr. Beattie. I sent a copy of it, by her Grace's desire, to a Mrs. M'Pherson in Badenoch, who sings Morag and all other Gaelic songs in great perfection. I have recorded it likewise, by Lady Charlotte's desire, in a book belonging to her ladyship, where it is in company with a great many other poems and verses, some of the writers of which are no less eminent for their political than for their poetical abilities. When the Dutchess was informed that you were the author, she wished you had written the verses in Scotch. as it were, and neither cramped nor sup ported by acquisition, I will always sug tain the justice of its prior claim of ap plause. A small portion of taste, this way, I have had almost from childhood, especially in the old Scottish dialect; and it is as old a thing as I remember, my fondness for Christ-kirk o' the Green, which I had by heart, ere I was twelve years of age, and which, some years ago, I attempted to turn into Latin verse. While I was young, I dabbled a good deal in these things; but, on getting the black gown, I gave it pretty much over, till my daughters grew up, who, being all good singers, plagued me for words to some of their favourite tunes, and so extorted these effusions, which have made a public appearance beyond my expectations, and contrary to my inten tions, at the same time that I hope there is nothing to be found in them uncharac teristic, or unbecoming the cloth which I would always wish to see respected. As to the assistance you purpose fron me in the undertaking you are engaged in,* I am sorry I cannot give it so far as I could wish, and you perhaps expect. My daughters, who were my only intelligencers, are all foris-familiate and the old woman their mother has lost that taste. There are two from my own pen, which I might give you, if worth the while. One to the old Sco'ch tune of Dumbarton's Drums. The other perhaps you have met with, as your noble friend the Dutchess has, I am told, heard of it. It was squeezed out of me by a brother parson in her neighbourhood, to accommodate a new Highland reel for the Marquis's birth-day, to the stanza of "Tune your fiddles, tune them sweetly," &c. If this last answer your purpose, you may have it from a brother of mine, Mr. James Skinner, writer in Edinburgh, who, I believe, can give the music too. There is another humorous thing I have heard, said to be done by the Catholic priest Geddes, and which hit my taste YOUR kind return without date, but of post mark October 25th, came to my hand only this day; and, to testify my punctuality to my poetic engagement, I sit down immediately to answer it in kind. Your acknowledgment of my poor but just encomiums on your surprising genius, and your opinion of my rhyming excursions, are both, I think, by far too high. The difference between our two tracks of education and ways of life is entirely in your favour, and gives you the preference eve- "There was a wee wifeikie, was coming frae the fair, ry manner of way. I know a classical Had gotten a little drapikie which bred her meikle caro, education will not create a versifying It took upo' the wifie's heart, and she began to spew, taste, but it mightily improves and assists And co' the wee wifeikic, I wish I binna fou, it; and though, where both these meet, there may sometimes be ground for approbation, yet where taste appears single W much: I wish, &c. &c. * A plan of publishing a complete collection of Scot tish Songs, &c. I have heard of another new composi- | convey along with them those graces they acquired from the melodious voice of one of the fair spirits of the Hill of Kildrummie! These I must leave to your imagination to supply. It has powers sufficient to transport you to her side, to recall her accents, and to make them still vibrate in the ears of memory. To her I am indebted for getting the enclosed notes. They are clothed with " thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." These, however, being in an unknown tongue to you, you must again have recourse to that same fertile imagination of yours to interpret them, and suppose a lover's description of the beauties of an adored mistressWhy did I say unknown? the language of love is a universal one, that seems to have escaped the confusion of Babel, and to be understood by all nations. tion, by a young ploughman of my acquaintance, that I am vastly pleased with, to the tune of The Humours of Glen, which I fear wont do, as the music, I am told, is of Irish original. I have mentioned these, such as they are, to show my readiness to oblige you, and to contribute my mite, if I could, to the patriotic work you have in hand, and which I wish all success to. You have only to notify your mind, and what you want of the above shall be sent you. Mean time, while you are thus publicly, I may say, employed, do not sheath your own proper and piercing weapon. From what I have seen of yours already, I am inclined to hope for much good. One lesson of virtue and morality delivered in your amusing style, and from such as you, will operate more than dozens would do from such as me, who shall be told it is our employment, and be never more minded: whereas, from a pen like yours, as being one of the many, what comes will be admired. Admiration will produce regard, and regard will leave an impression, especially when example goes along. Now binna saying I'm ill bred, Maun ay be harland in their trade, And sae maun I. Wishing you, from my poet-pen, all success, and, in my other character, all happiness and heavenly direction, I remain, with esteem, No. XXXVII. FROM MRS. ROSE. Kilravock Castle, 30th Nov. 1787. SIR, I HOPE you will do me the justice to believe, that it was no defect in gratitude for your punctual performance of your parting promise, that has made me so long in acknowledging it, but merely the difficulty I had in getting the Highland songs you wished to have, accurately noted; they are at last enclosed; but how shall I I rejoice to find that you were pleased with so many things, persons, and places, in your northern tour, because it leads me to hope you may be induced to revisit them again. That the old castle of Kilravock, and its inhabitants were amongst these, adds to my satisfaction. I am even vain enough to admit your very flattering application of the line of Addison's; at any rate, allow me to believe, that "friendship will maintain the ground she has occupied in both our hearts," in spite of absence, and that when we do meet, it will be as acquaintance of a score years' standing; and on this footing consider me as interested in the future course of your fame so splendidly commenced. Any communications of the progress of your muse will be received with great gratitude, and the fire of your genius will have power to warm even us, frozen sisters of the north. The fire-sides of Kilravock and Kildrummie unite in cordial regards to you. When you incline to figure either in your idea, suppose some of us reading your poems, and some of us singing your songs, and my little Hugh looking at your picture, and you'll seldom be wrong. We remember Mr. Nicol with as much good will as we can do any body who hurried Mr. Burns from us. Farewell, Sir: I can only contribute the widow's mite, to the esteem and admi ration excited by your merits and genius; but this I give. as she did, with all my heart-being sincerely yours. EL. ROSE. No. XXXVIII. TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN. MY LORD, I KNOW your Lordship will disapprove of my ideas in a request I am going to make to you, but I have weighed, long and seriously weighed, my situation, my nopes, and turn of mind, and am fully fixed to my scheme, if I can possibly effectuate it. I wish to get into the Excise; I am told that your Lordship's interest will easily procure me the grant from the Commissioners; and your Lordship's patronage and goodness, which have already rescued me from obscurity, wretchedness, and exile, embolden me to ask that interYou have likewise put it in my power to save the little tie of home that sheltered an aged mother, two brothers, and three sisters, from destruction. There, my Lord, you have bound me over to the highest gratitude. est. I SUPPOSE the devil is so elated with his success with you, that he is determined, by a coup de main, to complete his purposes on you all at once, in making you a poet. I broke open the letter you sent me: hummed over the rhymes; and as I saw they were extempore, said to myself, they were very well; but when I saw at the bottom a name I shall ever value with grateful respect, "I gapit wide but naething spak." I was nearly as much struck as the friends of Job, of affliction-bearing memory, when they sat down with him seven days and seven nights, and spake not a word. My brother's farm is but a wretched I am naturally of a superstitious cast, lease; but I think he will probably wea- and as soon as my wonder-scared imagi ther out the remaining seven years of it; nation regained its consciousness, and and, after the assistance which I have resumed its functions, I cast about what given, and will give him, to keep the fa- this mania of yours might portend. My mily together, I think, by my guess, I foreboding ideas had the wide stretch of shall have rather better than two hun- possibility; and several events, great in dred pounds, and instead of seeking what their magnitude, and important in their is almost impossible at present to find, a consequences, occurred to my fancy. farm that I can certainly live by, with so The downfall of the conclave, or the small a stock, I shall lodge this sum in a crushing of the cork rumps; a ducal cobanking-house, a sacred deposit, except-ronet to Lord George G- and the ing only the calls of uncommon distress protestant interest, or St. Peter's keys, or necessitous old age; **** to ** These, My Lord, are my views; I have You want to know how I come on. on. I resolved from the maturest deliberation; am just in statu quo, or, not to insult a and now I am fixed, I shall leave no stone gentleman with my Latin, in "auld use unturned to carry my resolve into execu- and wont." The noble Earl of Glencairn tion. Your Lordship's patronage is the took me by the hand to-day, and interest strength of my hopes; nor have I yet ap-ed himself in my concerns, with a goodplied to any body else. Indeed my heart ness like that benevolent Being whose sinks within me at the idea of applying to image he so richly bears. He is a stronany other of the Great who have honour-ger proof of the immortality of the soul ed me with their countenance. I am ill than any that philosophy ever produced. qualified to dog the heels of greatness A mind like his can never die. Let the with the impertinence of solicitation, and worshipful squire H. L. or the reverend tremble nearly as much at the thought of Mass J. M. go into their primitive nothe cold promise, as the cold denial: but thing. At best, they are but ill-digested to your Lordship I have not only the lumps of chaos, only one of them strongly nonour, the comfort, but the pleasure of tinged with bituminous particles and sulbeing phureous effluvia. But my noble patron, eternal as the heroic swell of magnanimity, and the generous throb of benevo Your Lordship's much obliged, And deeply indebted humble servant. |