highly entertaining to me in several respects. He mentioned some instruction I had given him when very young, to which he said he owed, in a great measure, the philanthropy he possessed. --He also took notice of my exhorting you all, when I wrote, about eight years ago, to the man who, of all mankind that I ever knew, stood highest in my esteem, "not to let go

your integrity."-You may easily conceive that such conversation was both pleasing and encouraging to me: I anticipated a deal of rational happiness from future conversations.

-Vain are our expectations and hopes. They are so almost always-Perhaps, (nay, certainly,) for our good. Were it not for disappointed hopes we could hardly spend a thought on another state of existence, or be in any degree reconciled to the quitting of this.

I know of no one source of consolation to those who have lost young relatives equal to that of their being of a good disposition, and of a promising character.

Be assured, my dear friend, that I cordially sympathize with you all, and particularly with Mrs. W. Burns, who is undoubtedly one of the most tender and affectionate mothers that

that ever lived. the most friendly manner, when you see her, or write. Please present my best compliments to Mrs. R. Burns, and to your brother and sisters.-There is no occasion for me to exhort you to filial duty, and to use your united endeavours in rendering the evening of life as comfortable as possible to a mother, who has dedicated so great a part of it in promoting your temporal and spiritual welfare.

Remember me to her in

Your letter to Dr. Moore, I delivered at his house, and shall most likely know your opinion of Zeluco, the first time I meet with him. I wish and hope for a long letter. Be particular about your mother's health. I hope she is too much a Christian to be afflicted above measure, or to sorrow as those who have no hope.

One of the most pleasing hopes I have is to visit you all; but I am commonly disappointed in what I most ardently wish for.

I am,

Dear Sir,

Yours sincerely,

JOHN MURDOCH.

POETRY.

D D

EPISTLES IN VERSE.

TO J. LAPRAIK.

Sept. 13th, 1785.

GUID speed an' furder to you Johny,
Guid health, hale han's, an' weather bony;
Now when ye're nickan down fu' cany

The staff o' bread,

May ye ne'er want a stoup o' brany

To clear your head.

May Boreas never thresh your rigs,
Nor kick your rickles aff their legs,
Sendin' the stuff o'er muirs an' haggs

But may

Like drivin' wrack;

the tapmast grain that wags

Come to the sack.

DD 2

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