No More Learning

* * * * *




CCXV.


TO MRS. DUNLOP.

[Francis Wallace Burns, the godson of Mrs. Dunlop, to whom this letter
refers, died at the age of fourteen--he was a fine and a promising
youth. ]

_Ellisland, 11th April, 1791. _

I am once more able, my honoured friend, to return you, with my own
hand, thanks for the many instances of your friendship, and
particularly for your kind anxiety in this last disaster, that my evil
genius had in store for me. However, life is chequered--joy and
sorrow--for on Saturday morning last, Mrs. Burns made me a present of
a fine boy; rather stouter, but not so handsome as your godson was at
his time of life. Indeed I look on your little namesake to be my _chef
d'oeuvre_ in that species of manufacture, as I look on Tam o'
Shanter to be my standard performance in the poetical line. 'Tis
true, both the one and the other discover a spice of roguish waggery,
that might perhaps be as well spared; but then they also show, in my
opinion, a force of genius and a finishing polish that I despair of
ever excelling. Mrs. Burns is getting stout again, and laid as lustily
about her to-day at breakfast, as a reaper from the corn-ridge. That
is the peculiar privilege and blessing of our hale, sprightly damsels,
that are bred among the _hay and heather. _ We cannot hope for that
highly polished mind, that charming delicacy of soul, which is found
among the female world in the more elevated stations of life, and
which is certainly by far the most bewitching charm in the famous
cestus of Venus.
It is indeed such an inestimable treasure, that where
it can be had in its native heavenly purity, unstained by some one or
other of the many shades of affectation, and unalloyed by some one or
other of the many species of caprice, I declare to Heaven, I should
think it cheaply purchased at the expense of every other earthly good!
But as this angelic creature is, I am afraid, extremely rare in any
station and rank of life, and totally denied to such a humble one as
mine, we meaner mortals must put up with the next rank of female
excellence--as fine a figure and face we can produce as any rank of
life whatever; rustic, native grace; unaffected modesty, and unsullied
purity; nature's mother-wit, and the rudiments of taste; a simplicity
of soul, unsuspicious of, because unacquainted with, the crooked ways
of a selfish, interested, disingenuous world; and the dearest charm of
all the rest, a yielding sweetness of disposition, and a generous
warmth of heart, grateful for love on our part, and ardently glowing
with a more than equal return; these, with a healthy frame, a sound,
vigorous constitution, which your higher ranks can scarcely ever hope
to enjoy, are the charms of lovely woman in my humble walk of life.

This is the greatest effort my broken arm has yet made. Do let me
hear, by first post, how _cher petit Monsieur_ comes on with his
small-pox. May almighty goodness preserve and restore him!

R. B.

* * * * *




CCXVI.


TO ----.

[That his works found their way to the newspapers, need have
occasioned no surprise: the poet gave copies of his favorite pieces
freely to his friends, as soon as they were written: who, in their
turn, spread their fame among their acquaintances. ]

_Ellisland, 1791. _

DEAR SIR,

I am exceedingly to blame in not writing you long ago; but the truth
is, that I am the most indolent of all human beings; and when I
matriculate in the herald's office, I intend that my supporters shall
be two sloths, my crest a slow-worm, and the motto, "Deil tak the
foremost. " So much by way of apology for not thanking you sooner for
your kind execution of my commission.

I would have sent you the poem; but somehow or other it found its way
into the public papers, where you must have seen it.

I am ever, dear Sir,

Yours sincerely,

R. B.