ead" is
not mine; I would give ten pounds it were. It appeared first in the
Edinburgh Herald, and came to the editor of that paper with the
Newcastle post-mark on it "Whistle o'er the lave o't" is mine: the
music said to be by a John Bruce, a celebrated violin-player in
Dumfries, about the beginning of this century. This I know, Bruce, who
was an honest man, though a red-wud Highlandman, constantly claimed
it; and by all the old musical people here is believed to be the
author of it.

"Andrew and his cutty gun." The song to which this is set in the
Museum is mine, and was composed on Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lintrose,
commonly and deservedly called the Flower of Strathmore.

"How long and dreary is the night!" I met with some such words in a
collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to
please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or
two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on the
other page.

How long and dreary is the night, &c.[262]

Tell me how you like this. I differ from your idea of the expression
of the tune. There is, to me, a great deal of tenderness in it. You
cannot, in my opinion, dispense with a bass to your addenda airs. A
lady of my acquaintance, a noted performer, plays and sings at the
same time so charmingly, that I shall never bear to see any of her
songs sent into the world, as naked as Mr. What-d'ye-call-um has done
in his London collection.[263]

These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command of the
language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at "Duncan
Gray," to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid.
For instance:--

Let not woman e'er complain, &c.[264]

Since the above, I have been out in the country, taking a dinner with
a friend, where I met with a lady whom I mentioned in the second page
in this odds-and-ends of a letter. As usual, I got into song; and
returning home I composed the following:

Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature
&c.[265]

If you honour my verses by setting the air to them, I will vamp up the
old song, and make it English enough to be understood.

I enclose you a musical curiosity, an East Indian air, which you would
swear was a Scottish one. I know the authenticity of it, as the
gentleman who brought it over is a particular acquaintance of mine. Do
preserve me the copy I send you, as it is the only one I have. Clarke
h