ry shall be welcome; and all my
reward shall be, his treating me with his paper, which, by the bye, to
anybody who has the least relish for wit, is a high treat indeed.

With the most grateful esteem I am ever,

Dear Sir,

R. B.

* * * * *

CCCVIII.

TO MR. SAMUEL CLARKE, JUN.,

DUMFRIES.

[Political animosities troubled society during the days of Burns, as
much at least as they disturb it now--this letter is an instance of
it.]

_Sunday Morning._

DEAR SIR,

I was, I know, drunk last night, but I am sober this morning. From the
expressions Capt. ---- made use of to me, had I had no-body's welfare
to care for but my own, we should certainly have come, according to
the manners of the world, to the necessity of murdering one another
about the business. The words were such as, generally, I believe, end
in a brace of pistols; but I am still pleased to think that I did not
ruin the peace and welfare of a wife and a family of children in a
drunken squabble. Farther, you know that the report of certain
political opinions being mine, has already once before brought me to
the brink of destruction. I dread lest last night's business may be
misrepresented in the same way.--You, I beg, will take care to prevent
it. I tax your wish for Mr. Burns' welfare with the task of waiting as
soon as possible, on every gentleman who was present, and state this
to him, and, as you please, show him this letter. What, after all, was
the obnoxious toast? "May our success in the present war be equal to
the justice of our cause."--A toast that the most outrageous frenzy of
loyalty cannot object to. I request and beg that this morning you will
wait on the parties present at the foolish dispute. I shall only add,
that I am truly sorry that a man who stood so high in my estimation as
Mr. ----, should use me in the manner in which I conceive he has done.

R. B.

* * * * *

CCCIX.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[Burns allowed for the songs which Wolcot wrote for Thomson a degree
of lyric merit which the world has refused to sanction.]

_December, 1794._

It is, I assure you, the pride of my heart to do anything to forward
or add to the value of your book; and as I agree with you that the
jacobite song in the Museum to "There'll never be peace till Jamie
comes hame," would not so well consort with Peter Pindar's excellent
love-song to that air, I have just framed f