season; only, as all other business has, it experiences a stagnation of trade from the epidemical complaint of the country, want of cash. I mention our theatre merely to lug in an occasional Address which I wrote for the benefit-night of one of the actresses, and which is as follows

ADDRESS,

Spoken by Miss FONTENELLE on her Benefit-night, Dec. 4, 1795, at the Theatre, DUMFRIES.

STILL anxious to secure your partial favour,
And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better;
So, sought a Poet, roosted near the skies,
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes;
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed;
And last my prologue-business slily hinted.

"Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes,
"I know your bent-these are no laughing times:
Can you but Miss, I own I have my fears,
Dissolve in pause-and sentimental tears-
With laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence,
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers, fell Repentance;
Paint Vengeance as he takes his horrid stand,
Waving on high the desolating brand,

Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land?"

I could

I could no more-askance the creature eyeing, D'ye think, said I, this face was made for crying? I'll laugh, that's poz-nay more, the world shall know it; And so, your servant! gloomy Master Poet!

Firm as my creed, Sirs, tis my fix'd belief,
That Misery's another word for Grief;
I also think-so may I be a bride!
That so much laughter, so much life enjoy'd.

Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh,
Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye;
Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive-
To make three guineas do the work of five:
Laugh in Misfortune's face-the beldam witch!
Say, you'll be merry, tho' you can't be rich.

Thou other man of care, the wretch in love,
Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove;
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project,
Measur'st in desperate thought-a rope-thy neck-
Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep,
Peerest to meditate the healing leap,

Woulds't thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf?
Laugh at her follies-laugh e'en at thyself:
Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific,
And love a kinder-that's your grand specific.

To sum up all, be merry, I advise ; And as we're merry, may we still be wise.

25th, Christmas Morning.

This, my much-loved friend, is a morning of wishes; accept mine-so heaven hear me as they are sincere! that blessings may attend your steps, and affliction know you not! In the charming words of my favourite author, The Man of Feeling, "may the Great Spirit bear up the weight of thy grey hairs, and blunt the arrow that brings them rest!"

Now that I talk of authors, how do you like Cowper? Is not the Task a glorious poem? The religion of the Task, bating a few scraps of Calvinistic divinity, is the religion of God and Nature; the religion that exalts, that ennobles man. Were not you to send me your Zeluco, in return for mine? Tell me how you like my marks and notes through the book. I would not give a farthing for a book, unless I were at liberty to blot it with my criticisms.

I have lately collected, for a friend's perusal, all my letters; I mean those which I first sketched, in a rough draught, and afterwards wrote out fair. On looking over some old musty papers, which, from time to time, I had parcelled by, as trash that were scarce worth preserving, and which yet at the same time I did not care to destroy; I discovered many of

these

these rude sketches, and have written, and am writing them out, in a bound MS for my friend's library. As I wrote always to you the rhapsody of the moment, I cannot find a single scroll to you, except one, about the commencement of our acquaintance. If there were any possible conveyance, I would send you a perusal of my book,

No.

No. CLIII.

To MRS. DUNLOP, in LONDON.

Dumfries, 20th December, 1795,

I HAVE been prodigiously disappointed in this London journey of yours. In the first place, when your last to me reached Dumfries, I was in the country, and did not return until too late to answer your letter; in the next place, I thought you would certainly take this route; and now I know not what is become of you, or whether this may reach you at all.-God grant that it may find you and yours in prospering health and good spirits! Do let me hear from you the soonest possible.

As I hope to get a frank from my friend Captain Miller, I shall, every leisure hour, take up the pen, and gossip away whatever comes first, prose or poesy, sermon or song. In this

last