TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE,
EDINBURGH.
[“I set you down,” says Burns, elsewhere, to Ainslie, “as the staff of my old age, when all my other friends, after a decent show of pity, will have forgot me.”]
Edinburgh, Sunday Morning,
Nov. 23, 1787.
I Beg, my dear Sir, you would not make any appointment to take us to Mr. Ainslie’s to-night. On looking over my engagements, constitution, present state of my health, some little vexatious soul concerns, &c., I find I can’t sup abroad to-night. I shall be in to-day till one o’clock if you have a leisure hour.
You will think it romantic when I tell you, that I find the idea of your friendship almost necessary to my existence.—You assume a proper length of face in my bitter hours of blue-devilism, and you laugh fully up to my highest wishes at my good things.—I don’t know upon the whole, if you are one of the first fellows in God’s world, but you are so to me. I tell you this just now in the conviction that some inequalities in my temper and manner may perhaps sometimes make you suspect that I am not so warmly as I ought to be your friend.
R. B.