TO MR. WILLIAM BURNS.
[William Burns was the youngest brother of the poet: he was bred a sadler; went to Longtown, and finally to London, where he died early.]
Isle, March 25th, 1789.
I have stolen from my corn-sowing this minute to write a line to accompany your shirt and hat, for I can no more. Your sister Maria arrived yesternight, and begs to be remembered to you. Write me every opportunity, never mind postage. My head, too, is as addle as an egg, this morning, with dining abroad yesterday. I received yours by the mason. Forgive me this foolish-looking scrawl of an epistle.
I am ever,
My dear William,
Yours,
R. B.
P.S. If you are not then gone from Longtown, I’ll write you a long letter, by this day se’ennight. If you should not succeed in your tramps, don’t be dejected, or take any rash step—return to us in that case, and we will court fortune’s better humour. Remember this, I charge you.
R. B.