Robert Burns to Francis Grose-Legends of Alloway Kirk.

and arches of an old gothic window, which still faces the highway, to see a dance of witches, merrily footing it round their old sooty blackguard master, who was keeping them all alive with the power of his bagpipe. The farmer, stopping his horse to observe them a little, could plainly descry the faces of many old women of his acquaintance and neighborhood. How the gentleman was dressed tradition does not say, but that the ladies were all in their smocks; and one of them, happening unluckily to have a smock which was considerably too short to answer all the purposes of that piece of dress, our farmer was so tickled that he involuntarily burst out with a loud laugh: "Weel luppen, Maggy wi' the short sark!" and recollecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top of his speed. I need not mention the universally known fact, that no diabolical power can pursue you beyond the middle of a running stream. Lucky it was for the poor farmer that the River Doon was so near, for, notwithstanding the speed of his horse, which was a good one, against he reached the middle of the arch of the bridge, and consequently the middle of the stream, the pursuing vengeful hags were so close at his heels, that one of them actually sprung to seize him; but it was too late, nothing was on her side of the stream but the horse's tail, which immediately gave way at her infernal grip, as if blasted by a stroke of lightning; but the farmer was beyond her reach. However, the unsightly, tailless condition of the vigorous steed was, to the last hour of the noble creature's life, an awful warning to the Carrick farmer not to stay too late in Ayr markets.

The last relation I shall give, though equally true, is not so well identified as the two former with regard to the scene; but as the best authorities give it for Alloway, I shall relate it.

Robert Burns to Francis Grose-Legends of Alloway Kirk.

On a summer's evening, about the time that nature puts on her sable to mourn the expiring of the cheerful day, a shepherd boy, belonging to a farmer in the immediate neighborhood of Alloway Kirk, had just folded his charge and was returning home. As he passed the kirk in the adjoining field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who were busy pulling stems of the plant ragwort. He observed that as each person pulled a ragwort, he or she got astride of it, and called out, "Up, horsee," on which the ragwort flew off, like Pegasus, through the air, with its rider. The foolish boy likewise pulled his ragwort, and cried with the rest, "Up, horsee," and, strange to tell, away he flew with the company. The first stage at which the cavalcade stopped was a merchant's wine-cellar in Bordeaux, where, without saying by your leave, they quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford, until the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, threatened to throw light on the matter, and frightened them from their carousals.

The poor shepherd lad being equally a stranger to the scene and the liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk; and when the rest took horse he fell asleep, and was found so next day by some of the people belonging to the merchant. Somebody that understood Scotch, asking him who he was, he said such-a-one's herdboy in Alloway, and by some means or other getting home again, he lived long to tell the world the wondrous tale.*

I am, etc., R. B.

* This letter, says Allan Cunningham, must be interesting to all who de sire to see how a poet works beauty and regularity out of a vulgar tradition.

Dr. Franklin to Francis Hopkinson-Advice to an Editor.

XXVI.-ADVICE TO AN EDITOR.

Dr. Franklin to Francis Hopkinson.

PASSY, Dec. 24th, 1782.

I thank you for your ingenious paper in favor of the trees. I own I now wish we had two rows of them in every one of our streets. The comfortable shelter they would afford us in walking, from our burning summer suns, and the greater coolness of our walls and pavements, would, I conceive in the improved health of the inhabitants, amply compensate the loss of a house now and then by fire, if such should be the consequence; but a tree is soon felled, and as axes are at hand in every neighborhood, may be down before the engines arrive.

You do well to avoid being concerned in the pieces of personal abuse, so scandalously common in our newspapers, that I am afraid to lend any of them here, 'till I have examined and laid aside such as would disgrace us, and subject us among strangers to a reflection like that used by a gentleman in a coffee-house to two quarrellers, who, after a mutually free use of the words rogue, villain, rascal, etc., seemed as if they would refer their dispute to him. "I know nothing of you, or your affairs," said he. "I only perceive that you know one another."

The conductor of a newspaper should, methinks, consider himself as, in some degree, the guardian of his country's reputation, and refuse to insert such writings as may hurt it. If people will print their abuses of one another, let them do it in little pamphlets, and distribute them where they think proper. It is absurd to trouble all the world with them; and unjust to subscribers in distant places, to stuff their paper with matters so

Dr. Franklin to Mrs. Hewson-Retrospect of Life.

unprofitable and so disagreeable. With sincere esteem and affec

The departure of my dearest friend,* which I learn from your last letter, greatly affects me. To meet with her once more in this life was one of the principal motives of my proposing to visit England again before my return to America. The last year carried off my friends Dr. Pringle and Dr. Fothergill, and Lord Kaimes and Lord Le Despencer; this has begun to take away the rest, and strikes the hardest. Thus the ties I had to that country, and indeed to the world in general, are loosened one by one; and I shall soon have no attachment left to make me unwilling to follow.

I intended writing when I sent the eleven books, but lost the time in looking for the first. I wrote with that; and hope it came to hand. I therein asked your counsel about my coming to England; on reflection, I think I can, from my knowledge of your prudence, foresee what it will be; viz., not to come too soon, lest it should seem braving and insulting some who ought to be respected. I shall, therefore, omit that journey till I am near going to America, and then just step over to take leave of my friends, and spend a few days with you. I purpose bringing Bent with me, and perhaps may leave him under your care.

* Refers to Mrs. Hewson's mother.

† Benjamin Franklin Bache, a grandson of Dr. Franklin, by his daughter.

Dr. Franklin to Mrs. Mecom, Boston-Mode of telling a Story.

At length we are in peace, God be praised; and long, very long, may it continue. All wars are follies, very expensive and very mischievous ones: when will mankind become convinced of this, and agree to settle their difficulties by arbitration? Were they to do it, even by the cast of a die, it would be better than by fighting and destroying each other.

Spring is coming on, when travelling will be delightful. Can you not, when your children are all at school, make a little party and take a trip hither? I have now a large house, delightfully situated, in which I could accommodate you and two or three friends; and I am but half an hour's drive from Paris.

In looking forward, twenty-five years seem a long period; but, in looking back, how short! Could you imagine that it is now full a quarter of a century since we were first acquainted? It was in 1757. During the greatest part of the time I lived in the same house with my dear deceased friend, your mother, of course you and I saw and conversed with each other much and often. It is to all our honors, that, in all that time, we never had among us the smallest misunderstanding. Our friendship has been all clear sunshine, without any, the least, clouds in its hemisphere. Let me conclude by saying to you, what I have had too frequent occasions to say to my other remaining old friends, the fewer we become, the more let us love one another. Adieu, etc.

XXVIII.-MODE OF TELLING A STORY.

Dr. Franklin to Mrs. Mecom, Boston.

PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 26, 1788.

I never see any Boston newspapers. You mention there being often something in them to do me honor. I am obliged to