Mossgeil, 7th March 1788

To Mrs Frances Anna Dunlop of Dunlop Mossgeil, 7th March 1788 Madam, The last paragraph in yours of the 30th February affected me most, so I shall begin my answer where you ended your letter. That I am often a sinner with any little with I have, I do confess; but I have taxed my recollection to no purpose to find out when it was employed against you. I hate an ungenerous sarcasm, a great deal worse than I do the devil; at least as Milton describes him; and though I may be rascally enough to be sometimes guilty of it myself, I cannot endure it in others., You, my honoured, who cannot appear in any light but you are sure of being respectable- you can afford to pass by an occasion to display your wit, because you may depend for fame on your on your sense; or, if you chose to be silent, you know you can rely on the gratitude of many and the esteem of all.; but God help us who are wits or witlings by profession, if we stand not for fame there, we sink unsupported! I am highly flattered by the news you tell me of Coila. I may say to the fair painter who does me so much honour, as Dr Beattie says to Ross the poet, of his Muse Scota, from which, by the by, I took the idea of Coila: (‘Tis a poem of Beattie’s in the Scottish dialect, which perhaps you have never seen.)
	“Ye shak your head, but o’ my fegs Ye’ve set old Scota on her legs: Lang had she lien wi’ buffe (for beffs) and fleg Bombaz’d and dizzy, Her fiddle wanted strings and pegs Waes me poor hizzie!”

To Mrs Frances Anna Dunlop of Dunlop

Madam,

The last paragraph in yours of the 30th February affected me most, so I shall begin my answer where you ended your letter. That I am often a sinner with any little with I have, I do confess; but I have taxed my recollection to no purpose to find out when it was employed against you. I hate an ungenerous sarcasm, a great deal worse than I do the devil; at least as Milton describes him; and though I may be rascally enough to be sometimes guilty of it myself, I cannot endure it in others., You, my honoured, who cannot appear in any light but you are sure of being respectable- you can afford to pass by an occasion to display your wit, because you may depend for fame on your on your sense; or, if you chose to be silent, you know you can rely on the gratitude of many and the esteem of all.; but God help us who are wits or witlings by profession, if we stand not for fame there, we sink unsupported!

I am highly flattered by the news you tell me of Coila. I may say to the fair painter who does me so much honour, as Dr Beattie says to Ross the poet, of his Muse Scota, from which, by the by, I took the idea of Coila: (‘Tis a poem of Beattie’s in the Scottish dialect, which perhaps you have never seen.)

“Ye shak your head, but o’ my fegs
Ye’ve set old Scota on her legs:
Lang had she lien wi’ buffe (for beffs) and fleg
Bombaz’d and dizzy,
Her fiddle wanted strings and pegs
Waes me poor hizzie!”