DEAR JAMES,
How well-looking is a tree in full verdure, and how pretty is a blue-winged butterfly beside a kail-worm. The whin-bush in its gouden robes, and the rosy brier o'erhangin' the scroggy dyke-side thorn—all have inspired me with the notion that he who would live on anything like respectable terms in this notice-takin' world, must clothe his outward man. Meditating on which, “I sigh when I look to my threadbare coat,” and am resolved “to hae a new clewk about me.” Therefore, if you can oblige me wi' twa pund English on or before next Friday, you will do me a favour, as I intend going to Glasgow on Saturday. Cooke, [1] the celebrated tragedian, is just now playing there, and a few of us intend seeing him on Saturday night.
I would have been in your good town ere this time, but there has been a whaup [2] in the nest ever since I saw you last, or, in other words, I've been but very poorly in my health, but am now pretty well again. You have no doubt heard of Mr. Smith's being engaged to fill Mr. Robertson's berth in our old church.
I hope you are getting on to your wishes in your new way of life, and rest assured that none wish you better than
Your friend,
ROBT. TANNAHILL.
P.S.—I have two original, songs which I'll write out for you next week.
The original is in possession of Alexander MacDonald, Esq., merchant in Glasgow, who has had it mounted on cloth, and bound up with his copy of the 1817 edition, thus showing his great respect for the author.—Ed.
[1] The George Frederick Cooke, who appeared in 1800 like a meteor in the theatrical world. His figure was not elegant; his arms were short; his movements abrupt and angular; and his features were powerfully expressive of the darker passions. He had a strong vein of sarcastic humour. His voice, though somewhat high and sharp in its ordinary tone, possessed great compass, and carried him without fail throughout in the most arduous characters—a pre-eminence over his rival, Mr. John Remble, in using which he absolutely revelled, and never omitted to exercise when he found an opportunity. His part of Sir Pertinax Macsycophant was considered one of the most complete representations ever presented on the stage. Irregular habits, however, marred his fortunes. He left for America in 1810, and he died at New York on 26th November, 1812.—Ed.
[2] The Curlew,—a sea-bird of a very restless disposition.