If e'er ye try to speel the brae Where poets lilt the melting lay; 7. But if ye'll tak’ a friend's advice, I'll gi'e ye't in a verra trice. When younkers differ on the green, Ibid. LETTER TO ALEXANDER GIBSON HUNTER, ESQ. No. 1, LOWER GUILDFORD STREET, London, 20th December 1805. S1R,—Though now a stranger in the “ Land of Cakes,” the amor patriæ beats strong in my bosom, and I feel the same degree of philanthropy towards my snuff-taking countrymen, as when we were wont to prime noses together. The comforts of your large and well-replenished horn, zested by your humorous and facetious conversation, are delightful to my recollection. As a countryman and brother snuff-taker, I doubt not but that you will receive with pleasure any thing in praise of the all-powerful and never-enough-tobe-extolled plant. I therefore send you the following poem, which I received from a friend last New Year's day; and as it appears to me worthy of the subject to which it is dedicated, I think it a pity that it should be hid in obscurity, more especially as I am afraid there are many not sufficiently aware of the all-soothing comforts arising from “ a cannie pinch o' snuff.” What would you think, therefore, of giving it a place in your very seful and much read Magazine next month, as a New Year's gift to all brother snuff-takers. Should you think proper to confer this honour upon it, it is at your service, from your sincere and obedient servant, A BROTHER SNUFF-Taker. A Dialogue on the Virtues of Snuff. JACк. . To hansel the new year ; Sometimes a drap o' Fairntosh .si The heart o man can cheer. !!. Yet troth its naething o' itsel, Though this be right gude stuff; I wadna gi'e a button fort Without a pinch o' snuff...' O'Burgundy, or bright Champaigne, They mak' an unco din; Maun surely be a sin.: 'Tis but poor shilpit stufff; I wadna tak’ a gallon o't For a'e guid mull o' snuff. Ye wadna weary, nibour Tam, Were I to tak’ a while Which a' our waes beguile; i; An' fortune looks but gruff, That chield maun be a silly lown: Wha is nae cheer'd by snuff. TAM. Wi' sic a bonnie theme; O'this braw plant I dream. What's a' the med'cines that are ta'en, An' doctors' puson'd stuff! I wadna gi' a grain for ane, Elen o' the warst, o' snuff. Didna the mirkie night come on, When I maun wander hame, Like Virgil's shepherds, we might sing, The laurel to obtain.'. O love, an' sic like stuff ; A cannie pinch o' snuff. Jack. How snuff the brain can clear, In praise o't ilka year. They're naething else but buff; But nae sae guid as snuff. There's Meg the wife's a dainty quean, An' keeps a' things fu’ tight, But then she aye sae fashes me Whene'er my nose I dight: In troth, her jibes I canna bear, She gars me tak’ the huff, When saucily she cries, “ Gudeman, You're owre the lugs in snuff." But, Tam, we e'en maun bide wi't a', Though jibed up we be ; Tho' wives should tak’ the gee... An' canty we might be, About my dear Rappee. It sweetens care at ilka hand, It cures us o' our pains ; Did snuff ne'er clear their brains ? In your Elysian heaven; Scots MAG. 1806. GEORGE FREDERICK COOKE IN DUBLIN-MR. MATTHEWS, AND MRS. BURNS. MR. Cooke, now thirty-eight years of age, and having been seventeen years a player, during many of which he stood forward as the hero of the pro |