To Mr. M'Murdo

SIR, Now that you are over with the sirens of Flattery, the harpies of Corruption, and the furies of Ambition, these infernal deities, that on all sides, and in all parties, preside over the villanous business of politics, permit a rustic muse of your acquaintance to do her best to soothe you with a song.— You knew Henderson—I have not flattered his memory. I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obliged humble servant, R. B.