There is an adventure for you, which will form a suitable conclusion to this important epistle. Adieu! for the present.

LETTER X.

TO MISS REID, GLASGOW.

Fort William, May 14, 1773.

THE hospitable matron who received us so kindly, is, alas! a childless widow, yet not poor, as poverty is understood here; and I really think the standard is better fixed than with you. Is it not due to Providence, to say one is easy, having every` necessary and some comforts? I should' like elegance dearly, if she were not so nearly allied to luxury and luxury too I could tolerate, if she were not so abomi-' nably selfish. I can never believe that a being, whose wants are endless and numberless, can spare even a thought to the wants of others. Very luxurious people do

some

some charitable things, but they are induced to do them by vanity, example, or solicitation. You always hear of heroism and great exertions of all kinds in poor countries. Patience and fortitude, the virtues our helpless state most needs, are the growth of barren soils. I always delighted in Gray's Ode to Adversity; read it once again, and compare its ennobling tenor with my ideas. It is happy I think so: if wealth was every thing to me, as it is to many you know, it would make me miserable to see so many deserving creatures what you would call very poor; but they do not think themselves so, and therefore they are not so.-I know nothing so silly as the disgust and wonder your cockney Misses shew at any custom or dress they are not used to. I now think plaids and faltans (fillets) just as becoming as I once did the furs and wampum of the Mohawks, whom I always remember with kindness.

As this long digression cannot much please, I hope it will greatly improve you. We landed on the west side, and to save sailing

VOL. I.

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sailing round a long point, resolved to walk to Ballachuelish* by the light of the moon : it was a bleak evening, and the wind whistled dolefully while we were passing, in utter darkness, through a small wood; the moon broke through a cloud, and the owl began to hoot most opportunely. I started, and was shewn the cairn (or rude monument of loose stones) where Campbell of Glenure had been murdered, and where every passenger throws a stone. I can't convey to you the impression, which this assemblage of gloomy images made at once on my mind, aided by the recollection that a worthy and innocent gentleman, related to my mother, suffered death in consequence : though it appeared afterwards, the murder was committed by a soldier in the French service, who lurked in the country since the year 1745, for that purpose. The eulogium and history of this victim of prejudice, kept our attention engaged till we reached

* An estate on the northern border of Argyleshire; possessd by a relation of the Author.

Bal

Ballachuelish. The lady was not at home; I was sorry for it. She is a person of more than common understanding and virtue, whom I greatly esteem. She has built a fruit wall, a thing before unheard of here, and does much good among the common people, with the productions of her garden, where she has medical herbs, which she shews much skill and humanity in applying to their proper uses. I have changed my mind about herding goats, and now the result of my moonlight meditation in the wood, and my reflections on this good lady's well-earned praise, have determined me to seek forthwith,

"A hairy gown and narrow cell,
Where I may sit and nightly spell,
Of every star that heaven doth shew,
And every herb that sips the dew."

What fine transitions one might make, from the bright eye of the celestial bull, to the soft eye of the terrestrial daisy, by thus studying stars and herbs together. A pair of hermits, were that possible, would be a double

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double felicity; but, perhaps, I may sce something to morrow, at my grandfather's, which may suggest a new mode of life to me. But, whether nun, goat-herd, herbalist, or star-gazer, depend on my being unalterably yours.

LETTER XI.

TO MISS REID.

Fort William, May 17, 1773.

I DARE say I am the more prejudiced against this place, because I was brought here so soon against my inclination. The young ladies of Glencoe, with whom I have a remote connection, and who were at the dancing-school with me the first winter I was in Scotland, (and great companions for the time we were,) sent urgent invitations, and were within two hours ride. I should have liked very much to see them; the youngest is a fine creature,-all heart and soul, without a thought to hide. Glencoe she has often described to me as very singular