cordial a coalition of friendship, as that one man may pour out his bosom, his every thought and floating fancy, his very inmost soul, with unreserved confidence to another, without hazard of losing part of that respect which man deserves from man; or, from the unavoidable imperfections attending human nature, of one day repenting his confidence. For these reasons, I am determined to make these pages my confidant. I will sketch every character that any way strikes me, to the best of my power, with unshrinking justice. I will insert anecdotes, and take down remarks, in the old law phrase, without feud or favour.-Where I hit on any thing clever, my own applause will in some measure feast my vanity; and, begging Patroclus' and Achates' pardon, I think a lock and key a security, at least equal, to the bosom of any friend whatever. My own private story likewise, my love-adventures, my rambles; the frowns and smiles of fortune on my bardship; my poems and fragments that must never see the light, shall be occasionally inserted. In short, never did four shillings purchase so much friendship, since confidence went first to market, or honesty was set up to sale. To these seemingly invidious, but too just ideas of human friendship, I would cheerfully make one exception-the connection between two persons of different sexes, when their interests are united and absorbed by the tie of love When thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, There, confidence, confidence that exalts them the more in one another's opinion, that endears them the more to each other's hearts, unreservedly "reigns and revels.' But this is not my lot, and in my situation, if I am wise, (which by the bye I have no great chance of being), my fate should be cast with the Psalmist's sparrow, 'to watch alone on the house tops.'-Oh, the pity! There are few of the sore evils under the sun, give me more uneasiness and chagrin, than the comparison how a man of genius, nay, of avowed worth, is received every where, with the reception which a mere ordinary character, decorated with the trappings and futile distinctions of fortune, meets. I imagine a man of abilities, his breast glowing with honest pride, conscious that men are born equal, still giving honour to whom honour is due; he meets at a great man's table a Squire something, or a Sir somebody; he knows the noble landlord at heart, gives the bard, or whatever he is, a share of his good wishes beyond perhaps any one at table; yet how will it mortify him to see a fellow, whose abilities would scarcely have made an eight-penny tailor, and whose heart is not worth three farthings, meet with attention and notice, that are withheld from the son of genius and poverty? The noble G- has wounded me to the soul here, because I dearly esteem, respect, and love him. He shewed so much attention, engrossing attention, one day, to the only blockhead at table, (the whole company consisted of his lordship, dunderpate, and myself) that I was within half a point of throwing down my gage of contemptuous defiance; but he shook my hand, and looked so benevolently good at parting. God bless him! though I should never see him more, I shall love him until my dying day! I am pleased to think I am so capable of the thoes of gratitude, as I am miserably deficient in some other virtues. With I am more at my ease. I never respect him with humble veneration; but when he kindly interests himself in my welfare, or still more, when he descends from his pinnacle, and meets me on equal ground in conversation, my heart overflows with what is called liking.—When he neglects me for the mere carcase of greatness, or when his eye measures the difference of our points of elevation, I say to myself, with scarcely any emotion, What do I care for him, or his pomp either? Saturday, May 6th. Left Edinburgh-Lammer-muir-hills, miserably dreary in general, but at times very picturesque. Lanson-edge, a glorious view of the Merse. Reach Berrywell. * The family-meeting with my compagnon de voyage, very charming; particularly the sister. *** Sunday. Went to church at Dunse.-Heard Dr. Bowmaker. * Monday. Coldstream-glorious river Tweed -clear and majestic-fine bridge-dine at Coldstream, with Mr. Ainslie, and Mr. Foreman. Beat Mr. Foreman in a dispute about Voltaire. Drink tea at Lenel-House, with Mr. and Mrs. Brydone, *.* * Reception extremely flattering. Sleep at Coldstream. Tuesday. Breakfast at Kelso-charming situation of the town-fine bridge over the Tweed. Enchanting views and prospects on both sides of the river, especially on the Scotch side. Visit Roxburgh Palace-fine situation of it. Ruins of Roxburgh Castle-a holly bush growing where James the second was accidently killed by the bursting of a cannon. A small old religious ruin, and a fine old garden planted by the religious, rooted out and destroyed by a Hottentot, a maitre d'hotel of the Duke's!-Climate and soil of Berwickshire, and even Roxburghshire, superior to Ayrshire-bad roads-turnip and sheep-husbandry, their great improvements. * * Low markets, consequently low lands-magnificence of farmers and farm-houses. Come up the Tiviot, and up the Jed to Jedburgh to lie, and so wish myself good night. Wednesday. Breakfast with Mr. Fair. Charming romantic situation of Jedburgh, with gardens and orchards, intermingled among the houses, and the ruins of a once magnificent cathedral. All the towns here have the appearance of old rude grandeur, but extremely idle-Jed a fine romantic little river. Dined with Capt. Rutherford, * * * return to Jedburgh. Walk up the Jed with some ladies to be shewn Love-lane, and Blackburn, two fairy scenes. Introduced to Mr. Potts, writer, and to Mr. Sommerville, the clergyman of the parish, a man and a gentleman, but sadi addicted to punning. Jedburgh, Saturday. Was presented by the magistrates with the freedom of the town. Took farewell of Jedburgh with some melancholy sensations. Monday, May 14th, Kelso. Dine with the farmer's club-all gentlemen talking of high matters-each of them keeps a hunter from 30l. to 501. value, and attends the fox-hunting club in the country. Go out with Mr. Ker, one of the club, and a friend of Mr. Ainslie's, to sleep. In his mind and manners, Mr. Ker is astonishingly like my dear old friend Robert Muir-Every thing in his house elegant. He offers to accompany me in my English tour, Tuesday. Dine with Sir Alexander Don; a very wet day. *** Sleep at Mr. Ker's again, and set out next day for Melross-visit Dryburgh, a fine old ruined abbey by the way. Cross the Leader and come up the Tweed to Melross. Dine there, and visit that far-famed glorious ruin -Come to Selkirk up the banks of Ettrick. The whole country hereabouts, both on Tweed and Ettrick, remarkably stoney.* * The intentions of the poet in procuring this book, were very imperfectly executed. He has inserted in it few or no incidents, but several observations and reflections, of which the greater part that are proper for the public eye, will be found interwoven in his Letters. The most curious particulars in the book are the delineations of the characters he met with.-These are not numerous; but they are chiefly of persons of distinction in the republic of letters, and nothing but the delicacy and respect due to living characters, prevents us from committing them to the press. Though it appears that in his conversation he was sometimes disposed to sarcastic remarks on the men with whom he lived, nothing of this kind is discoverable in these more de |