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The Autobiography of Dr. Alexander Carlyle of Inveresk
Chapter IX - 1758 AGE, 36

DR. ROBERTSON having come to London at this time to offer his History of Scotland for sale, where he had never been before, we went to see the lions together, and had for the most part the same acquaintance. Dr. William Pitcairn, a very respectable physician in the city, and a great friend of Dr. Dickson's, was a cousin of Dr. Robertson's, whose mother was a Pitcairn; we became very intimate with him. Drs. Armstrong and Orme were also of their society. Pitcairn was a very handsome man, a little turned of fifty, of a very gentlemanly address. When he settled first in London he was patronised by an Alderman Behn, who, being a Jacobite, and not doubting that Pitcairn was of the same side, as he had travelled with Duke Hamilton, he set him up as a candidate for Bartholomew's Hospital. During the canvass the Alderman came to the Doctor, and asked him with impatient heat if it was true that he was the son of a Presbyterian minister in Scotland, [His father was the Rev. David Pitcairn, minister of Dysart. A ward in St. Bartholomew's Hospital is named after Dr. Pitcairn.] which Pitcairn not being able to deny, the other conjured him to conceal that circumstance like murder, otherwise it would infallibly blow them up. He was elected physician to that hospital, and soon rose to great business in the city.

Dr. Pitcairn was a bachelor, and lived handsomely, but chiefly entertained young Scotch physicians who had no establishment. Of those, Drs. Armstrong and Dickson were much with him. As our connections drew Robertson and me frequently to the city before my sister's house was ready, by earnest invitation we both took up our lodging at his house. We never saw our landlord in the morning, for he went to the hospital before eight o'clock ; but his housekeeper had orders to ask us at breakfast if we intended to dine there, and to tell us when her master was expected. The Doctor always returned from his round of visits before three, which was his hour of dinner, and quite happy if he found us there. Exactly at five his chariot came to the door to carry him out on his afternoon visits. We sat as long as we liked at table, and drunk excellent claret. He returned soon after eight o'clock; if he found his company still together, which was sometimes the case, he was highly pleased. He immediately entered into our humour, ate a bit of cold meat, drank a little wine, and went to bed before ten o'clock. This was a very uncommon strain of hospitality, which, I am glad to record, on repeated trials, never was exhausted. He lived on in the same manner till 1782, when he was past eighty; and when I was in London for the last time, he was then perfectly entire, and made his morning tour on foot. I dined once with him at that period in his own house with a large company of ladies and gentlemen, and at Dr. Hamilton's, his cousin, of St. Martin's Church, on both of which occasions he was remarkably gay. He survived for a year or two longer. Dr. David Pitcairn, the son of his brother the major, who was killed early in the American rebellion, was heir both of his fortune and professional merit.

With Robertson and Home in London I passed the time very agreeably; for though Home was now entirely at the command of Lord Bute, whose nod made him break every engagement—for it was not given above an hour or two before dinner—yet as he was sometimes at liberty when the noble lord was to dine abroad, like a horse loosened from his stake, he was more sportful than usual. We had Sir David Kinloch likewise, who had come to consult physicians, and Dr. CharlesCongalton, who was his attendant. With them we met often at the British. Charles was my old companion, and a more naif and ingenuous soul never was born. I said to him one day, "Charlie, how do you like the English, now that you have seen them twice for two or three months?" "I cannot answer your question," replied he, "for I am not acquainted with any of them." "What! not acquainted!" said I. "Yes," says he, "I have seen half-a-dozen of them calling on Sir David, but I never enter into conversation with the John Bulls, for, to tell you the truth, I don't yet well understand what they say."

The first William Pitt had at this time risen to the zenith of his glory, when Robertson and I, after frequent attempts to hear him speak, when there was nothing passing in the House that called him, we at last heard a debate on the Habeas Corpus Act, which Pitt had new modelled in order to throw a slur on Lord Mansfield, who had taken some liberties, it was alleged, with that law, which made him unpopular. We accordingly took our places in the gallery, and for the first three hours were much disposed to sleep by the dull tedious speeches of two or three lawyers, till at last the Attorney-General, afterwards Lord Camden, rose and spoke with clearness, argument, and eloquence. He was answered ably by Mr. Yorke, Solicitor-General. Dr. Hay, the King's Advocate in Doctors' Commons, spoke next, with a clearness, a force, and brevity, which pleased us much. At length Mr. Pitt rose, and with that commanding eloquence in which he excelled, he spoke for half an hour, with an overpowering force of persuasion more than the clear conviction of argument. He was opposed by several speakers, to none of whom he vouchsafed to make an answer, but to James Oswald of Dunnikier, who was a very able man, though not an eloquent speaker. With all our admiration of Pitt's eloquence, which was surely of the highest order, Robertson and I felt the same sentiment, which was the desire to resist a tyrant, who, like a domineering schoolmaster, kept his boys in order by raising their fears without wasting argument upon them. This haughty manner is necessary, perhaps, in every leader of the House of Commons; for when he is civil and condescending, he soon loses his authority, and is trampled upon. Is this common to all political assemblies? or is it only a part of the character of the English in all ordinary political affairs, till they are heated by faction or alarmed by danger, to yield to the statesman who is most assuming?

Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto was at this time one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and we were frequently with him. He was a very accomplished and sensible man, and John Home had not found him a cold friend, as he was supposed to be, for by his means chiefly lie had been put under the protection of Lord Bute, a favour which John did not coldly return ; for, on the accession of the Prince of Wales, Home, who was then in full confidence with his lordship, recommended the baronet most effectually to him,—a clear proof of which I saw in a letter from Lord Bute to Home.

Dr. John Blair, who, on account of a certain petulant and wrangling humour, was disliked by many people, particularly by Smollett, in spite of Bob Smith's intimacy with both, had been put about the Duke of York as his mathematical teacher, and was afterwards his secretary ; he also had been recommended to that situation by Sir Gilbert Elliot through Home, and was not ungrateful. Blair was a good-natured pleasant fellow, and very agreeable to everybody who could bear his flippancy of speech. He was, indeed, one of the most friendly men in the world, as he showed in many instances, from purchasing a pair of shoes and stockings for any of his old companions, to providing them a settlement for life. He got to be a prebendary in Westminster by the interest of the Duke of York; and, had his Royal Highness lived, would have been promoted to the bench of bishops. He was senior to J. Home and me, but we were well acquainted at college. He died of the influenza in 1782.

John Douglas, [Son of a merchant of Pittenweem, Fifeshire, and grandson of the Episcopal Church clergyman who succeeded Bishop Burnet at Saltoun, East Lothian. John Douglas was educated at Dunbar and passed to Oxford where he was a contemporary of Adam Smith.] who has for some time been Bishop of Salisbury, and who is one of the most able and learned men on that bench, had at this time but small preferment. He had been tutor to Lord Pulteney, and was at this time secretary to Lord Bath, and lived with him, by which means he had acquired a very exact knowledge of the Court, as well as of both Houses of Parliament, and all their connections. I became acquainted with him at this time, and preserved my connection with him, which I valued much, by sundry meetings and frequent correspondence. He is still living, though two years older than me, and much weakened by the gout. His sister, Mrs. Anderson, who at this time kept the British Coffeehouse, was, like her brother, a person of superior character. [In Wodrow's letters we read that the son of the Archbishop of St. Andrews (Bishop of Argyll and Glasgow), who died in 1704, was master of the Beau's Coffeehouse in Edinburgh.]

Robertson had never seen Smollett, and was very desirous of his acquaintance. By this time the Doctor had retired to Chelsea, and came seldom to town. Home and I, however, found that he came once a-week to Forrest's Coffeehouse, and sometimes dined there; so we managed an appointment with him on his day, when he agreed to dine with us. He was now become a great man, and being much of a humorist, was not to be put out of his way. Home and Robertson and Smith and I met him there, when he had several of his minions about him, to whom he prescribed tasks of translation, compilation, or abridgment, which, after he had seen, lie recommended to the booksellers. We dined together, and Smollett was very brilliant. Having to stay all night, that we might spend the evening together, he only begged leave to withdraw for an hour, that he might give audience to his myrmidons; we insisted that, if his business [permitted], it should be in the room where we sat. The Doctor agreed, and the authors were introduced, to the number of five, I think, most of whom were soon dismissed. He kept two, however, to supper, whispering to us that he believed they would amuse us, which they certainly did, for they were curious characters.

We passed a very pleasant and joyful evening. When we broke up, Robertson expressed great surprise at the polished and agreeable manners and the great urbanity of his conversation. He had imagined that a man's manners must bear a likeness to his books, and as Smollett had described so well the characters of ruffians and profligates, that he must, of course, resemble them. This was not the first instance we had of the rawness, in respect of the world, that still blunted our sagacious friend's observations.

As Ferguson had one day in the week when he could be in town, we established a club at a coffeehouse in Saville Row or Sackville Street, where we could meet him at dinner, which we did every Wednesday at three o'clock. There were J. Home, and Robertson, and Wedderburn, and Jack Dalrymple, and Bob Adam, Ferguson, and myself. Wedderburn brought with him an attorney of the name of Dagg, a little odd-looking silent fellow to be sure, whom none of us had ever seen before, and about whom Wedderburn had not condescended to explain himself. Somebody was appointed to talk to him, and to express the uneasiness of the club at his bringing an utter stranger among them. His answer was, that Dagg was a very important friend of his, who was extremely desirous to meet that company, and that he would answer for his silence and discretion. He added that he prayed the club to admit him, for he learned more from him of the forms of English law, in his walk from and return to the Temple, than he could do by a week's reading. This excuse was admitted, though some of us thought it a lame one, and that it smelt of an assumed superiority that we did not admit of. As Ferguson rode back to Harrow, we always parted between five and six o'clock; and it will hardly be now believed that our reckoning never exceeded 5s. a-piece. We had a very good dinner, and plenty of punch, etc., though no claret, for that sum.

Having met, we generally went that night to Drury Lane Theatre, Garrick being in town. I had frequent opportunities of being in company with this celebrated actor, of whom Mr. Home was now in full possession, though he had rejected his tragedy of Douglas as totally unfit for the stage. I am afraid it was not his own more mature judgment that brought him round, but his idolatry to the rising sun, for he had observed what a hold Home had got of Lord Bute, and, by his means, of the Prince of `ales. As Garrick's vanity and interestedness had made him digest the mortification of seeing Douglas already become the most popular play on the stage, so John Home's facility, and the hopes of getting him to play in his future tragedies, made him forgive Garrick's former want of taste and judgment, and they were now become the greatest friends in the world. If anything had been wanting to complete Garrick's conquest of Home, it was making choice of him as his second in a quarrel he had with Calcraft (for John was very heroic), which never came to a duel, as well as several other quarrels of the same kind, and with the same issue, in which John was chosen second.

Garrick, though not of an understanding of the first, nor of the highest cultivated mind, had great vivacity and quickness, and was very entertaining company. Though vanity was his prominent feature, and a troublesome and watchful jealousy the constant visible guard of his reputation to a ridiculous degree, yet his desire to oblige, his want of arrogance, and the delicacy of his mimicry, made him very agreeable. He had no affected reserve, but, on the least hint, would start up at any time and give the company one of his best speeches. As Garrick had been in Dublin when I was in London in 1746, I assiduously attended him at this time, and saw him in all his principal parts, both in tragedy and comedy. He used to say himself, that he was more at home in comedy than in tragedy, and I was of his opinion. I thought I could conceive something more perfect in tragedy, but in comedy he completely filled up my ideas of perfection. There may be a deception in this, for every well-educated person has formed to himself some idea of the characters, both in ancient and modern tragedy, and if the actor falls short of that, he is thought to be deficient in judgment : whereas comedy being an imitation of living manners, as they rise in succession among inferior orders of men, the spectator can have formed no rule or standard of judgment previous to the representation, but must accept of the picture the actor gives him, and must approve of it, if it is lively, though it should not be true.

Garrick was so friendly to John Home that he gave a dinner to his friends and companions at his house at Hampton, which he did but seldom. He had told us to bring golf clubs and balls that we might play at that game on Molesly Hurst. We accordingly set out in good time, six of us in a landau. As we passed through Kensington, the Coldstream regiment were changing guard, and, on seeing our clubs, they gave us three cheers in honour of a diversion peculiar to Scotland ; so much does the remembrance of one's native country dilate the heart, when one has been some time absent. The same sentiment made us open our purses, and give our countrymen wherewithal to drink the "Land o' Cakes." Garrick met us by the way, so impatient lie seemed to be for his company. There were John Home, and Robertson, and Wedderburn, [Afterwards Lord Loughborough, first Earl of Roslyn.] and Robert and James Adam, and Colonel David Wedderburn, [Second son of Peter Wedderburn, Lord Chesterhall, and younger brother of Lord Chancellor Loughborough.] who was killed when commander of the army in Bombay, in the year [i773]. He was held by his companions to be in every respect as clever and able a man as his elder brother the Chancellor, with a much more gay, popular, and social temper.

Immediately after we arrived, we crossed the river to the golfing-ground, which was very good. None of the company could play but John Home and myself, and Parson Black from Aberdeen, who, being chaplain to a regiment during some of the Duke of Cumberland's campaigns, had been pointed out to his Royal Highness as a proper person to teach him the game of chess : the Duke was such an apt scholar that he never lost a game after the first day; and he recompensed Black for having beat him so cruelly, by procuring for him the living of Hampton, which is a good one. We returned and dined sumptuously, Mrs. Garrick, the only lady, now grown fat, though still very lively, being a woman of uncommon good sense, and now mistress of English, was in all respects most agreeable company. [When a widow, Mrs. Garrick had twice the offer of marriage from Lord Monboddo during one of his lordship's periodical visits to London.—WALPOLE.] She did not seem at all to recognise me, which was no wonder, at the end of twelve years, having thrown away my bag-wig and sword, and appearing in my own grisly hairs, and in parson's clothes; nor was I likely to remind her of her former state.

Garrick had built a handsome temple with a statue of Shakespeare in it, in his lower garden, on the banks of the Thames, which was separated from the upper one by a high-road, under which there was an archway which united the two gardens. Garrick, in compliment to Home, had ordered the wine to be carried to this temple, where we were to drink it under the shade of the copy of that statue to which Home had addressed his pathetic verses on the rejection of his play. The poet and the actor were equally gay, and well pleased with each other, on this occasion, with much respect on the one hand, and a total oblivion of animosity on the other; for vanity is a passion that is easy to be entreated, and unites freely with all the best affections. Having observed a green mount in the garden, opposite the archway, I said to our landlord, that while the servants were preparing the collation in the temple I would surprise him with a stroke at the golf, as I should drive a ball through his archway into the Thames once in three strokes. I had measured the distance with my eye in walking about the garden, and accordingly, at the second stroke, made the ball alight in the mouth of the gateway, and roll down the green slope into the river. This was so dexterous that he was quite surprised, and begged the club of me by which such a feat had been performed. We passed a very agreeable afternoon; and it is hard to say which were happier, the landlord and landlady, or the guests.

There was a club in London where Robertson and I never failed to attend, as we were adopted members while we stayed in town. It was held once a week in the British Coffeehouse, at eight in the evening; the members were Scotch physicians from the city and Court end of the town. Of the first set were Pitcairn, Armstrong, Orme, and Dickson; of the second were William Hunter, Clephan, Mr Graham of Pall Mall, etc.—all of them very agreeable men; Clephan especially was one of the most sensible, learned, and judicious men I ever knew—an admirable classical scholar and a fine historian. He often led the conversation, but it was with an air of modesty and deference to the company, which added to the weight of all he said. Hunter was gay and lively to the last degree, and often came in to us at nine o'clock fatigued and jaded. He had had no dinner, but supped on a couple of eggs, and drank his glass of claret; for though we were a punch club, we allowed him a bottle of what he liked best. He repaid us with the brilliancy of his conversation. His toast was "May no English nobleman venture out of the world without a Scottish physician, as I am sure there are none who venture in." He was a famous lecturer on anatomy. Robertson and I expressed a wish to be admitted one day. He appointed us a day, and gave us one of the most elegant, clear, and brilliant lectures on the eye that any of us had ever heard. One instance I must set down of the fallacy of medical prediction—it was this: Dr. Hunter, by his attendance on Lady Esther Pitt, had frequent opportunities of seeing the great orator when he was ill of the gout, and thought so ill of his constitution that he said more than once to us, with deep regret, that he did not think the great man's life worth two years' purchase ; and yet Mr. Pitt lived for twenty years, for he did not give way to fate till 1778.

As soon as my sister got into her house in a court in Aldermansbury, Dr. Dickson and she gave a dinner to my friends, with two or three of his. There were Doctors Pitcairn, Armstrong, Smollett, and Orme, together with Dr. Robertson, John Blair, Home and myself. We passed an exceedingly pleasant day, although Smollett had given Armstrong a staggering blow at the beginning of dinner, by asking him some questions about his nose, which was still patched, on account of his having run it through the side-glass of his chariot when somebody came up to speak to him. Armstrong was naturally glumpy, and this, I was afraid, would have silenced him all day, which it might, had not Smollett called him familiarly John soon after his joke on his nose ; but he knew that Smollett loved and respected him, and soon recovered his good-humour, and became brilliant. My sister, who had one lady with her—one of Pitcairn's nieces, I believe—was happy and agreeable, and highly pleasing to her guests, who confessed they had seldom seen such a superior woman.

There was a friend of Dickson's, a Mr. Jackson, a Dumfries man and an Irish factor, as they are called, who was a great humorist, who, though he had no carriage, kept six hunting-horses. This man offered to mount us on his horses, and go with us to Windsor. After a breakfast-dinner at his partner's, we set out on the 16th day of April, the warmest that had been that season. As the great road was very disagreeable, Jackson, who knew the environs of London better than most people, as he belonged to a hunt, took us through green lanes as soon as he could, and, giving us a little wine and water when he pleased, which was, he said, whenever he came to good port, he landed us at Staines Bridge, in a very good inn across the bridge. His servant, who rode an unruly horse, had been thrown from him half an hour before we reached Staines. He was very much hurt about the head, and with difficulty we brought him along at a slow pace. When we arrived, Jackson sent immediately for the nearest surgeon, who was a Mr. Green. This man examined the servant, and found he was not dangerously hurt, and Jackson invited him to stay supper, which he did, and turned out a very sensible conversible man. He spoke English so well that we could not have detected him to be a Scotch-man, far less an Aberdeensman, which he was; but he had gone very young into the navy as surgeon's-mate, and had entirely lost his mother tongue—almost the only instance I ever knew of any one from that shire. There was a poor Scotch Presbyterian, who had a very small living; Jackson had a small present of two guineas to give him, for the humorist was not ungenerous. He sent for him in the morning, and promised him a sermon in his meeting-house, for it was Sunday, and kept him to breakfast. I had been prepared to do this duty, for Jackson and I slept in the same room, and he had requested it as a favour, as he said the meeting and the audience were very poor indeed. I was dressed, and went down to breakfast, and was introduced to Mr. Coldstream. Soon afterwards came Robertson, undressed, and with his night-cap on, and, being introduced to Coldstream, took no further notice of him (not his usual manner), and breakfasted in silence. When the minister took his leave, he called Jackson aside, and said he hoped he remembered he never employed any of the people called Methodists. This was resolute in a man who had a wife and four children, and only £20 a-year, to a gentleman who had just made him a present of two guineas. Jackson assured him that none of us were Methodists, but that I was the person he had engaged to preach. I made Robertson's being taken for a Methodist a lasting joke against him.

Wewentto the meeting-house at the hour of eleven, the entry to which was over a pretty large dunghill. Although the congregation was reinforced by two officers of the Grey dragoons, and by a corporal and an officer's man, with Jackson's man with his head bound up, with the Doctor and Jackson and Coldstream and his wife, they amounted only to twenty-three. There were two brothers, Scotchmen, clothiers, who were there, who invited us to dinner. We repaired to them at one o'clock, and after walking round their garden, and being much delighted with two swans swimming in the Thames, whom they had attached to them by kindness, we sat down to an excellent citizen-like dinner, and drank some excellent port wine. Robertson and I bespoke a piece of parson's grey cloth of their making, which they sent to Scotland before us, and which turned out the best we ever had. We divided it among our friends. Before five o'clock we mounted our horses by order of our conductor, and rode to Windsor Forest, where, in spite of the warm weather before, we found the frost hard enough to bear our horses. We returned without going into Windsor. Next day we went there time enough to see the castle and all its curiosities, and to go down to Eton, after which we dined at an inn and rode back to Staines, making a circuit round the great park. Much to our satisfaction, we found Dr. Green waiting us, whom Jackson had appointed to meet us.

Jackson wished us to take a circuitous ride and see everything down the Thames to London; but as we were engaged with a party of friends to dine at Billingsgate on fish of the season, we took leave of Mr. Jackson, and left him to come at his leisure, while we made the best of our way down the Thames, and halted only at Richmond, where Robertson had never been.

We arrived in time to meet our friends at the Gun, where Dr. Dickson had provided a choice dinner of all the varieties of fish then in season, at the moderate price of twenty-five shillings, one crown of which was paid for smelts. `\We were a company of fifteen or sixteen, whose names I can't exactly remember, but when I say that there were Sir David Kinloch, James Veitch (Lord Elliock), Sir Robert Keith, then only a captain in the Scotch Dutch, Robertson, Home, etc., I need not say that we were gay and jovial. An incident contributed not a little to our mirth. Charles Congalton, who happened to sit next to Sir David, our preses, it was observed, never filled above a thimbleful in his glass, when being asked the reason, he said he could not drink any of their London port, there was such a drawing-togetherness in it. "Ring the bell, Charlie," said our preses, "and we will learn if we can't get a bottle of claret for you." The bell was rung, the claret came, and was pronounced very good by the Baronet and his doctor. The whole company soon joined in that liquor, without which no Scotch gentleman in those days could be exhilarated. Bob Keith sung all his ludicrous songs, and repeated all his comic verses, and gave us a foretaste of that delightful company which he continued to be to the end of his days. His cousin, Charles Dalrymple, was only behind him in humorous description and naive remark—as much only as he was in age and the habits of company. Our reckoning by this means, however, turned out, instead of five shillings and sixpence, as Dickson had supposed, to be three times that sum. The Baronet and Doctor were to set out in a few days to France, on their way to Barege.

I shall here mention an anecdote which struck me as a proof of the wonderful carelessness of physicians. Supping one night with Duncan Forbes, Sir David, Lord Elliock, and sundry physicians, while four of us were playing at whist, Lord Elliock took up a book, and after reading a while called out, "Sir David, here is your case, and a perfect cure for it, that I find in this book." He then read an account of the great effect of the waters of Barege, in the south of France, for such complaints as the Baronet laboured under. "Have you heard of this before, Sir David?" "No, never," answered he. "Is it new to the Faculty?" said he to Armstrong, who was sitting near him. "No," replied the crusty Doctor, "but we never thought of prescribing it, as we knew that he was such a coward that lie would rather be damned by a fistula than cross the Channel in a packet-boat, especially in time of a French war." Sir David, having his pride irritated by this attack, did go to Barege and completed a cure which had been made by Dr. Ward.

As I had been introduced to the Duke of Argyle in the autumn before in Scotland, I went sometimes to his evening parties, which were very pleasant. He let in certain friends every night about seven o'clock, when, after tea and coffee, there were parties at sixpenny whist, his Grace never playing higher. About nine there was a sideboard of cold victuals and wine, to which everybody resorted in his turn. There was seldom or ever any drinking—never, indeed, but when some of his favourite young men came in, such as Alexander Lord Eglinton, William Lord Home, etc., when the old gentleman would rouse himself and call for burgundy and champagne, and prolong the feast to a late hour. In general the company parted at eleven. There could not be a more rational way of passing the evening, for the Duke had a wide range of knowledge, and was very open and communicative.

The Right Honourable Charles Townshend, my old friend, had married Lady Dalkeith, the Duke of Buccleuch's mother. Home, who was become intimate with him, took me there one morning, after having told him I was in town, and intended to call. He received me with open arms, and was perfectly familiar, but not a hint of having seen me before. He held the same demeanour to Jack Campbell, Lord Stonefield, who had married one of Lord Bute's sisters; and in spite of our intimacy afterwards in Scotland, he never made the most distant allusion to anything that had happened at Leyden. The Duke of Buccleuch, and his brother Campbell Scott, were in town for the Easter holidays. Mr. Scott was much handsomer and more forward than the Duke, who was at a table in the room where there were some books. The young Duke, then not twelve years of age, was turning over the leaves of a book. "Come along, Duke," says Charles—"I see what you would be at, silent as you are; show the gentleman that dedication you are so fond of." The Duke slipt down the book on the table, and blushed to the eyes, retiring a step or two from it. I took up the book, and soon saw it was Barclay the schoolmaster's Latin Grammar, which he had dedicated to his patron. "The Duke," says I, "need not be ashamed of this dedication, for the author of it is one of the best schoolmasters and grammarians of any in Scotland, and has brought the school at Dalkeith to its former name and lustre." This reassured the young man, and he smiled with some satisfaction. Little did I think at that time that I should live to see his grace the most respected and the most deservedly popular of any nobleman in Scotland. A few days after this we dined with Mr. Townshend and the Countess, and one or two gentlemen, but the boys had returned to school.

The clergy of Scotland, being under apprehensions that the window-tax would be extended to them, had given me in charge to state our case to some of the ministers, and try to make an impression in our favour. Sir Gilbert Elliot listened to me, and was friendly; Marchmont pretended not to understand my statement, and was dry. But the only man who really understood the business, and seemed ready to enter into it with zeal was Jeremiah Dyson, [Dyson, although left considerable wealth by his father, accepted a junior clerkship in the House of Commons, and when the principal clerkship became vacant, paid £6000 for the position. It was customary then for the principal to appoint a deputy and assistants and to recoup his payment from them. But Dyson condemned the practice and appointed his subordinates without exacting a fee. He resigned the clerkship and became a member of Parliament, occupying several positions under different governments.] who, having been a Dissenter, and two years at the University of Edinburgh, and withal very acute, perfectly comprehended my argument, and was willing to assist in procuring an exemption. Without Robert Dundas, then Lord Advocate, nothing, however, could be done. I waited on him, and was received in his usual way, with frankness and familiarity enough; but he did not think he could do anything, but deferred saying much about it till some future day when he would have some friends with me to dinner, and talk over the affair. This cold or rather haughty reception, added to some very slighting or calumnious sayings of his, both about Robertson and me, provoked us not a little, and revived the resentment we felt at his unhandsome behaviour about the tragedy of Douglas.

Our time drew near for returning, which we were to do on horseback, and with that we set about furnishing ourselves with horses. Home had his Piercy in town, and James Adam (who was to be our companion) had one also, so that Robertson and I only were to be provided, which we did without loss of time. We had some inclination to be introduced to Lord Bute, which John promised to do; and for Robert Adam also, who could derive more benefit from it than any of us. Robert had been three years in Italy, and, with a first-rate genius for his profession, had seen and studied everything, and was in the highest esteem among foreign artists. From the time of his return—viz. in February or March 1758—may be dated a very remarkable improvement in building and furniture, and even stoneware, in London and every part of England. [It is scarcely necessary to say that the two Adams, so often referred to, were the architects of the many public and private buildings, of some of which an account will be found in their work called The Works in Architecture of Robert and James Adayn.- J.H.B.] As John put off the time of our introduction to his great man, we yielded to a request of our friend Sir David Kinloch to accompany him on a jaunt he wished to make to Portsmouth. Home had signified his design to Lord Bute, who had agreed to his absence for a few days; and having obtained a letter from Sir Gilbert Elliot, then a Lord of the Admiralty, to Lieutenant Brett, clerk of the cheque at Portsmouth, we set out, the Baronet and his doctor in a chaise, and we three on horseback. As it was towards the end of April, and the weather good, we had a very agreeable journey. We were much pleased with the diversified beauty of the country, though not a little surprised with the great extent of uncultivated heath which we went through. We viewed with much pleasure and exultation the solid foundation of the naval glory of Great Britain, in the amazing extent and richness of the dockyards and warehouses, etc., and in the grandeur of her fleet in the harbour and in the Downs. It appeared a new world to us, and our wonder had not ceased during all the four days we remained there. We had good mutton and good wine (claret) at the inn, and, above all, an additional companion, Mr. Richard Oswald (he who had so much hand in the peace of Paris long after), who was a man of great knowledge and ready conversation. There was a fine fleet of ten ships of the line in the Downs, with the Royal George at their head, all ready for sea, and one of our great objects was to get on board that ship, which was always kept in the highest order for the admittance of visitors. This short voyage was proposed every night, but was put off daily, as a landwind came on soon after breakfast. As we were only to stay one day longer, Congalton and I in despair went in the evening to Lieutenant Brett and stated our case to him. He said there was but one remedy, which was for him to ask Sir David and us all to breakfast next morning at eight; that his dockyard sloop, in which he could sail to America, should be at hand and ready at nine, and that we might get to the Royal George not above three miles off, before the mackerel breeze sprung up.

This plan was accordingly put in execution, but it being half-past nine before we got on hoard, the breeze got up before we reached the fleet; and the moment it arose, fear and sickness began to operate on our friends, their countenances grew pale, and the poet grew very vociferous for our immediate return. Our pilot, however, held on his course, and assured them that there was not the smallest danger, and that the moment they set their feet in the Royal George, their sickness would leave them. Congalton and I were quite disconcerted, and did not know what to do. Brett continued to assert that we might board with the greatest case, and without the least danger; but as we approached the ship their fears became so noisy and so unmanly that Brett yielded, and said it would be better to sail round the ship and return, lest the breeze should increase. Dr. Congalton and I were much disappointed, as this was probably the only opportunity we should have of seeing so fine a ship again.

We behoved to yield, however, and, what was remarkable, the moment we set our heads towards land their sickness entirely abated, and they got into spirits—Robertson was the only one of them who had thrown up his breakfast. When we arrived near the harbour, we overtook the Ramilies, a ninety-gun ship just entering the port. Mr. Brett proposed that we should go on board her, when we should see her rigging completely manned, a sight that in some degree would compensate our not seeing the Royal George. Our friends were delighted with this proposal, and John Home exulted provokingly on the superiority of the sight we were so fortunately going to have. We had no sooner set foot on the deck than an officer came up to us, bawling, "God preserve us! what has brought the Presbytery of Edinburgh here? for, damn me, if there is not Willy Robertson, Sandie Carlyle, and John Home come on board." This turned out to be a Lieutenant Neilson, a cousin of Robertson, who knew us all, who gave us a hearty welcome, and carried us to his cabin, and treated us to white wine and salt beef.

The remainder of this day we passed in seeing what we had omitted, particularly the Point after it was dark, or rather towards midnight—a scene of wonder, and even horror, to the civilised. Next day we took our departure, and sleeping a night by the way, as we had done going down, we arrived in London, and prepared in good earnest to set out on our journey north. The day was at last appointed for our being introduced to the great man, and we resolved among ourselves, that if he gave us an invitation to dine with him on an early day, we would stay for it, though contrary to our plan.

John Home's tragedy of Agis had been acted this season with tolerably good success, for it ran the nine nights, and the author made some hundreds by it. Garrick had acted the part of Lysander, as he did a year or two later that of Emilius in the Siege of Aquileia, which I think superior in merit to Agis. I had undertaken to review this play for the British Magazine (Smollett's), but had been indolent; and it now cost me to sit up all night to write it, and I was obliged to give it to the press blotted and interlined, —but they are accustomed to decipher the most difficult hands.

The day came when we were presented to Lord Bute, but our reception was so dry and cold that when he asked when we were to go north, one of us said to-morrow. He received us booted and spurred, which in those days was a certain signal for going a-riding, and an apology for not desiring us to sit down. We very soon took our leave, and no sooner were we out of hearing, than Robert Adam, who was with us, fell a-cursing and swearing. "What ! had he been presented to all the princes in Italy and France, and most graciously received, to come and be treated with such distance and pride by the youngest earl but one in all Scotland?" They were better friends afterwards, and Robert found him a kind patron, when his professional merit was made known to him. When I was riding with Home in Hyde Park a week before, trying the horse I bought, we met his lordship, to whom Home then introduced me, and we rode together for half an hour, when I had a very agreeable chat with his lordship; but he was a different man when he received audience. To dismiss the subject, however, I believe he was a very worthy and virtuous man—a man of taste, and a good belles-lettres scholar, and that he trained up the prince in true patriotic principles and a love of the constitution, though his own mind was of the Tory cast, with a partiality to the family of Stuart, of whom he believed he was descended. But he proved himself unfit for the station he had assumed, being not versatile enough for a prime minister; and, though personally brave, yet void of that political firmness which is necessary to stand the storms of state. The nobility and gentry of England had paid court to him with such abject servility when the accession of his pupil drew near, and immediately after it took place, that it was no wonder he should behave to them with haughtiness and disdain, and with a spirit of domination. As soon, however, as he was tried and known, and the disappointed hopes of the courtiers had restored them to the exercise of their manhood, he showed a wavering and uncertain disposition, which discovered to them that he could be overthrown. The misfortune of great men in such circumstances is, that they have few or no personal friends on whose counsels they can rely. There were two such about him, who enjoyed his confidence and favour, Sir Harry Erskine [The second son of Sir John Erskine of Alva, who succeeded to the baronetcy on the death of his elder brother Sir Charles. Sir Harry was Deputy Quartermaster-General of the Forces under his uncle General St. Clair. After his military service he devoted himself to politics and literature. Because of his adhesion to the Leicester House party he was dismissed the service by George II., but restored by George III., who gave him the command of the Royal Scots. He married Miss Wedderburn (see p. 425), sister of Lord Chancellor Loughborough (Earl of Roslyn), and their eldest son subsequently succeeded to the Earldom and property. Sir Harry has been credited with the authorship of "In the Garb of Old Gaul," but this is disputed.] and John Home. The first, I believe, was a truly honest man, but his views were not extensive nor his talents great; the second had better talents, but they were not at all adapted to business. Besides ambition and pride to a high degree, Lord Bute had an insatiable vanity, which nothing could allay but Home's incessant flattery, which being ardent and sincere, and blind and incessant, like that of a passionate lover, pleased the jealous and supercilious mind of the Thane. He knew John to be a man of honour and his friend, and though his discernment pointed out the excess of John's praises, yet his ardour and sincerity made it all take place on a temper and character made accessible by vanity. With respect to John himself, his mind and manners had always been the same. He flattered Lord Milton, and even Adam Ferguson and me, as much as he did Lord Bute in the zenith of his power. What demonstrates the artlessness and purity of John's mind was, that he never asked anything for himself, though he had the undisputed ear of the Prime Minister. Even those who envied John for the place of favour he held, exclaimed against the chief for doing so little for the man of his right hand; and John might have starved on a scanty pension (for he was required to be in attendance in London for more than half the year), had not Ferguson and I taken advantage of a vacancy of an office in Scotland, and pressed Lord Milton to procure the Lord Conservator's place for him, which more than doubled his income. [The then sinecure office of Conservator of Scots Privileges at Campvere.—J. H. B.] But though Home was careless of himself, he was warm and active at all times for the interest of his friends, and served a greater number of people effectually than it had been in the power of any private man to do before, some few of whom proved themselves not worthy of his friendship.

We now were to leave London, and make all suitable preparations; and finding that there was a horse at Donaldson's, at the Orange Tree Inn, which the owner wished to have down to Edinburgh, we undertook to take him with us, and hired a man to ride him and carry our baggage. As there were four of us, we found one servant too few, to our great inconveniency. As the Adams were a wonderfully loving family, and their youngest brother James was going down with us, the rest of the sisters and brothers would accompany us as far as Uxbridge (a very needless ceremony, some of us thought) ; but since we were to be so numerous my sister thought of joining the party. We passed a very cheerful evening in spite of the melancholy parting we had in view. We parted, however, next morning, and we made the best of our way to Oxford, halting for an hour at Bulstrode, a seat of the Duke of Portland's, where we viewed the park, the house, and the chapel, which pleased us much, especially the last, which was ornamented in true taste as a place of worship. The chapel, which is still met with in many noblemen's houses in England, was a mark of the residence of a great family, which was striking and agreeable. It was here that we discovered the truth of what I had often heard, that most of the head-gardeners of English noblemen were Scotch, for on observing to this man that his pease seemed late on the 4th of May, not being then fully in bloom, and that I was certain there were sundry places which I knew in Scotland where they were further advanced, he answered that he was bred in a place that I perhaps did not know that answered this description. This was Newhaills, in my own parish of Inveresk. This man, whose name I have forgot, if it was not Robertson, was not only gardener but land-steward, and had the charge of the whole park and of the estate around it;—such advantage was there in having been taught writing, arithmetic, and the mensuration of land, the rudiments of which were taught in many of the country schools of Scotland. This man gave us a note to the gardener at Blenheim, who, he told us, was our countryman, and would furnish us with notes to the head-gardeners all the way down.

We arrived at Oxford before dinner, and put up at the Angel Inn. Robertson and Adam, who had never been there before, had everything to see ; Home and I had been there before. John Douglas, who knew we were coming, was passing trials for his degree of D.D., and that very day was in the act of one of his wall-lectures, as they are called, for there is no audience. At that university, it seems, the trial is strict when one takes a Master's or Bachelor's, but slack when you come to the Doctor's Degree; and vice versa at Cambridge. However that be, we found Douglas sitting in a pulpit, in one of their chapels, with not a soul to hear him but three old beggar-women, who came to try if they might get some charity. On seeing us four enter the chapel, he talked to us and wished us away, otherwise he would be obliged to lecture. We would not go away, we answered, as we wished a specimen of Oxford learning; on which he read two or three verses out of the Greek Testament, and began to expound it in Latin. We listened for five minutes, and then, telling where we were to dine, we left him to walk about. Douglas came to dinner; and in the evening Messrs. Foster and Vivian, of Baliol College, came to us to ask us to a collation, to be given us by that society next day. They were well-informed and liberal-minded men, but from them and their conversation we learned that this was far from applying to the generality of the university. We stayed all next day, and passed a very agreeable evening at Baliol College, where several more Fellows were assembled.

Next morning we set out early for Woodstock, where we breakfasted, and went to see Blenheim, a most magnificent park indeed. We narrowly inspected the house and chapel, which, though much cried down by the Tory wits of Queen Anne's reign, appeared to us very magnificent, and worthy of the donors and of the occasion on which it was given. Our companion, James Adam, had seen all the splendid palaces of Italy, and though he did not say that Sir John Vanburgh's design was faultless, yet he said it ill deserved the aspersions laid upon it, for he had seen few palaces where there was more movement, as he called it, than in Blenheim. The extent of the park and the beauty of the water (now a sea almost, as I am told) struck us very much.

From Blenheim we made the best of our way to Warwick, where, as we had been much heated, and were very dusty, we threw off our boots, and washed and dressed ourselves before we walked out. John Home would not put on his boots again; but in clean stockings and shoes, when he was looking at himself in the glass, and prancing about the room in a truly poetical style, he turned short upon the boot-catch who had brought in our clean boots, and finding the fellow staring at him with seeming admiration, "And am not I a pretty fellow?" said John. "Ay," says he, "sir," with half a smile. "And who do you take me for? " said John. "If you binna Jamy Dunlop the Scotch pedlar, I dinna ken wha ye are; but your ways are very like his." This reply confounded our friend not a little, and he looked still more foolish than Robertson, when Jackson told at Staines that the Dissenting minister took him for a Methodist.

Warwick we found to be a very pleasant old town, finely situated, with a handsome old church. The Castle of Warwick, the seat of the earl of that name, with the park, was truly magnificent, and the priory on the way to it, the seat of Mr. Wise, not unworthy of being viewed. We dined here, and were rather late in getting to Birmingham, where a servant of Mr. Garbett's lay in wait for us at the inn, and conducted us to his house, without letting us enter it. This man, of singular worth and very uncommon ability, with whom Robertson and I were intimately acquainted in Scotland, had anxiously wished us to come his way, with which we complied, not merely to see the wonders of the place, but to gratify him. Six or seven years before this, Dr. Roebuck and he had established a vitriol work at Prestonpans, which succeeded well, and the profits of which encouraged them to undertake the grand ironworks at Carron, which had commenced not long before. Garbett, who was a man of sense and judgment, was much against that great undertaking, as, independent of the profits of the vitriol works, they had not £3000 of stock between them. But the ardent mind of Roebuck carried Garbett away, and he yielded—giving up to his superior genius for great undertakings the dictates of prudence and his own sober judgment. Roebuck, having been bred in the medical school of Edinburgh, had science, and particularly the skill of applying chemistry to the useful arts.

Ironworks were but recent in Scotland, and Roebuck had visited them all, and every station where they could be erected, and had found that Carron was by far the best, which, if they did not occupy immediately, some other company would, and they must remain in the background for ever. This idea dazzled and overpowered the judicious mind of Garbett, which had been contented with the limited project of availing themselves of the populations of Musselburgh and Fisherrow, and with the aid of Lord Milton, to whom I had introduced him, to begin an ironwork on a small scale on the Magdalene Burn, and introducing the manufactures of Birmingham at Fisherrow. This was highly gratifying to Milton, who would have lent his credit, and given the labours of his then active mind, to bring it to perfection.

Samuel Garbett was truly a very extraordinary man. He had been an ordinary worker in brass at Birmingham, and had no education farther than writing and accounts ; but he was a man of great acuteness of genius and extent of understanding. He had been at first distinguished from the common workmen by inventing some stamp for shortening labour. He was soon taken notice of by a Mr. Hollis, a great merchant in London, who employed him as his agent for purchasing Birmingham goods. This brought him into notice and rank among his townsmen; and the more he was known, the more he was esteemed. Let me observe once for all, that I have known no person but one more of such strong and lively feelings, of such a fair, candid, and honourable heart, and of such quick and ardent conceptions, who still retained the power of cool and deliberate judgment before execution. I had been much in his way when he came first to Prestonpans about the year '51 or '52, and had distinguished him and attracted his notice. He knew all the wise methods of managing men, and was sensible that he could not expect to have the most faithful workmen unless he consulted the minister. To obtain this aid he paid all due respect to my father, and, though of the Church of England, regularly attended the church, and indeed made himself agreeable to the whole parish, high and low. Roebuck, though a scholar and of an inventive genius, was vain and inconstant, and an endless projector, so that the real executive and managing power lay in Garbett.

He received us with open hospitality, and we were soon convinced we were welcome by the cordiality of his wife and daughter (afterwards Mrs. Gascoign), who lodged the whole company but me, who, being their oldest acquaintance, they took the liberty to send to a friend's house. Hitherto they had lived in a very moderate style, but for his Scotch friends Garbett had provided very good claret, and for the time we stayed his table was excellent, though at that time they had only one maid and a blind lad as servants. This last was a wonder, for he did all the work of a man, and even brewed the ale, (but) that of serving at table; and for this, Garbett [provided] according to the custom of the place, where no man was then ashamed of frugality. He made Patrick Downy, who was then an apprentice, stand at our backs. Patrick afterwards married the maid, who was the mistress's cousin; was sent down to Prestonpans as an overseer, and was at last taken in as a partner : such was the primitive state of Birmingham and other manufacturing towns, and such encouragement did they then give to industry. Sed tandem luxuria incubuit. Few men have I ever known who united together more of the prime qualities of head and heart.

We passed the next day after our arrival in visiting the manufactures at Birmingham, though it was with difficulty I could persuade our poet to stay, by suggesting to him how uncivil his sudden departure would appear to our kind landlord. I got him, however, to go through the tedious detail, till at last he said "that it seemed there as if God had created man only for making buttons." Next morning, after breakfast, Home set out for Admiral Smith's, his old friend, who, being a natural son of Sir Thomas Lyttleton, had built himself a good house in the village close by Hagley, the seat of Lord Lyttleton. We who were left, passed the day in seeing what remained unseen at Birmingham, particularly the Baskerville press, and Baskerville himself, who was a great curiosity. His house was a quarter of a mile from the town, and, in its way, handsome and elegant. What struck us most was his first kitchen, which was most completely furnished with everything that could be wanted, kept as clean and bright as if it had come straight from the shop, for it was used, and the fineness of the kitchen was a great point in the family; for they received their company, and there were we entertained with coffee and chocolate. Baskerville was on hands with his folio Bible at this time, and Garbett insisted on being allowed to subscribe for Home and Robertson. Home's absence afflicted him, for he had seen and heard of the tragedy of Douglas. Robertson hitherto had no name, and the printer said bluntly that he would rather have one subscription to his work of a man like Mr. Home, than an hundred ordinary men. He dined with us that day, and acquitted himself so well that Robertson pronounced him a man of genius, while James Adam and I thought him but a prating pedant.

On agreement with John Home, we set out for Lord Lyttleton's, and were to take the Leasowes, Shen-stone's place, in our way. Shenstone's was three or four miles short of Lyttleton's. We called in there on our way, and walked over all the grounds, which were finely laid out, and which it is needless to describe. The want of water was obvious, but the ornaments and mottoes, and names of the groves, were appropriate. Garbett was with us, and we had [seen] most of the place before Shenstone was dressed, who was going to dine with Admiral Smith. We left one or two of the principal walks for him to show us. At the end of a high walk, from whence we saw far into Gloster and Shrop shires, I met with what struck me most,—that was an emaciated pale young woman, evidently in the last stage of a consumption. She had a most interesting appearance, with a little girl of nine or ten years old, who had led her there. Shenstone went up and stood for some time conversing with her, till we went to the end of the walk and returned: on some of us taking an interest in her appearance, he said she was a very sickly neighbour, to whom he had lent a key to his walks, as she delighted in them, though now not able to use it much. The most beautiful inscription he afterwards wrote to the memory of Maria Dolman put me in mind of this young woman; but, if I remember right, she was not the person. It is to me the most elegant and interesting of all Shenstone's works.

We set all out for Admiral Smith's, and had Mr. Shenstone to ride with us. His appearance surprised me, for he was a large heavy fat man, dressed in white clothes and silver lace, with his grey hairs tied behind and much powdered, which, added to his shyness and reserve, was not at first prepossessing. His reserve and melancholy (for I could not call it pride) abated as we rode along, and by the time we left him at the Admiral's, he became good company,—Garbett, who knew him well, having whispered him, that though we had no great name, he would find us not common men.

Lord Lyttleton's we found superior to the description we had heard of it, and the day being favourable, the prospect from the high ground, of more than thirty miles of cultivated country, ending in the celebrated hill, the Wrekin, delighted us much. On our return to the inn, where we expected but an ordinary repast, we found a pressing invitation from the Admiral to dine with him, which we could not resist. Though a good deal disabled with the gout, he was kind and hospitable, and received Garbett, who was backward to go, very civilly. We intended to have rode back to Birmingham in the evening, but in the afternoon there came on such a dreadful storm of thunder, accompanied with incessant rain, as made the Admiral insist on our lodging all night with him. With this we complied; but as he had no more than three spare beds, James Adam and Garbett were to go to the inn. Finding an interval of fair weather by eight o'clock, they rode to Birmingham, as Garbett was obliged to be home.

After supper, the Admiral made us a spacious bowl of punch with his own hand, a composition on which he piqued himself not a little, and for which John Home extolled him to the skies. This nectar circulated fast, and with the usual effect of opening the hearts of the company, and making them speak out. It was on this occasion that Home said to the Admiral, that, knowing what he knew by conversing with him at Leith, he was very much surprised when he recommended Byng to mercy. [Admiral Smith, as senior flag officer, was President of the Court-Martial of Byng at Portsmouth.] "You should have known, John, that I could never all my life bear the idea of being accessory to blood, and therefore I joined in this recommendation, though I knew that by doing so I should run the risk of never more being employed." This was a full confirmation of what John Home had said at the time of the sea-fight (p. 323). This fine punch even unlocked Shenstone's breast, who had hitherto been shy and reserved ; for besides mixing freely in the conversation, he told Home apart, that it was not so agreeable as he thought to live in the neighbourhood and intimacy of Lord Lyttleton, for he had defects which the benevolence of his general manners concealed, which made him often wish that he had lived at an hundred miles' distance. When Home told me this, I very easily conceived that the pride of a patron, joined to the jealousy of a rival poet, must often produce effects that might prove intolerable. We returned to Birmingham next morning, and, with the most affectionate sense of the kindness of our landlord and his. family, we set out on our journey north next morning. I have forgot to mention that we supped the last night with Dr. Roebuck, who, though a very clever and ingenious man, was far behind our friend in some of the most respectable qualities.

We kept on through a middle road by Lichfield and Burton-on-Trent, where we could get no drinkable ale, though we threw ourselves there on purpose; and next day, dining at Matlock, we were delighted with the fine ride we had through a vale similar but of more amenity than any we had seen in the highlands. We took the bath, too, which pleased and refreshed us much, for the day was sultry. We went at night to Endsor Inn, opposite Chatsworth, the Duke of Devonshire's fine house, which we visited in the morning, with much admiration both of the structure, ornaments, and situation. We ascended a wild moor, and got to Sheffield to dinner, where, as we declined visiting a brother of Dr. Roebuck's, on whom Garbett had given us a note of credit, we sent his letter to him and went on. Next day we saw Rockingham or Wentworth Castle in our way, and became satisfied with sights, so that we turned no more off our road till we came to Ripon, where we could not resist the desire of visiting Studley Park, then a great object of curiosity to all people from our country, as it was then the nearest fine place. Alnwick Castle had not then been repaired or beautified. After we had left Sheffield, where we might have got money, we discovered that we were like to run short, for Dr. Robertson, unlike his usual prudence, had only but two guineas in his pocket, trusting to the full purse of his cousin, James Adam, who had taken no more than he computed would pay the fourth part of our expense. Home and I had done the same. I was treasurer, and at Leeds, I believe, I demanded a contribution, when it was found that, by Robertson's deficiency and our purchasing some goods at Birmingham with the common stock, I was sensible we would run out before we came to Newcastle. This led us to inferior inns, which cost us as dear for much inferior entertainment. We held out till we passed Durham, which we did by keeping to the west of that city, and saving two miles, having made our meal at [ ], which Home knew to be a good house. From thence we might have got early into Newcastle, had we not been seduced by a horse-race we met with near Chester-le-Street. This we could not resist, as some of us had never seen John Bull at his favourite amusement. There was a great crowd, and the Mrs. and Misses Bull made a favourite part of the scene, their equipages being single and double horses, sometimes triple, and many of them ill mounted, and yet all of them with a keenness, eagerness, violence of motion and loudness of vociferation, that appeared like madness to us, for we thought them in extreme danger by their crossing and just-ling in all directions at the full gallop, and yet none of them fell. Having tired our horses with this diversion, we were obliged to halt at an inn to give them a little corn, for we had been four hours on horseback, and we had nine miles to Newcastle. Besides corn to five horses and a bottle of porter to our man Anthony, I had just two shillings remaining; but I could only spare one of them, for we had turnpikes to pay, and so called for a pint of port, which, mixed with a quart of water, made a good drink for each of us. Our horses and their riders being both jaded, it was ten o'clock before we arrived at Newcastle; there we got an excellent supper, etc., and a good night's sleep. I sent for Jack Widdrington when at breakfast, who immediately gave us what money we wanted; and we, who had been so penurious for three days, became suddenly extravagant. Adam bought a £20 horse, and the rest of us what trinkets we thought we wanted—Robertson for his wife and children at Gladsmuir, and Home and I for the children at Polwarth manse. As we drew nearer home, our motion became accelerated and our conversation duller : we had been in two parties, which were formed about five or six miles from London; for having met with a cow, with a piece of old flannel tied about one of her horns, pasturing on a very wide lane on the road, Home and Robertson made a sudden tack to the left, to be out of reach of this furious wild beast: I jeered them, and asked of what they were afraid. They said a mad cow—did I observe the warning given by cloth upon her horn? "Yes," says I, "but that is only because her horn was hurt; did you not see how quiet she was when I passed her?" Adam took my part, and the controversy lasted all the way down, when we had nothing else to talk of. There were so many diverting scenes occurred in the course of our journey, that we often regretted since that we had not drawn a journal of it. Our debates about trifles were infinitely amusing. Our man Anthony was at once a source of much jangling and no small amusement. He was never ready when we mounted, and went slowly on, but he was generally half a mile behind us, and we had to halt when we wanted anything. I had got a hickory stick from Jackson, not worth 1s. 6d., which I would have left at the first stage had not Home and Robertson insisted on my not doing it; but as I had less baggage, and an equal right in Anthony and his horse, and was treasurer withal, which they were afraid I would throw up, I carried my point; and this stick being five feet long, and sometimes, by lying across the clothes-bag, entangled with hedges, furnished him with a ready excuse. It was very warm weather in May, and we rode in the hottest of the day : we seldom got on horseback before ten o'clock, for there was no getting Robertson and Home to bed, and Jamie Adam would not get up, and had, besides, a very tedious toilet. Our two friends wanted sometimes to go before us, but I would not pay the bill till James and Anthony were both ready, and till then the ostler would not draw or lead out the horses from the stable. As I perceived that Robertson and Home were commenting on all my actions, I, with the privacy of James Adam, did odd things on purpose to astonish them : as, for instance, at the inn near Studley, where we breakfasted, having felt my long hair intolerably warm about my neck, I cut off five or six inches of a bit of ragged green galloon that was hanging down from a chair-back in the room, with which I tied my hair behind. This made a very motley appearance. But when we came to take horse, in spite of the heat I appeared with my greatcoat, and had fastened the cape of it round my head ; and in this guise I rode through the town of Ripon, at the end of which I disengaged myself from my greatcoat, and my friends saw the reason of this masquerade. Another day, between twelve and one, riding through very close hedges near Cornhill, we were all like to die of heat, and were able only to walk our horses. I fell behind, pulled my greatcoat from Anthony, put it on, and came up with my friends at a hard trot. They then thought that I had certainly gone mad, but they did not advert to it, that the chief oppression of heat is before the perspiration. My receipt had relieved my frenzy, and I reined in my horse till they came up to me. Soon after we left Cornhill, we separated. Home and I stopped at Polwarth manse for a night, and Robertson and Adam went on by Longformacus to Gladsmuir, Robertson's abode. James Adam, though not so bold and superior an artist as his brother Robert, was a well-informed and sensible man, and furnished me with excellent conversation, as we generally rode together. Thus ended a journey of eighteen days, which, on the whole, had proved most amusing and satisfactory.

We got to our respective abodes by the 22nd of May, and were in time for the business week of the General Assembly, of which Robertson and I were members, and where we came in time to assist in sending Dr. Blair to the New Church, to which he had a right, and of which a sentence of the Synod of Lothian and Tweeddale unjustly deprived him. This was the only occasion on which he ever spoke in the General Assembly, which he did remarkably well.

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