the number, you may
draw what inference you please from this intelligence, I give you only a
simple narration of the fact. I am surprised you say nothing of my
proposal of your coming here, and still more that you say nothing of
your Cub. Why don't you send me a copy? We were all so much entertained
with your letter to Lady B----, that I was really seized with a qualm of
envy; we regard it as one of those efforts of genius, which are only
produced by a fine flow of spirits, a beautiful day, and a good pen.

I pray you, Boswell, note well this sheet of paper, its size is
magnificent: If Lady B---- was possessed of such an extent of plain
ground, she would undoubtedly throw it into a lawn, and plant it with
clumps of trees, she would vary it with fish-ponds, and render it rural
with flocks; here, where I am writing, might a cow feed; here might be
an arbour; here, perhaps, might you recline at full length; by the edge
of this stream might the Captain walk, and in this corner, might Lady
B---- give orders to her shepherds. I am drawn in the most irresistible
manner to conclude, by the external impulse of the cloth's being laid,
and by the internal impulse of being hungry. Believe me, Boswell, to be
in the most unconscionable manner, your affectionate friend,

ANDREW ERSKINE.

P.S.--I send you franks, which return filled with the utmost wit and
humour.

* * * * *

LETTER XXVII.

Auchinleck, May 4, 1762.

For military operation[44]
I have a wondrous inclination;
Ev'n when a boy, with cheerful glee,
The red-coats march I used to see;
With joy beheld the corporals drill,
The men upon the Castle-hill;
And at the sound of drum and fife,
Felt an unusual flow of life.
Besides, my honest friend, you know
I am a little of a beau.
I'm sure, my friend need not be told,
That Boswell's hat was edg'd with gold;
And that a shining bit of lace,
My brownish-colour'd suit did grace;
And that mankind my hair might see,
Powder'd at least two days in three.
My pinchbeck buckles are admir'd
By all who are with taste inspir'd.
Trophies of Gallic pride appear,
The crown to every Frenchman dear,
And the enchanting fleur de lis,
The flower of flowers you must agree;
While for variety's sweet sake,
And witty Charles's tale to wake,
The curious artist interweaves
A twisted