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New-Tarbat, May 13, 1762.

Dear BOSWELL,--Your first epistle being of a length which modern letters
seldom attain to, surprised me very much; but at the sight of your
second, consisting of such an exuberant number of sheets, I was no less
amazed than if I had wakened at three o'clock in the morning, and found
myself fast clasped in the arms of the empress Queen; or if I had found
myself at the mouth of the river Nile, half-eaten by a crocodile; or if
I had found myself ascending the fatal ladder in the Grass-market at
Edinburgh, and Mr. Alexander Donaldson the hangman. To confess a truth,
I imagine your funds for letter-writing are quite inexhaustible; and
that the fire of your fancy, like the coal at Newcastle, will never be
burnt out; indeed, I look upon you in the light of an old stocking, in
which we have no sooner mended one hole, than out starts another; or I
think you are like a fertile woman, who is hardly delivered of one
child, before slap she is five months gone with a second. I need not
tell you your letters are entertaining; I might as well acquaint King
George the Third, that he is sovereign of Great Britain, or gravely
disclose to my servant, that his name is William. It is superfluous to
inform people of what it is impossible they should not know.

You think you have a knack of story-telling, but there you must yield to
me, if you hearken attentively to what I am about to disclose, you will
be convinced; it is a tale, my dear Boswell, which whether we consider
the turnings and windings of fortune, or the sadness of the catastrophe,
is delightful and improving.--You demand of me, Sir, a faithful recital
of the events which have distinguished my life. Though the remembrance
of every misfortune which can depress human nature, must be painful; yet
the commands of such a revered friend as James Boswell must be obeyed;
and Oh, Sir! if you find any of my actions blamable, impute them to
destiny, and if you find any of them commendable, impute them to my good
sense. I am about fifty years of age, grief makes me look as if I was
fourscore; thirty years ago I was a great deal younger; and about twenty
years before that, I was just born; as I find nothing remarkable in my
life, before that event, I shall date my history from that period; some
omens happened at my birth: Mr. Oman at Leith was married at that time;
this was thought very portentous; the very day my mother was brought to
bed of me, the cat was del