ohnson; or that Mr. Thomas
Sheridan[49] himself was resounding the praises of the ancients, and his
own art? I shall now finish this letter without the least blaze of
rhetoric, and with no very manly or energetic mode of expression, assure
you, that I am,

Yours sincerely,

ANDREW ERSKINE.

[Footnote 49: Thomas Sheridan, the father of R.B. Sheridan, was about
this time lecturing on Oratory. "He knows that I laugh at his oratory,"
Johnson once said to Boswell.--ED.]

* * * * *

LETTER XXXI.

Auchinleck, June 1, 1762.

At length, O Erskine! Lady B---- and the Turkey-cock are sung in strains
sublime. I have finished an ode. Receive it with reverence.[50] It is
one of the greatest productions of the human mind. Just that sort of
composition which we form an awful and ravishing conception of, in those
divine moments, when the soul (to use a bold metaphor) is in full blow,
and soaring fancy reaches its utmost heights. Could it but be really
personified--it would be like Saul of old, taller than any of the
people, and were it to be guilty of a capital crime, it could not enjoy
one of the greatest privileges of a British subject, to be tried by its
Peers.

[Footnote 50: The Ode is not worth reprinting.--ED.]

I am sure that my ode is great. Mr. James Bruce the gardener, my
faithful counsellor and very excellent companion, declares it is quite
to his mind. He stood by me while I took my portrait of the cock, from a
large one which struts upon the green. I shall be in Edinburgh in a few
days; for which reason, I remain your affectionate friend,

JAMES BOSWELL.

* * * * *

LETTER XXXII.

New-Tarbat, June 5, 1762.

Dear BOSWELL,--The first idea of our correspondence was not yours; for,
many months before you addressed me, I wrote you the following letter at
Fort George, where you may remember our acquaintance commenced. You'll
observe that some of the stanzas[51] are parodies on Gray's Elegy in a
Church-yard, I use the liberty to mark them. I stood too much in awe of
you, to send it when it was written, and I am too much at my ease now,
to be withheld any longer from presenting you with it.

I am, Sir,

With the greatest respect and esteem,

Your most obedient,

And most humble servant,

ANDREW ERSKINE.

[Footnote 51: These stanzas are nearly as bad as Boswell's Ode, and,
like it, are not worth reprinting.--ED.]

* * *