uld be absolutely barbarous to
stun your ears any longer; only give me leave to tell you in one good
round sentence, that your prose is admirable, and that I am just now (at
three o'clock in the morning) sitting over the poor pale remnant of a
once glorious blazing fire, and feasting upon it, till I am all in a
_Lather_.

I cannot stop yet. Allow me a few more words. I live here in a remote
corner of an old ruinous house, where my ancestors have been very
jovial. What a solemn idea rushes on my mind! They are all gone; I must
follow. Well, and what then? Let me shift about to another subject. The
best I can think of is a sound sleep. So good night, and believe me,

Yours,

JAMES BOSWELL.

* * * * *

LETTER IV.

Auchinleck, Oct. 10, 1761.

Dear ERSKINE,--Had Philip of Macedon been saddle-sick with riding up and
down the country after his unruly son Alexander, and been waiting in
extreme pain, till the surgeon of the next village brought him emollient
relief, he could not have been more impatient than I am for a return to
my last letter. I thought, indeed, that my firing so great a gun, would
have produced a speedy and a suitable echo, and I had no doubt of at
least being paid the interest of a sum so very large. I now give you
fair warning, that if something is not speedily done in this affair, I
shall be obliged to take very disagreeable methods. From this way of
talking, I begin to fancy myself a Schoolmaster; a character next to
that of a giant, most terrible to tender minds. Don't think to escape
the rod. Don't think your dignity as a poet will save you from it. I
make no question, but what that acrimonious pedagogue George Buchanan
has often applied it to his pupil, and he you know was a poet and a king
into the bargain. I have been reading the Rosciad. You see my very
studies have tended towards flagellation. Upon my word Churchill[14]
does scourge with a vengeance; I should not like to come under his
discipline. He is certainly a very able writer. He has great power of
numbers.

[Footnote 14: Churchill's "Rosciad" had been published in March of this
year.--ED.]

"In manly tides of verse he rolls along."[15]

[Footnote 15:

"In manly tides of sense they roll'd along."

--"The Rosciad."--ED.]

I desire, Erskine, once again, that you may write without delay,
otherwise, I shall no longer be

Your affectionate friend,

JAMES BOSWELL.

* *