* * *

LETTER V.

Kelly, Nov. 1, 1761.

Dear BOSWELL,--If you could conceive the many twitches of conscience I
have felt upon your account, the agitations, the compunctions, the
remorses, you would certainly forgive me. However, I was beginning to
turn callous against all suggestions of writing to you, when your last
letter arrived, which like the day of judgment, made my transgressions
stare me full in the face. Indolence and unwearied stupidity have been
my constant companions this many a day; and that amiable couple, above
all things in the world detest letter-writing. Besides, I heard you was
just going to be married, and as a poet, I durst not approach you
without an Epithalamium, and an Epithalamium was a thing, which at that
time I could not compass. It was all in vain, that Cupid and Hymen, Juno
and Luna, offered their assistance; I had no sort of employment for
them.

When you and I walked twice round the meadow upon the subject of
matrimony, I little thought that my difference in opinion from you,
would have brought on your marriage so soon; for I can attribute it to
no other cause: From this I learn that contradiction is of use in
society; and I shall take care to encourage that humour, or rather
spirit, in myself. As this is the first marriage I ever made, I expect
great congratulations, especially from you.

I have been busy furbishing up some old pieces for Donaldson's[16]
second volume: I exceed in quantity, twenty Eustace Budgels, according
to your epistle. Pray what is become of the Cub? Is Dodsley to sell you
for a shilling, or not? I have written one or two new things, an Ode to
Pity, and an Epistle to the great Donaldson, which is to be printed: The
subject was promising, but I made nothing of it. I must give over
poetry, and copy epistles out of that elegant treatise the Complete
Letter-Writer. D---- is gone to London, his parting advice to his sister
was, to keep the key of the coals herself; so I suppose he intends to
keep up his fire, this winter, in parliament, and not to go over the
coals with the ministry.

[Footnote 16: Donaldson, an Edinburgh bookseller, was bringing out a
collection of Original Poems, by the Rev. Mr. Blacklock, and other
Scotch gentlemen. Erskine was the editor.--ED.]

Lady A---- and I set out for New-Tarbat to-morrow. Could you come? Let
nothing but wedlock detain you. Oh, Boswell! the soporific effluvia of a
hearty dinner cloud all my faculties. I'