en it was
published, in order to give full play to your impatience. I considered
what amazing effects it must produce upon Captain Erskine, to find in
one advertisement, An Ode to Tragedy--A Gentleman of Scotland--Alexander
Donaldson--and James Boswell, Esq. How far my conjecture was just, your
last letter does most amply testify.

The author of the Ode to Tragedy, is a most excellent man: he is of an
ancient family in the west of Scotland, upon which he values himself not
a little. At his nativity there appeared omens of his future greatness.
His parts are bright, and his education has been good. He has travelled
in post-chaises, miles without number. He is fond of seeing much of the
world. He eats of every good dish, especially apple-pie. He drinks old
hock. He has a very fine temper. He is somewhat of an humorist, and a
little tinctured with pride. He has a good manly countenance, and he
owns himself to be amorous. He has infinite vivacity, yet is observed at
times to have a melancholy cast. He is rather fat than lean, rather
short than tall, rather young than old. His shoes are neatly made, and
he never wears spectacles. The length of his walking-stick is not as yet
ascertained; but we hope soon to favour the republic of letters with a
solution of this difficulty, as several able mathematicians are employed
in its investigation, and for that purpose have posted themselves at
different given points in the Cannongate, so that when the gentleman
saunters down to the Abbey of Holyrood-house, in order to think on
ancient days, on King James the Fifth, and on Queen Mary, they may
compute its altitude above the street, according to the rules of
geometry.

I hope you have received a line from me fixing Thursday the 24th, as the
day of our meeting. I exult in the prospect of felicity that is before
us. Fingal and your Critical Review shall accompany me. I will not
anticipate your pleasure in reading the Highland bard; only take my word
for it, he will make you feel that you have a soul. I shall remember
your other commissions. Continue to trust me till you find me negligent.

I beg it of you, for once, be a Frenchman, and in the character of
Boswell, kneel, supplicate, worship Lady B----. I remain, your
affectionate Friend,

JAMES BOSWELL.

* * * * *

LETTER XIV.

New-Tarbat, Dec. 16, 1761.

Dear BOSWELL,--Swift as pen can scratch, or ink can flow, as floods can
rush, or winds can bl