e punishment of your neglect, I withhold the treasures of my wit
and humour from you, a perfect Golconda mine of Diamonds.

I have been enjoying since you left me, the most exquisite
entertainment, in the perusal of the noble works of Ossian, the greatest
poet, in my opinion, that ever composed, and who exceeds Homer, Virgil,
and Milton. He transports us by the grandeur of his sublime, or by some
sudden start of tenderness he melts us into distress: Who can read,
without the warmest emotions, the pathetic complaints of the venerable
old bard, when he laments his blindness, and the death of his friends?
But how are we animated when the memory of former years comes rushing on
his mind, and the light of the song rises in his soul. It is quite
impossible to express my admiration of his Poems; at particular passages
I felt my whole frame trembling with ecstasy; but if I was to describe
all my thoughts, you would think me absolutely mad. The beautiful
wildness of his fancy is inexpressibly agreeable to the imagination; for
instance, the mournful sound from the untouched harp when a hero is
going to fall, or the awful appearances of his ghosts and spirits.

Notwithstanding all these beauties, we shall still continue pedants,
and Homer and Virgil will be read and quoted, when Ossian shall be
totally forgot; this, without the gift of prophecy, I can foresee; much
could I enlarge upon this subject, but this must not be a long letter.
Believe me

Yours sincerely,

ANDREW ERSKINE.

* * * * *

LETTER XVI.

Edinburgh, Jan. 11, 1762.

Dear ERSKINE,--Instead of endeavouring to excuse myself for neglecting
so long to write, I shall present you with some original conjectures of
my own, upon the way and manner in which you have been affected upon
this present occasion. And here I must premise, that in so doing I shall
not follow the formal and orderly method of Bishop Latimer, in his
sermons before King Edward the Sixth; but, on the contrary, shall adopt
the easy, desultory style of one whom at present I shall not venture to
name, but leave that to some future ingenious commentator on the
epistolary correspondence of the Hon. Andrew Erskine and James Boswell,
Esq.

Either you have been sunk into a frigid state of listless indifference,
and gone whistling up and down the room upon a fife, and murmuring at
intervals, while you took breath; let him do as he likes, let him please
himself; yes, yes, l