on Friday, and think
of me. If I don't drink my first glass of wine to you, may my pistols
miss fire, and my mare slip her shoulder. All sorts of regard from Kate.
She has gone with Miss Allan to see the house she was born in, etc.
Write me soon, and long, etc."

His next letter was written the morning after the dinner, on Saturday,
the 26th June: "The great event is over; and, being gone, I am a man
again. It was the most brilliant affair you can conceive; the completest
success possible, from first to last. The room was crammed, and more
than seventy applicants for tickets were of necessity refused yesterday.
Wilson was ill, but plucked up like a lion, and spoke famously.[38] I
send you a paper herewith, but the report is dismal in the extreme. They
say there will be a better one--I don't know where or when. Should there
be, I will send it to you. I _think_ (ahem!) that I spoke rather well.
It was an excellent room, and both the subjects (Wilson and Scottish
Literature, and the Memory of Wilkie) were good to go upon. There were
nearly two hundred ladies present. The place is so contrived that the
cross table is raised enormously: much above the heads of people
sitting below: and the effect on first coming in (on me, I mean) was
rather tremendous. I was quite self-possessed, however, and,
notwithstanding the enthoosemoosy, which was very startling, as cool as
a cucumber. I wish to God you had been there, as it is impossible for
the 'distinguished guest' to describe the scene. It beat all natur.". . .

Here was the close of his letter: "I have been expecting every day to
hear from you, and not hearing mean to make this the briefest epistle
possible. We start next Sunday (that's to-morrow week). We are going out
to Jeffrey's to-day (he is very unwell), and return here to-morrow
evening. If I don't find a letter from you when I come back, expect no
Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life from your indignant correspondent.
Murray the manager made very excellent, tasteful, and gentlemanly
mention of Macready, about whom Wilson had been asking me divers
questions during dinner." "A hundred thanks for your letter," he writes
four days later. "I read it this morning with the greatest pleasure and
delight, and answer it with ditto, ditto. Where shall I begin--about my
darlings? I am delighted with Charley's precocity. He takes arter his
father, he does. God bless them, you can't imagine (_you!_ how can you?)
how much I long to se