Charlotte have given me
pleasure, permanent pleasure, "which the world cannot give, nor take
away," I hope; and which will outlast the heavens and the earth.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 179: Of the Scots Musical Museum]

* * * * *

LXXXI.

TO MISS MARGARET CHALMERS.

[That fine song, "The Banks of the Devon," dedicated to the charms of
Charlotte Hamilton, was enclosed in the following letter.]

_Without date._

I have been at Dumfries, and at one visit more shall be decided about
a farm in that country. I am rather hopeless in it; but as my brother
is an excellent farmer, and is, besides, an exceedingly prudent, sober
man (qualities which are only a younger brother's fortune in our
family), I am determined, if my Dumfries business fail me, to return
into partnership with him, and at our leisure take another farm in the
neighbourhood.

I assure you I look for high compliments from you and Charlotte on
this very sage instance of my unfathomable, incomprehensible wisdom.
Talking of Charlotte, I must tell her that I have, to the best of my
power, paid her a poetic compliment, now completed. The air is
admirable: true old Highland. It was the tune of a Gaelic song, which
an Inverness lady sung me when I was there; and I was so charmed with
it that I begged her to write me a set of it from her singing; for it
had never been set before. I am fixed that it shall go in Johnson's
next number; so Charlotte and you need not spend your precious time in
contradicting me. I won't say the poetry is first-rate; though I am
convinced it is very well; and, what is not always the case with
compliments to ladies, it is not only sincere, but just.

R. B.

* * * * *

LXXXII.

TO JAMES HOY, ESQ.

GORDON CASTLE

[James Hoy, librarian of Gordon Castle, was, it is said, the gentleman
whom his grace of Gordon sent with a message inviting in vain that
"obstinate son of Latin prose," Nicol, to stop and enjoy himself.]

_Edinburgh, 20th October_, 1787.

SIR,

I will defend my conduct in giving you this trouble, on the best of
Christian principles--"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto
you, do ye even so unto them."--I shall certainly, among my legacies,
leave my latest curse to that unlucky predicament which hurried--tore
me away from Castle Gordon. May that obstinate son of Latin prose
[Nicol] be curst to Scotch mile periods, and damne