<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"></SPAN></p>
<h2> To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. </h2>
<h3> DEAR PHILLIPS, </h3>
<p>If I stay much longer at Edinburgh, I shall be changed into a downright
Caledonian—My uncle observes, that I have already acquired something
of the country accent. The people here are so social and attentive in
their civilities to strangers, that I am insensibly sucked into the
channel of their manners and customs, although they are in fact much more
different from ours than you can imagine—That difference, however,
which struck me very much at my first arrival, I now hardly perceive, and
my ear is perfectly reconciled to the Scotch accent, which I find even
agreeable in the mouth of a pretty woman—It is a sort of Doric
dialect, which gives an idea of amiable simplicity—You cannot
imagine how we have been caressed and feasted in the good town of
Edinburgh of which we are become free denizens and guild brothers, by the
special favour of the magistracy.</p>
<p>I had a whimsical commission from Bath, to a citizen of this metropolis.
Quin, understanding our intention to visit Edinburgh, pulled out a guinea,
and desired the favour I would drink it at a tavern, with a particular
friend and bottle-companion of his, Mr R— C—, a lawyer of this
city—I charged myself with the commission, and, taking the guinea,
'You see (said I) I have pocketed your bounty.' 'Yes (replied Quin,
laughing); and a headake into the bargain, if you drink fair.' I made use
of this introduction to Mr C—, who received me with open arms, and
gave me the rendezvous, according to the cartel. He had provided a company
of jolly fellows, among whom I found myself extremely happy; and did Mr C—
and Quin all the justice in my power; but, alas, I was no more than a tiro
among a troop of veterans, who had compassion upon my youth and conveyed
me home in the morning by what means I know not—Quin was mistaken,
however, as to the head-ake; the claret was too good to treat me so
roughly.</p>
<p>While Mr Bramble holds conferences with the graver literati of the place,
and our females are entertained at visits by the Scotch ladies, who are
the best and kindest creatures upon earth, I pass my time among the bucks
of Edinburgh; who, with a great share of spirit and vivacity, have a
certain shrewdness and self-command that is not often found among their
neighbours, in the high-day of youth and exultation—Not a hint
escapes a Scotchman that can be interpreted into offence by any individual
in the company; and national reflections are never heard—In this
particular, I must own, we are both unjust and ungrateful to the Scots;
for, as far as I am able to judge, they have a real esteem for the natives
of South-Britain; and never mention our country, but with expressions of
regard—Nevertheless, they are far from being servile imitators of
our modes and fashionable vices. All their customs and regulations of
public and private oeconomy, of business and diversion, are in their own
stile. This remarkably predominates in their looks, their dress and
manner, their music, and even their cookery. Our 'squire declares, that he
knows not another people upon earth, so strongly marked with a national
character—Now we are upon the article of cookery, I must own, some
of their dishes are savoury, and even delicate; but I am not yet Scotchman
enough to relish their singed sheep's-head and haggice, which were
provided at our request, one day at Mr Mitchelson's, where we dined—The
first put me in mind of the history of Congo, in which I had read of
negroes' heads sold publickly in the markets; the last, being a mess of
minced lights, livers, suet, oat-meal, onions, and pepper, inclosed in a
sheep's stomach, had a very sudden effect upon mine, and the delicate Mrs
Tabby changed colour; when the cause of our disgust was instantaneously
removed at the nod of our entertainer. The Scots, in general, are attached
to this composition, with a sort of national fondness, as well as to their
oat-meal bread; which is presented at every table, in thin triangular
cakes, baked upon a plate of iron, called a girdle; and these, many of the
natives, even in the higher ranks of life, prefer to wheaten-bread, which
they have here in perfection—You know we used to vex poor Murray of
Baliol college, by asking, if there was really no fruit but turnips in
Scotland?—Sure enough, I have seen turnips make their appearance,
not as a desert, but by way of hors d'oeuvres, or whets, as radishes are
served betwixt more substantial dishes in France and Italy; but it must be
observed, that the turnips of this country are as much superior in
sweetness, delicacy, and flavour, to those in England, as a musk-melon is
to the stock of a common cabbage. They are small and conical, of a
yellowish colour, with a very thin skin and, over and above their
agreeable taste, are valuable for their antiscorbutic quality—As to
the fruit now in season, such as cherries, gooseberries, and currants,
there is no want of them at Edinburgh; and in the gardens of some
gentlemen, who live in the neighbourhood, there is now a very favourable
appearance of apricots, peaches, nectarines, and even grapes: nay, I have
seen a very fine shew of pineapples within a few miles of this metropolis.
Indeed, we have no reason to be surprised at these particulars, when we
consider how little difference there is, in fact, betwixt this climate and
that of London.</p>
<p>All the remarkable places in the city and its avenues, for ten miles
around, we have visited, much to our satisfaction. In the Castle are some
royal apartments, where the sovereign occasionally resided; and here are
carefully preserved the regalia of the kingdom, consisting of a crown,
said to be of great value, a sceptre, and a sword of state, adorned with
jewels—Of these symbols of sovereignty, the people are exceedingly
jealous—A report being spread during the sitting of the
union-parliament, that they were removed to London, such a tumult arose,
that the lord commissioner would have been torn to pieces, if he had not
produced them for the satisfaction of the populace.</p>
<p>The palace of Holyrood-house is an elegant piece of architecture, but sunk
in an obscure, and, as I take it, unwholesome bottom, where one would
imagine it had been placed on purpose to be concealed. The apartments are
lofty, but unfurnished; and as for the pictures of the Scottish kings,
from Fergus I. to king William, they are paultry daubings, mostly by the
same hand, painted either from the imagination, or porters hired to sit
for the purpose. All the diversions of London we enjoy at Edinburgh, in a
small compass. Here is a well conducted concert, in which several
gentlemen perform on different instruments—The Scots are all
musicians—Every man you meet plays on the flute, the violin, or
violoncello; and there is one nobleman, whose compositions are universally
admired—Our company of actors is very tolerable; and a subscription
is now on foot for building a new theatre; but their assemblies please me
above all other public exhibitions.</p>
<p>We have been at the hunters' ball, where I was really astonished to see
such a number of fine women—The English, who have never crossed the
Tweed, imagine erroneously, that the Scotch ladies are not remarkable for
personal attractions; but, I can declare with a safe conscience, I never
saw so many handsome females together, as were assembled on this occasion.
At the Leith races, the best company comes hither from the remoter
provinces; so that, I suppose, we had all the beauty of the kingdom
concentrated as it were into one focus; which was, indeed, so vehement,
that my heart could hardly resist its power. Between friends, it has
sustained some damage from the bright eyes of the charming miss R[ento]n,
whom I had the honour to dance with at the ball—The countess of
Melville attracted all eyes, and the admiration of all present—She
was accompanied by the agreeable miss Grieve, who made many conquests; nor
did my sister Liddy pass unnoticed in the assembly—She is become a
toast at Edinburgh, by the name of the Fair Cambrian, and has already been
the occasion of much wine-shed; but the poor girl met with an accident at
the ball, which has given us great disturbance.</p>
<p>A young gentleman, the express image of that rascal Wilson, went up to ask
her to dance a minuet; and his sudden appearance shocked her so much, that
she fainted away—I call Wilson a rascal, because, if he had been
really a gentleman, with honourable intentions, he would have, ere now,
appeared in his own character—I must own, my blood boils with
indignation when I think of that fellow's presumption; and Heaven confound
me if I don't—But I won't be so womanish as to rail—Time will,
perhaps, furnish occasion—Thank God, the cause of Liddy's disorder
remains a secret. The lady directress of the ball, thinking she was
overcome by the heat of the place, had her conveyed to another room, where
she soon recovered so well, as to return and join in the country dances,
in which the Scotch lasses acquit themselves with such spirit and agility,
as put their partners to the height of their mettle. I believe our aunt,
Mrs Tabitha, had entertained hopes of being able to do some execution
among the cavaliers at this assembly. She had been several days in
consultation with milliners and mantua-makers, preparing for the occasion,
at which she made her appearance in a full suit of damask, so thick and
heavy, that the sight of it alone, at this season of the year, was
sufficient to draw drops of sweat from any man of ordinary imagination—She
danced one minuet with our friend Mr Mitchelson, who favoured her so far,
in the spirit of hospitality and politeness; and she was called out a
second time by the young laird of Ballymawhawple, who, coming in by
accident, could not readily find any other partner; but as the first was a
married man, and the second payed no particular homage to her charms,
which were also over-looked by the rest of the company, she became
dissatisfied and censorious—At supper, she observed that the Scotch
gentlemen made a very good figure, when they were a little improved by
travelling; and therefore it was pity they did not all take the benefit of
going abroad. She said the women were awkward, masculine creatures; that,
in dancing, they lifted their legs like so many colts; that they had no
idea of graceful motion, and put on their clothes in a frightful manner;
but if the truth must be told, Tabby herself was the most ridiculous
figure, and the worst dressed of the whole assembly. The neglect of the
male sex rendered her malcontent and peevish; she now found fault with
every thing at Edinburgh, and teized her brother to leave the place, when
she was suddenly reconciled to it on a religious consideration—There
is a sect of fanaticks, who have separated themselves from the established
kirk, under the name of Seceders—They acknowledge no earthly head of
the church, reject lay-patronage, and maintain the methodist doctrines of
the new birth, the new light, the efficacy of grace, the insufficiency of
works, and the operations of the spirit. Mrs Tabitha, attended by Humphry
Clinker, was introduced to one of their conventicles, where they both
received much edification; and she has had the good fortune to come
acquainted with a pious Christian, called Mr Moffat, who is very powerful
in prayer, and often assists her in private exercises of devotion.</p>
<p>I never saw such a concourse of genteel company at any races in England,
as appeared on the course of Leith—Hard by, in the fields called the
Links, the citizens of Edinburgh divert themselves at a game called golf,
in which they use a curious kind of bats, tipt with horn, and small
elastic balls of leather, stuffed with feathers, rather less than tennis
balls, but of a much harder consistence—This they strike with such
force and dexterity from one hole to another, that they will fly to an
incredible distance. Of this diversion the Scots are so fond, that when
the weather will permit, you may see a multitude of all ranks, from the
senator of justice to the lowest tradesman, mingled together in their
shirts, and following the balls with the utmost eagerness. Among others, I
was shewn one particular set of golfers, the youngest of whom was turned
of fourscore—They were all gentlemen of independent fortunes, who
had amused themselves with this pastime for the best part of a century,
without having ever felt the least alarm from sickness or disgust; and
they never went to bed, without having each the best part of a gallon of
claret in his belly. Such uninterrupted exercise, co-operating with the
keen air from the sea, must, without all doubt, keep the appetite always
on edge, and steel the constitution against all the common attacks of
distemper.</p>
<p>The Leith races gave occasion to another entertainment of a very singular
nature—There is at Edinburgh a society or corporation of
errand-boys, called cawdies, who ply in the streets at night with paper
lanthorns, and are very serviceable in carrying messages—These
fellows, though shabby in their appearance, and rudely familiar in their
address, are wonderfully acute, and so noted for fidelity, that there is
no instance of [a] cawdy's having betrayed his trust—Such is their
intelligence, that they know, not only every individual of the place, but
also every stranger, by that time he has been four and twenty hours in
Edinburgh; and no transaction, even the most private, can escape their
notice. They are particularly famous for their dexterity in executing one
of the functions of Mercury; though, for my own part, I never employed
them in this department of business—Had I occasion for any service
of this nature, my own man, Archy M'Alpine, is as well qualified as e'er a
cawdie in Edinburgh; and I am much mistaken, if he has not been heretofore
of their fraternity. Be that as it may, they resolved to give a dinner and
a ball at Leith, to which they formally invited all the young noblemen and
gentlemen that were at the races; and this invitation was reinforced by an
assurance that all the celebrated ladies of pleasure would grace the
entertainment with their company.—I received a card on this
occasion, and went thither with half a dozen of my acquaintance.—In
a large hall the cloth was laid on a long range of tables joined together,
and here the company seated themselves, to the number of about fourscore,
lords, and lairds, and other gentlemen, courtezans and cawdies mingled
together, as the slaves and their masters were in the time of the
Saturnalia in ancient Rome.—The toast master, who sat at the upper
end, was one Cawdie Fraser, a veteran pimp, distinguished for his humour
and sagacity, well known and much respected in his profession by all the
guests, male and female, that were here assembled.—He had bespoke
the dinner and the wine: he had taken care that all his brethren should
appear in decent apparel and clean linen; and he himself wore a periwig
with three tails in honour of the festival.—I assure you the banquet
was both elegant and plentiful, and seasoned with a thousand sallies, that
promoted a general spirit of mirth and good humour.—After the
desert, Mr Fraser proposed the following toasts, which I don't pretend to
explain. 'The best in Christendom.'—'Gibbs' contract.'—'The
beggar's benison,'—'King and kirk.'—'Great Britain and
Ireland.' Then, filling a bumper, and turning to me, 'Mester Malford (said
he), may a' unkindness cease betwixt John Bull and his sister Moggy.'—The
next person he singled out, was a nobleman who had been long abroad.—'Ma
lord (cried Fraser), here is a bumper to a' those noblemen who have virtue
enough to spend their rents in their ain countray.'—He afterwards
addressed himself to a member of parliament in these words:—'Meester—I'm
sure ye'll ha' nae objection to my drinking, disgrace and dule to ilka
Scot, that sells his conscience and his vote.'—He discharged a third
sarcasm at a person very gaily dressed, who had risen from small
beginnings, and made a considerable fortune at play.—Filling his
glass, and calling him by name, 'Lang life (said he), to the wylie loon
that gangs a-field with a toom poke at his lunzie, and comes hame with a
sackful of siller.'—All these toasts being received with loud bursts
of applause, Mr Fraser called for pint glasses, and filled his own to the
brim: then standing up, and all his brethren following his example, 'Ma
lords and gentlemen (cried he), here is a cup of thanks for the great and
undeserved honour you have done your poor errand-boys this day.'—So
saying, he and they drank off their glasses in a trice, and quitting their
seats, took their station each behind one of the other guests; exclaiming,
'Noo we're your honours cawdies again.'</p>
<p>The nobleman who had bore the first brunt of Mr Fraser's satire, objected
to his abdication. He said, as the company was assembled by invitation
from the cawdies, he expected they were to be entertained at their
expense. 'By no means, my lord (cried Fraser), I wad na he guilty of sic
presumption for the wide warld—I never affronted a gentleman since I
was born; and sure at this age I wonnot offer an indignity to sic an
honourable convention.' 'Well (said his Lordship) as you have expended
some wit, you have a right to save your money. You have given me good
counsel, and I take it in good part. As you have voluntarily quitted your
seat, I will take your place with the leave of the good company, and think
myself happy to be hailed, Father of the Feast.' He was forthwith elected
into the chair, and complimented in a bumper in his new character.</p>
<p>The claret continued to circulate without interruption, till the glasses
seemed to dance upon the table, and this, perhaps, was a hint to the
ladies to call for music—At eight in the evening the ball began in
another apartment: at midnight we went to supper; but it was broad day
before I found the way to my lodgings; and, no doubt, his Lordship had a
swinging bill to discharge.</p>
<p>In short, I have lived so riotously for some weeks, that my uncle begins
to be alarmed on the score of my constitution, and very seriously
observes, 'that all his own infirmities are owing to such excesses
indulged in his youth—Mrs Tabitha says it would be more to the
advantage of my soul as well as body, if, instead of frequenting these
scenes of debauchery, I would accompany Mr Moffat and her to hear a sermon
of the reverend Mr M'Corkindale.—Clinker often exhorts me, with a
groan, to take care of my precious health; and even Archy M'Alpine, when
he happens to be overtaken (which is oftener the case than I could wish),
reads me a long lecture upon temperance and sobriety; and is so very wise
and sententious, that, if I could provide him with a professor's chair, I
would willingly give up the benefit of his amonitions and service
together; for I was tutor-sick at alma mater.</p>
<p>I am not, however, so much engrossed by the gaieties of Edinburgh, but
that I find time to make parties in the family way. We have not only seen
all the villas and villages within ten miles of the capital, but we have
also crossed the Firth, which is an arm of the sea seven miles broad, that
divides Lothian from the shire, or, as the Scots call it, the kingdom of
Fife. There is a number of large open sea-boats that ply on this passage
from Leith to Kinghorn, which is a borough on the other side. In one of
these our whole family embarked three days ago, excepting my sister, who,
being exceedingly fearful of the water, was left to the care of Mrs
Mitchelson. We had an easy and quick passage into Fife, where we visited a
number of poor towns on the sea-side, including St Andrew's, which is the
skeleton of a venerable city; but we were much better pleased with some
noble and elegant seats and castles, of which there is a great number in
that part of Scotland. Yesterday we took boat again on our return to
Leith, with fair wind and agreeable weather; but we had not advanced
half-way when the sky was suddenly overcast, and the wind changing, blew
directly in our teeth so that we were obliged to turn, or tack the rest of
the way. In a word, the gale increased to a storm of wind and rain,
attended with such a fog, that we could not see the town of Leith, to
which we were bound, nor even the castle of Edinburgh, notwithstanding its
high situation. It is not to be doubted but that we were all alarmed on
this occasion. And at the same time, most of the passengers were seized
with a nausea that produced violent retchings. My aunt desired her brother
to order the boatmen, to put back to Kinghorn, and this expedient he
actually proposed; but they assured him there was no danger. Mrs Tabitha
finding them obstinate, began to scold, and insisted upon my uncle's
exerting his authority as a justice of the peace. Sick and peevish as he
was, he could not help laughing at this wise proposal, telling her, that
his commission did not extend so far, and, if it did, he should let the
people take their own way; for he thought it would be great presumption in
him to direct them in the exercise of their own profession. Mrs Winifred
Jenkins made a general clearance with the assistance of Mr Humphry
Clinker, who joined her both in prayer and ejaculation.—As he took
it for granted that we should not be long in this world, he offered some
spiritual consolation to Mrs Tabitha, who rejected it with great disgust,
bidding him keep his sermons for those who had leisure to hear such
nonsense.—My uncle sat, collected in himself, without speaking; my
man Archy had recourse to a brandy-bottle, with which he made so free,
that I imagined he had sworn to die of drinking any thing rather than
sea-water: but the brandy had no more effect upon him in the way of
intoxication, than if it had been sea-water in good earnest.—As for
myself, I was too much engrossed by the sickness at my stomach, to think
of any thing else. Meanwhile the sea swelled mountains high, the boat
pitched with such violence, as if it had been going to pieces; the cordage
rattled, the wind roared; the lightning flashed, the thunder bellowed, and
the rain descended in a deluge—Every time the vessel was put about,
we ship'd a sea that drenched us all to the skin.—When, by dint of
turning, we thought to have cleared the pier head, we were driven to
leeward, and then the boatmen themselves began to fear that the tide would
fail before we should fetch up our lee-way: the next trip, however,
brought us into smooth water, and we were safely landed on the quay, about
one o'clock in the afternoon.—'To be sure (cried Tabby, when she
found herself on terra firma), we must all have perished, if we had not
been the particular care of Providence.' 'Yes (replied my uncle), but I am
much of the honest highlander's mind—after he had made such a
passage as this: his friend told him he was much indebted to Providence;—"Certainly
(said Donald), but, by my saul, mon, I'se ne'er trouble Providence again,
so long as the brig of Stirling stands."'—You must know the brig, or
bridge of Stirling, stands above twenty miles up the river Forth, of which
this is the outlet—I don't find that our 'squire has suffered in his
health from this adventure; but poor Liddy is in a peaking way—I'm
afraid this unfortunate girl is uneasy in her mind; and this apprehension
distracts me, for she is really an amiable creature.</p>
<p>We shall set out to-morrow or next day for Stirling and Glasgow; and we
propose to penetrate a little way into the Highlands, before we turn our
course to the southward—In the mean time, commend me to all our
friends round Carfax, and believe me to be, ever yours,</p>
<p>EDINBURGH, Aug. 8. J. MELFORD</p>
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