ix.]

The following letter is the only one of the autumn of 1791 that has
reached my hands. It must be read with particular interest for its
account of Scott's first visit to Flodden field, destined to be
celebrated seventeen years afterwards in the very noblest specimen of
his numbers:--

TO WILLIAM CLERK, ESQ., PRINCE'S STREET, EDINBURGH.

NORTHUMBERLAND, 26th August, 1791.

DEAR CLERK,--Behold a letter from the mountains; for I am very
snugly settled here, in a farmer's house, about six miles from
Wooler, in the very centre of the Cheviot hills, in one of the
wildest and most romantic situations which your imagination,
fertile upon the subject of cottages, ever suggested. And what
the deuce are you about there? methinks I hear you say. Why, sir,
of all things in the world--drinking goat's whey--not that I
stand in the least need of it, but my uncle having a slight cold,
and being a little tired of home, asked me last Sunday evening if
I would like to go with him to Wooler, and I answering in the
affirmative, next morning's sun beheld us on our journey, through
a pass in the Cheviots, upon the back of two special nags, and
man Thomas behind with a portmanteau, and two fishing-rods
fastened across his back, much in the style of St. Andrew's
Cross. Upon reaching Wooler we found the accommodations so bad
that we were forced to use some interest to get lodgings here,
where we are most delightfully appointed indeed. To add to my
satisfaction, we are amidst places renowned by the feats of
former days; each {p.164} hill is crowned with a tower, or
camp, or cairn, and in no situation can you be near more fields
of battle: Flodden, Otterburn, Chevy Chase, Ford Castle,
Chillingham Castle, Copland Castle, and many another scene of
blood, are within the compass of a forenoon's ride. Out of the
brooks, with which these hills are intersected, we pull trouts of
half a yard in length, as fast as we did the perches from the
pond at Pennycuik, and we are in the very country of muirfowl.

Often as I have wished for your company, I never did it more
earnestly than when I rode over Flodden Edge. I know your taste
for these things, and could have undertaken to demonstrate that
never was an affair more completely bungled than that day's work
w