s through the wilds of America, a prisoner among the
Indians--charming, romantic situation of Jedburgh, with gardens,
orchards, &c., intermingled among the houses--fine old ruins--a once
magnificent cathedral, and strong castle. All the towns here have the
appearance of old, rude grandeur, but the people extremely idle--Jed a
fine romantic little river.

Dine with Capt. Rutherford--the Captain a polite fellow, fond of money
in his farming way; showed a particular respect to my bardship--his
lady exactly a proper matrimonial second part for him. Miss Rutherford
a beautiful girl, but too far gone woman to expose so much of a fine
swelling bosom--her face very fine.

Return to Jedburgh--walk up Jed with some ladies to be shown Love-lane
and Blackburn, two fairy scenes. Introduced to Mr. Potts, writer, a
very clever fellow; and Mr. Somerville, the clergyman of the place, a
man and a gentleman, but sadly addicted to punning.--The walking party
of ladies, Mrs. ---- and Miss ---- her sister, before mentioned.--N.B.
These two appear still more comfortably ugly and stupid, and bore me
most shockingly. Two Miss ----, tolerably agreeable. Miss Hope, a
tolerably pretty girl, fond of laughing and fun. Miss Lindsay, a
good-humoured, amiable girl; rather short _et embonpoint_, but
handsome, and extremely graceful--beautiful hazel eyes, full of
spirit, and sparkling with delicious moisture--an engaging face--_un
tout ensemble_ that speaks her of the first order of female minds--her
sister, a bonnie, strappan, rosy, sonsie lass. Shake myself loose,
after several unsuccessful efforts, of Mrs. ---- and Miss ----, and
somehow or other, get hold of Miss Lindsay's arm. My heart is thawed
into melting pleasure after being so long frozen up in the Greenland
bay of indifference, amid the noise and nonsense of Edinburgh. Miss
seems very well pleased with my bardship's distinguishing her, and
after some slight qualms, which I could easily mark, she sets the
titter round at defiance, and kindly allows me to keep my hold; and
when parted by the ceremony of my introduction to Mr. Somerville, she
met me half, to resume my situation.--Nota Bene--The poet within a
point and a half of being d--mnably in love--I am afraid my bosom is
still nearly as much tinder as ever.

The old cross-grained, whiggish, ugly, slanderous Miss ----, with all
the poisonous spleen of a disappointed, ancient maid, stops me very
unseasonably to ease her bursting breast, by