lanced himself as well as he could saying with his nose right in Mr. Brown's face "Do- yo-u sell spect-tacles?" Mr. Abbey says we are Don Quixotes-tell him we are more generally taken for Pedlars. All I hope is that we may not be taken for excisemen in this whiskey country. We are generally up about 5 walking before breakfast and we complete our 20 miles before dinner.Yesterday we visited Burns's Tomb and this morning the fine Ruins of Lincluden.—I had done thus far when my coat came back fortified at all points—so as we lose no time we set forth again through Galloway—all very pleasant and pretty with no fatigue when one is used to it-We are in the midst of Meg Merrilies' country of whom I suppose you have heard.'

If you like these sort of Ballads I will now and then scribble one for you-if I send any to Tom I'll tell him to send them to you. I have so many interruptions that I cannot manage to fill a Letter in one day-since I scribbled the song we have walked through a beautiful Country to Kirkudbright—at which place I will write you a song about myself."

My dear Fanny, I am ashamed of writing you such stuff, nor would I if it were not for being tired after my day's walking, and ready to tumble into bed so fatigued that when I am asleep you might sew my nose to my great toe and trundle me round the town, like a Hoop, without waking me. Then I get so hungry a Ham goes but a very little way and fowls are like Larks to me-A Batch of Bread I make no more ado with than a sheet of parliament; and I can eat a Bull's head as easily as I used to

1

Here follows the ballad of Meg Merrilies. See Volume II, pages 287-9.

2 For the song in question see Volume II, pages 290-4.

do Bull's eyes. I take a whole string of Pork Sausages down as easily as a Pen'orth of Lady's fingers. Ah dear I must soon be contented with an acre or two of oaten cake a hogshead of Milk and a Cloaths basket of Eggs morning noon and night when I get among the Highlanders. Before we see them we shall pass into Ireland and have a chat with the Paddies, and look at the Giant's Causeway which you must have heard of-I have not time to tell you particularly for I have to send a Journal to Tom of whom you shall hear all particulars or from me when I return. Since I began this we have walked sixty miles to Newton Stewart at which place I put in this Letter to night we sleep at Glenluce-tomorrow at Portpatrick and the next day we shall cross in the passage boat to Ireland. I hope Miss Abbey has quite recovered. Present my Respects to her and to Mr. and Mrs. Abbey. God bless you.

Your affectionate Brother John—

Do write me a Letter directed to Inverness, Scotland.

LI.

To THOMAS KEATS.

Auchencairn,

3 July [1818].

My dear Tom,

We are now in Meg Merrilies' country, and have, this morning, passed through some parts exactly suited to her. Kirkcudbright County is very beautiful, very wild, with craggy hills, somewhat in the Westmoreland fashion. We have come down from Dumfries to the sea-coast part of it. The following song you will have from Dilke, but perhaps you would like it here :—1

Yesterday was passed in Kirkcudbright; the country is very rich, very fine, and with a little of Devon. I am now writing at Newton Stewart, six miles from Wigtown. Our landlady of yesterday said, "very few Southerners passed hereaways." The children jabber away, as if in a foreign language; the bare-footed girls look very much in keeping, I mean with the scenery about them. Brown praises their cleanliness and appearance of comfort, the neatness of their cottages, &c. It may be. They are very squat among trees and fern, and heath and broom, on levels, slopes, and heights; but I wish they were as snug as those up the Devonshire valleys. We are lodged and entertained in great varieties. We dined, yesterday, on dirty bacon, dirtier eggs, and dirtiest potatoes, with a slice of salmon; we breakfast, this morning, in a nice carpeted room, with sofa, hair-bottomed chairs, and green-baized mahogany. A spring by the road-side is

1 The Meg Merrilies ballad, Volume II, pages 287-9.

always welcome: we drink water for dinner, diluted with a gill of whisky.

July 6th [1818].-Yesterday morning we set out for Glenluce, going some distance round to see some rivers : they were scarcely worth the while. We went on to Stranraer, in a burning sun, and had gone about six miles when the mail overtook us: we got up, were at Port Patrick in a jiffey, and I am writing now in little Ireland. The dialects on the neighbouring shores of Scotland and Ireland are much the same, yet I can perceive a great difference in the nations, from the chamber-maid at this nate toone kept by Mr. Kelly. She is fair, kind, and ready to laugh, because she is out of the horrible. dominion of the Scotch Kirk. These Kirk-men have done Scotland good. They have made men, women, old men, young men, old women, young women, boys, girls, and infants, all' careful; so that they are formed into regular phalanges of savers and gainers. Such a thrifty army cannot fail to enrich their country, and give it a greater appearance of comfort than that of their poor rash neighbourhood. These Kirk-men have done Scotland harm; they have banished puns, love, and laughing. To remind you of the fate of Burns :-poor, unfortunate fellow his disposition was Southern! How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged, in self-defence, to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity and in things attainable, that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not! No man, in such matters, will be content with the experience of others. It is true that out of suffering there is no dignity, no greatness, that in the most abstracted pleasure there is no lasting happiness.

'Lord Houghton places the word all before infants. I have ventured to transpose the words without manuscript authority.

Yet, who would not like to discover, over again, that Cleopatra was a gipsy, Helen a rogue, and Ruth a deep one? I have not sufficient reasoning faculty to settle the doctrine of thrift, as it is consistent with the dignity of human society—with the happiness of cottagers: all I can do is by plump contrasts: were the fingers made to squeeze a guinea or a white hand?-were the lips made to hold a pen or a kiss? And yet, in cities, man is shut out from his fellows if he is poor; the cottager must be very dirty, and very wretched, if she be not thrifty-the present state of society demands this, and this convinces me that the world is very young, and in a very ignorant state. We live in a barbarous age. I would sooner be a wild deer, than a girl under the dominion of the Kirk; and I would sooner be a wild hog, than be the occasion of a poor creature's penance before those execrable elders.

It is not so far to the Giant's Causeway as we supposed we thought it seventy, and hear it is only fortyeight miles ;-so we shall leave one of our knapsacks here at Donaghadee, take our immediate wants, and be back in a week, when we shall proceed to the County of Ayr. In the Packet, yesterday, we heard some ballads from two old men. One was a Romance, which seemed very poor; then there was "The Battle of the Boyne,' then "Robin Huid," as they call him-" Before the King you shall go, go, go; before the King you shall go."

Fuly 9th [1818].-We stopped very little in Ireland; and that you may not have leisure to marvel at our speedy return to Port Patrick, I will tell you that it is as dear living in Ireland as at the Hummums '-thrice the

1 This once renowned hotel still exists in the Piazzas, Covent Garden.