change of regard between us. If you say, that I ought to have written, I now write; and I write to tell you, that I have much kindness for you and Mrs Beattie, and that I wish your health better, and your life long. Try change of air, and come a few degrees southward; a softer climate may do you both good. Winter is coming on, and London will be warmer, and gayer, and busier, and more fertile of amusement than Aber deen.

My health is better; but that will be little in the balance, when I tell you, that Mrs Monta gu has been very ill, and is, I doubt, now but weakly. Mr Thrale has been very dangerously disordered, but is much better, and I hope will totally recover. He has withdrawn himself from business the whole summer. Sir Joshua and his sister are well; and Mr Davis has had great success as an author, generated by the corruption of a bookseller. More news I have not to tell you; and, therefore, you must be contented to hear, that I am," &c.

When I mentioned the commencement of my acquaintance and epistolary intercourse with Dr Beattie, I did not conceal my apprehensions, that I might be accused of vanity, in publishing to the world those warm expressions of affection, and gratitude towards me, which occur in almost every letter I received from him; and of which, for that reason, I have suppressed by far the greatest part. But I should deem myself, not only unworthy of the friendship of Dr Beattie, but destitute of the best feelings of our nature, were I insensible to what he says in the following letter, written a short time after he had passed some weeks in our house at Edinburgh. Indeed, his partiality to every one of my family was very remarkable; and his esteem and admiration of that best part of it, in particular, of whom it has since pleased Heaven to deprive me, but the memory of whose talents and virtues will

* Vol. I. p. 92.

never be erased from my heart, could not but be very grateful to me.

me,

I trust, therefore, that the reader will pardon if I dwell with no common fondness on what he wrote on a subject, then so interesting to me, and to which the hand of time has now given an interest still more affecting.

LETTER CXLIX.

DR BEATTIE TO SIR WILLIAM FORBES.

?

Aberdeen, 6th November, 1780.

"Your letter, my dear Sir, from Oxford, which I received a few days ago, gave me great pleasure, on account of the agreeable information it brought me of Lady Forbes's health and yours, and of your amusing journey. I know, from Pennant's Welsh Tour,' that there are many things in that country worthy of the traveller's attention; many wild and many soothing scenes, and many noble monuments of war, and of superstitious and feudal magnificence. Such things, to a mind turned like yours, would have a charm inexpressible; and would be highly amusing to

Lady Forbes, whose mind is, if I mistake not, as open to the impressions of romantic art and nature, as either yours or mine; which, I will venture to say, is a bold word. Accept of my hearty welcome to your own house and home, which I hope you have reached before this time; for, in this season of tempest and immature winter, I should be sorry to think that you and your ami able associate were struggling with the inconveniences of deep roads, cold inns, and short days. I hope you got William settled to your mind during your absence; and that, at your return, you found him, and my friend Miss Forbes, and my sworn brother John, and my acquaintance James, and the other young gentleman, who, I hope, will one day be my acquaintance, in perfect health, and as flourishing as I wish them to be.

"The many kind attentions I received from my friends in Edinburgh and its neighbourhood, particularly from Lady Forbes and you, and Mr Arbuthnot, did me the greatest service; and I returned home a new man. But then I instantly found myself plunged into such a chaos of perplexity, as at once swallowed up all the little health I had been collecting from so many quarters; and, after a few days ineffectual wrangling,

I was necessitated (I will not say to go, but) to run away to Peterhead, taking my son along with me; and there I remained seven weeks. To unfold the causes of this perplexity, would, I think, require two volumes as large as the 'Sorrows of Werter:'* I will not therefore attempt it at present. I shall only say, that it did not arise from a certain circumstance which lies nearest my heart, (for in that there is not the least variation,) but from the unreasonableness of some persons with whom I am connected, and who, having not much sensibility themselves, can hardly make allowance for that of other people. However, matters are now a little softened, and seem to promise tranquillity, at least for a short time; and a very small abatement of trouble is a sort of tranquillity to one, who, like me, has been so long buffeted, on all sides, by more storms than are commonly found to assail a person so insignificant as I am. Dr Livingston knows every circumstance of what I allude to. I have in every

* A German novel, much in fashion at that time.

Dr Thomas Livingston, a physician at Aberdeen, of the first eminence, between whom and Dr Beattie there long subsisted the most intimate friendship. He died the 9th March, 1785.

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