_
I yesterday tried my cask of whiskey for the first time, and I assure
you it does you great credit.
I yesterday tried my cask of whiskey for the first time, and I assure
you it does you great credit.
Robert Forst
Riddel, has informed you
that I have made you the subject of some verses. There is something
so provoking in the idea of being the burthen of a ballad, that I do
not think Job or Moses, though such patterns of patience and meekness,
could have resisted the curiosity to know what that ballad was: so my
worthy friend has done me a mischief, which I dare say he never
intended; and reduced me to the unfortunate alternative of leaving
your curiosity ungratified, or else disgusting you with foolish
verses, the unfinished production of a random moment, and never meant
to have met your ear. I have heard or read somewhere of a gentleman
who had some genius, much eccentricity, and very considerable
dexterity with his pencil. In the accidental group of life into which
one is thrown, wherever this gentleman met with a character in a more
than ordinary degree congenial to his heart, he used to steal a sketch
of the face, merely, he said, as a _nota bene_, to point out the
agreeable recollection to his memory. What this gentleman's pencil was
to him, my muse is to me; and the verses I do myself the honour to
send you are a _memento_ exactly of the same kind that he indulged in.
It may be more owing to the fastidiousness of my caprice than the
delicacy of my taste; but I am so often tired, disgusted and hurt with
insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a
person "after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox
Protestant would call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy
like inspiration; and I can no more desist rhyming on the impulse,
than an AEolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air. A
distich or two would be the consequence, though the object which hit
my fancy were gray-bearded-age; but where my theme is youth and
beauty, a young lady whose personal charms, wit, and sentiment are
equally striking and unaffected--by heavens! though I had lived three
score years a married man, and three score years before I was a
married man, my imagination would hallow the very idea: and I am truly
sorry that the inclosed stanzas have done such poor justice to such a
subject.
R. B.
* * * * *
CXLIV.
TO MR. JOHN TENNANT.
[The mill of John Currie stood on a small stream which fed the loch of
Friar's Carse--near the house of the dame of whom he sang, "Sic a wife
as Willie had. "]
_December 22, 1788.
_
I yesterday tried my cask of whiskey for the first time, and I assure
you it does you great credit. It will bear five waters strong; or six
ordinary toddy. The whiskey of this country is a most rascally liquor;
and, by consequence, only drank by the most rascally part of the
inhabitants. I am persuaded, if you once get a footing here, you might
do a great deal of business, in the way of consumpt; and should you
commence distiller again, this is the native barley country. I am
ignorant if, in your present way of dealing, you would think it worth
your while to extend your business so far as this country side. I
write you this on the account of an accident, which I must take the
merit of having partly designed to. A neighbour of mine, a John
Currie, miller in Carsemill--a man who is, in a word, a "very" good
man, even for a ? 500 bargain--he and his wife were in my house the
time I broke open the cask. They keep a country public-house and sell
a great deal of foreign spirits, but all along thought that whiskey
would have degraded this house. They were perfectly astonished at my
whiskey, both for its taste and strength; and, by their desire, I
write you to know if you could supply them with liquor of an equal
quality, and what price. Please write me by first post, and direct to
me at Ellisland, near Dumfries. If you could take a jaunt this way
yourself, I have a spare spoon, knife and fork very much at your
service. My compliments to Mrs. Tennant, and all the good folks in
Glenconnel and Barquharrie.
R. B.
that I have made you the subject of some verses. There is something
so provoking in the idea of being the burthen of a ballad, that I do
not think Job or Moses, though such patterns of patience and meekness,
could have resisted the curiosity to know what that ballad was: so my
worthy friend has done me a mischief, which I dare say he never
intended; and reduced me to the unfortunate alternative of leaving
your curiosity ungratified, or else disgusting you with foolish
verses, the unfinished production of a random moment, and never meant
to have met your ear. I have heard or read somewhere of a gentleman
who had some genius, much eccentricity, and very considerable
dexterity with his pencil. In the accidental group of life into which
one is thrown, wherever this gentleman met with a character in a more
than ordinary degree congenial to his heart, he used to steal a sketch
of the face, merely, he said, as a _nota bene_, to point out the
agreeable recollection to his memory. What this gentleman's pencil was
to him, my muse is to me; and the verses I do myself the honour to
send you are a _memento_ exactly of the same kind that he indulged in.
It may be more owing to the fastidiousness of my caprice than the
delicacy of my taste; but I am so often tired, disgusted and hurt with
insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a
person "after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox
Protestant would call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy
like inspiration; and I can no more desist rhyming on the impulse,
than an AEolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air. A
distich or two would be the consequence, though the object which hit
my fancy were gray-bearded-age; but where my theme is youth and
beauty, a young lady whose personal charms, wit, and sentiment are
equally striking and unaffected--by heavens! though I had lived three
score years a married man, and three score years before I was a
married man, my imagination would hallow the very idea: and I am truly
sorry that the inclosed stanzas have done such poor justice to such a
subject.
R. B.
* * * * *
CXLIV.
TO MR. JOHN TENNANT.
[The mill of John Currie stood on a small stream which fed the loch of
Friar's Carse--near the house of the dame of whom he sang, "Sic a wife
as Willie had. "]
_December 22, 1788.
_
I yesterday tried my cask of whiskey for the first time, and I assure
you it does you great credit. It will bear five waters strong; or six
ordinary toddy. The whiskey of this country is a most rascally liquor;
and, by consequence, only drank by the most rascally part of the
inhabitants. I am persuaded, if you once get a footing here, you might
do a great deal of business, in the way of consumpt; and should you
commence distiller again, this is the native barley country. I am
ignorant if, in your present way of dealing, you would think it worth
your while to extend your business so far as this country side. I
write you this on the account of an accident, which I must take the
merit of having partly designed to. A neighbour of mine, a John
Currie, miller in Carsemill--a man who is, in a word, a "very" good
man, even for a ? 500 bargain--he and his wife were in my house the
time I broke open the cask. They keep a country public-house and sell
a great deal of foreign spirits, but all along thought that whiskey
would have degraded this house. They were perfectly astonished at my
whiskey, both for its taste and strength; and, by their desire, I
write you to know if you could supply them with liquor of an equal
quality, and what price. Please write me by first post, and direct to
me at Ellisland, near Dumfries. If you could take a jaunt this way
yourself, I have a spare spoon, knife and fork very much at your
service. My compliments to Mrs. Tennant, and all the good folks in
Glenconnel and Barquharrie.
R. B.
