No More Learning

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 falling abusively foul
on the Miss Lindsays, particularly on my Dulcinea;--I hardly refrain
from cursing her to her face for daring to mouth her calumnious
slander on one of the finest pieces of the workmanship of Almighty
Excellence! Sup at Mr. ----'s; vexed that the Miss Lindsays are not of
the supper-party, as they only are wanting. Mrs. ---- and Miss ----still
improve infernally on my hands.

Set out next morning for Wauchope, the seat of my correspondent, Mrs.
Scott--breakfast by the way with Dr. Elliot, an agreeable,
good-hearted, climate-beaten old veteran, in the medical line; now
retired to a romantic, but rather moorish place, on the banks of the
Roole--he accompanies us almost to Wauchope--we traverse the country
to the top of Bochester, the scene of an old encampment, and Woolee
Hill.

Wauchope--Mr. Scott exactly the figure and face commonly given to
Sancho Panca--very shrewd in his farming matters, and not unfrequently
stumbles on what may be called a strong thing rather than a good
thing. Mrs. Scott all the sense, taste, intrepidity of face, and bold,
critical decision, which usually distinguish female authors. --Sup with
Mr.