22

Letters of Greysteel'

The quaint and touching simplicity of nearly all these letters could hardly be surpassed. The mixture of affection and formality in the style of address is also very curious. Thus, in the case of a wife to her husband, 'My dearest sweet hert'-heart being sometimes rudely drawn instead of written-concluding, 'Your's most dewtifullie affectionat whilst I live,' and addressed, 'To my lord and weall-beloued husband, the Erlle of Eglintoun.' Again, a mother to her son, commencing, 'My verie goode lord and loving sone,' and concluding, 'Your Lordship's most loving mother at power,' with the address, 'To my verie honorable lord and loving sone the Earle of Eglintoun.' Postscripts then, as now, are by no means uncommon, particularly in the case of ladies' letters; while the large, distinct, and elaborate signature of most of the writers forms rather a striking contrast to the shabby, and frequently illegible, subscription of the present day.

ALEXANDER, SIXTH EARL OF EGLINTON, TO ANN
LIVINGSTON, HIS COUNTESS.

MY DEIR HERT,-My most louing deutie remimberit. Thir feu lynis are to lett you knaw that all freindis ar in goud helteh, prasit be God; earnestly intreiting you to

and Susanna Kennedy.

23

let me heir of your goud helthe, for I long mouche to heir from you. My seister dochter is chrisnit, and hir nam is Margarit. Your brother, my Lord Leuingstoun, is gone to Court with my Lord Marquis his goud father. The King's Maiestie has bein wery seik and in grit danger, of ane grit sualling in his laig, and he heimself aprehendit daithe; bot, prasit be God, he is conualesit and weill agen. Sue wissing you euer all helthe and happines, I rest yours, EGLINTOUN.

SETOUN, the 4 of Apryll 1619.

To my best belouit the C. of Eglintoun: This.

SUSANNA COUNTESS OF EGLINTON ΤΟ

ANDREW

FLETCHER OF SALTON, LORD MILTON, AND LORD JUSTICE-CLERK. October 30th, 1729. MY DEAR LORD,—I have allmost broke my head with conjectors about the caus of your silence. Was I your mistress, jealoucie had broke my heart! What is the matter with you? Is it business or love that hes ingross'd you so entirlie? Are you such an arand husban that you wont writte to anie woman but your oun dear spous? I wont poote you out of conceit with that prittie singular notion, but bege that you'l love me for her sake; remembr that I'm her cusin and your humble servant. Adieu. This is my third letter without anie answer

'There is no hate like love to hatred turned,
Nor annie furie like a woman scorned.'

To the honourable Lord Milton,
at his house in Edinburgh.

About half a century after the date of Susanna Kennedy's quaint epistle to Lord Milton, we have on record one of the most extraordinary letters ever written, which appeared shortly

24

Sir Hew Dalrymple

after its production in several periodical publications, entirely unknown, however, to the present generation. The writer of the letter in question was Sir Hew Dalrymple, M.P. for the county of Haddington, grandson of the Lord President of the Court of Session, and great-grandfather of the present Baronet of North Berwick. It is addressed to Sir Laurence Dundas, ancestor of the present Earl of Zetland; and it is gratifying to know that although it failed in regard to the particular living applied for, it was the happy means of ultimately procuring a parish for the eloquent minister in whose behalf it was penned.

SIR HEW DALRYMPLE TO SIR LAURENCE DUNDAS. DALZELL, May 24, 1775.

DEAR SIR,—Having spent a long life in pursuit of pleasure and health, I am now retired from the world in poverty and with the gout; so, joining with Solomon, that, 'all is vanity and vexation of spirit,' I go to church and say my prayers.

I assure you that most of us religious people reap some little satisfaction, in hoping that you wealthy voluptuaries have a fair chance of being damned to all eternity; and that Dives shall call out for a drop of water to Lazarus, one drop of which he seldom tasted, when he had the twelve Apostles' in his cellar.

Now, sir, that doctrine being laid down, I wish to give

1 Twelve hogsheads of claret.

to Sir Laurence Dundas.

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you, my friend, a loophole to creep through. Going to church last Sunday, as usual, I saw an unknown face in the pulpit, and rising up to prayers, as others do upon like occasions, I began to look around the church to find out if there were any pretty girls there, when my attention was attracted by the foreign accent of the parson. I gave him my attention, and had my devotion awakened by the most pathetic prayer I ever heard. This made me all attention to the sermon; a finer discourse never came from the lips of a man. I returned in the afternoon, and heard the same preacher exceed his morning work by the finest chain of reasoning, conveyed by the most eloquent expressions. I immediately thought of what Agrippa said to Paul, 'Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.' I sent to ask the man of God to honour my roof, and dine with me. I asked him of his country, and what not; I even asked him if his sermons were his own composition, which he affirmed they were ; I assured him I believed it, for never man had spoke or wrote so well. 'My name is Dishington,' said he. 'I am an assistant to an old minister in the Orkneys, who enjoys a fruitful benefice of £50 a year, out of which I am allowed £20 for preaching, and instructing 1200 people who live in two separate islands; out of which I pay £1, 5s. to the boatman who transports me from the one to the other. I should be happy could I continue in that terrestrial paradise; but we have a great Lord who has many little people soliciting him for many little things that he can do and that he cannot do; and if my minister dies, his succession is too great a prize not to raise up many powerful rivals to baulk my hopes of preferment.'

I asked him if he possessed any other wealth. 'Yes,' said he, 'I married the prettiest girl in the island; she has blessed me with three children, and as we are both young, we may expect more. Besides, I am so beloved

26

Highly-flavoured Language.

in the island, that I have all my peats brought home carriage free.'

This is my story,—now to the prayer of my petition. I never before envied you the possession of the Orkneys, which I now do only to provide for this eloquent innocent apostle. The sun has refused your barren isles his kindly influence, do not deprive them of so pleasant a preacher ; let not so great a treasure be for ever lost to that damned inhospitable country; for, I assure you, were the Archbishop of Canterbury to hear him, or hear of him, he would not do less than make him an archdeacon. The man has but one weakness, that of preferring the Orkneys to all the earth.

This way, and no other, you have a chance for salvation. Do this man good, and he will pray for you. This will be a better purchase than your Irish estate, or the Orkneys. I think it will help me forward too, since I am the man who told you of the man so worthy and deserving ; so pious, so eloquent, and whose prayers may do so much good. Till I hear from you on this head, yours, in all meekness, love, and benevolence, H. D.

P.S.-Think what an unspeakable pleasure it will be, to look down from heaven, and see Rigby, Masterton, all the Campbells and Nabobs, swimming in fire and brimstone, while you are sitting with Whitefield and his old women, looking beautiful, frisking and singing; all which you may have by settling this man, after the death of the present incumbent.

Some of the more highly flavoured expressions in the preceding communication will probably remind the reader that even as late as the beginning of the present century the practice of swearing-now happily confined to a very