YESTERDAY was one of the happiest days I have spent since my present travels began; and although I had almost made up my mind to trouble you with no more letters of a merely descriptive character, I think I must venture upon giving you some account of it. Part of it, however, was spent in the company of several individuals whom I had for some weeks felt a considerable curiosity to see a little more of—whom, indeed, my friend Wastle had long ago promised to introduce more fully to my acquaintance, and of whom, moreover, I am sure you will be very glad to hear me say a few words. But I shall be contented with giving you a narrative of the whole day's proceedings just as they passed.

Mr Wastle and I were invited to dine with a Mr Gillies, to whom I had been introduced by a letter from my old and excellent friend Sir Egerton Brydges; and whose name you have often seen mentioned in Sir Egerton's writings. His residence, at the distance of some six or seven miles from Edinburgh, had hitherto prevented me from being much in his society; but I was resolved to set apart one day for visiting him at his villa, and Wastle was easily persuaded to accompany me. The villa is situated on the banks of the Eske, in the midst of some of the most classical scenery in all Scotland; so we determined to start early in the day, and spend the morning in viewing the whole of that beautiful glen, arranging matters so as to arrive at Holycot in good time for dinner. Knowing that the Ettrick Shepherd is a dear and intimate friend of Mr Gillies, I asked him to take the spare seat in the shandrydan, and promised to bring him safe home in the evening in the same vehicle. The Shepherd consented. The Laird gave us a capital breakfast in the Lawnmarket, and the shandrydan was in full career for Roslin Castle by ten o’clock.