“Mr Nasmyth* has obligingly given me an opportunity of writing to you a few lines, as he is setting out for London. I cannot tell you how much I continue to be grieved for our kind-hearted and enthusiastic friend Bullock. I trust he has left his family comfortably settled, though with so many plans which required his active and intelligent mind to carry them through, one has natural apprehensions upon that score. When you can with propriety make enquiry how my matters stand, I should be glad to know. Hector Macdonald tells me that my doors and windows were ready packed, in which case, perhaps, the sooner they are embarked the better, not only for safety, but because they can only be in the way, and the money will now be the more acceptable. Poor Bullock had also the measures for my chimneypieces, for grates of different kinds, and orders for beds, dining-room tables and chairs. But how far these are in progress of being executed, or whether they can now be executed, I must leave to your judgment and enquiry. Your good sense and delicacy will understand the façon de faire better than I can point it out. I shall never have the pleasure in these things that I expected.
“I have just left Abbotsford to attend the summer session—left it when the leaves were coming out—the most delightful season for a worshipper of the country like me. The Home-bank, which we saw at first green with turnips, will now hide a man somewhat taller than Johnnie Ballantyne in its shades. In fact, the trees cover the ground, and have a very pretty bosky effect; from six years to ten or twelve, I think wood is as beau-
* Mr Alexander Nasmyth, an eminent landscape painter of Edinburgh—the father of Mrs Terry. |
| LETTER TO TERRY. | 143 |
“Counsellor Erskine is returned much pleased with your hospitality, and giving an excellent account of you. Were you not struck with the fantastical coincidence of our nocturnal disturbances at Abbotsford with the melancholy event that followed? I protest to you the noise resembled half-a-dozen men hard at work putting up boards and furniture, and nothing can be more certain than that there was nobody on the premises at the time. With a few additional touches, the story would figure in Glanville or Aubrey’s Collection. In the mean time, you may set it down with poor Dubisson’s warnings,* as a remarkable coincidence coming under your own observation. I trust we shall see you this season. I think we could hammer a neat comedie bourgeoise out of the Heart of Mid-Lothian. Mrs Scott and family join in kind compliments to Mrs Terry; and I am, ever yours truly,
