Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
Walter Scott to J. B. S. Morritt of Rokeby, 18 September 1818
“Abbotsford, 10th Sept. 1818.
“We have been cruising to and fro since we left your
land of woods and streams. Lord Melville
wished me to come and stay two days with him at Melville Castle, which has
broken in upon my time a little, and ![]()
| 182 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. | |
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interrupted my
purpose of telling you as how we arrived safe at Abbotsford, without a drop of
rain, thus completing a tour of three weeks in the same fine weather in which
we commenced it—a thing which never fell to my lot before. Captain Ferguson is inducted into the office
of Keeper of the Regalia, to the great joy, I think, of all Edinburgh. He has
entered upon a farm (of eleven acres) in consequence of this advancement, for
you know it is a general rule, that whenever a Scotsman gets his head above water, he immediately turns it to land. As he has already taken all the advice of all the notables
in and about the good village of Darnick, we expect to see his farm look like a
tailor’s book of patterns, a snip of every several opinion which he has
received occupying its appropriate corner. He is truly what the French call
un drole de corps.
“I wish you would allow your coachman to look out for
me among your neighbours a couple of young colts (rising three would be the
best age) that would match for a carriage some two years hence. I have plenty
of grass for them in the mean while, and should never know the expense of their
keep at Abbotsford. He seemed to think he could pick them up at from L.25 to
L.30, which would make an immense saving hereafter. Peter Matheson and he had arranged some sort of plan of this
kind. For a pair of very ordinary carriage-horses in Edinburgh they ask L.140
or more; so it is worth while to be a little provident. Even then you only get
one good horse, the other being usually a brute. Pray you excuse all this
palaver—
‘These little things are great to little men.’ |
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Our harvest is almost all in, but as farmers always grumble about
something, they are now growling about the lightness of the crop. All the young
part of our ![]()
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household are wrapt
up in uncertainty concerning the Queen’s illness—for—if her Majesty parts cable, there
will be no Forest Ball, and that is a terrible prospect. On Wednesday (when no
post arrives from London) Lord Melville
chanced to receive a letter with a black seal by express, and as it was of
course argued to contain the expected intelligence of poor
Charlotte, it sold a good many ells of black cloth and
stuffs before it was ascertained to contain no such information. Surely this
came within the line of high treason, being an imagining of the Queen’s
death. Ever yours truly,
P.S. Once more anent the colts.
I am indifferent about colour; but, cæteris
paribus, would prefer black or brown to bright bay
or grey. I mention two off—as the age at which they can be best judged of
by the buyer.”
Sir Adam Ferguson (1771-1855)
Son of the philosopher and classmate and friend of Sir Walter Scott; he served in the
Peninsular Campaign under Wellington, afterwards living on his estate in
Dumfriesshire.
