‘Accept my best thanks, my dear Rogers, for your letter with the beautiful enclosure, a delightful though a melancholy tribute to the fate of poor Mrs. Duff, with whom I had the pleasure to be acquainted. I dined in company with her during the time that the hidden infection was in her veins, and have often since reflected upon her manner and conversation during the course of that day. She mentioned the story of the dog repeatedly (indeed, it seemed to hang upon her spirits), but never dropt the slightest hint of his having bitten, or rather grazed, the skin of her face. It is a melancholy recollection, and your pathetic verses have awakened it very strongly. Many thanks to you, however, for the gratification they have afforded me, though chastened by these sad reflections.
‘I rejoice to hear that you are coming forth soon. I
hope your little jewel, the Columbiad, is at length to be drawn out of the portfolio and given
to the press. I also hope to meet with another old and admired acquaintance,
the copy of verses addressed to Miss
Crewe when she lost two notes of her voice in our rude climate. Pray
do not
| WALTER SCOTT | 61 |
‘I have been deeply concerned for Mr. Canning’s wound;1 he is one of the few, very few, statesmen who unite an ardent spirit of patriotism to the talents necessary to render that living spirit efficient, and I don’t see how the present ministry can stand without him. That, however, would be the least of my regrets were I certain that his health was restored.
‘The weather here has been dreary indeed, seldom two good days in continuance, and though not much afraid of rain in any moderate quantity, I have been almost obliged, like Hamlet, to forego a custom of my exercise, and amuse myself within doors the best way I can, in the course of which seclusion I have, of course, blotted much paper.
‘Believe me, dear Rogers, ever your truly obliged,
