LETTER XIX.

Morpeth, Feb. 7th, 1762.

Dear BOSWELL,--And lo I am at Morpeth, after meeting with every accident that could possibly happen to a man in a post-chaise, overturns, breaking of springs, dropping of wheels, and sticking in roads, though with four horses. We imagine we are to remain in this town some time. Upon looking over my poems, in the second volume, I find several errors; I'm afraid you have not corrected the press so violently as you boasted.

Perhaps, Boswell, this will be the worst and the shortest letter I ever wrote to you; I'm writing in an inn, and half-a-dozen people in the room; but when I'm settled in lodgings of my own, expect epistles in the usual style. I think you two or three times have treated me as I treat you now, so

I remain your most humble servant,

And affectionate friend,

ANDREW ERSKINE.

P.S.--Never was there such a tame subjected performance as this.

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