Come to Cullen to lie—hitherto the country is sadly poor and unimproven.
Come to Aberdeen—meet with Mr. Chalmers, printer, a facetious fellow—Mr. Ross a fine fellow, like Professor Tytler,—Mr. Marshal one of the poetæ minores—Mr. Sheriffs, author of “Jamie and Bess,” a little decrepid body with some abilities—Bishop Skinner, a nonjuror, son of the author of “Tullochgorum,” a man whose mild, venerable manner is the most marked of any in so young a man—Professor Gordon, a good-natured, jolly-looking professor—Aberdeen, a lazy town—near Stonhive, the coast a good deal romantic—meet my relations—Robert Burns, writer, in Stonhive, one of those who love fun, a gill, and a punning joke, and have not a bad heart—his wife a sweet hospitable body, without any affectation of what is called town-breeding.
Tuesday.—Breakfast with Mr. Burns—lie at Lawrence Kirk—Album library—Mrs. —— a jolly, frank, sensible, love-inspiring widow—Howe of the Mearns, a rich, cultivated, but still unenclosed country.
Wednesday.—Cross North Esk river and a rich country to Craigow.
Go to Montrose, that finely-situated handsome town—breakfast at Muthie, and sail along that wild rocky coast, and see the famous caverns, particularly the Gariepot—land and dine at Arbroath—stately ruins of Arbroath Abbey—come to Dundee through a fertile country—Dundee a low-lying, but pleasant town—old Steeple—Tayfrith—Broughty Castle, a finely situated ruin, jutting into the Tay.
Friday.—Breakfast with the Miss Scotts—Miss Bess Scott like Mrs. Greenfield—my bardship almost in love with her—come through the rich harvests and fine hedge-rows of the Carse of Gowrie, along the romantic margin of the Grampian hills, to Perth—fine, fruitful, hilly, woody country round Perth.
Saturday Morning.—Leave Perth—come up Strathearn to Endermay—fine, fruitful, cultivated Strath—the scene of “Bessy Bell, and Mary Gray,” near Perth—fine scenery on the banks of the May—Mrs. Belcher, gawcie, frank, affable, fond of rural sports, hunting, &c.—Lie at Kinross—reflections in a fit of the colic.
Sunday.—Pass through a cold, barren country to Queensferry—dine—cross the ferry and on to Edinburgh.