Series 1 > Miscellany of the Scottish History Society (Second volume)

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read, which you can break off with at any moment when you feel
the drowsy god overcoming you, and which leaves a pleasant
impression on you when you throw it down by your bedside.
Now, I think my friend Cockburn’s letters to his gardener answer
to this description, and I am not disparaging them when I say
that the gardener himself appears to be not wholly worthy of
them. I think that we in our generation may appreciate them
more than the gardener did. ‘ Charles,’ says Mr. Cockbum, on the
3rd of February 1741, £I had yours of the 23rd. If you would
read my letters over it would save me much of writing, as from your
not reading of them I am obliged to write the same things over
and over, and frequently the last time of writing the same thing
comes too late, as I fear what I am now to write will do.’ Then
he goes on:—* I have in writing this to show you how your not
reading my letters disconcerts me, and to show you how reason¬
able my request is when I repeat my desire that you ’ll read my
letters.’ Well, if the gardener to whom they were addressed did
not read them, the somnolent reader may be excused if he occa¬
sionally skips as the hour of slumber draws near. They furnish
besides to those who are not horticulturists a certain amount of
intelligent interest as to their fascinating pursuit. I read under
some apprehension from an imprint to a class of social reformers
this letter which was written in 1743:—‘ Tell Mrs. Miles that
I had a letter from a gentleman who was at the last club (a
Farmers’ Club) bantering me for there being no good malt drink
at Ormistoun. I had no excuse to make, but to acknowledge the
obstinate stupidity of our people — who talk of being good
countrymen but act against anything which can improve it.
We complain of barley being cheap, and yet we won’t do any¬
thing towards adding to the consumption of it. I suppose she
would be glad of more custom, and yet she won’t keep drink
which would bring her customers.’ That seems to me to refer to
almost a prehistoric period. My friend does not confine himself
to this. There is a passage somewhat similar, but which reflects
on our national character in a way which ought, I think, to add to
our national complacency, because the faults Mr. Cockburn finds in
the passage I am about to read are no longer charged against the
Scottish people. ‘ This seems a demonstration to me, but I will
maintain no argument to which a good answer can be given, though
till I get one I shall ascribe our not succeeding in many things,
as I think we may, to our inactivity and slow thinking and acting.