He protracted his residence in London for a whole year. For some time he resided with Alexander, tenth Earl of Eglinton, a warm friend of the Auchinleck family. By his lordship he was introduced “into the circle of the great, the gay, and the ingenious.” Having been presented to the Jockey Club, and carried to Newmarket, he was deeply moved by the events of the racecourse. Retiring to the coffee-room he composed a poem, making himself the theme, though in styling himself “The Cub at Newmarket” he gratified his egotism by the forfeiture of dignity. Presented by Lord Eglinton to the Duke of York, he invited his Royal Highness to listen to his poem, and ventured to offer him the dedication. The Duke accepted what it would have been ungracious to refuse, and Boswell printed his poem with an epistle dedicatory, in which he “let the world know that this same Cub has been laughed at by the Duke of York, had been read to his Royal Highness by the genius himself, and warmed by the immediate beams of his kind indulgence.” Boswell thus describes himself:— “Lord * * * * n, who has, you know, A little dash of whim or so; Who through a thousand scenes will range, To pick up anything that’s strange, By chance a curious cub had got, On Scotia’s mountains newly caught; And after driving him about Through London, many a diff’rent route, The comic episodes of which Would tire your lordship’s patience much; Newmarket Meeting being near, He thought ’twas best to have him there. * * * * * He was not of the iron race Which sometimes Caledonia grace; Though he to combat could advance, Plumpness shone in his countenance; And belly prominent declared That he for beef and pudding cared; He had a large and pond’rous head, That seemed to be composed of lead; From which hung down such stiff, lank hair, As might the crows in autumn scare.” For some time Lord Eglinton was amused by the juvenile ardour and vivacity of his guest. At length, overcome by his odd ways, he checked in plain terms his visitor’s vanity and recklessness. The admonition was probably unheeded, for his Lordship seems to have withdrawn his patronage. His own career was cut short by a sad and memorable occurrence; he was shot on his own estate by a poacher, whose firelock he had forcibly seized. He died on the 25th October, 1769.