On returning to England, Erskine obtained six months’ leave of absence, part of which he spent in London. While there he had the advantage of meeting, conversing with, and encountering in discussion, no less eminent a person than Dr. Johnson, attended by his faithful dog and biographer. This was at the house of Sir Alexander Macdonald; and the “young officer in the regimentals of the Scots Royals,” attracted much attention by the fluency, precision, and vivacity of his discourse. At the same date Erskine appeared to advantage as the author of a pamphlet on the abuses of the British army, which had an extensive circulation, and procured him some fame. Soon after this he was promoted to a lieutenancy, and for some time longer endured the disagreeable process of marching with the regiment from one place to another. His family and his dissatisfaction gradually increasing, a gloomy cloud seemed to hang over his existence; and there was ever before him the dismal prospect of his life proving a long series of imaginings never to be realized, and of aspirations never to be gratified. Under such circumstances, while he was quartered in a provincial town, a great thought was born within him. One day, to drive away care, dispel annoyance, and perhaps to gratify a rational curiosity, he strolled into the assize court, where the great Lord Mansfield was presiding, with his wonted serene and impenetrable dignity. Perhaps birds of Erskine’s feather were rarely seen in such haunts. At all events, his regimentals quickly attracted the eye of the veteran judge, who, struck, no doubt, by the peculiarly elegant and aristocratic appearance of the singularly intelligent-looking officer, even condescended to inquire who he was. On being informed that he was a younger son of the late Earl of Buchan, and very much in the same position in which the noble, learned, and influential Chief Justice might have found himself, but for the good fortune which had early led him to fatten and flourish in the pastures of the South, the latter kindly accommodated the lieutenant of foot with a place beside him on the bench, and courteously explained the case that was being tried. Thus seated by a man who had raised himself, by his genius, from the oatmeal porridge and aristocratic poverty of Scone Palace to wealth and an illustrious position, it struck the aspiring and discontented subaltern that here was a sphere in which his intellect might be exercised with advantage and renown. He therefore availed himself of his distinguished countryman’s politeness, which took the shape of an invitation to dinner, to state the hardship of his lot, and explain his views. So truly great a man as Lord Mansfield would hardly, at such a moment, forget his own early trials and struggles. In any case, his young acquaintance was rewarded with some slight encouragement, and the sage advice to consult his friends. Erskine’s surviving parent readily