"MY DEAR SIR,--I have just evinced a proof of want of vigilance and self-discipline which vexes me so much that I am endeavouring to find relief from my vexation by telling it to you, as it is a satisfaction to me to think that you will pity me, in spite of the neglect of your advice, which I have betrayed. After having had the carriage at the door to leave this place (the Duchess of Gordon's) in order that we might spend to-morrow quietly, about twenty miles off, I have suffered myself to be persuaded to stay here till Monday. O how subtle are the devices of the enemy of our peace, and how weak our natural means of defence; the real cause of my falling into this temptation is now plain enough, but the shadow of delusion that for a moment imposed upon me was the idea of having some serious conversation with the Duchess, when we were likely to be almost alone, and which company has hitherto given me but little opportunity for; and this I was weak enough to indulge in spite of more sober convictions and the advice of Mr. Gorham and other objections, and I am just awakened to see the extent of my folly, conceit, and wilful depravity, by finding that we are to have no chance of having my imagination gratified, as Sir Wm. Scott has written word that he is coming to-morrow, and the delight with which the Duchess welcomed the intelligence has opened my eyes to my sottishness in thinking her sincere in her wish that I might pass a Sunday with her. I cannot conceive a scene more calculated to excite feelings of devotion and to expose worldly vanities than this spot, which is quite lovely, yet here I have found how strongly the world may engage the affections; there is something in the Duchess that pleases, although against the judgment (perhaps a little in the way of Falstaff), and makes her entertaining even when she is the subject of melancholy reflections; indeed, I feel how necessary your warnings against her fascinations were; she talked a great deal about her friend Wilberforce, and threatens you with a letter about me, and told me all my faults which she intended to report to you; I have not spent a Sunday (for it is now over) with so much self-reproach since I came into Scotland. She seems to be on the same kind of terms with religion as she is with her Duke, that is, on terms of great nominal familiarity without ever meeting each other except in an hotel or in the streets of Edinburgh. She fell asleep on Sunday while I was reading to her part of Leighton's Commentary and awoke with lively expressions of admiration at what she had not heard; she talks of setting off for Ireland in a few weeks and of going to London afterwards, so I hope that she will do no harm at Edinburgh next winter. I left Kinrara on Monday and got to Blair at night; I found there more of ancient stateliness than I have yet seen, and I think the Duke of Athol is fond of keeping it up; he has some very fine scenery about him there, and his other place Dunkeld, which