You must give me information in
your answer. I have already scraped together a considerable
quantity--suspend your curiosity, Mr. Scott, you will see them when I
see you, of which I am as impatient as you can be to see the songs
for your life. But as I suppose you have no personal acquaintance in
this parish, it would be presumption in me to expect that you will
visit my cottage, but I will attend you in any part of the Forest if
you will send me word. I am far from supposing that a person of your
discernment,--d-n it, I'll blot out that, 'tis so like flattery. I
say I don't think you would despise a shepherd's "humble cot an'
hamely fare," as Burns hath it, yet though I would be extremely proud
of a visit, yet hang me if I would know what to do wi' ye. I am
surprised to find that the songs in your collection differ so widely
from my mother's. Is Mr. Herd's MS. genuine? I suspect it. Jamie
Telfer differs in many particulars. Johnny Armstrong of Gilnockie is
another song altogether. I have seen a verse of my mother's way
called Johny Armstrong's last good-night cited in the Spectator, and
another in Boswell's Journal.
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