ERSKINE, John, of Dun, knight, and the second in importance of the lay supporters of the Scottish Reformation, is said to have been born about the year 1508, at the family seat of Dun, in the county of Forfar. His family was descended from that which afterwards acceded to the title of Marr, while his
to Ammondell were the most frequent; and it is at this period that my recollections of him are the most vivid. Some say, he retired from public life disgusted: all admit, that he retired neglected—but no one will add, forgotten. Sure I am, that if impressions made upon the mind of a boy be entitled to any regard, I may say truly, that disappointment, if felt at all, had been unable in him to sour the milk of human kindness: and that, when I saw that fine grey-headed man—the most eloquent, the wittiest of his day—walking in his garden, with the hoe in his hand, I never questioned his sincerity in the following charming and characteristic lines, which he once read to me from his scrap-book, and which, not very long before
his death, he kindly permitted me to copy. They have never before been published:
'Let sparks and topers o'er their bottle sit,
Toss bumpers down, and fancy laughter wit;
Let cautious plodders o'er the ledger pore,
Note down each farthing gain'd, and wish it more :
Let lawyers dream of wigs,poets, of fame,
Scholars look learned, and senators declaim:
Let soldiers stand like targets in the fray,
Their lives worth just their thirteen pence a-day;
Give me a nook in some secluded spot
Which business shuns, and din approaches not,
Some quiet retreat, where I may never know
What monarch reigns, what ministers bestow :
A bookmy slippersand a field to stroll in
My garden-seatan elbow-chair to loll in :
Sunshine when wantedshade, when shade invites ;
With pleasant country sounds, and smells, and sights ;
And, now and then, a glass of generous wine,
Shared with a chatty friend of "auld lang syne;'
And one companion more, for ever nigh,
To sympathize in all that passes by
To journey with me on the path of life,
And share its pleasures, and divide its strife.
These simple joys, Eugenius, let me find,
And I'll ne'er cast a lingering look behind.'
'These lines were written after Mr Erskine's second marriage, and refer, no doubt, in the latter part, to his second wife, who proved a most valuable companion and a tender nurse in his declining years. What degree of happiness his first connexion yielded in his early days, I have no access to know; but the extreme nervous irritability, and somewhat eccentric ways of the first Mrs Erskine, did not contribute greatly to his happiness in her later years. One of her peculiarities consisted in not retiring to rest at the usual hours, She would frequently employ half the night in examining the wardrobe of the family, to see that nothing was missing, and that every thing was in its proper place. I recollect being told this, among other proofs of her oddities, that one morning, about two or three o'clock, having been unsuccessful in a search, she awoke Mr Erskine by putting to him this important interrogatory, 'Harry, lovie, where's your white waistcoat?'
"The mail coach used to set me down at Ammondell gate, which is about three quarters of a mile from the house; and yet I see, as vividly as I at this moment see the landscape from the window at which I am now writing, the features of that beautiful and secluded domain,—the antique stone bridge,—the rushing stream, the wooded banks,—and, above all, the owner, coming towards me with his own benevolent smile and sparkling eyes. I recollect the very grey hat he used to wear, with a bit of the rim torn, and the pepper-and-salt short coat, and the white neckcloth sprinkled with snuff.
"No one could, or ever did, tire in Mr Erskine's company—he was society equally for the child and for the grown man. He would first take me to see his garden, where, being one day surprised by a friend while digging potatoes, he made the now well-known remark, that he was enjoying otium cum diggin a tautie* He would then take me to his melon bed, which we never left without a promise of having one after dinner; and then he would carry me to see the pony, and the great dog upon which his grandson used to ride.
"Like most men of elegant and cultivated minds, Mr Erskine was an amateur in music, and himself no indifferent performer upon the violin. I think I scarcely ever entered the hall along with him that he did not take down his Cremona{{--}a real one, I believe—which hung on the wall, and, seating himself in one of the wooden chairs, play some snatches of
The Scottish word for potatoe.
