MR ROBERTSON. 381 



Dunlop, " I cannot think ; and but to you I would not 

 venture to write anything above an order to a cobbler." 

 It is a singular enough fact, however, that the letter in 

 which he says so is one of the finest he ever wrote. 



' My time, I have said, has been much occupied of 

 late : I have been twice to Inverness, thrice at the burn 

 of Craighouse, twice at the beds of bituminous shale, 

 with their numerous and highly interesting animal re- 

 mains, once all around the northern Sutor, and I know 

 not how often on the hill of Cromarty and at the Doocot 

 Cave. It is a sad thing to be unable to make a proper 

 use of the important monosyllable no. My trips to In- 

 verness, however, were solely on my own account, and 

 in a few days I think I shall visit Tain on a similar 

 errand. I have written within the last month more 

 than twenty letters, some of them of considerable length. 

 Withal, I have been employed in the churchyard, though 

 of course not quite so regularly as if there had been no 

 parties or no writing. 



' Mr Stewart is at present at Strathpeffer in quest of 

 health, and his place here is occupied by a relative of his 

 own, a Mr Robertson. He is a son of the late Professor 

 Robertson of St Andrews, and a truly fine fellow- 

 frank, open-hearted, talented, and well-read. He and I 

 have been at Eathie together, and all over the hill. We 

 have explored, too, the whole northern Sutor. There is 

 much pleasure in coming in contact with an original 

 thinker, and there may be much profit. In the present 

 day the world of books is open to every one, but th'ere 

 are many thoughts which arise in one's mind which can- 

 not be tested by anything we find in books. But the 

 mind of an original thinker, when one is fortunate 

 enough to meet with one, can be brought to bear on 

 one's inner mysteries of thought, he is a touchstone to 



