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10 Castle Street, Edinburgh, April 27, 1894. My dear Mr. Muir: Here I have been week after week thinking of writing to
you and yet four months have nearly gone since you sent me kind new year's greetings. Peccavi. Your welcome note of the 22d
ulto. reminded me of my omission, and I take the chance of a quiet half hour to have a little talk with you. I have been
going on in the old groove since I saw you, and the accompanying photograph taken by Willie in my room here will show you
how I looked on the 6th of March last. We are all well. My wife and I with two granddaughters (8 10), my daughter and a friend
of hers, went into the highlands a week or two ago and put up at Loch Earnhead. I wish you had been of our party in our walks.
Our glens are not so large as your Californian canyons, but the atomospheic effects, light and shade, sunshine and gloom of
Ganogle are not be despised, and our fir trees, though liliputian to your Sequoias are not to be sneezed at in McNabbs isle
on the Dockart or round the snows of Finlarig on Lochday. But alas, it almost broke my heart to see the effects of the storm
in November last -- thousands of our fairest trees were uprooted and are lying entangled in each other's brancheson the ground
in dire confusion. We managed, in spite of wind and rain, to see a good deal of the country, all being fair walkers. Among
other places we visited ? the ? of Scott's Legend of Montrose the scene of the wold deed of revenge; also the Braes of Balgenbridder
where we saw Hob Roys tombstone and that of his wife Helen McGregor. You would have enjoyed everything, and I hope some day
you will come to Scotland and bring too your wife and daughters. I am glad you liked Dorothy Wordsworth's Jour. What a fine
creature she was. I fancy she was in love with Coleridge, and speaking of S. T. C. pray read Dyke Campbell's Memoir of the
Poet. It most likely is reprinted, but if not Macmillan is the publisher. It is a most excellent bit of work. If your eyes
are good you can have it in a form referred to in edition of the Poems published by the same hand, but the type is too small
for my old eyes. I sent you a Scotch book which came to me from Australia by Mr. Inglis. It is called Our ain Folk , and
I hope gave you a laugh. If my wife and boys knew I am writing they would send their regards. They often speak of you. I am,
Yours very faithfully, David Douglas P. S. I had a MS. sent to me by a man who had known my name sake, the great botanist,
but he was too you g to do more than remember his ? I wish he had been 20 years older and could have given the world an account
of that very remarkable man.