The oddest thing that I have known from some time is John Wilson's intended tour to the Highlands with his wife. This gentle and elegant Englishwoman is to walk with her mate, who carries her wardrobe and his own,
Through flood and through mire,
Over bush, over briar;
that is, through all the bypaths in the Central Highlands, where they propose to sleep in such cottages as English eyes never saw before. I shall be charmed to see them come back alive; and in the mean time it has cost me not a little pains to explain, in my epistles to my less romantic friends in their track, that they are genuine gentle folks in masquerade.