'[letter to Mrs --] 'books, for a certain length of time, are a charming substitute for common conversation. I do not know that I ever read one from which my mind received a higher degree of pleasure than "Currie's life of Burns". To me, its charm was enhanced by a thousand pleasing recollections - a thousand associations, that gave a strong additional interest to every word. The strength of Burns's feelings, the character of his mind, had excited an enthusiastic admiration, at a period when my own enthusiastic feelings were in perfect unison with those of the poet; and in him alone did I meet with the expression of a sensibility with which I could perfectly sympathise: in his emotions there was a strength, an energy, that came home to my heart; while the tender sorrows of other poets had to me appeared mawkish and insipid. Even the strong light in which he saw the ridiculous, was, I fear, too agreeable to me. The idea I then formed of his mind has been confirmed by Dr Currie's delineation of it'.