Letter from James Hay Beattie to Major Mercer Letter from James Hay Beattie, Peterhead, to Major Mercer, written in verse, discussing Major Mercer's letter and Mercer himself: "My Dear Sir I received your letter; Sure Horace never wrote a better; Nor Ovid formed in antient song, whose nose, they say, was wonderous long. If I were skill'd in making verse, Sir, I'd try my hand on Major Mercer, and raise towards heaven that valiant chief High as the peak of Teneriff. Mercer, of this our age the wonder, Brother of Mars, and Son of thunder, who march'd on foot from Aberdeen To beat the French on Minden - green; Who bore of deadl wounds some dozen In the famed field of Fillinghausen; and wore out sundry pairs of brogues In scampering through the Irish bogs, Compell'd, while rushes gall'd his wet toes, To dine, alas! on dry potatoes. O for a Muse of fire, and glibber, Than Homer was, or Colley Cibber, O for a hundred thousand tongues, A throat of brass, and iron lungs; That I might sing in deathless lay, How Mercer journey'd to Lonmay, and how in gallipot he bore, With pasteboard cover'd o'er and o'er, Ripe strawberries reduced to jelly, yet sweeter far than I can tell ye. To sing the Gift, and eke the Carrier, Would the muse help, I vow I'd marry her. But how should my entreaties move her, She values not so young a Lover. This, with kind love to Peg and Katie The needful is, from James Hay Beattie". 26 August 1774