should' when Wolfe returned!

In April, to his intense disgust, Wolfe was again in
Glasgow.

We are all sick, officers and soldiers. In two days
we lost the skin off our faces with the sun, and the
third were shivering in great coats. My cousin Goldsmith
has sent me the finest young pointer that ever was
seen; he eclipses Workie, and outdoes all. He sent me
a fishing-rod and wheel at the same time, of his own
workmanship. This, with a salmon-rod from my uncle
Wat, your flies, and my own guns, put me in a condition
to undertake the Highland sport. We have plays, we
have concerts, we have balls, with dinners and suppers
of the most execrable food upon earth, and wine that
approaches to poison. The men of Glasgow drink till
they are excessively drunk. The ladies are cold to
everything but a bagpipe--I wrong them--there is not
one that does not melt away at the sound of money.'

By the end of this year, however, he had left Scotland
for good. He did not like the country as he saw it. But
the times were greatly against his doing so. Glasgow was
not at all a pleasant place in those narrowly provincial
days for any one who had seen much of the world. The
Highlands were as bad. They were full of angry Jacobites,
who could never forgive the redcoats for defeating Prince
Charlie. Yet Wolfe was not against the Scots as a whole;
and we must never forget that he was the first to recommend