blue eye, capable of great severity of expression, and conforming in that with a wrinkled brow, of which the ordinary expression is a serious approach to a frown-a cautionary and nervous shake of the head; in her withered hand an ebony staff with a crutch head,-a Tompion gold watch, which annoys all who know her by striking the quarters as regularly as if one wished to hear them. Occasionally she has a small scourge of nettles, which I feel her lay across my fingers at this moment, and so Tace is Latin for a candle. I have 150 pages to write yet. March 24.-Does Duty not wear a pair of round oldfashioned silver buckles? Buckles she has, but they are square ones. All belonging to Duty is rectangular. Thus can we poor children of imagination play with the ideas we create, like children with soap-bubbles. Pity that we pay for it at other times by starting at our shadows. "Man but a rush against Othello's breast." The hard work still proceeds, varied only by a short walk. March 25.-Hard work still, but went to Huntly Burn on foot, and returned in the carriage. Walked well and stoutlyGod be praised!—and prepared a whole bundle of proofs and copy for the Blucher to morrow; that damned work will certainly end some time or other. 1 This quaint saying, arising out of some forgotten joke, has been thought to be Scott's own, as it was a favourite with him and his intimates, and he introduces it in more than one of his works. But though its origin cannot be traced, Swift uses it in that very curious collection of proverbs and saws, which As it drips and dribbles he strung together under the title of Polite Conversation, and published about 1738.2 Fielding also introduces it in Amelia,3 1752. See Notes and Queries, first series, vol. i. p. 385; ii. p. 45; iv. p. 450; x. p. 173; sixth series, vol. iii. p. 213; iv. p. 157. 1 e.g. Redgauntlet, ch. xii. Pate-in-Peril at Dumfries. 2 Lord Smart-"Well, Tom, can you tell me what's Latin for a candle?" Neverout "O, my Lord, I know that [answer]: Brandy is Latin for a goose! and Tace is Latin for a candle."-Scorr's Swift, vol. ix. p. 457. S"Toce, Madam," added Murphy, "is Latin for a candle."-Amelia, Bk. 1. cap. xi. out on the paper, I think of the old drunken Presbyterian under the spout. March 26.-Despatched packets. Colonel and Captain Ferguson arrived to breakfast. I had previously determined to give myself a day to write letters; and, as I expect John Thomson to dinner, this day will do as well as another. I cannot keep up with the world without shying a letter now and then. It is true the greatest happiness I could think of would be to be rid of the world entirely. Excepting my own family, I have little pleasure in the world, less business in it, and am heartily careless about all its concerns. Mr. Thomson came accordingly-not John Thomson of Duddingston, whom the letter led me to expect, but John Anstruther Thomson of Charlton [Fifeshire], the son-in-law of Lord Ch.-Commissioner. March 27.-Wrote two leaves this morning, and gave the day after breakfast to my visitor, who is a country gentleman of the best description; knows the world, having been a good deal attached both to the turf and the field; is extremely good-humoured, and a good deal of a local antiquary. I showed him the plantations, going first round the terrace, then to the lake, then came down by the Rhymer's Glen, and took carriage at Huntly Burn, almost the grand tour, only we did not walk from Huntly Burn. The Fergusons dined with us. March 28.-Mr Thomson left us about twelve for Minto, parting a pleased guest, I hope, from a pleased landlord. When I see a "gemman as is a gemman," as the blackguards say, why, I know how to be civil. After he left I set doggedly to work with Bonaparte, who had fallen a little into arrear. I can clear the ground better now by mashing up my old work in the Edinburgh Register with my new. matter, a species of colcannen, where cold potatoes are mixed with hot cabbage. After all, I think Ballantyne is right, and that I have some talents for history-writing after all. That same history in the Register reads prettily enough. Coragio, cry Claymore. I finished five pages, but with additions from Register they will run to more than double I hope; like Puff in the Critic, be luxuriant.1 Here is snow back again, a nasty, comfortless, stormy sort of a day, and I will work it off at Boney. What shall I do when Bonaparte is done? He engrosses me morning, Never mind; Komt Zeit komt Rath, as noon, and night. the German says. I did not work longer than twelve, however, but went out in as rough weather as I have seen, and stood out several snow blasts. March 29, 30. "He walk'd and wrought, poor soul! What then? March 31-Day varied by dining with Mr. Scrope, where we found Mr. Williams and Mr. Simson,2 both excellent artists. We had not too much of the palette, but made a very agreeable day out. I contrived to mislay the proofsheets sent me this morning, so that I must have a revise. This frequent absence of mind becomes very exceeding troublesome. I have the distinct recollection of laying them carefully aside after I dressed to go to the Pavilion. Well, I have a head-the proverb is musty. 1 Sheridan's Play, Act II. Sc. 1. scape painter. He died in London, 1847. APRIL April 1.-The proofs are not to be found. Applications from R. P. G[illies]. I must do something for him; yet have the melancholy conviction that nothing will do him any good. Then he writes letters and expects answers. Then they are bothering me about writing in behalf of the oil-gas light, which is going to the devil very fast. I cannot be going a-begging for them or anybody. Please to look down with an eye of pity-a poor distressed creature! No, not for the last morsel of bread. A dry ditch and a speedy death is worth it all. April 2.-Another letter from R. P. G. I shall begin to wish, like S., that he had been murthered and robbed in his walks between Wimbledon and London. John [Archibald] Murray and his young wife came to dinner, and in good time. I like her very much, and think he has been very lucky. She is not in the vaward of youth, but John is but two or three years my junior. She is pleasing in her manners, and totally free from affectation; a beautiful musician, and willingly exerts her talents in that way; is said to be very learned, but shows none of it. A large fortune is no bad addition to such a woman's society. April 3.-I had processes to decide; and though I arose at my usual hour, I could not get through above two of five proofs. After breakfast I walked with John Murray, and at twelve we went for Melrose, where I had to show the lions. We came back by Huntly Burn, where the carriage broke down, and gave us a pretty long walk home. Scrope dined with his two artists, and John [Thomson ?]. Mr. The last is not only the best landscape-painter of his age and country, but is, moreover, one of the warmest-hearted men living, with a keen and unaffected feeling of poetry. Poor fellow he has had many misfortunes in his family. I drank a glass or two of wine more than usual, got into good spirits, and came from Tripoli for the amusement of the good company. I was in good fooling. April 4.-I think I have a little headache this morning; however, as Othello says, "That's not much." I saw our guests go off by seven in the morning, but was not in time. to give them good-bye. "And now again, boys, to the oar." I did not go to the oar though, but walked a good deal. April 5.-Heard from Lockhart; the Duke of W[ellington] and Croker are pleased with my historical labours; so far well-for the former, as a soldier said of him, "I would rather have his long nose on my side than a whole brigade." Well! something good may come of it, and if it does it will be good luck, for, as you and I know, Mother Duty, it has been a rummily written work. I wrote hard to-day. April 6.-Do. Do. I only took one turn about the thicket, and have nothing to put down but to record my labours. April 7.-The same history occurs; my desk and my exercise. I am a perfect automaton. Bonaparte runs in my head from seven in the morning till ten at night without intermission. I wrote six leaves to-day and corrected four proofs. April 8.-Ginger, being in my room, was safely delivered in her basket of four puppies; the mother and children all doing well. Faith! that is as important an entry as my Journal could desire. The day is so beautiful that I long to go out. I won't, though, till I have done something. A letter from Mr. Gibson about the trust affairs. If the infernal bargain with Constable go on well, there will be a pretty sop in the pan to the creditors; £35,000 at least. If |