throwing aside all pretence of regularity and order, and marking down events just as they occurred to recollection. I will try this plan; and behold I have a handsome locked volume, such as might serve for a lady's album.

one. Then I write or study again till one. At that hour to-day I drove to Huntly Burn, and walked home by one of the hundred and one pleasing paths which I have made through the 5 woods I have planted-now chatting with Tom Purdie, who carries my plaid, and speaks when he pleases, telling long stories of hits and misses in shooting twenty years back-sometimes chewing the cud of sweet and bitter

December 18. An odd thought strikes me; when I die will the Journal of these days be taken out of the ebony cabinet at Abbotsford, and read as the transient pout of a man worth £60,000, with wonder that the well-seeming 10 fancy-and sometimes attending to the huBaronet should ever have experienced such a mours of two curious little terriers of the hitch? Or will it be found in some obscure Dandie Dinmont breed, together with a noble lodging-house, where the decayed son of wolf-hound puppy which Glengarry had given chivalry has hung up his scutcheon for some me to replace Maida. This brings me down 20s. a week, and where one or two old friends 15 to the very moment I do tell-the rest is will look grave and whisper to each other, prophetic. I will feel sleepy when this book is "Poor gentleman," "A well-meaning man,' locked, and perhaps sleep until Dalgleish "Nobody's enemy but his own," "Thought brings the dinner summons. Then I will have his parts could never wear out," "Family a chat with Lady S. and Anne; some broth or poorly left," "Pity he took that foolish title”? 20 soup, a slice of plain meat-a man's chief Who can answer this question? business, in Dr. Johnson's estimation, is briefly despatched. Half an hour with my family, and half an hour's coquetting with a cigar, a tumbler of weak whisky and water, and a novel perhaps, lead on to tea, which sometimes consumes another half hour of chat; then write or read in my own room till ten o'clock at night; a little bread and then a glass of porter, and to bed.

What a life mine has been!-half educated, almost wholly neglected or left to myself, stuffing my head with most nonsensical trash, and undervalued in society for a time by most 25 of my companions, getting forward and held a bold and clever fellow, contrary to the opinion of all who thought me a mere dreamer, broken-hearted for two years, my heart handsomely pieced again, but the crack will remain 30 to my dying day. Rich and poor four or five times, once on the verge of ruin, yet opened new sources of wealth almost overflowing. Now taken in my pitch of pride, and nearly winged (unless the good news hold), because London 35 my task, and then good-night. I will never chooses to be in an uproar, and in a tumult of bulls and bears, a poor inoffensive lion like myself is pushed to the wall. And what is to be the end of it? God knows. And so ends the catechism.

August 15. I write on, though a little afflicted with the oppression on my chest. Sometimes I think it is something dangerous, but as it always goes away on change of posture, it cannot be speedily so. I want to finish

relax my labour in these affairs, either for fear of pain or for love of life. I will die a free man if working will do it. Accordingly, to-day I cleared the ninth leaf, which is the tenth part 40 of a volume, in two days-four and a half leaves a day.

March 14, 1826. Read again, and for the third time at least, Miss Austen's very finely written novel of Pride and Prejudice. That young lady had a talent for describing the involvements and feelings and characters of 45 ordinary life, which is to me the most wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain I can do myself like any now going; but the exquisite touch, which renders ordinary commonplace things and characters interesting, from 50 the truth of the description and the sentiment, is denied to me. What a pity such a gifted creature died so early!

April 1.-Ex uno die disce omnes.1 Rose at seven or sooner, studied, and wrote till break- 55 fast with Anne,2 about a quarter before ten. Lady Scott seldom able to rise till twelve or

1 From one day learn all. Cf. Vergil, En. II. 65. 2 Scott's daughter.

March 21, 1827. Wrote till twelve, then out upon the heights though the day was stormy, and faced the gale bravely. Tom Purdie was not with me. He would have obliged me to keep the sheltered ground. But, I don't know

"Even in our ashes live our wonted fires." There is a touch of the old spirit in me yet that bids me brave the tempest,-the spirit that, in spite of manifold infirmities, made me a roaring boy in my youth, a desperate climber, a bold rider, a deep drinker, and a stout player at single-stick, of all which valuable qualities there are now but slender remains. I worked hard when I came in, and finished five pages.

March 16, 1831. The affair with Mr. Cadell being settled, I have only to arrange a set of