Earl,
trailed the royal safe-conduct at the TAIL of a _serving man_, instead
of the _tail_ of a _starved Mare_.--Yours truly, however, W.S." So
printed in first edition, vol. ii. p. 129, but corrected in the
subsequent editions to "a miserable cart jade."

[155] Gray's _Ode on Eton_.

[156] By Richard Thomson, author of _Chronicles of London Bridge_, etc.
He died in 1865.

[157] Dr. Ebenezer Clarkson, a Surgeon of distinguished merit at Selkirk
and through life a trusty friend and crony of the Sheriffs.--J.G.L.

"In Mr. Gideon Gray, in _The Surgeon's Daughter_, Sir Walter's
neighbours on Tweedside saw a true picture--a portrait from life of
Scott's hard-riding and sagacious old friend to all the country
dear."--_Life_, vol. ix. p. 181.

APRIL.

_April_ 1.--All Fools' day, the only Saint that keeps up some degree of
credit in the world; for fools we are with a vengeance. On this
memorable festival we played the fool with great decorum at Colonel
Ferguson's, going to visit them in a cold morning. In the evening I had
a distressing letter from Mrs. MacBarnet, or some such name, the
daughter of Captain Macpherson, smothered in a great snow storm. They
are very angry at the _Review_ for telling a raw-head and bloody bones
story about him. I have given the right version of the tale willingly,
but this does not satisfy. I almost wish they would turn out a clansman
to be free of the cumber. The vexation of having to do with ladies, who
on such a point must be unreasonable, is very great. With a man it would
be soon ended or mended. It really hurts my sleep.

_April_ 2.--I wrote the lady as civilly as I could, explaining why I
made no further apology, which may do some good. Then a cursed morning
of putting to rights, which drives me well-nigh mad. At two or three I
must go to a funeral--a happy and interesting relief from my employment.
It is a man I am sorry for, who married my old servant, Bell Ormiston.
He was an excellent person in his way, and a capital mason--a great
curler.

_April_ 3.--Set off at eight o'clock, and fought forward to Carlisle--a
sad place in my domestic remembrances, since here I married my poor
Charlotte. She is gone, and I am following faster, perhaps, than I wot
of. It is something to have lived and loved; and our poor children are
so hopeful and affectionate, that it chastens the sadness attending the
thoughts of our separation. We slept at Carlisle. I have not forgiven
them for d