estroying their quiet old walls, and building two lumpy things
like mad-houses. The old gates had such a respectable appearance once,

"When Scotsmen's heads did guard the wall."

Come, I'll write down the whole stanza, which is all that was known to
exist of David Hume's poetry, as it was written on a pane of glass in
the inn:--

"Here chicks in eggs for breakfast sprawl,
Here godless boys God's glories squall,
Here Scotsmen's heads do guard the wall,
But Corby's walks atone for all."

The poetical works of David Hume, Esq., might, as bookmakers know now,
be driven out to a handsome quarto. Line 1st admits of a descant upon
eggs roasted, boiled or poached; 2d, a history of Carlisle Cathedral
with some reasons why the choir there has been proverbially execrable;
3d, the whole history of 1745 with minute memoirs of such as mounted
guard on the Scotch gate. I remember the spikes the heads stood upon;
lastly, a description of Corby Castle with a plan, and the genealogy of
the Howards. Gad, the booksellers would give me L500 for it. I have a
mind to print it for the Bannatynians.

_April_ 4.--In our stage to Penrith I introduced Anne to the ancient
Petreia, called Old Penrith, and also to the grave of Sir Ewain
Caesarias,[158] that knight with the puzzling name, which has got more
indistinct. We breakfasted at Buchanan's Inn, Penrith, one of the best
on the road, and a fine stanch fellow owned it. He refused passage to
some of the delegates who traversed the country during the Radical row,
and when the worthies threatened him with popular vengeance, answered
gallantly that he had not lived so long by the Crown to desert it at a
pinch. The Crown is the sign of his inn. Slept at Garstang, an
indifferent house. As a petty grievance, my ink-holder broke loose in
the case, and spilt some of the ink on Anne's pelisse. Misfortunes
seldom come single. "'Tis not alone the inky cloak, good daughter," but
I forgot at Garstang my two breastpins; one with Walter and Jane's hair,
another a harp of pure Irish gold, the gift of the ladies of
Llangollen.[159]

_April_ 5.--Breakfasted at Chorley, and slept at Leek. We were in the
neighbourhood of some fine rock-scenery, but the day was unfavourable;
besides, I did not come from Scotland to see rocks, I trow.

_April_ 6.--Easter Sunday. We breakfasted at Ashbourne and went from
thence to Derby; and set off from thence to Drycot Hall (five miles) to
visit Hugh Scot