the day I
was to leave town, all petty bills and petty business being reserved to
the last by those who might as well have applied any one day of the
present month. But I need not complain of what happens to my betters,
for on the last day of the Session there pours into the Court a
succession of trifles which give the Court, and especially the Clerks,
much trouble, insomuch that a _ci-devant_ brother of mine proposed that
the last day of the Session should be abolished by Statute. We got out
of Court at a quarter-past one, and got to Abbotsford at half-past
seven, cold and hungry enough to make Scots broth, English roast beef,
and a large fire very acceptable.

_March_ 12.--I set apart this day for trifles and dawdling; yet I
meditate doing something on the Popish and Protestant affray. I think I
could do some good, and I have the sincere wish to do it. I heard the
merry birds sing, reviewed my dogs, and was cheerful. I also unpacked
books. Deuce take arrangement! I think it the most complete bore in the
world; but I will try a little of it. I afterwards went out and walked
till dinner-time. I read Reginald Heber's Journal[272] after dinner. I
spent some merry days with him at Oxford when he was writing his prize
poem. He was then a gay young fellow, a wit, and a satirist, and burning
for literary fame. My laurels were beginning to bloom, and we were both
madcaps. Who would have foretold our future lot?

"Oh, little did my mither ken
The day she cradled me
The land I was to travel in,
Or the death I was to die."[273]

_March_ 13.--Wrought at a review of Fraser Tytler's _History of
Scotland_. It is somewhat saucy towards Lord Hailes. I had almost stuck
myself into the controversy Slough of Despond--the controversy, that is,
between the Gothic and Celtic system--but cast myself, like Christian,
with a strong struggle or two to the further side of this Slough; and
now will I walk on my way rejoicing--not on my article, however, but to
the fields. Came home and rejoiced at dinner. After tea I worked a
little more. I began to warm in my gear, and am about to awake the whole
controversy of Goth and Celt. I wish I may not make some careless
blunders.[274]

_March_ 14.--Up at eight, rather of the latest--then fagged at my
review, both before and after breakfast. I walked from one o'clock till
near three. I make it out, I think, rather better than of late I have
been able to do in the streets of Edinbu