it does not correspond with that in Sir Walter's Diary, but, as there
are only thirty days in April it has evidently been written by mistake
for the 13th. I had just attained my twenty-first year, and as such a
visit at that early age was a great event in my life, I retain a very
distinct recollection of the main features of it. I recollect that Lord
Meadowbank and his eldest son Alan came at the same time, and the dinner
party, at which Mr. Pringle of the Haining and his brother were present.
The day after our arrival Sir Walter asked me to drive with him. We went
in his open carriage to the Yarrow, where we got out, and Sir Walter,
leaning on my arm, walked up the side of the river, pouring forth a
continuous stream of anecdotes, traditions, and scraps of ballads. I was
in the seventh heaven of delight, and thought I had never spent such a
day. On Sunday Sir Walter did not come down to breakfast, but sent a
message to say that he had caught cold and had taken some medicine for
it the night before, which had made him ill, and would remain in bed.
When we sat at either lunch or dinner, I do not recollect which, Sir
Walter walked into the room and sat down near the table, but ate
nothing. He seemed in a dazed state, and took no notice of any one, but
after a few minutes' silence, during which his daughter Anne, who was at
table, and was watching him with some anxiety, motioned to us to take no
notice, he began in a quiet voice to tell us a story of a pauper
lunatic, who, fancying he was a rich man, and was entertaining all sorts
of high persons to the most splendid banquets, communicated to his
doctor in confidence that there was one thing that troubled him much,
and which he could not account for, and that was that all these
exquisite dishes seemed to him to taste of oatmeal porridge. Sir Walter
told this with much humour, and after a few minutes' silence began
again, and told the same story over a second time, and then again a
third time.[E] His daughter, who was watching him with increasing
anxiety, then motioned to us to rise from table, and persuaded her
father to return to his bedroom. Next day the doctor, who had been sent
for, told us that he was seriously ill, and advised that his guests
should leave at once, so that the house might be kept quiet and his
daughter devote herself entirely to the care of her father. We
accordingly left at once, and I never saw Sir Walter again. I still,
however, retain a memorial of