n on your side after the hour at
which you ought to rise, it is all over. Bolt up at once. Bad night
last--the next is sure to be better.

"When the drum beats, make ready;
When the fife plays, march away--
To the roll-call, to the roll-call, to the roll-call,
Before the break of day."

Dined with Chief-Commissioner, Admiral Adam, W. Clerk, Thomson, and I.
The excellent old man was cheerful at intervals--at times sad, as was
natural. A good blunder he told us, occurred in the Annandale case,
which was a question partly of domicile. It was proved that leaving
Lochwood, the Earl had given up his _kain_ and _carriages_;[203] this an
English Counsel contended was the best of all possible proofs that the
noble Earl designed an absolute change of residence, since he laid aside
his _walking-stick_ and his _coach_.

First epistle of _Malachi_ is getting out of print, or rather is out of
print already.

_March_ 3.--Could not get the last sheets of _Malachi_, Second Epistle,
last night, so they must go out to the world uncorrected--a great loss,
for the last touches are always most effectual; and I expect misprints
in the additional matter. We were especially obliged to have it out this
morning, that it may operate as a gentle preparative for the meeting of
inhabitants at two o'clock. _Vogue la galere_--we shall see if Scotsmen
have any pluck left. If not, they may kill the next Percy themselves. It
is ridiculous enough for me, in a state of insolvency for the present,
to be battling about gold and paper currency. It is something like the
humorous touch in Hogarth's _Distressed Poet_, where the poor starveling
of the Muses is engaged, when in the abyss of poverty, in writing an
Essay on payment of the National Debt; and his wall is adorned with a
plan of the mines of Peru. Nevertheless, even these fugitive attempts,
from the success which they have had, and the noise they are making,
serve to show the truth of the old proverb--

"When house and land are gone and spent,
Then learning is most excellent."

On the whole, I am glad of this brulzie, as far as I am concerned;
people will not dare talk of me as an object of pity--no more
"poor-manning." Who asks how many punds Scots the old champion had in
his pocket when

"He set a bugle to his mouth,
And blew so loud and shrill,
The trees in greenwood shook thereat,
Sae loud rang ilka hill"?[204]

This sounds conceited enough, ye