had the means of
being very expensive, and probably then acquired those gay habits which
rendered him averse to serious business. Being our member for
Roxburghshire, his death will make a stir amongst us. I prophesy
Harden[245] will be here to talk about starting his son Henry.

Accordingly the Laird and Lady called. I exhorted him to write to Lord
Montagu[246] instantly. I do not see what they can do better, and unless
some pickthank intervene to insinuate certain irritating suspicions, I
suppose Lord M. will make no objection. There can be no objection to
Henry Scott for birth, fortune, or political principle; and I do not see
where we could get a better representative.

_April_ 14.--Wrote to Lord M. last night. I hope they will keep the
peace in the county. I am sure it would be to me a most distressing
thing if Buccleuch and Harden were to pull different ways, being so
intimate with both families.

I did not write much yesterday, not above two pages and a half. I have
begun _Boney_, though, and _c'est toujours quelque chose_. This morning
I sent off proofs and manuscript. Had a letter from the famous Denis
Davidoff, the Black Captain, whose abilities as a partisan were so much
distinguished during the retreat from Moscow. If I can but wheedle him
out of a few anecdotes, it would be a great haul.

A kind letter from Colin Mack[enzie]; he thinks the Ministry will not
push the measure against Scotland. I fear they will; there is usually an
obstinacy in weakness. But I will think no more about it. Time draws on.
I have been here a month. Another month carries me to be a hermit in the
city instead of the country. I could scarce think I had been here a
week. I wish I was able, even at great loss, to retire from Edinburgh
entirely. Here is no bile, no visits, no routine, and yet on the whole,
things are as well perhaps as they are.

_April_ 15.--Received last night letters from Sir John Scott Douglas,
and from that daintiest of Dandies, Sir William Elliot of Stobs,
canvassing for the county. Young Harry's[247] the lad for me. But will
he be the lad for Lord Montagu?--there is the point. I should have given
him a hint to attend to Edgerston. Perhaps being at Minto, and not
there, may give offence, and a bad report from that quarter would play
the devil. It is rather too late to go down and tell them this, and, to
say truth, I don't like the air of making myself busy in the matter.

Poor Sir Alexander Don died of a dis