of Byron,
and this poem goes to the tune of _Don Juan_, but it is the Champagne
after it has stood two days with the cork drawn. Thereafter came Charles
K. Sharpe and Will Clerk, as Robinson sayeth, to my exceeding
refreshment.[294] And last, not least, Mr. Jollie, one of the triumvirs
who manage my poor matters. He consents to going on with the small
edition of novels, which he did not before comprehend. All this has
consumed the day, but we will make up tide-way presently. I must dress
to go to Lord Medwyn[295] to dinner, and it is near time.

_July_ 7.--Coming home from Lord Medwyn's last night I fell in with
Willie Clerk, and went home to drink a little shrub and water, over
which we chatted of old stories until half-past eleven. This morning I
corrected two proofs of C[roftangr]y, which is getting on. But there
must be a little check with the throng of business at the close of the
session. D---n the session! I wish it would close its eyes for a
century. It is too bad to be kept broiling here; but, on the other
hand, we must have the instinctive gratitude of the Laird of M'Intosh,
who was for the King that gave M'Intosh half-a-guinea the day and
half-a-guinea the morn. So I retract my malediction.

Received from Blackwood to account sales of _Malachi_ L72 with some odd
shillings. This was for copies sold to Banks. The cash comes far from
ill-timed, having to clear all odds and ends before I leave Edinburgh.
This will carry me on tidily till 25th, when precepts become payable.
Well! if _Malachi_ did me some mischief, he must also contribute _quodam
modo_ to my comfort.

_July_ 8.--Wrote a good task this morning. I may be mistaken; but I do
think the tale of Elspat McTavish[296] in my bettermost manner--but J.B.
roars for chivalry. He does not quite understand that everything may be
overdone in this world, or sufficiently estimate the necessity of
novelty. The Highlanders have been off the field now for some time.

Returning from Court, looked into a show of wild beasts, and saw Nero
the great lion, whom they had the cruelty to bait with bull-dogs,
against whom the noble creature disdained to exert his strength. He was
lying like a prince in a large cage, where you might be admitted if you
wish. I had a month's mind--- but was afraid of the newspapers; I could
be afraid of nothing else, for never did a creature seem more gentle and
yet majestic--I longed to caress him. Wallace, the other lion, born in
Scotland, se