dentary life and heated rooms
of Edinburgh, which are so different from the open air and constant
exercise of the country. Odd enough that during cold weather and cold
nocturnal journeys the cold never touched me, yet I am no sooner settled
in comfortable quarters and warm well-aired couches, but _la voila_. I
made a shift to finish my task, however, and even a leaf more, so we
are bang up. We dined and supped alone, and I went to bed early.

_December_ 6.--A bad and disturbed night with fever, headache, and some
touch of cholera morbus, which greatly disturbed my slumbers. But I
fancy Nature was scouring the gun after her own fashion. I slept little
till morning, and then lay abed, contrary to my wont, until half-past
nine o'clock, when I came down to breakfast. Went to Court, and returned
time enough to write about five leaves. Dined at Skene's, where we met
Lord Elgin and Mr. Stewart, a son of Sir M. Shaw Stewart, whom I knew
and liked, poor man. Talked among other things and persons of Sir J.
Campbell of Ardkinglas, who is now here.[422] He is happy in escaping
from his notorious title of Callander of Craigforth. In my youth he was
a black-leg and swindler of the first water, and like Pistol did

"Somewhat lean to cut-purse of quick hand."[423]

He was obliged to give up his estate to his son Colonel Callander, a
gentleman of honour, and as Dad went to the Continent in the midst of
the French Revolution, he is understood to have gone through many
scenes. At one time, Lord Elgin assured us, he seized upon the island of
Zante, as he pretended, by direct authority from the English Government,
and reigned there very quietly for some months, until, to appease the
jealousy of the Turks, Lord Elgin despatched a frigate to dethrone the
new sovereign. Afterwards he traversed India in the dress of a fakir. He
is now eighty and upwards.

I should like to see what age and adventures have done upon him. I
recollect him a very handsome, plausible man. Of all good breeding, that
of a swindler (of good education, be it understood) is the most perfect.

_December_ 7.--Again a very disturbed night, scarce sleeping an hour,
yet well when I rose in the morning. I did not do above a leaf to-day,
because I had much to read. But I am up to one-fourth of the volume, of
400 pages, which I began on the first December current; the 31st must
and shall see the end of vol. vi. We dined alone. I had a book sent me
by a very clever woman,