_September_ 3.--Went on with my arranging of papers till twelve, when I
took chaise and arrived at Melville Castle.

Found Lord and Lady M. and the two young ladies. Dr. Hope, my old
school-fellow James Hope[34] and his son, made up our party, which was
very pleasant. After they went away we had some private conversation
about politics. The Whigs and Tories of the Cabinet are strangely
divided, the former desiring to have Mr. Herries for Chancellor of the
Exchequer, the latter to have Lord Palmerston, that Calcraft may be
Secretary of War. The King has declared firmly for Herries, on which
Lord Goderich with _tears_ entreated Herries to remove the bone of
contention by declining to accept. The King called him a blubbering
fool. That the King does not like or trust the Whigs is obvious from his
passing over Lord Lansdowne, a man who, I should suppose, is infinitely
better fitted for a Premier than Goderich. But he probably looks with no
greater [favour] on the return of the High Tories. I fear he may wish to
govern by the system of _bascule_, or balancing the two parties, a
perilous game[35]. The Advocate[36] also dined with us.

_September 4, [Edinburgh]_.--Came into town after breakfast, and saw
Gibson, whose account of affairs is comfortable. Also William Clerk,
whom I found quite ready and willing to stand my friend if Gourgaud
should come my road. He agrees with me that there is no reason why he
should turn on me, but that if he does, reason or none, it is best to
stand buff to him. It is clear to me that what is least forgiven in a
man of any mark or likelihood is want of that article blackguardly
called _pluck_. All the fine qualities of genius cannot make amends for
it. We are told the genius of poets especially is irreconcilable with
this species of grenadier accomplishment[37]. If so, _quel chien de
genie_! Saw Lady Compton. I dine with her to-day, and go to Glasgow with
her to-morrow.

_September 5_.--Dined with Lady Compton yesterday, and talked over old
stories until nine, our _tete-a-tete_ being a very agreeable one. Then
hence to my good friend John Gibson's, and talked with him of sundries.
I had an odd dream last night. It seemed to me that I was at a panorama,
when a vulgar little man behind me was making some very clever but
impudent remarks on the picture, and at the same time seemed desirous of
information, which no one would give him. I turned round and saw a young
fellow dressed like a common