carter, with a blue coat and red waistcoat,
and a whip tied across him. He was young, with a hatchet-face, which was
turned to a brick colour by exposure to the weather, sharp eyes, and in
manner and voice not unlike John Leyden. I was so much struck with his
countenance and talents that I asked him about his situation, and
expressed a wish to mend it. He followed me, from the hopes which I
excited, and we had a dreadful walk among ruins, and afterwards I found
myself on horseback, and in front of a roaring torrent. I plunged in as
I have formerly done in good sad earnest, and got to the other side.
Then I got home among my children and grandchildren, and there also was
my genius. Now this would defy Daniel and the soothsayers to boot; nor
do I know why I should now put it down, except that I have seldom seen a
portrait in life which was more strongly marked on my memory than that
man's. Perhaps my genius was Mr. Dickinson, papermaker, who has
undertaken that the London creditors who hold Constable's bills will be
satisfied with 10s. in the pound. This would be turning a genius to
purpose, for 6s. 8d. is provided, and they can have no difficulty about
3s. 4d. These debts, for which I am legally responsible, though no party
to their contraction, amount to L30,000 odds. Now if they can be cleared
for L15,000 it is just so much gained. This would be a giant step to
freedom. I see in my present comfortable quarters[38] some of my own
old furniture in Castle St., which gives me rather queer feelings. I
remember poor Charlotte and I having so much thought about buying these
things. Well, they are in kind and friendly hands.

_September 6_.--Went with Lady Compton to Glasgow, and had as pleasant a
journey as the kindness, wit, and accomplishment of my companion could
make it. Lady C. gives an admirable account of Rome, and the various
strange characters she has met in foreign parts. I was much taken with
some stories out of a romance called _Manuscrit trouve a Saragosse_, by
a certain Count John Polowsky [Potocki?], a Pole. It seems betwixt the
style of Cazotti, Count Hamilton and Le Sage. The Count was a toiler
after supernatural secrets, an adept, and understood the cabbala. He put
himself to death, with many odd circumstances, inferring derangement. I
am to get a sight of the book if it be possible. At Glasgow (Buck's
Head) we met Mrs. Maclean Clephane and her two daughters, and there was
much joy. After the dinner the ladi