ly such trash as this to record. But the best is, a little
exertion or a change of the current of thought relieves me.

God, who subjects us to these strange maladies, whether of mind or body
I cannot say, has placed the power within our own reach, and we should
be grateful. I wrestled myself so far out of the Slough of Despond as to
take a good long walk, and my mind is restored to its elasticity. I did
not attempt to work, especially as we were going down to Mertoun, and
set off at five o'clock.

_October_ 25.--We arrived at Mertoun yesterday, and heard with some
surprise that George had gone up in an air balloon, and ascended two
miles and a half above this sublunary earth. I should like to have an
account of his sensations, but his letters said nothing serious about
them. Honest George, I certainly did not suspect him of being so
flighty! I visited the new plantations on the river-side with Mrs.
Scott; I wish her lord and master had some of her taste for planting.
When I came home I walked through the Rhymer's Glen, and I thought how
the little fall would look if it were heightened. When I came home a
surprise amounting nearly to a shock reached me in another letter from
L.J.S.[62] Methinks this explains the gloom which hung about me
yesterday. I own that the recurrence to these matters seems like a
summons from the grave. It fascinates me. I ought perhaps to have
stopped it at once, but I have not nerve to do so. Alas! alas!--But why
alas? _Humana perpessi sumus_.

_October 26._--Sent off copy to Ballantyne. Drove over to Huntly Burn at
breakfast, and walked up to the dike they are building for the new
plantation. Returned home. The Fergusons dined; and we had the kirn
Supper.[63] I never saw a set of finer lads and lasses, and blithely did
they ply their heels till five in the morning. It did me good to see
them, poor things.

_October 27._--This morning went again to Huntly Burn to breakfast.
There picked up Sir Adam and the Colonel, and drove down to old Melrose
to see the hounds cast off upon the Gateheugh, the high rocky
amphitheatre which encloses the peninsula of old Melrose, the Tweed
pouring its dark and powerful current between them. The galloping of the
riders and hallooing of the huntsmen, the cry of the hounds and the
sight of sly Reynard stealing away through the brakes, waked something
of the old spirit within me--

"Even in our ashes glow their wonted fires."

On return home I had despatc