ft
them. It was near five in the morning when I got to bed.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 26

I awaked at noon, with a severe head-ach. I was much vexed that I should
have been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a reproof from Dr.
Johnson. I thought it very inconsistent with that conduct which I ought
to maintain, while the companion of the Rambler. About one he came into
my room, and accosted me, 'What, drunk yet?' His tone of voice was not
that of severe upbraiding; so I was relieved a little. 'Sir, (said I,)
they kept me up.' He answered, 'No, you kept them up, you drunken
dog:'-This he said with good-humoured _English_ pleasantry. Soon
afterwards, Corrichatachin, Col, and other friends assembled round my
bed. Corri had a brandy-bottle and glass with him, and insisted I should
take a dram. 'Ay, said Dr. Johnson, fill him drunk again. Do it in the
morning, that we may laugh at him all day. It is a poor thing for a
fellow to get drunk at night, and sculk to bed, and let his friends have
no sport.' Finding him thus jocular, I became quite easy; and when I
offered to get up, he very good naturedly said, 'You need be in no such
hurry now[708].' I took my host's advice, and drank some brandy, which I
found an effectual cure for my head-ach. When I rose, I went into Dr.
Johnson's room, and taking up Mrs. M'Kinnon's Prayer-book, I opened it
at the twentieth Sunday after Trinity, in the epistle for which I read,
'And be not drunk with wine, wherein there is excess[709].' Some would
have taken this as a divine interposition.

Mrs. M'Kinnon told us at dinner, that old Kingsburgh, her father, was
examined at Mugstot, by General Campbell, as to the particulars of the
dress of the person who had come to his house in woman's clothes along
with Miss Flora M'Donald; as the General had received intelligence of
that disguise. The particulars were taken down in writing, that it might
be seen how far they agreed with the dress of the _Irish girl_ who went
with Miss Flora from the Long Island. Kingsburgh, she said, had but one
song, which he always sung when he was merry over a glass. She dictated
the words to me, which are foolish enough:--

'Green sleeves[710] and pudding pies,
Tell me where my mistress lies,
And I'll be with her before she rise,
Fiddle and aw' together.

May our affairs abroad succeed,
And may our king come home with speed,
And all pretenders shake for dread,
And let