could borrow Lafaele's
saddle; and if I went alone I could do a job that had long been waiting;
and that was to interview the doctor on another matter. Off I set in a
hazy moonlight night; windless, like to-day; the thunder rolling in the
mountain, as to-day; in the still groves, these little mushroom lamps
glowing blue and steady, singly or in pairs. Well, I had my interview,
said everything as I had meant, and with just the result I hoped for.
The doctor and I drank beer together and discussed German literature
until nine, and we parted the best of friends. I got home to a silent
house of sleepers, only Fanny awaiting me; we talked awhile, in
whispers, on the interview; then, I got a lantern and went across to the
workman's house, now empty and silent, myself sole occupant. So to bed,
prodigious tired but mighty content with my night's work, and to-day,
with a headache and a chill, have written you this page, while my new
novel waits. Of this I will tell you nothing, except the various names
under consideration. First, it ought to be called--but of course that is
impossible--

_Braxfield._[49]

Then it _is_ to be called either

_Weir of Hermiston,
The Lord-Justice Clerk,
The Two Kirsties of the Cauldstaneslap_,

or

_The Four Black Brothers_.

Characters:

Adam Weir, Lord-Justice Clerk, called Lord Hermiston.
Archie, his son.
Aunt Kirstie Elliott, his housekeeper at Hermiston.
Elliott of the Cauldstaneslap, her brother.
Kirstie Elliott, his daughter.
Jim, \
Gib, |
Hob > his sons.
& |
Dandie, /
Patrick Innes, a young advocate.
The Lord-Justice General.

Scene, about Hermiston in the Lammermuirs and in Edinburgh. Temp. 1812.
So you see you are to have another holiday from copra! The rain begins
softly on the iron roof, and I will do the reverse and--dry up.

_Sunday._--Yours with the diplomatic private opinion received. It is
just what I should have supposed. _Ca m'est bien egal._--The name is to
be

_The Lord-Justice Clerk._

None others are genuine. Unless it be

_Lord-Justice Clerk Hermiston._

_Nov. 2nd._--On Saturday we expected Captain Morse of the _Alameda_ to
come up to lunch, and on Friday with genuine South Sea hospitality had a
pig killed. On the Saturday morning no pig. Some of the boys seemed to
give a doubtful account of themselves; our next neighbour below in the
wood is a bad fellow and very