h, it will do me yeoman's
service.

My next good tidings are, that Jedediah carries the world
before him. Six thousand have been disposed of, and three
thousand more are pressing onward, which will be worth L2500
to the worthy pedagogue of Gandercleuch. Some of the Scotch
Whigs, of the right old fanatical leaven, have waxed wroth
with Jedediah,--

"But shall we go mourn for that, my dear?
The cold moon shines by night,
And when we wander here and there,
We then do go most right."[55]

[Footnote 55: Joanna Baillie's _Orra_.]

After all, these honest gentlemen are like Queen Elizabeth
{p.138} in their ideas of portrait-painting. They require
the pictures of their predecessors to be likenesses, and at
the same time demand that they shall be painted without
shade, being probably of opinion, with the virgin majesty of
England, that there is no such thing in nature.

I presume you will be going almost immediately to London--at
least all our Scotch members are requested to be at their
posts, the meaning of which I cannot pretend to guess. The
finances are the only ticklish matter, but there is, after
all, plenty of money in the country, now that our fever-fit
is a little over. In Britain, when there is the least damp
upon the spirits of the public, they are exactly like people
in a crowd, who take the alarm, and shoulder each other to
and fro till some dozen or two of the weakest are borne down
and trodden to death; whereas, if they would but have
patience and remain quiet, there would be a safe and speedy
end to their embarrassment. How we want Billie Pitt now to
get up and give the tone to our feelings and opinions!

As I take up this letter to finish the same, I hear the
Prince Regent has been attacked and fired at. Since he was
not hurt (for I should be sincerely sorry for my fat
friend), I see nothing but good luck to result from this
assault. It will make him a good manageable boy, and, I
think, secure you a quiet session of Parliament.--Adieu, my
dear Morritt, God bless you. Let me know if the gimcracks
come safe--I mean the book, etc.

Ever yours,

Walter SCOTT.

TO THE LADY LOUISA STUART, GLOUCESTER PLACE, LONDON.