.i“ * ^ / . . . . . ` `~

Sir Walter Scott, 1829, July 7.—I was rather apprehensive that I might have felt my unusual dissipation this morning, but not a whit; I rose as cool as a cucumber, and set about to my work till breakfast-time. I am to dine with Ballantyne to-day. To-morrow with John Murray. This sounds sadly like idleness, except what may be done either in the morning before breakfast, or in the broken portion of the day between attendance on the Court and my dinner meal,—a vile, drowsy, yawning, fagged portion of existence, which resembles one’s day, as a portion of the shirt, escaping betwixt one’s waistcoat and breeches, indicates his linen.

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