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 his health go round.

To all our injured friends in need,
This side and beyond the Tweed!—­
Let all pretenders shake for dread,
And let his health go round. 

      Green sleeves,’ &c.