Being jaded and sleepy, I took up Le Due de Guise on Naples.[207] I think this, with the old Memoires on the same subject which I have at Abbotsford, would enable me to make a pretty essay for the Quarterly.  We must take up Woodstock now in good earnest.  Mr. Cowan, a good and able man, is chosen trustee in Constable’s affairs, with full power.  From what I hear, the poor man is not sensible of the nature of his own situation; for myself, I have succeeded in putting the matters perfectly out of my mind since I cannot help them, and have arrived at a flocci-pauci-nihili-pili-fication of money, and I thank Shenstone for inventing that long word.[208] They are removing the wine, etc., to the carts, and you will judge if our flitting is not making a noise in the world—­or in the street at least.

March 9.—­I foresaw justly,

    “When first I set this dangerous stone a-rolling,
    ’Twould fall upon myself."[209]

Sir Robert Dundas to-day put into my hands a letter of between thirty and forty pages, in angry and bitter reprobation of Malachi, full of general averments and very untenable arguments, all written at me by name, but of which I am to have no copy, and which is to be shown to me in extenso, and circulated to other special friends, to whom it may be necessary to “give the sign to hate."[210] I got it at two o’clock, and returned [it] with an answer four hours afterwards, in which I have studied not to be tempted into either sarcastic or harsh expressions.[211] A quarrel it is however, in all the forms, between my old friend and myself, and his lordship’s reprimand is to be read out in order to all our friends.  They all know what I have said is true, but that will be nothing to the purpose if they are desired to consider it as false.  As for Lord Melville, I do not wonder that he is angry, though he has little reason, for he, our watchman stented, has from time to time suffered all manner of tampering to go on under his nose with the institutions and habits of Scotland.  As for myself, I was quite prepared for my share of displeasure.  It is very curious that I should have foreseen all this so distinctly as far back as 17th February.  Nobody at least can plague me for interest with Lord Melville as they used to do.  By the way, from the tone of his letter, I think his lordship will give up the measure, and I will be the peace-offering.  All will agree to condemn me as too warm—­too rash—­and get rich on privileges which they would not have been able to save but for a little rousing of spirit, which will not perhaps fall asleep again.[212] A gentleman called on the part of a Captain [Rutherford], to make inquiry about the Border Rutherfords.  Not being very cleever, as John Fraser used to say, at these pedigree matters, referred him to Mrs. Dr. Russell and Robt.  Rutherford.  The noble Captain conceits he has some title to the honours of Lord Rutherford.  Very odd—­when there is a vacant or dormant title in a Scottish family or name, everybody, and all connected with the clan, conceive they have quodam modo a right to it.  Not being engrossed by any individual, it communicates part of its lustre to every individual in the tribe, as if it remained in common stock for that purpose.