March 5.—­Our young men of first fashion, in whom tranquillity is the prime merit, a sort of quietism of foppery, if one can use the expression, have one capital name for a fellow that outres and outroars the fashion, a sort of high-buck as they were called in my days.  They hold him a vulgarian, and call him a tiger.  Mr. Gibson came in, and we talked over my affairs; very little to the purpose I doubt.  Dined at home with Anne as usual, and despatched half-a-dozen Selkirk processes; among others one which savours of Hamesucken.[482] I think to-day I have finished a quarter of vol. viii., and last.  Shall I be happy when it is done?—­Umph!  I think not.

March 6.—­A long seat at Court, and an early dinner, as we went to the play.  John Kemble’s brother acted Benedick.  He is a fine-looking man, and a good actor, but not superior.  He reminds you eternally that he is acting; and he had got, as the devil directed it, hold of my favourite Benedick, for which he has no power.  He had not the slightest idea of the part, particularly of the manner in which Benedick should conduct himself in the quarrelling scene with the Prince and Claudio, in which his character rises almost to the dignity of tragedy.  The laying aside his light and fantastic humour, and showing himself the man of feeling and honour, was finely marked of yore by old Tom King.[483] I remember particularly the high strain of grave moral feeling which he threw upon the words—­“in a false quarrel there is no true valour”—­which, spoken as he did, checked the very brutal levity of the Prince and Claudio.  There were two farces; one I wished to see, and that being the last, was obliged to tarry for it.  Perhaps the headache I contracted made me a severe critic on Cramond Brig,[484] a little piece ascribed to Lockhart.  Perhaps I am unjust, but I cannot think it his;[485] there are so few good things in it, and so much prosing transferred from that mine of marrowless morality called the Miller of Mansfield.[486] Yet it pleases.

March 7.—­We are kept working hard during the expiring days of the Session, but this being a blank day I wrote hard till dressing time, when I went to Will Clerk’s to dinner.  As a bachelor, and keeping a small establishment, he does not do these things often, but they are proportionally pleasant when they come round.  He had trusted Sir Adam to bespeak his dinner, who did it con amore; so we had excellent cheer, and the wines were various and capital.  As I before hinted, it is not every day that M’Nab[487] mounts on horseback, and so our landlord had a little of that solicitude that the party should go off well, which is very flattering to the guests.  We had a very pleasant evening.  The Chief-Commissioner was there, Admiral Adam, Jo.  Murray, and Thomson, etc. etc.  Sir Adam predominating at the head, and dancing what he calls his “merry andrada” in great style.  In short, we really