[147] Miss Elizabeth Bell, daughter of the Rev. James Bell, minister of the parish of Coldstream from 1778 to 1794.  This lady lived all her life in her native county, and died at a great age at a house on the Tweed, named Springhill, in 1876.

[148] Ante, vol. i. p. 253.

[149] The Murder Hole, a story founded on the tradition and under this name, was printed in Blackwood’s Mag., vol. xxv. p. 189:  1829.

[150] Written by Gerald Griffin

[151] St. Valentine’s Eve, or The Fair Maid of Perth.

[152] Coriolanus, Act VI.  Sc. 6.

[153] Ante, p. 40.

[154] It may have been with this packet that the following admonitory note was sent to Ballantyne:—­“DEAR JAMES,—­I return the sheets of Tales with some waste of Napoleon for ballast.  Pray read like a lynx, for with all your devoted attention things will escape.  Imagine your printing that the Douglases after James II. had dirked the Earl, trailed the royal safe-conduct at the TAIL of a serving man, instead of the tail of a starved Mare.—­Yours truly, however, W.S.”  So printed in first edition, vol. ii. p. 129, but corrected in the subsequent editions to “a miserable cart jade.”

[155] Gray’s Ode on Eton.

[156] By Richard Thomson, author of Chronicles of London Bridge, etc.  He died in 1865.

[157] Dr. Ebenezer Clarkson, a Surgeon of distinguished merit at Selkirk and through life a trusty friend and crony of the Sheriffs.—­J.G.L.

“In Mr. Gideon Gray, in The Surgeon’s Daughter, Sir Walter’s neighbours on Tweedside saw a true picture—­a portrait from life of Scott’s hard-riding and sagacious old friend to all the country dear.”—­Life, vol. ix. p. 181.

APRIL.

April 1.—­All Fools’ day, the only Saint that keeps up some degree of credit in the world; for fools we are with a vengeance.  On this memorable festival we played the fool with great decorum at Colonel Ferguson’s, going to visit them in a cold morning.  In the evening I had a distressing letter from Mrs. MacBarnet, or some such name, the daughter of Captain Macpherson, smothered in a great snow storm.  They are very angry at the Review for telling a raw-head and bloody bones story about him.  I have given the right version of the tale willingly, but this does not satisfy.  I almost wish they would turn out a clansman to be free of the cumber.  The vexation of having to do with ladies, who on such a point must be unreasonable, is very great.  With a man it would be soon ended or mended.  It really hurts my sleep.

April 2.—­I wrote the lady as civilly as I could, explaining why I made no further apology, which may do some good.  Then a cursed morning of putting to rights, which drives me well-nigh mad.  At two or three I must go to a funeral—­a happy and interesting relief from my employment.  It is a man I am sorry for, who married my old servant, Bell Ormiston.  He was an excellent person in his way, and a capital mason—­a great curler.