March 8.—­Spent the morning in reading proofs and additions to Magnum.  I got a note from Cadell, in which Ballantyne, by a letter enclosed, totally condemns Anne of Geierstein—­three volumes nearly finished—­a pretty thing, truly, for I will be expected to do it all over again.  Great dishonour in this, as Trinculo says,[269] besides an infinite loss.  Sent for Cadell to attend me next morning that we may consult about this business.  Peel has made his motion on the Catholic question, with a speech of three hours.  It is almost a complete surrender to the Catholics, and so it should be, for half measures do but linger out the feud.  This will, or rather ought to, satisfy all men who sincerely love peace, and therefore all men of property.  But will this satisfy Pat, who, with all his virtues, is certainly not the most sensible person in the world?  Perhaps not; and if not, it is but fighting them at last.  I smoked away, and thought of ticklish politics and bad novels.  Skene supped with us.

March 9.—­Cadell came to breakfast.  We resolved in Privy Council to refer the question whether Anne of G——­n be sea-worthy or not to further consideration, which, as the book cannot be published, at any rate, during the full rage of the Catholic question, may be easily managed.  After breakfast I went to Sir William Arbuthnot’s,[270] and met there a select party of Tories, to decide whether we should act with the Whigs by owning their petition in favour of the Catholics.  I was not free from apprehension that the petition might be put into such general language as I, at least, was unwilling to authenticate by my subscription.  The Solicitor[271] was voucher that they would keep the terms quite general; whereupon we subscribed the requisition for a meeting, with a slight alteration, affirming that it was our desire not to have intermeddled, had not the anti-Catholics pursued that course; and so the Whigs and we are embarked in the same boat, vogue la galere.

Went about one o’clock to the Castle, where we saw the auld murderess Mons Meg brought up there in solemn procession to reoccupy her ancient place on the Argyle battery.  Lady Hopetoun was my belle.  The day was cold but serene, and I think the ladies must have been cold enough, not to mention the Celts, who turned out upon the occasion, under the leading of Cluny Macpherson, a fine spirited lad.  Mons Meg is a monument of our pride and poverty.  The size is immense, but six smaller guns would have been made at the same expense, and done six times as much execution as she could have done.  There was immense interest taken in the show by the people of the town, and the numbers who crowded the Castle-hill had a magnificent appearance.  About thirty of our Celts attended in costume; and as there was a Highland regiment on duty, with dragoons and artillerymen, the whole made a splendid show.  The dexterity with which the last manned and wrought the windlass which raised