July 17.—–­ We called at Chiefswood and asked Captain Hamilton, and Mrs. H., and Mrs. Hemans, to dinner on Monday.  She is a clever person, and has been pretty.  I had a long walk with her tete-a-tete.  She told me of the peculiar melancholy attached to the words no more.  I could not help telling, as a different application of the words, how an old dame riding home along Cockenzie Sands, pretty bowsy, fell off the pillion, and her husband, being in good order also, did not miss her till he came to Prestonpans.  He instantly returned with some neighbours, and found the good woman seated amidst the advancing tide, which began to rise, with her lips ejaculating to her cummers, who she supposed were still pressing her to another cup, “Nae ae drap mair, I thank you kindly.”  We dined in family, and all well.

July 18.—–­ A Sunday with alternate showers and sunshine.  Wrote double task, which brings me to page forty-six inclusive.  I read the Spae-wife of Galt.  There is something good in it, and the language is occasionally very forcible, but he has made his story difficult to understand, by adopting a region of history little known, and having many heroes of the same name, whom it is not easy to keep separate in one’s memory.  Some of the traits of the Spae-wife, who conceits herself to be a changeling or twin, are very good indeed.  His Highland Chief is a kind of Caliban, and speaks, like Caliban, a jargon never spoken on earth, but full of effect for all that.

July 19.—­I finished two leaves this morning, and received the Hamiltons and Mrs. Hemans to breakfast.  Afterwards we drove to Yarrow and showed Mrs. Hemans the lions.  The party dined with us, and stayed till evening.  Of course no more work.

July 20.—­A rainy day, and I am very drowsy and would give the world
to ------[358]. [Transcriber’s Note:  In original, there was a blank
space instead of the dashes.] I wrote four leaves, however, and then my
understanding dropped me.  I have made up for yesterday’s short task.

* * * * *

NOTE.—­From July 20th, 1329, to May 23d, 1830, there are no entries in the Journal, but during that time Sir Walter met with a sad loss.  He was deprived of his humble friend and staunch henchman, Thomas Purdie.  The following little note to Laidlaw shows how keenly he felt his death:—­

“MY DEAR WILLIE,—­I write to tell you the shocking news of poor Tom Purdie’s death, by which I have been greatly affected.  He had complained, or rather spoken, of a sore throat; and the day before yesterday, as it came on a shower of rain, I wanted him to walk fast on to Abbotsford before me, but you know well how impossible that was.  He took some jelly, or trifle of that kind, but made no complaint.  This morning he rose from bed as usual, and sat down by the table with his head on his hand; and when his daughter