persons in the world, but a good teacher—­one of the ugliest countenances he had too—­enough, as we say, to spean weans.[199] The man was always extremely precise in the quality of everything about him, his dress, accommodations, and everything else.  He became insolvent, poor man, and for some reason or other I attended the meeting of those concerned in his affairs.  Instead of ordinary accommodations for writing, each of the persons present was equipped with a large sheet of drawing paper and a swan’s quill.  It was mournfully ridiculous enough.  Skirving[200] made an admirable likeness of Walker, not a single scar or mark of the smallpox which seamed his countenance, but the too accurate brother of the brush had faithfully laid it down in longitude and latitude.  Poor Walker destroyed it (being in crayons) rather than let the caricature of his ugliness appear at the sale of his effects.  I did learn myself to take some vile views from Nature.  When Will Clerk and I lived very much together, I used sometimes to make them under his instruction.  He to whom, as to all his family, art is a familiar attribute, wondered at me as a Newfoundland dog would at a greyhound which showed fear of the water.

Going down to Liddesdale once, I drew the castle of Hermitage in my fashion, and sketched it so accurately that with a few verbal instructions Clerk put it into regular form, Williams[201] (the Grecian) copied over Clerk’s, and his drawing was engraved as the frontispiece of the first volume of the Kelso edition, Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.[202] Do you know why you have written all this down, Sir W.?  Because it pleases me to record that this thrice-transmitted drawing, though taken originally from a sketch of mine, was extremely like Hermitage, which neither of my colleagues in the task had ever seen?  No, that’s not the reason.  You want to put off writing Woodstock, just as easily done as these memoranda, but which it happens your duty and your prudence recommend, and therefore you are loath to begin.

“Heigho,
I can’t say no;
But this piece of task-work off I can stave, O,
For Malachi’s posting into an octavo;
To correct the proof-sheets only this night I have, O,
So, Madame Conscience, you’ve gotten as good as you gave, O
But to-morrow’s a new day and we’ll better behave, O,
So I lay down the pen, and your pardon I crave, O.”

In the evening Mr. Gibson called and transacted business.

March 2.—­I have a letter from Colin Mackenzie, approving Malachi,—­“Cold men may say it is too strong; but from the true men of Scotland you are sure of the warmest gratitude.”  I never have yet found, nor do I expect it on this occasion, that ill-will dies in debt, or what is called gratitude distresses herself by frequent payments.  The one is like a ward-holding and pays its reddendo in hard blows.  The other a blanch-tenure, and is discharged for payment of a red rose or a peppercorn.