With his wonted humour, Mr Cruikshank has sketched Dr Gideon Gray and the wives of Middlemas. Gideon Gray, surgeon at Middle-mas, was a plain, blunt, middle-aged man, with a touch of cynicism about him. Late of an autumn evening, three old women raced towards his door, accompanied by some idle young fellows, who were loudly betting on the winner. "Half-a-mutchkin on Luckie Simson." "Auld Peg Tamson against the field." "Mair speed, Alison Jaup, ye'll tak' the wind out of them yet." "Canny against the hill, lassies, or we may ha'e a burstin' auld carline amang ye." These, and a thousand such gibes, rent the air, without being noticed by the anxious racers, whose object of contention seemed to be which should first reach the doctor's door. Mr Gray, who had just dismounted from a long journey, hastened downstairs, auguring some new occasion for his services. He had just reached the door as Luckie Simson, one of the racers, arrived in the little area before it. She stood, blowing like a grampus, her loose toy flying back from her face, making the most violent efforts to speak, but without the power of uttering a word. Peg Tamson whipped in before her-"The leddy, sir; the leddy!" "Instant help! instant help!" screeched, rather than uttered, Alison Jaup; while Luckie Simson, who had certainly won the race, found words to claim the prize which had set them all in motion-"And I hope, sir, you will recommend me to be the sick-nurse; I was here to bring you the tidings long before ony o' thae lazy queans." [Illustration: 131] [Illustration: 132] COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. IN his "Diary," under February 19th, 1826, Sir Walter thus writes: "Being troubled with thick-coming fancies, and a slight palpitation of the heart, I have been reading the 'Chronicle of the Good Knight Messire Jacques de Lalain'-curious, but dull, from the constant repetition of the same species of combats in the same style and phrase. It is like washing bushels of sand for a grain of gold..... Still, things occur to one. Something might be made of a tale of chivalry-taken from the passage of arms, which Jacques de Lalain maintained for the first day of every month for a twelvemonth..... This would be light summer work." The suggestion thus obtained Scott did not carry out for some time. In the autumn of 1830, he commenced the romance of "Count Robert of Paris," which was published in November of the following year. During its composition, he gave decided indications of failing energies; his penmanship became shaky, and he misplaced words, but the composition itself presented no trace of decayed intelligence.