_February_ 23.--Corrected two sheets of _Woodstock_ this morning. These are not the days of idleness. The fact is, that the not seeing company gives me a command of my time which I possessed at no other period in my life, at least since I knew how to make some use of my leisure. There is a great pleasure in sitting down to write with the consciousness that nothing will occur during the day to break the spell. Detained in the Court till past three, and came home just in time to escape a terrible squall. I am a good deal jaded, and will not work till after dinner. There is a sort of drowsy vacillation of mind attends fatigue with me. I can command my pen as the school copy recommends, but cannot equally command my thought, and often write one word for another. Read a little volume called _The_ _Omen_[185]--very well written--deep and powerful language. _Aut Erasmus aut Diabolus_, it is Lockhart or I am strangely deceived. It is passed for Wilson's though, but Wilson has more of the falsetto of assumed sentiment, less of the depth of gloomy and powerful feeling. _February_ 24.--Went down to printing-office after the Court, and corrected _Malachi_. J.B.'s name is to be on the imprint, so he will subscribe the book. He reproaches me with having taken much more pains on this temporary pamphlet than on works which have a greater interest on my fortunes. I have certainly bestowed enough of revision and correction. But the cases are different. In a novel or poem, I run the course alone--here I am taking up the cudgels, and may expect a drubbing in return. Besides, I do feel that this is public matter in which the country is deeply interested; and, therefore, is far more important than anything referring to my fame or fortune alone. The pamphlet will soon be out--meantime _Malachi_ prospers and excites much attention.[186] The Banks have bespoke 500 copies. The country is taking the alarm; and I think the Ministers will not dare to press the measure. I should rejoice to see the old red lion ramp a little, and the thistle again claim its _nemo me impune_. I do believe Scotsmen will show themselves unanimous at least where their cash is concerned. They shall not want backing. I incline to cry with Biron in _Love's Labour's Lost_, "More Atés, more Atés! stir them on." I suppose all imaginative people feel more or less of excitation from a scene of insurrection or tumult, or of general expression of national feeling. When I was a lad, poor Davie Douglas[187] used to accuse me of being _cupidus novarum rerum_, and say that I loved the stimulus of a broil. It might be so then, and even still-- "Even in our ashes glow their wonted fires."[188]