“I write just now to thank you for your letter. I have been on board the steam-ship, and am so delighted with it, that I think I shall put myself aboard for the coronation. It runs at nine knots an hour (me ipso teste), against wind and tide, with a deck as long as a frigate’s to walk upon, and to sleep on also, if you like, as I have always preferred a cloak and a mattrass to these crowded cabins. This reconciles the speed and certainty of the mail-coach with the ease and convenience of being on ship-board. So I really think I will run up to see the grandee show and run down again. I scorn to mention economy, though the expense is not one-fifth, and that is something in hard times, especially to me, who to choose, would always rather travel in a public conveyance, than with my domestic’s good company in a po-chay.
“But now comes the news of news. I have been instigating the great Caledonian Boar, James Hogg, to undertake a similar trip—with the view of turning an honest penny, to help out his stocking, by writing some sort of Shepherd’s Letters, or the like, to put the honest Scots bodies up to this whole affair. I am trying with Lord Sidmouth to get him a place among the newspaper gentry to see the ceremony. It is seriously worth while to get such a popular view of the whole, as he will probably hit off.
“I have another view for this poor fellow. You have heard of the Royal Literary Society, and how they propose to distribute solid pudding, alias pensions,
JULY, 1821. | 87 |
“There will be risk of his being lost in London, or kidnapped by some of those ladies who open literary menageries for the reception of lions. I should like to see him at a rout of blue-stockings. I intend to recommend him to the protection of John Murray the bookseller; and I hope he will come equipped with plaid, kent, and colley.*
“I wish to heaven Lord Melville would either keep the Admiralty, or in Hogg’s phrase—
——‘O I would eagerly press him The keys of the east to require,’—
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* Kent is the shepherd’s staff—Colley his dog. Scott alludes to the old song of the Lea Rig—
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88 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |