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The Highland Widow. A favourite exclamation of Sir Walter's, which he had picked up on his Irish tour, signifying "don't mind it" Na-bac-leis. Compare Sir Boyle Roche's dream that his head was cut off and placed upon a table: "'Quis separabit? says the head; 'Naboclish, says I, in the same language." That Mr.
'Well! and did not I make up for that at the races of ? The creditors learned that my lord's horse, Naboclish, was to run at races; and, as the sheriff's officer knew he dare not touch him on the race-ground, what does he do, but he comes down early in the morning on the mail-coach, and walks straight down to the livery stables.
I was guilty, however, of some waywardness, for I began volume v. of Boney instead of carrying on the Canongate as I proposed. The reason, however, was that I might not forget the information I had acquired about the Treaty of Amiens. August 15. The weather seems decidedly broken. Yesterday, indeed, cleared up, but this day seems to persevere in raining. Naboclish! It's a rarity nowadays.
'I did not let him off so, even. At the cant, I bid and bid against them for the pretended Naboclish, till I, left him on their hands for 500 guineas. Ha! ha! ha! was not that famous? 'But, said Miss Nugent, 'I cannot believe you are in earnest, Sir Terence. Surely this would be 'What? out with it, my dear Miss Nugent. 'I am afraid of offending you.
Naboclish! it is hoped there will be a pièce de résistance. August 22. Mrs. and Misses Crampton departed. I was rather sorry to give them such brief entertainment, for they were extremely kind. But going to Eildon Hall to-day, and to Drumlanrig to-morrow, there was nothing more could be done for them. It is raining now "successfully," as old Macfarlane of the Arroquhar used to say.
The Annes went off at eight, morning. After breakfast I drove down to Melrose and waited on Mrs. and Miss Dempster, and engaged them for Saturday. Weather bitter cold; yea, atrociously so. Naboclish the better for work. Ladies whose husbands love fox-hunting are in a poor way. Here are two pleasant and pretty women pegged up the whole day "In the worst inn's worst room"
"Well! and did not I make up for that at the races of ? The creditors learned that my lord's horse, Naboclish, was to run at races; and, as the sheriff's officer knew he dare not touch him on the race-ground, what does he do, but he comes down early in the morning on the mail-coach, and walks straight down to the livery stables.
Nevertheless, I get on. I think I may say, now I begin to get rid of the dust raised about me by so many puzzling little facts, that it is plain sailing to the end. Dined at Skene's with George Forbes and lady. But that was yesterday. May 27. I got ducked in coming home from the Court. Naboclish! I thank thee, Pat, for teaching me the word. Made a hard day of it.
The ladies went to Church; I, God forgive me, finished the Chronicles with a good deal of assistance from Colonel Ferguson's notes about Indian affairs. The patch is, I suspect, too glaring to be pleasing; but the Colonel's sketches are capitally good. I understand, too, there are one or two East Indian novels which have lately appeared. Naboclish! vogue la galère! September 17.
Scarce stirred from one room to another, but at bed-time finished a handsome handful of copy. I have quoted Gourgaud's evidence; I suppose he will be in a rare passion, and may be addicted to vengeance, like a long-moustached son of a French bitch as he is. Naboclish! again for that. "Frenchman, Devil, or Don, Damn him, let him come on, He shan't scare a son of the Island." May 28.
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