lackadaisical. Byron's example has formed a sort of upper house of
poetry. There is Lord Leveson Gower, a very clever young man.[24] Lord
Porchester too,[25] nephew to Mrs. Scott of Harden, a young man who lies
on the carpet and looks poetical and dandyish--fine lad too, but--

"There will be many peers
Ere such another Byron."

Talking of Abbotsford, it begins to be haunted by too much company of
every kind, but especially foreigners. I do not like them. I hate fine
waistcoats and breast-pins upon dirty shirts. I detest the impudence
that pays a stranger compliments, and harangues about his works in the
author's house, which is usually ill-breeding. Moreover, they are seldom
long of making it evident that they know nothing about what they are
talking of, except having seen the Lady of the Lake at the Opera.

Dined at St. Catherine's[26] with Lord Advocate, Lord and Lady Melville,
Lord Justice-Clerk,[27] Sir Archibald Campbell of Succoth, all class
companions and acquainted well for more than forty years. All except
Lord J.C. were at Fraser's class, High School.[28] Boyle joined us at
college. There are, besides, Sir Adam Ferguson, Colin Mackenzie, James
Hope, Dr. James Buchan, Claud Russell, and perhaps two or three more of
and about the same period--but

"Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto."[29]

_November 24._--Talking of strangers, London held, some four or five
years since, one of those animals who are lions at first, but by
transmutation of two seasons become in regular course Boars!--Ugo
Foscolo by name, a haunter of Murray's shop and of literary parties.