entioned to Scott in 1816 the use of the word
"curlie-wurlies" for highly decorated architecture, and recognised the
phrase, next year, in the mouth of Andrew Fairservice.

In the meeting at Abbotsford (May 2, 1817) Scott was very communicative,
sketched Bailie Nicol Jarvie, and improvised a dialogue between Rob and
the magistrate. A week later he quoted to Southey, Swift's lines--
Too bad for a blessing, too good for a curse,--which probably suggested
Andrew Fairservice's final estimate of Scott's hero,--"over bad for
blessing, and ower gude for banning."

These are the trifles which show the bent of Scott's mind at this period.
The summer of 1817 he spent in working at the "Annual Register" and at
the "Border Antiquities." When the courts rose, he visited Rob's cave at
the head of Loch Lomond; and this visit seems to have been gossiped
about, as literary people, hearing of the new novel, expected the cave to
be a very prominent feature. He also went to Glasgow, and refreshed his
memory of the cathedral; nor did he neglect old books, such as "A Tour
through Great Britain, by a Gentleman" (4th Edition, 1748). This yielded
him the Bailie's account of Glasgow commerce "in Musselburgh stuffs and
Edinburgh shalloons," and the phrase "sortable cargoes."

Hence, too, Scott took the description of the rise of Glasgow. Thus Scott
was taking pains with his preparations. The book was not written in
post-haste. Announced to Constable early in May, the last sheet was not
corrected till about December 21, when Scott wrote to Ballantyne:--

DEAR JAMES,--

With great joy I send you Roy.
'T was a tough job,
But we're done with Rob.

"Rob Roy" was published on the last day of 1817. The toughness of the job
was caused by constant pain, and by struggles with "the lassitude of
opium." So seldom sentimental, so rarely given to expressing his
melancholy moods in verse, Scott, while composing "Rob Roy," wrote the
beautiful poem "The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill," in which, for this once,
"pity of self through all makes broken moan."

Some stress may be laid on the state of Sir Walter's health at this
moment, because a living critic has tried to show that, in his case,
"every pang of the stomach paralyses the brain;" that he "never had a fit
of the cramp without spoiling a chapter."--[Mr. Ruskin's "Fiction Fair
and Foul," "Nineteenth Century," 1880, p. 955.]--"Rob R