There has been little in the way of an update to this meagre blog, mainly due to the fact that not much has been happening. I am reading, of course, an inordinate amount of pages from the 19th century (which should excuse any heights of language to which I here aspire), but that's about it. I hear on the wind that there's to be a bit of a movie night tonight. Even so, that's not much of a change from the usual. For those who might care, and those who don't, I am presently making myself acquainted with the Right Honourable... Sir Walter Scott. His novel Guy Mannering is my present occupation, though I hear it is not one of his most popular. It has held my interest, though, for 320 pages, and I do not think I'm stretching my faith in Scott's authorship when I say that it will probably remain agreeable still for the 200 pages I have left to go. After this, I must blitz through Thomas de Quincey's odd memorandum entitled The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. I make my confession this: that I did not know till now that opium could be eaten. Ah well. There will always be ignorance of something, great or small, to humble us.