April 23.—­A glorious day, bright and brilliant, and, I fancy, mild.  Lady Scott is certainly better, and has promised not to attempt quitting her room.

Henry Scott has been here, and his canvass comes on like a moor burning.

April 24.—­Good news from Brighton.  Sophia is confined; both she and her baby are doing well, and the child’s name is announced to be Walter—­a favourite name in our family, and I trust of no bad omen.  Yet it is no charm for life.  Of my father’s family I was the second Walter, if not the third.  I am glad the name came my way, for it was borne by my father, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather; also by the grandsire of that last-named venerable person who was the first laird of Raeburn.

Hurst and Robinson, the Yorkshire tykes, have failed after all their swaggering, and Longman and Co. take Woodstock.  But if Woodstock and Napoleon take with the public I shall care little about their insolvency, and if they do not, I don’t think their solvency would have lasted long.  Constable is sorely broken down.

    “Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
    That’s sorry yet for thee."[255]

His conduct has not been what I deserved at his hand, but, I believe that, walking blindfold himself, he misled me without malice prepense.  It is best to think so at least, unless the contrary be demonstrated.  To nourish angry passions against a man whom I really liked would be to lay a blister on my own heart.

April 25.—­Having fallen behind on the 23d, I wrought pretty hard yesterday; but I had so much reading, and so many proofs to correct, that I did not get over the daily task, so am still a little behind, which I shall soon make up.  I have got Nap., d—­n him, into Italy, where with bad eyes and obscure maps, I have a little difficulty in tracing out his victorious chess-play.

Lady Scott was better yesterday, certainly better, and was sound asleep when I looked in this morning.  Walked in the afternoon.  I looked at a hooded crow building in the thicket with great pleasure.  It is a shorter date than my neighbour Torwoodlee[256] thought of, when he told me, as I was bragging a little of my plantations, that it would be long ere crows built in them.

April 26.—­Letters from Walter and Lockharts; all well and doing well.  Lady S. continues better, so the clouds are breaking up.  I made a good day’s work yesterday, and sent off proofs, letters, and copy this morning; so, if this fine day holds good, I will take a drive at one.