June 4.—­I wrote a good task yesterday, and to-day a great one, scarce stirring from the desk the whole day, except a few minutes when Lady Rae called.  I was glad to see my wife’s old friend, with whom in early life we had so many liaisons.  I am not sure it is right to work so hard; but a man must take himself, as well as other people, when he is in the humour.  A man will do twice as much at one time and in half the time, and twice as well as he will be able to do at another.  People are always crying out about method, and in some respects it is good, and shows to great advantage among men of business, but I doubt if men of method, who can lay aside or take up the pen just at the hour appointed, will ever be better than poor creatures.  Lady L[ouisa] S[tuart] used to tell me of Mr. Hoole, the translator of Tasso and Ariosto, and in that capacity a noble transmuter of gold into lead, that he was a clerk in the India House, with long ruffles and a snuff-coloured suit of clothes, who occasionally visited her father [John, Earl of Bute].  She sometimes conversed with him, and was amused to find that he did exactly so many couplets day by day, neither more or less; and habit had made it light to him, however heavy it might seem to the reader.

Well, but if I lay down the pen, as the pain in my breast hints that I should, what am I to do?  If I think, why, I shall weep—­and that’s nonsense; and I have no friend now—­none—­to receive my tediousness for half-an-hour of the gloaming.  Let me be grateful—­I have good news from Abbotsford.

June 5.—­Though this be Monday, I am not able to feague it away, as Bayes says.[279] Between correcting proofs and writing letters, I have got as yet but two pages written, and that with labour and a sensation of pain in the chest.  I may be bringing on some serious disease by working thus hard; if I had once justice done to other folks, I do not much care, only I would not like to suffer long pain.  Harden made me a visit.  He argued with me that Lord M. affiched his own importance, too much at the election, and says Henry is anxious about it.  I hinted to him the necessity of counter-balancing it the next time, which will be soon.

Thomson also called about the Bannatyne Club.

These two interruptions did me good, though I am still a poor wretch.

After all, I have fagged through six pages; and made poor Wurmser lay down his sword on the glacis of Mantua—­and my head aches—­my eyes ache—­my back aches—­so does my breast—­and I am sure my heart aches, and what can Duty ask more?

June 6.—­I arose much better this morning, having taken some medicine, which has removed the strange and aching feeling in my back and breast.  I believe it is from the diaphragm; it must be looked to, however.  I have not yet breakfasted, yet have cleared half my day’s work holding it at the ordinary stint.

Worked hard.  John Swinton, my kinsman, came to see me,—­very kind and affectionate in his manner; my heart always warms to that Swinton connection, so faithful to old Scottish feelings.  Harden was also with me.  I talked with him about what Lord M. did at the election; I find that he disapproves—­I see these visits took place on the 5th.