June 15.—­I laboured all the evening, but made little way.  There were many books to consult; and so all I could really do was to make out my task of three pages.  I will try to make up the deficit of Tuesday to-day and to-morrow.  Letters from Walter—­all well.  A visit yesterday from Charles Sharpe.

June 16.—­Yesterday sate in the Court till nearly four.  I had, of course, only time for my task.  I fear I will have little more to-day, for I have accepted to dine at Hector’s.  I got, yesterday, a present of two engravings from Sir Henry Raeburn’s portrait of me, which (poor fellow!) was the last he ever painted, and certainly not his worst.[287] I had the pleasure to give one to young Mr. Davidoff for his uncle, the celebrated Black Captain of the campaign of 1812.  Curious that he should be interested in getting the resemblance of a person whose mode of attaining some distinction has been very different.  But I am sensible, that if there be anything good about my poetry or prose either, it is a hurried frankness of composition which pleases soldiers, sailors, and young people of bold and active disposition.  I have been no sigher in shades—­no writer of

    “Songs and sonnets and rustical roundelays,
    Framed on fancies, and whistled on reeds."[288]

[Abbotsford, Saturday,] June 17.—­Left Edinburgh to-day after Parliament House to come [here].  My two girls met me at Torsonce, which was a pleasant surprise, and we returned in the sociable all together.  Found everything right and well at Abbotsford under the new regime.  I again took possession of the family bedroom and my widowed couch.  This was a sore trial, but it was necessary not to blink such a resolution.  Indeed, I do not like to have it thought that there is any way in which I can be beaten.[289]

June 18.—­This morning wrote till half-twelve—­good day’s work—­at Canongate Chronicles.  Methinks I can make this work answer.  Then drove to Huntly Burn and called at Chiefswood.  Walked home.  The country crying for rain; yet on the whole the weather delicious, dry, and warm, with a fine air of wind.  The young woods are rising in a kind of profusion I never saw elsewhere.  Let me once clear off these encumbrances, and they shall wave broader and deeper yet.  But to attain this I must work.

Wrought very fair accordingly till two; then walked; after dinner out again with the girls.  Smoked two cigars, first time these two months.

June 19.—­Wrought very fair indeed, and the day being scorching we dined al fresco in the hall among the armour, and went out early in the evening.  Walked to the lake and back again by the Marle pool; very delightful evening.

June 20.—­This is also a hard-working day.  Hot weather is favourable for application, were it not that it makes the composer sleepy.  Pray God the reader may not partake the sensation!  But days of hard work make short journals.  To-day we again dine in the hall, and drive to Ashestiel in the evening pour prendre le frais.