July 11.—­The last day of the session, and as toilsome a one as I ever saw.  There were about 100 or 120 cases on the roll, and most of them of an incidental character, which gives us Clerks the greatest trouble, for it is the grasshopper that is a burthen to us.  Came home about four, tired and hungry.  I wrought little or none; indeed I could not, having books and things to pack.  Went in the evening to sup with John Murray,[299] where I met Will Clerk, Thomson, Henderland, and Charles Stuart Blantyre, and had of course a pleasant party.  I came late home, though, for me, and was not in bed till past midnight; it would not do for me to do this often.

July 12.—­I have the more reason to eschew evening parties that I slept two mornings till past eight; these vigils would soon tell on my utility, as the divines call it, but this is the last day in town, and the world shall be amended.  I have been trying to mediate between the unhappy R.P.  G[illies] and his uncle Lord G. The latter talks like a man of sense and a good relation, and would, I think, do something for E.P.G., if he would renounce temporary expedients and bring his affairs to a distinct crisis.  But this E.P. will not hear of, but flatters himself with ideas which seem to me quite visionary.  I could make nothing of him; but, I conclude, offended him by being of his uncle’s opinion rather than his, as to the mode of extricating his affairs.

I am to dine out to-day, and I would fain shirk and stay at home; never, Shylock-like, had I less will to feasting forth, but I must go or be thought sulky.  Lord M. and Lady Abercromby called this morning, and a world of people besides, among others honest Mr. Wilson, late of Wilsontown, who took so much care of me at London, sending fresh eggs and all sorts of good things.  Well, I have dawdled and written letters sorely against the grain all day.  Also I have been down to see Will Allan’s picture of the Landing of Queen Mary, which he has begun in a great style; also I have put my letters and papers to rights, which only happens when I am about to move, and now, having nothing left to do, I must go and dress myself.

July 13.—­Dined yesterday with Lord Abercromby at a party he gave to Lord Melville and some old friends, who formed the Contemporary Club.  Lord M. and I met with considerable feeling on both sides, and all our feuds were forgotten and forgiven; I conclude so at least, because one or two people, whom I know to be sharp observers of the weatherglass on occasion of such squalls, have been earnest with me to meet Lord M. at parties—­which I am well assured they would not have been (had I been Horace come to life again[300]) were they not sure the breeze was over.  For myself, I am happy that our usual state of friendship should be restored, though I could not have come down proud stomach to make advances, which is, among friends, always the duty of the richer and more powerful of the two.