Now, the whole has been, ten or twelve years since, completely replanted, and the scattered seniors look as graceful as fathers surrounded by their children.  The face of this immense estate has been scarcely less wonderfully changed.  The scrambling tenants, who held a precarious tenure of lease under the Duke of Queensberry, at the risk (as actually took place) of losing their possession at his death, have given room to skilful and labouring men, working their farms regularly, and enjoying comfortable houses and their farms at a fair rent, which is enough to forbid idleness, but not enough to overpower industry.

August 25.—­Here are Lord and Lady Home,[325] Charles Douglas,[326] Lord and Lady Charlotte Stopford.[327] I grieve to say the last, though as beautiful as ever, is extremely thin, and looks delicate.  The Duke himself has grown up into a graceful and apparently strong young man, and received us most kindly.  I think he will be well qualified to sustain his difficult and important task.  The heart is excellent, so are the talents,—­good sense and knowledge of the world, picked up at one of the great English schools (and it is one of their most important results), will prevent him from being deceived; and with perfect good-nature, he has a natural sense of his own situation, which will keep him from associating with unworthy companions.  God bless him!  His father and I loved each other well, and his beautiful mother had as much of the angel as is permitted to walk this earth.  I see the balcony from which they welcomed poor Charlotte and me, long ere the ascent was surmounted, streaming out their white handkerchiefs from the battlements.  There were four merry people that day—­now one sad individual is all that remains. Singula praedantur anni.  I had a long walk to-day through the new plantation, the Duchess’s Walk by the Nith, etc. (formed by Prior’s Kitty young and gay[328]); fell in with the ladies, but their donkeys outwalked me—­a flock of sheep afterwards outwalked me, and I begin to think, on my conscience, that a snail put in training might soon outwalk me.  I must lay the old salve to the old sore, and be thankful for being able to walk at all.

Nothing was written to-day, my writing-desk having been forgot at Parkgate, but Tom Crighton kindly fetched it up to-day, so something more or less may be done to-morrow morning—­and now to dress.

[Bittock’s Bridge,] August 26.—­We took our departure from the friendly halls of Drumlanrig this morning after breakfast and leave-taking.  I trust this young nobleman will be

    “A hedge about his friends,
    A hackle to his foes."[329]

I would have him not quite so soft-natured as his grandfather, whose kindness sometimes mastered his excellent understanding.  His father had a temper which better lumped with my humour.  Enough of ill-nature to keep your good-nature from being abused is no bad ingredient in their disposition who have favours to bestow.[330]