September 20.—­Waked after a restless night, in which I dreamed of poor Tom Shortreed.  Breakfasted with the Rev. Dr. Somerville.[344] This venerable gentleman is one of the oldest of the literary brotherhood—­I suppose about eighty-seven, and except a little deafness quite entire.  Living all his life in good society as a gentleman born—­and having, besides, professional calls to make among the poor—­he must know, of course, much that is curious concerning the momentous changes which have passed under his eyes.  He talks of them accordingly, and has written something on the subject, but has scarce the force necessary to seize on the most striking points, “palabras, neighbour Verges,"[345]—­gifts which God gives.  The bowl that rolls easiest along the green goes furthest, and has least clay sticking to it.  I have often noticed that a kindly, placid good-humour is the companion of longevity, and, I suspect, frequently the leading cause of it.  Quick, keen, sharp observation, with the power of contrast and illustration, disturbs this easy current of thought.  My good friend, the venerable Doctor, will not, I think, die of that disease.

Called at Nesbit Mill on my cousin Charles.  His wife received me better than I deserved, for I have been a sad neglectful visitor.  She has a very pleasant countenance.

Some of the Circuit lawyers dined here, namely R. Dundas, Borthwick, the facetious Peter Robertson,[346] Mr. R. Adam Dundas, and with them Henry Scott of Harden.

September 21.—­Our party breakfasted late, and I was heavy-headed, and did not rise till eight.  Had drank a little more wine than usual, but as our friend Othello says, “that’s not much."[347] However, we dawdled about till near noon ere all my guests left me.  Then I walked a little and cut some wood.  Read afterwards.  I can’t get on without it.  How did I get on before?—­that’s a secret.  Mr. Thomas Tod[348] and his wife came to dine.  We talked of old stories and got over a pleasant evening.

September 22.—­Still no writing.  We have materials to collect.  D—–­n you, Mother Duty, hold your tongue!  I tell you, you know nothing of the matter.  Besides, I corrected five sheets.  I wish you had to do with some other people, just to teach you the difference.  I grant that the day being exquisite I went and thinned out the wood from the north front of the house.  Read and noted a great deal.

September 23.—­Wrought in the morning, but only at reading and proofs.  That cursed battle of Jena is like to cost me more time than it did Bonaparte to gain it.  I met Colonel Ferguson about one, to see his dogs run.  It is a sport I have loved well, but now, I know not why, I find it little interesting.  To be sure I used to gallop, and that I cannot now do.  We had good sport, however, and killed five hares.  I felt excited during the chase, but the feeling was but momentary.  My mind was immediately turned to other remembrances, and to pondering upon the change which had taken place in my own feelings.  The day was positively heavenly, and the wild hillside, with our little coursing party, was beautiful to look at.  Yet I felt like a man come from the dead, looking with indifference on that which interested him while living.  So it must be