December 24.—­To add to my other grievances I have this day a proper fit of rheumatism in my best knee.  I pushed to Abbotsford, however, after the Court rose, though compelled to howl for pain as they helped me out of the carriage.

[Abbotsford,] December 25.—­By dint of abstinence and opodeldoc I passed a better night than I could have hoped for; but took up my lodging in the chapel room, as it is called, for going upstairs was impossible.

To-day I have been a mere wretch.  I lay in bed till past eleven, thinking to get rid of the rheumatism; then I walked as far as Turnagain with much pain, and since that time I have just roasted myself like a potato by the fireside in my study, slumbering away my precious time, and unable to keep my eyes open or my mind intent on anything, if I would have given my life for it.  I seemed to sleep tolerably, too, last night, but I suppose Nature had not her dues properly paid; neither has she for some time.

I saw the filling up of the quarry on the terrace walk, and was pleased.  Anne and I dined at Mertoun, as has been my old wont and use as Christmas day comes about.  We were late in setting out, and I have rarely seen so dark a night.  The mist rolled like volumes of smoke on the road before us.

December 26.—­Returned to Abbotsford this morning.  I heard it reported that Lord B. is very ill.  If that be true it affords ground for hope that Sir John ------ is not immortal.  Both great bores.  But the Earl has something of wild cleverness, far exceeding the ponderous stupidity of the Cavaliero Jackasso.

December 27.—­Still weak with this wasting illness, but it is clearly going off.  Time it should, quoth Sancho.  I began my work again, which had slumbered betwixt pain and weakness.  In fact I could not write or compose at all.

December 28.—­Stuck to my work.  Mr. Scrope came to dinner, and remained next day.  We were expecting young Percival and his wife, once my favourite and beautiful Nancy M’Leod, and still a very fine woman; but they came not.

In bounced G. T[homson], alarmed by an anonymous letter, which acquainted him that thirty tents full of Catholics were coming to celebrate high mass in the Abbey church; and to consult me on such a precious document he came prancing about seven at night.  I hope to get him a kirk before he makes any extraordinary explosion of simplicity.

December 29.—­Mr. and Mrs. Percival came to-day.  He is son of the late lamented statesman, equally distinguished by talents and integrity.  The son is a clever young man, and has read a good deal; pleasant, too, in society; but tampers with phrenology, which is unworthy of his father’s son.  There is a certain kind of cleverish men, either half educated or cock-brained by nature, who are attached to that same turnipology.  I am sorry this gentleman should take such whims—­sorry even for his name’s sake.  Walter and Jane arrived; so our Christmas party thickens.  Sir Adam and Colonel Ferguson dined.