puritanic notions, and also for fear of her husband.  She could find no better way of hiding the shame than giving the girl (with her own knowledge and consent, I believe) potions to cause abortion, which she afterwards changed for arsenic, as the more effectual silencing medicine.  In the course of the trial one of the jury fell down in an epileptic fit, and on his recovery was far too much disordered to permit the trial to proceed.  With only fourteen jurymen it was impossible to go on.  But the Advocate, Sir William Rae, says she shall be tried anew, since she has not tholed an assize. Sic Paulus ait—­et recte quidem. But, having been half tried, I think she should have some benefit of it, as far as saving her life, if convicted on the second indictment.  The Advocate declares, however, she shall be hanged, as certainly she deserves.  But it looks something like hanging up a man who has been recovered by the surgeons, which has always been accounted harsh justice.

February 7.—­Wrote six leaves to-day, and am tired—­that’s all.

February 8.—­I lost much time to-day.  I got from the Court about half-past twelve, therefore might have reckoned on four hours, or three at least, before dinner.  But I had to call on Dr. Shortt at two, which made me lounge till that hour came.  Then I missed him, and, too tired to return, went to see the exhibition, where Skene was hanging up the pictures, and would not let me in.  Then to the Oil Gas Company, who propose to send up counsel to support their new bill.  As I thought the choice unadvisedly made, I fairly opposed the mission, which, I suppose, will give much offence; but I have no notion of being shamefaced in doing my duty, and I do not think I should permit forward persons to press into situations for which their vanity alone renders them competent.  Had many proof-sheets to correct in the evening.

February 9.—­We had a long day of it at Court, but I whipped you off half-a-dozen of letters, for, as my cases stood last on the roll, I could do what I liked in the interim.  This carried me on till two o’clock.  Called on Baron Hume, and found him, as usual, in high spirits, notwithstanding his late illness.  Then crept home—­my rheumatism much better, though.  Corrected lives of Lord Somerville and the King [George III.][467] for the Prose Works, which took a long time; but I had the whole evening to myself, as Anne dined with the Swintons, and went to a ball at the Justice-Clerk’s. N.B.—­It is the first and only ball which has been given this season—­a sign the times are pinching.

February 10.—­I got a present of Lord Francis Gower’s printed but unpublished Tale of the Mill.[468] It is a fine tale of terror in itself, and very happily brought out.  He has certainly a true taste for poetry.  I do not know why, but from my childhood I have seen something fearful, or melancholy at least, about a mill.  Whether I had been frightened at the machinery when