February 19.—­As well I give up Abbotsford, for Hamilton is laid up with the gout.  The snow, too, continues, with a hard frost.  I have seen the day I would have liked it all the better.  I read and wrote at the bitter account of the French retreat from Moscow, in 1812, till the little room and coal fire seemed snug by comparison.  I felt cold in its rigour in my childhood and boyhood, but not since.  In youth and advanced life we get less sensible to it, but I remember thinking it worse than hunger.  Uninterrupted to-day, and did eight leaves.[475]

February 20.—­At Court, and waited to see the poisoning woman.  She is clearly guilty, but as one or two witnesses said the poor wench hinted an intention to poison herself, the jury gave that bastard verdict, Not proven.  I hate that Caledonian medium quid.  One who is not proven guilty is innocent in the eye of law.  It was a face to do or die, or perhaps to do to die.  Thin features, which had been handsome, a flashing eye, an acute and aquiline nose, lips much marked, as arguing decision, and, I think, bad temper—­they were thin, and habitually compressed, rather turned down at the corners, as one of a rather melancholy disposition.  There was an awful crowd; but, sitting within the bar, I had the pleasure of seeing much at my ease; the constables knocking the other folks about, which was of course very entertaining.[476]

Lord Liverpool is ill of an apoplexy.  I am sorry for it.  He will be missed.  Who will be got for Premier?  Not B——­ certainly;[477] he wants weight.  If Peel would consent to be made a peer, he would do better; but I doubt his ambition will prefer the House of Commons.  Wrought a a good deal.

February 21.—­Being the vacant Wednesday I wrote all the morning.  Had an answer from D. of W., unsuccessful in getting young Skene put upon the engineer list; he is too old.  Went out at two with Anne, and visited the exhibition; also called on the Mansfield family and on Sydney Smith.  Jeffrey unwell from pleading so long and late for the poisoning woman.  He has saved her throat and taken a quinsey in his own.  Adam Ferguson has had a fall with his horse.

February 22.—­Was at Court till two, then lounged till Will Murray[478] came to speak about a dinner for the Theatrical Fund, in order to make some arrangements.  There are 300 tickets given out.[479] I fear it will be uncomfortable; and whatever the stoics may say, a bad dinner throws cold water on the charity.  I have agreed to preside, a situation in which I have been rather felicitous, not by much superiority of wit or wisdom, far less of eloquence; but by two or three simple rules which I put down here for the benefit of posterity.

1st.  Always hurry the bottle round for five or six rounds without prosing yourself or permitting others to prose.  A slight fillip of wine inclines people to be pleased, and removes the nervousness which prevents men from speaking—­disposes them, in short, to be amusing and to be amused.