“I like this rocking of the battlements."[490]

I was received by old Tom and the dogs, with the unsophisticated feelings of goodwill.  I have been trying to read a new novel which I have heard praised.  It is called Almacks, and the author has so well succeeded in describing the cold selfish fopperies of the time, that the copy is almost as dull as the original.  I think I will take up my bundle of Sheriff-Court processes instead of Almacks, as the more entertaining avocation of the two.

March 13.—­Before breakfast, prepared and forwarded the processes to Selkirk.  As I had the loan of L250 at March from Cadell I am now verging on to the L500 which he promised to allow me in advance on second series Canongate Chronicles.  I do not like this, but unless I review or write to some other purpose, what else can I do?  My own expenses are as limited as possible, but my house expenses are considerable, and every now and then starts up something of old scores which I cannot turn over to Mr. Gibson and his co-trustees.  Well—­time and the hour—­money is the smallest consideration.

Had a pleasant walk to the thicket, though my ideas were olla-podrida-ish, curiously checkered between pleasure and melancholy.  I have cause enough for both humours, God knows.  I expect this will not be a day of work but of idleness, for my books are not come.  Would to God I could make it light thoughtless idleness, such as I used to have when the silly smart fancies ran in my brain like the bubbles in a glass of champagne,—­as brilliant to my thinking, as intoxicating as evanescent.  But the wine is somewhat on the lees.  Perhaps it was but indifferent cider after all.  Yet I am happy in this place, where everything looks friendly, from old Tom to young Nym.[491] After all, he has little to complain of who has left so many things that like him.

March 14.—­All yesterday spent in putting to rights books, and so forth.  Not a word written except interlocutors.  But this won’t do.  I have tow on the rock, and it must be spun off.  Let us see our present undertakings. 1.  Napoleon. 2.  Review Home, Cranbourne Chase,[492] and the Mysteries. 3.  Something for that poor faineant Gillies. 4.  Essay on Ballad and Song. 5.  Something on the modern state of France.  These two last for the Prose Works.  But they may

    “—­do a little more,
    And produce a little ore.”

Come, we must up and be doing.  There is a rare scud without, which says, “Go spin, you jade, go spin.”  I loitered on, and might have answered,

    “My spinning-wheel is auld and stiff.”

Smoked a brace of cigars after dinner as a sedative.  This is the first time I have smoked these two months.  I was afraid the custom would master me.  Went to work in the afternoon, and reviewed for Lockhart Mackenzie’s edition of Home’s Works.[493] Proceeded as far as the eighth page.

March 15.—­Kept still at the review till two o’clock; not that there is any hurry, but because I should lose my ideas, which are not worth preserving.  Went on therefore.  I drove over to Huntly Burn with Anne, then walked through the plantations, with Tom’s help to pull me through the snow-wreaths.  Returned in a glow of heat and spirits.  Corrected proof-sheets in the evening.