April 16.—­A day of work and exercise.  In the evening a letter from L[ockhart], with the wonderful news that the Ministry has broken up, and apparently for no cause that any one can explain.  The old grudge, I suppose, betwixt Peel and Canning, which has gone on augmenting like a crack in the side of a house, which enlarges from day to day, till down goes the whole.  Mr. Canning has declared himself fully satisfied with J.L., and sent Barrow to tell him so.  His suspicions were indeed most erroneous, but they were repelled with no little spirit both by L. and myself, and Canning has not been like another Great Man I know to whom I showed demonstrably that he had suspected an individual unjustly.  “It may be so,” he said, “but his mode of defending himself was offensive."[503]

April 17.—­Went to dinner to-day to Mr. Bainbridge’s Gattonside House, and had fireworks in the evening, made by Captain Burchard, a good-humoured kind of Will Wimble.[504] One nice little boy announced to us everything that was going to be done, with the importance of a prologue.  Some of the country folks assembled, and our party was enlivened by the squeaks of the wenches and the long-protracted Eh, eh’s! by which a Teviotdale tup testifies his wonder.

April 18.—­I felt the impatience of news so much that I walked up to Mr. Laidlaw, surely for no other purpose than to talk politics.  This interrupted Boney a little.  After I returned, about twelve or one, behold Tom Tack; he comes from Buenos Ayres with a parcel of little curiosities he had picked up for me.  As Tom Tack spins a tough yarn, I lost the morning almost entirely—­what with one thing, what with t’other, as my friend the Laird of Raeburn says.  Nor have I much to say for the evening, only I smoked a cigar more than usual to get the box ended, and give up the custom for a little.

April 19.—­Another letter from Lockhart.[505] I am sorry when I think of the goodly fellowship of vessels which are now scattered on the ocean.  There is the Duke of Wellington, the Lord Chancellor, Lord Melville, Mr. Peel, and I wot not who besides, all turned out of office or resigned!  I wonder what they can do in the House of Lords when all the great Tories are on the wrong side of the House.  Canning seems quite serious in his views of helping Lockhart.  I hope it will come to something.

April 20.—­A surly sort of day.  I walked for two hours, however, and then returned chiefly to Nap.  Egad!  I believe it has an end at last, this blasted work.  I have the fellow at Plymouth, or near about it.  Well, I declare, I thought the end of these beastly big eight volumes was like the end of the world, which is always talked of and never comes.

April. 21.—­Here is a vile day—­downright rain, which disconcerts an inroad of bairns from Gattonside, and, of course, annihilates a part of the stock of human happiness.  But what says the proverb of your true rainy day—­