May 20.—­Wrote a good deal at Appendix [to Bonaparte], or perhaps I should say tried to write.  Got myself into a fever when I had finished four pages, and went out at eight o’clock at night to cool myself if possible.  Walked with difficulty as far as Skene’s,[520] and there sat and got out of my fidgety feeling.  Learned that the Princes Street people intend to present me with the key of their gardens, which will be a great treat, as I am too tender-hoofed for the stones.  We must now get to work in earnest.

May 21.—­Accordingly this day I wrought tightly, and though not in my very best mood I got on in a very businesslike manner.  Was at the Gas Council, where I found things getting poorly on.  The Treasury have remitted us to the Exchequer.  The Committee want me to make private interest with the L.C.  Baron.  That I won’t do, but I will state their cause publicly any way they like.

May 22.—­At Court—­home by two, walking through the Princes Street Gardens for the first time.  Called on Mrs. Jobson.  Worked two hours.  Must dress to dine at Mr. John Borthwick’s, with the young folk, now Mr. and Mrs. Dempster.[521] Kindly and affectionately received by my good young friends, who seem to have succeeded to their parents’ regard for me.

May 23.—­Got some books, etc., which I wanted to make up the Saint Helena affair.  Set about making up the Appendix, but found I had mislaid a number of the said postliminary affair.  Had Hogg’s nephew here as a transcriber, a modest and well-behaved young man—­clever, too, I think.[522] Being Teind Wednesday I was not obliged to go to the Court, and am now bang up, and shall soon finish Mr. Nappy.  And how then?  Ay, marry, sir, that’s the question.

    “Lord, what will all the people say,
    Mr. Mayor, Mr. Mayor!”

“The fires i’ the lowest hell fold in the people!"[523] as Coriolanus says.  I live not in their report, I hope.

May 24.—­Mr. Gibson paid me L70 more of my London journey.  A good thought came into my head:  to write stories for little Johnnie Lockhart from the History of Scotland, like those taken from the History of England.  I will not write mine quite so simply as Croker has done.  I am persuaded both children and the lower class of readers hate books which are written down to their capacity, and love those that are more composed for their elders and betters.  I will make, if possible, a book that a child will understand, yet a man will feel some temptation to peruse should he chance to take it up.  It will require, however, a simplicity of style not quite my own.  The grand and interesting consists in ideas, not in words.  A clever thing of this kind will have a run—­

    “Little to say,
    But wrought away,
    And went out to dine with the Skenes to-day.”

Rather too many dinner engagements on my list.  Must be hard-hearted.  I cannot say I like my solitary days the worst by any means.  I dine, when I like, on soup or broth, and drink a glass of porter or ginger-beer; a single tumbler of whisky and water concludes the debauch.  This agrees with me charmingly.  At ten o’clock bread and cheese, a single draught of small beer, porter, or ginger-beer, and to bed.