I must, however, and will, be independent.

June 26.—­Well, if ever I saw such another thing since my mother bound up my head![537] Here is nine of clock strucken and I am still fast asleep abed.  I have not done the like of this many a day.  However, it cannot be helped.  Went to Court, which detained me till two o’clock.  A walk home consumed the hour to three!  Wrote in the Court, however, to the Duke of Wellington and Lord Bloomfield. and that is a good job over.

I have a letter from a member of the Commission of the Psalmody of the Kirk, zealous and pressing.  I shall answer him, I think.[538] One from Sir James Stuart,[539] on fire with Corfe Castle, with a drawing of King Edward, occupying one page, as he hurries down the steep, mortally wounded by the assassin.  Singular power of speaking at once to the eye and the ear.  Dined at home.  After dinner sorted papers.  Rather idle.

June 27.—­Corrected proofs and wrote till breakfast.  Then the Court.  Called on Skene and Charles K. Sharpe, and did not get home until three o’clock, and then so wet as to require a total change.  We dine at Hector Buchanan Macdonald’s, where there are sometimes many people and little conversation.  Sent a little chest of books by the carrier to Abbotsford.

A visit from a smart young man, Gustavus Schwab of Koenigsberg; he gives a flattering picture of Prussia, which is preparing for freedom.  The King must keep his word, though, or the people may chance to tire of waiting.  Dined at H.B.  Macdonald’s with rather a young party for Colin M’Kenzie and me.

June 28.—­Wrote a little and corrected proofs.  How many things have I unfinished at present?

Chronicles, first volume not ended.

do., second volume begun.

Introduction to ditto.

Tales of My Grandfather.

Essay on Highlands.  This unfinished, owing to certain causes, chiefly want of papers and books to fill up blanks, which I will get at Abbotsford.  Came home through rain about two, and commissioned John Stevenson to call at three about binding some books.  Dined with Sophia; visited, on invitation, a fine old little Commodore Trunnion, who, on reading a part of Napoleon’s history, with which he had himself been interested, as commanding a flotilla, thought he had detected a mistake, but was luckily mistaken, to my great delight.

    “I fear thee, ancient mariner.”

To be cross-examined by those who have seen the true thing is the devil.  And yet these eye-witnesses are not all right in what they repeat neither, indeed cannot be so, since you will have dozens of contradictions in their statements.

June 29.—­A distressing letter from Haydon; imprudent, probably, but who is not?  A man of rare genius.  What a pity I gave that L10 to Craig!  But I have plenty of ten pounds sure, and I may make it something.  I will get L100 at furthest when I come back from the country.  Wrote at proofs, but no copy; I fear I shall wax fat and kick against Madam Duty, but I augur better things.