July 9.—­Wrote in the morning.  At eleven went by appointment with Colin Mackenzie to the New Edinburgh Academy.  In the fifth class, Mr. Mitchell’s, we heard Greek, of which I am no otherwise a judge than that it was fluently read and explained.  In the rector Mr. Williams’s class we heard Virgil and Livy admirably translated ad aperturam libri, and, what I thought remarkable, the rector giving the English, and the pupils returning, with singular dexterity, the Latin, not exactly as in the original, but often by synonymes, which showed that the exercise referred to the judgment, and did not depend on the memory.  I could not help saying, with great truth, that, as we had all long known how much the pupils were fortunate in a rector, so we were now taught that the rector was equally lucky in his pupils.  Of my young friends, I saw a son of John Swinton, a son of Johnstone of Alva, and a son of Craufurd Tait.[5] Dined at John Murray’s; Mr. and Mrs. Philips of Liverpool, General and Charles Stuart of Blantyre, Lord Abercromby, Clerk and Thomson.  Pleasant evening.

July 10.—­Corrected proofs, but wrote nothing.  To Court till two o’clock.  I went to Cadell’s by the Mound, a long roundabout; transacted some business.  I met Baron Hume coming home, and walked with him in the Gardens.  His remarkable account of his celebrated uncle’s last moments is in these words:—­Dr. Black called on Mr. D. Hume[6] on the morning on which he died.  The patient complained of having suffered a great deal during the night, and expressed a fear that his struggle might be prolonged, to his great distress, for days or weeks longer.  “No, sir,” said Dr. Black, with the remarkable calmness and sincerity which characterised him, “I have examined the symptoms, and observe several which oblige me to conclude that dissolution is rapidly approaching.”  “Are you certain of that, Doctor?” “Most assuredly so,” answered the physician.  The dying philosopher extended his arm, and shook hands with his medical friend.  “I thank you,” he said, “for the news.”  So little reason there was for the reports of his having been troubled in mind when on his deathbed.

Dined at Lord Abercromby’s, to meet Lord Melville in private.  We had an interview betwixt dinner and tea.  I was sorry to see my very old friend, this upright statesman and honourable gentleman, deprived of his power and his official income, which the number of his family must render a matter of importance.  He was cheerful, not affectedly so, and bore his declension like a wise and brave man.  I had nursed the idea that he had been hasty in his resignation; but, from the letters which he showed me confidentially, which passed betwixt him and Canning, it is clear his resignation was to be accomplished, not I suppose for personal considerations, but because it rendered the Admiralty vacant for the Duke of Clarence, as his resignation was eagerly snapped at.  It cannot be doubted that if he had hesitated or hung back behind his friends,