of expedients.  It is to no purpose being angry at Ehud or Ahab, or whatever name he delights in.  He is seeking his own, and thinks by these harsh measures to render his road to it more speedy.  And now I will trouble myself no more about the matter than I can possibly help, which will be quite enough after all.  Perhaps something may turn up better for me than I now look for.  Sir Adam Ferguson left Bowhill this morning for Dumfriesshire.  I returned to Abbotsford to Anne, and told her this unpleasant news.  She stood it remarkably well, poor body.

November 2.—­I was a little bilious to-night—­no wonder.  Had sundry letters without any power of giving my mind to answer them—­one about Gourgaud with his nonsense.  I shall not trouble my head more on that score.  Well, it is a hard knock on the elbow; I knew I had a life of labour before me, but I was resolved to work steadily; now they have treated me like a recusant turnspit, and put in a red-hot cinder into the wheel alongst with [me].  But of what use is philosophy—­and I have always pretended to a little of a practical character—­if it cannot teach us to do or suffer?  The day is glorious, yet I have little will to enjoy it, but sit here ruminating upon the difference and comparative merits of the Isle of Man and of the Abbey.  Small choice betwixt them.  Were a twelvemonth over, I should perhaps smile at what makes me now very serious.

Smile!—­No, that can never be.  My present feelings cannot be recollected with cheerfulness; but I may drop a tear of gratitude.  I have finished my Tales[66] and have now nothing literary in hand.  It would be an evil time to begin anything.

November 3.—­Slept ill, and lay one hour longer than usual in the morning.  I gained an hour’s quiet by it, that is much.  I feel a little shaken at the result of to-day’s post.  Bad it must be, whatsoever be the alternative.  I am not able to go out, my poor workers wonder that I pass them without a word.  I can imagine no alternative but either retreat to the Sanctuary or to the Isle of Man.  Both shocking enough.  But in Edinburgh I am always near the scene of action, free from uncertainty and near my poor daughter; so I think I will prefer it, and thus I rest in unrest.  But I will not let this unman me.  Our hope, heavenly and earthly, is poorly anchored, if the cable parts upon the strain.  I believe in God who can change evil into good; and I am confident that what befalls us is always ultimately for the best.  I have a letter from Mr. Gibson, purporting the opinion of the trustees and committee of creditors, that I should come to town, and interesting themselves warmly in the matter.  They have intimated that they will pay Mr. Abud a composition of six shillings per pound on his debt.  This is a handsome offer, but I understand he is determined to have his pound of flesh.  If I can prevent it, he shall not take a shilling by his hard-hearted conduct.