November 18.—­This has been also a day of exertion.  I was interrupted for a moment by a visit from young Davidoff with a present of a steel snuff-box [Tula work], wrought and lined with gold, having my arms on the top, and on the sides various scenes from the environs and principal public buildings of St. Petersburg—­a joli cadeau—­and I take it very kind of my young friend.  I had a letter from his uncle, Denis Davidoff, the black captain of the French retreat.  The Russians are certainly losing ground and men in Persia, and will not easily get out of the scrape of having engaged an active enemy in a difficult and unhealthy country.  I am glad of it; it is an overgrown power; and to have them kept quiet at least is well for the rest of Europe.  I concluded the evening—­after writing a double task—­with the trial of Malcolm Gillespie, renowned as a most venturous excise officer, but now like to lose his life for forgery.  A bold man in his vocation he seems to have been, but the law seems to have got round to the wrong side of him on the present occasion.[77]

November 19.—­Corrected the last proof of Tales of my Grandfather.  Received Cadell at breakfast, and conversed fully on the subject of the Chronicles and the application of the price of 2d series, say L4000, to the purchase of the moiety of the copyrights now in the market, and to be sold this day month.  If I have the command of a new Edition and put it into an attractive shape, with notes, introductions, and illustrations that no one save I myself can give, I am confident it will bring home the whole purchase-money with something over, and lead to the disposal of a series of the subsequent volumes of the following works,

St. Ronan’s Well, 3 vols. 
Redgauntlet, 3 "
Tales of Crusaders, 4 "
Woodstock, 3 "
                        -----
                        13

make a series of 7 vols.!  The two series of the Chronicles and others will be ready about the same time.

November 20.—­Wrought in the morning at the review, which I fear will be lengthy.  Called on Hector as I came home from the Court, and found him better, and keeping a Highland heart.  I came home like a crow through the mist, half dead with a rheumatic headache caused by the beastly north-east wind.

“What am I now when every breeze appals me?"[78] I dozed for half-an-hour in my chair for pain and stupidity.  I omitted to say yesterday that I went out to Melville Castle to inquire after my Lord Melville, who had broke his collar-bone by a fall from his horse in mounting.  He is recovering well, but much bruised.  I came home with Lord Chief-Commissioner Adam.  He told me a dictum of old Sir Gilbert Elliot, speaking of his uncles.  “No chance of opulence,” he said, “is worth the risk of a competence.”  It was not the thought of a great man, but perhaps that of a wise one.  Wrought at my review, and despatched about half or better, I should hope.  I incline to longer extracts in the next sheets.