January 23.—­Being a Teind day, I had a good opportunity of work.  I should have said I had given breakfast on the 21st to Mr. and Mrs. Moscheles; she a beautiful young creature, “and one that adores me,” as Sir Toby says,[118]—­that is, in my poetical capacity;—­in fact, a frank and amiable young person.  I liked Mr. Moscheles’ playing better than I could have expected, considering my own bad ear.  But perhaps I flatter myself, and think I understood it better than I did.  Perhaps I have not done myself justice, and know more of music than I thought I did.  But it seems to me that his variations have a more decided style of originality than those I have commonly heard, which have all the signs of a da capo rota.

Dined at Sir Archibald Campbell’s,[119] and drank rather more wine than usual in a sober way.  To be sure, it was excellent, and some old acquaintances proved a good excuse for the glass.

January 24.—­I took a perverse fit to-day, and went off to write notes, et cetera, on Guy Mannering.  This was perverse enough; but it was a composition between humour and duty; and as such, let it pass.

January 25.—­I went on working, sometimes at my legitimate labours, sometimes at my jobs of Notes, but still working faithfully, in good spirits, and contented.

Huntly Gordon has disposed of the two sermons[120] to the bookseller Colburn for L250—­well sold, I think—­and is to go forth immediately.  The man is a puffing quack; but though I would rather the thing had not gone there, and far rather that it had gone nowhere, yet, hang it! if it makes the poor lad easy, what needs I fret about it?  After all, there would be little gain in doing a kind thing, if you did not suffer pain or inconvenience upon the score.

January 26.—­Being Saturday, attended Mr. Moscheles’ concert, and was amused; the more so that I had Mrs. M. herself to flirt a little with.  To have so much beauty as she really possesses, and to be accomplished and well-read, she is an unaffected and pleasant person.  Mr. Moscheles gives lessons at two guineas by the hour, and he has actually found scholars in this poor country.  One of them at least (Mrs. John Murray) may derive advantage from his instructions; for I observe his mode of fingering is very peculiar, as he seems to me to employ the fingers of the same hand in playing the melody and managing the bass at the same time, which is surely most uncommon.

I presided at the Celtic Society’s dinner to-day, and proposed Glengarry’s memory, which, although there had been a rough dispute with the Celts and the poor Chief, was very well received.  I like to see men think and bear themselves like men.  There were fewer in the tartan than usual—­which was wrong.