February 4.—­Wrote a little and was obliged to correct the Moliere affair for R.P.G.  I think his plan cannot go on much longer with so much weakness at the helm.  A clever fellow would make it take the field with a vengeance, but poor G. will run in debt with the booksellers and let all go to the devil.  I sent a long letter to Lockhart, received from Horace Smith, very gentlemanlike and well-written, complaining that Mr. Leigh Hunt had mixed him up, in his Life of Byron, with Shelley as if he had shared his irreligious opinions.  Leigh Hunt afterwards at the request of Smith published a swaggering contradiction of the inference to be derived from the way in which he has named them together.  Horatio Smith seems not to have relied upon his disclamation, as he has requested me to mention the thing to John Lockhart, and to some one influential about Ebony, which I have done accordingly.

February 5.—­Concluded the first volume before breakfast.  I am but indifferently pleased; either the kind of thing is worn out, or I am worn out myself, or, lastly, I am stupid for the time.  The book must be finished, however.  Cadell is greatly pleased with annotations intended for the new edition of the Waverley series.  I believe that work must be soon sent to press, which would put a powerful wheel in motion to clear the ship.  I went to the Parliament House, and in return strolled into Cadell’s, being rather anxious to prolong my walk, for I fear the constant sitting for so many hours.  When I returned, the Duke of Buccleuch came in.  He is looking very well, and stout, but melancholy about his sister, Lady Charlotte Stopford.  He is fitting up a part of Bowhill and intends to shoot there this year.  God send him life and health, for it is of immense consequence.

February 6.—­This and visits wasted my time till past two, and then I slept half-an-hour from mere exhaustion.  Went in the evening to the play, and saw that good old thing, an English tragedy, well got up.  It was Venice Preserved.  Mrs. H. Siddons played Belvidera with much truth, feeling, and tenderness, though short of her mother-in-law’s uncommon majesty, which is a thing never to be forgotten.  Mr. Young played Pierre very well, and a good Jaffier was supplied by a Mr. Vandenhoff.  And so the day glided by; only three pages written, which, however, is a fair task.

February 7.—­It was a Teind day, so no Court, but very little work.  I wrote this morning till the boy made his appearance for proofs; then I had letters to write.  Item, at five o’clock I set out with Charles for Dalkeith to present him to the young Duke.

I asked the Duke about poor Hogg.  I think he has decided to take Mr. Riddell’s opinion; it is unlucky the poor fellow has ever taken that large and dear farm.[127] Altogether Dalkeith was melancholy to-night, and I could not raise my spirits at all.