This cannot be; but I may work substantial husbandry, work history, and such concerns.  They will not be received with the same enthusiasm; at least I much doubt the general knowledge that an author must write for his bread, at least for improving his pittance, degrades him and his productions in the public eye.  He falls into the second-rate rank of estimation: 

    “While the harness sore galls, and the spurs his sides goad,
    The high-mettled racer’s a hack on the road."[78]

It is a bitter thought; but if tears start at it, let them flow.  I am so much of this mind, that if any one would now offer to relieve all my embarrassments on condition I would continue the exertions which brought it there, dear as the place is to me, I hardly think I could undertake the labour on which I entered with my usual alacrity only this morning, though not without a boding feeling of my exertions proving useless.  Yet to save Abbotsford I would attempt all that was possible.  My heart clings to the place I have created.  There is scarce a tree on it that does not owe its being to me, and the pain of leaving it is greater than I can tell.  I have about L10,000 of Constable’s, for which I am bound to give literary value, but if I am obliged to pay other debts for him, I will take leave to retain this sum at his credit.  We shall have made some kittle questions of literary property amongst us.  Once more, “Patience, cousin, and shuffle the cards.”

I have endeavoured at times to give vent to thoughts naturally so painful, by writing these notices, partly to keep them at bay by busying myself with the history of the French Convention.  I thank God I can do both with reasonable composure.  I wonder how Anne will bear this affliction?  She is passionate, but stout-hearted and courageous in important matters, though irritable in trifles.  I am glad Lockhart and his wife are gone.  Why?  I cannot tell; but I am pleased to be left to my own regrets without being melted by condolences, though of the most sincere and affectionate kind.

* * * * *

Anne bears her misfortune gallantly and well, with a natural feeling, no doubt, of the rank and consideration she is about to lose.  Lady Scott is incredulous, and persists in cherishing hope where there is no ground for hope.  I wish it may not bring on the gloom of spirits which has given me such distress.  If she were the active person she once was that would not be.  Now I fear it more than what Constable or Cadell will tell me this evening, so that my mind is made up.

Oddly enough, it happened.  Mine honest friend Hector came in before dinner to ask a copy of my seal of Arms, with a sly kindliness of intimation that it was for some agreeable purpose.

Half-past Eight.—­I closed this book under the consciousness of impending ruin, I open it an hour after, thanks be to God, with the strong hope that matters may be got over safely and honourably, in a mercantile sense.  Cadell came at eight to communicate a letter from Hurst and Robinson, intimating they had stood the storm, and though clamorous for assistance from Scotland, saying they had prepared their strongholds without need of the banks.