June 5.—­Cadell breakfasted; in great spirits with the success of the Fair Maid of Perth.  A disappointment being always to be apprehended, I too am greatly pleased that the evil day is adjourned, for the time must come—­and yet I can spin a tough yarn still with any one now going.

I was much distressed to find that the last of the Macdonald Buchanans, a fine lad of about twenty-one, is now decidedly infected by the same pulmonary complaint which carried off his four brothers in succession.  This is indeed a cruel stroke, and it is melancholy to witness the undaunted Highland courage of the father.

I went to Court, and when I returned did some work upon the Tales.

    “And now again, boys, to the oar.”

June 6.—­I have determined to work sans intermission for lost time, and to make up at least my task every day.  J. Gibson called on me with good hopes that the trustees will authorise the grand opus to be set afloat.[223] They are scrupulous a little about the expense of engravings, but I fear the taste of the town will not be satisfied without them.  It is time these things were settled.  I wrought both before and after dinner, and finished five pages, which is two above bargain.

June 7.—­Saturday was another working day, and nothing occurred to disturb me.

June 8.—­I finished five sheets this day.  Will Clerk and Francis Scott of Harden came to dinner, and we spent a pleasant evening.

June 9.—­I laboured till about one, and was then obliged to go to attend a meeting of the Oil Gas Company,—­as I devoutly hope for the last time.

After that I was obliged to go to sit to Colvin Smith, which is an atrocious bore, but cannot be helped.[224]

Cadell rendered me report of accounts paid for me with vouchers, which very nearly puts me out of all shop debts.  God grant me grace to keep so!

June 10-14.—­During these five days almost nothing occurred to diversify the ordinary task of the day, which, I must own, was dull enough.  I rose to my task by seven, and, less or more, wrought it out in the course of the day, far exceeding the ordinary average of three leaves per day.  I have attended the Parliament House with the most strict regularity, and returned to dine alone with Anne.  Also, I gave three sittings to Mr. Colvin Smith, who I think has improved since I saw him.

Of important intelligence nothing occurs save the termination of all suspense on the subject of poor James Macdonald Buchanan.  He died at Malta.  The celebrated Dugald Stewart is also dead, famous for his intimate acquaintance with the history and philosophy of the human mind.  There is much of water-painting in all metaphysics, which consist rather of words than ideas.  But Stewart was most impressive and eloquent.  In former days I was frequently with him, but not for many years.  Latterly, I am told, he had lost not the power of thinking, but the power of expressing his thoughts by speech.  This is like the Metamorphosis of Ovid, the bark binding in and hardening the living flesh.