February 3.—­Rose at eight—­felt my revel a little in my head.  The Court business light, returned by Cadell, and made one or two calls, at Skene’s especially.  Dinner and evening at home; laboriously employed.

February 4.—­To-day I was free from duty, and made good use of my leisure at home, finishing the second volume of Anne, and writing several letters, one to recommend Captain Pringle to Lord Beresford, which I send to-morrow through Morritt.  “My mother whips me and I whip the top.”  The girls went to the play.

February 5.—­Attended the Court as usual, got dismissed about one.  Finished and sent off volume ii. of Anne.  Dined with Robert Rutherford, my cousin, and the whole clan of Swinton.

February 6.—­Corrected proofs in the morning, then to the Court; thence to Cadell’s, where I found some business cut out for me, in the way of notes, which delayed me.  Walked home, the weary way giving my feet the ancient twinges of agony:  such a journey is as severe a penance as if I had walked the same length with peas in my shoes to atone for some horrible crime by beating my toes into a jelly.  I wrote some and corrected a good deal.  We dined alone, and I partly wrought partly slept in the evening.  It’s now pretty clear that the Duke of W. intends to have a Catholic Bill.[249] He probably expects to neutralise and divide the Catholic body by bringing a few into Parliament, where they will probably be tractable enough, rather than a large proportion of them rioting in Ireland, where they will be to a certain degree unanimous.

February 7.—­Up and wrought a little.  I had at breakfast a son of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, a very quick, smart-looking young fellow, who is on his way to the Continent with a tutor.  Dined at Mrs. George Swinton’s with the whole clan.

February 8.—­I wrought the whole day and finished about six pages of manuscript of vol. iii. [Anne of Geierstein]. Sat cito si sat bene.  The Skenes came in to supper like the olden world.

February 9.—­Was up in good time (say half-past seven), and employed the morning in correcting proofs.  At twelve I went to Stuart of Dunearn’s sale of pictures.  This poor man fell, like myself, a victim to speculation.  And though I had no knowledge of him personally, and disliked him as the cause of poor Sir Alexander Boswell’s death, yet “had he been slaughterman to all my kin,"[250] I could but pity the miserable sight of his splendid establishment broken up, and his treasures of art exposed to public and unsparing sale.  I wanted a picture of the Earl of Rothes for the Duke of Buccleuch, a fine Sir Joshua, but Balfour of Balbirnie fancied it also, and followed it to 160 guineas.  Charles Sharpe’s account is, that I may think myself in luck, for the face has been repainted.  There is, he says, a print taken from the picture at Leslie House which has quite a different countenance from the present.