February 22.—­Very rheumatic.  I e’en turned my table to the fire and feagued it away, as Bayes says.  Neither did I so much as cast my eyes round to see what sort of a day it was—­the splashing on the windows gave all information that was necessary.  Yet, with all my leisure, during the whole day I finished only four leaves of copy—­somewhat of the least, master Matthew.[258]

There was no interruption during the whole day, though the above is a poor account of it.

February 23.—­Up and at it.  After breakfast Mr. Hay Drummond came in enchanted about Mons Meg,[259] and roaring as loud as she could have done for her life when she was in perfect voice.

James Ballantyne came in, to my surprise, about twelve o’clock.  He was very serious, and spoke as if he had some idea of sudden and speedy death.  He mentioned that he had named Cadell, Cowan, young Hughes, and his brother to be his trustees with myself.  He has settled to go to the country, poor fellow, to Timpendean, as I think.

We dined at Skene’s, where we met Mr. and Mrs. George Forbes, Colonel and Mrs. Blair, George Bell, etc.  The party was a pleasant one.  Colonel Blair said, that during the Battle of Waterloo there was at the commencement some trouble necessary to prevent the men from breaking their ranks.  He expostulated with one man:  “Why, my good fellow, you cannot propose to beat the French alone?—­better keep your ranks.”  The man, who was one of the 71st, returned to his ranks, saying, “I believe you are very right, sir, but I am a man of very hot temper.”  There was much bonhomie in the reply.

February 24.—­Snowy miserable morning.  I corrected my proofs, but had no time to write anything.  We, i.e. myself and the two Annes, went to breakfast with Mr. Drummond Hay, where we again met Colonel and Mrs. Blair, with Thomas Thomson.  We looked over some most beautiful drawings[260] which Mrs. Blair had made in different parts of India, exhibiting a species of architecture so gorgeous, and on a scale so extensive, as to put to shame the magnificence of Europe.  And yet, in most cases, as little is known of the people who wrought these wonders as of the kings who built the Pyramids.  Fame depends on literature, not on architecture.  We are more eager to see a broken column of Cicero’s villa, than all those mighty labours of barbaric power.  Mrs. Blair is full of enthusiasm.  She told me that when she worked with her pencil she was glad to have some one to read to her as a sort of sedative, otherwise her excitement made her tremble, and burst out a-crying.  I can understand this very well, having often found the necessity of doing two things at once.  She is a very pretty, dark woman too, and has been compared to Rebecca, daughter of the Jew, Isaac of York.

Detained in the Court till half-past two bothering about Lady Essex Kerr’s will without coming to a conclusion.  I then got home too late to do anything, as I must prepare to go to Dalmahoy.  Mr. Gibson came in for a little while; no news.