April 1.—­A pretty first of April truly; the hills white with snow, I myself as bilious as a dog.  My noble guests left about noon.  I wrote letters, as if I had not bile enough in my bosom already, and did not go out to face the snow wreaths till half-past two, when I am resolved to make a brush for exercise.  There will be fine howling among the dogs, for I am about to shut my desk.  Found Mrs. Skene disposed to walk, so I had the advantage of her company.  The snow lay three inches thick on the ground; but we had the better appetite for dinner, after which we talked and read without my lifting a pen.

April 2.—­Begins with same brilliant prospect of snow and sunshine dazzling to the eyes and chilling to the fingers, a beastly disagreeable coldness in the air.  I stuck by the pen till one, then took a drive with the ladies as far as Chiefswood and walked home.  Young William Forbes[286] came, and along with him a Southron, Mr. Cleasby.

April 3.—­Still the same party.  I fagged at writing letters to Lockhart, to Charles, and to John Gibson, to Mr. Cadell, Croker, Lord Haddington, and others.  Lockhart has had an overture through Croker requesting him to communicate with some newspaper on the part of the Government, which he has wisely declined.  Nothing but a thorough-going blackguard ought to attempt the daily press, unless it is some quiet country diurnal.  Lockhart has also a wicked wit which would make an office of this kind more dangerous to him than to downright dulness.  I am heartily glad he has refused it.[287]

Sir James Mackintosh and Lord Haddington have spoken very handsomely of my accession to the Catholic Petition, and I think it has done some good; yet I am not confident that the measure will disarm the Catholic spleen.[288] And I was not entirely easy at finding myself allied to the Whigs, even in this instance, where I agree with them.  This is witless prejudice, however.

My walk to-day was up the Rhymer’s Glen with Skene.  Colonel Ferguson dined with us.

April 4.—­Mr. Cleasby left this morning.  He has travelled much, and is a young man of copious conversation and ready language, aiming I suppose at Parliament.[289] William Forbes is singing like an angel in the next room, but he sings only Italian music, which says naught to me.  I have a letter from one David Patterson, who was Dr. Knox’s jackal for buying murdered bodies, suggesting that I should write on the subject of Burke and Hare, and offering me his invaluable collection of anecdotes!  “Curse him imperance and him dam insurance,"[290] as Mungo says in the farce.  Did ever one hear the like?  The scoundrel has been the companion and patron of such atrocious murderers and kidnappers, and he has the impudence to write to any decent man!

Corrected proof-sheets and dedication of the Magnum and sent them off.

April 5.—­Read prayers to what remains of our party:  being Anne, my niece Anne, the four Skenes, and William Forbes.  We then walked, and I returned time enough to work a little at the criticism.  Thus it drew towards dinner in conclusion, after which we smoked, told stories, and drank tea.