April 6.—­Worked at the review for three or four hours; yet hang it, I can’t get on.  I wonder if I am turning clumsy in other matters; certainly I cannot write against time as I used to do.  My thoughts will not be duly regulated; my pen declares for itself, will neither write nor spell, and goes under independent colours.  I went out with the child Kitty Skene on her pony.  I don’t much love children, I suppose from want of habit, but this is a fine merry little girl.

William Forbes sang in the evening with a feeling and taste indescribably fine, but as he had no Scottish or English songs, my ears were not much gratified.  I have no sense beyond Mungo:  “What signify me hear if me no understand!”

William Forbes leaves us.  As to the old story, scribble till two, then walk for exercise till four.  Deil hae it else, for company eats up the afternoon, so nothing can be done that is not achieved in the forenoon.

April 7.—­We had a gay scene this morning—­the foxhounds and merry hunters in my little base court, which rung with trampling steeds, and rejoiced in scarlet jackets and ringing horns.  I have seen the day worlds would not have bribed me to stay behind them; but that is over, and I walked a sober pace up to the Abbot’s Knowe, from which I saw them draw my woods, but without finding a fox.  I watched them with that mixture of interest, affection, and compassion which old men feel at looking on the amusements of the young.  I was so far interested in the chase itself as to be sorry they did not find.  I had so far the advantage of the visit, that it gave me an object for the morning exercise, which I would otherwise only have been prompted to by health and habit.  It is pleasant to have one’s walk,—­as heralds say, with a difference.  By the way, the foxhunters hunted the cover far too fast.  When they found a path they ran through it pell-mell without beating at all.  They had hardly left the hare-hole cover, when a fox, which they had over-run, stole away.  This is the consequence of breeding dogs too speedy.

April 8.—­We have the news of the Catholic question being carried in the House of Lords, by a majority of 105 upon the second reading.  This is decisive, and the balsam of Fierabras must be swallowed.[291] It remains to see how it will work.  Since it was indubitably necessary, I am glad the decision on the case has been complete.  On these last three days I have finished my review of Tytler for Lockhart and sent it off by this post.  I may have offended Peter by censuring him for a sort of petulance towards his predecessor Lord Hailes.  This day visited by Mr. Carr, who is a sensible, clever young man, and by his two sisters[292]—­beautiful singer the youngest—­and to my taste, and English music.

April 9.—­Laboured correcting proofs and revising; the day infinitely bad.  Worked till three o’clock; then tried a late walk, and a wet one.