Abbotsford, July 11.—­I was detained in the Court till nearly one o’clock, then set out and reached Abbotsford in five or six hours.  Found all well, and Johnnie rather better.  He sleeps, by virtue of being in the open air, a good deal.

July 12.—­The day excessively rainy, or, as we call it, soft.  I e’en unpacked my books and did a great deal to put them in order, but I was sick of the labour by two o’clock and left several of my books and all of my papers at sixes and sevens.  Sir Adam and the Colonel dined with us.  A Spanish gentleman with his wife, whom I had seen at the French Consul’s, also dropped in.  He was a handsome, intelligent, and sensible man; his name I have forgot.  We had a pleasant evening.

July 13.—­This day I wrote till one, resuming the History, and making out a day’s task.  Then went to Chiefswood, and had the pleasure of a long walk with a lady, well known in the world of poetry, Mrs. Hemans.  She is young and pretty, though the mother of five children, as she tells me.  There is taste and spirit in her conversation.  My daughters are critical, and call her blue, but I think they are hypercritical.  I will know better when we meet again.  I was home at four.  Had an evening walk with little Walter, who held me by the finger, gabbling eternally much that I did, and more that I did not, understand.  Then I had a long letter to write to Lockhart,[356] correct and read, and despatch proofs, etc.; and to bed heartily tired, though with no great exertion.

July 14.—­A rainy forenoon broke the promise of a delightful morning.  I wrote four and a half pages, to make the best of a bad bargain.  If I can double the daily task, I will be something in hand.  But I am resolved to stick to my three pages a day at least.  The twelfth of August will then complete my labours.

July 15.—­This day two very pretty and well-bred boys came over to breakfast with us.  I finished my task of three pages and better, and went to walk with the little fellows round the farm, by the lake, etc., etc.  They were very good companions.  Tom has been busy thinning the terrace this day or two, and is to go on.

July 16.—­I made out my task-work and betook myself to walk about twelve.  I feel the pen turn heavy after breakfast; perhaps my solemn morning meal is too much for my intellectual powers, but I won’t abridge a single crumb for all that.  I eat very little at dinner, and can’t abide to be confined in my hearty breakfast.  The work goes on as task-work must, slow, sure, and I trust not drowsy, though the author is.  I sent off to Dionysius Lardner (Goodness be with us, what a name!) as far as page thirty-eight inclusive, but I will wait to add to-morrow’s quota.  I had a long walk with Tom.[357] I am walking with more pleasure and comfort to myself than I have done for many a day.  May Heaven continue this great mercy, which I have so much reason to be thankful for!