January 16.—­Being Sunday, read prayers.  Mr. and Mrs. James[416] go to look for a house, which they desire to take in this country.  As Anne is ill, the presence of strangers, though they are pleasant, is rather annoying.  Macdonald continues working to form a new bust out of my old scalp.  I think it will be the last sitting which I will be enticed to.  Thanks to Heaven, the work finishes to-morrow.[417]

January 17.—­This morning, when I came down-stairs, I found Mr. Macdonald slabbering away at the model.  He has certainly great enthusiasm about his profession, which is a sine qua non.  It was not till twelve that a post-chaise carried off my three friends.

I had wrote two hours when Dr. Turner came in, and I had to unfold my own complaints.  I was sick of these interruptions, and dismissed Mr. Laidlaw, having no hope of resuming my theme with spirit.  God send me more leisure and fewer friends to peck it away by tea-spoonfuls!

Another fool sends to entreat an autograph, which he should be ashamed in civility to ask, as I am to deny it.  I got notice of poor Henry Mackenzie’s death.  He has long maintained a niche in Scottish Literature—­gayest of the gay, though most sensitive of the sentimental.

January 18.—­Came down from my bedroom at eight, and took a rummage in the way of putting things to rights.  Dictated to Laidlaw till about one o’clock, during which time it was rainy.  Afterwards I walked, sliding about in the mud, and very uncomfortable.  In fact, there is no mistaking the three sufficients,[418] and Fate is now straitening its circumvallations round me.  Little likely to be better than I am.  I am heart-whole as a biscuit, and may last on as now for eight or ten years; the thing is not uncommon, considering I am only in my sixtieth year.  I cannot walk; but the intense cold weather may be to blame in this.  My riding is but a scramble, but it may do well enough for exercise; and though it is unpleasant to find one’s enjoyment of hill and vale so much abridged, yet still when I enjoy my books, and am without acute pain, I have but little to complain of, considering the life I have led so long.

              “So hap what may;
    Time and the hour run through the roughest day."[419]

Mr. Laidlaw came down at ten, and we wrought till one.  This should be a good thing for an excellent man, and is an important thing to me, as it saves both my eyesight and nerves, which last are cruelly affected by finding those “who look out of the windows” grow gradually darker and darker.[420] Rode out, or more properly, was carried out, into the woods to see the course of a new road, which may serve to carry off the thinnings of the trees, and for rides.  It is very well lined, and will serve both for beauty and convenience.  Mr. Laidlaw engages to come back to dinner, and finish two or three more pages.  Met my agreeable and lady-like neighbour, Mrs. Brewster, on my pony, and I was actually ashamed to be seen by her.