my bones, a catastrophe very like to happen.  My proud promenade a pied or a cheval, as it happens, concludes by three o’clock.  An hour intervenes for making up my Journal and such light work.  At four comes dinner,—­a plate of broth or soup, much condemned by the doctors, a bit of plain meat, no liquors stronger than small beer, and so I sit quiet to six o’clock, when Mr. Laidlaw returns, and remains with me till nine or three quarters past, as it happens.  Then I have a bowl of porridge and milk, which I eat with the appetite of a child.  I forgot to say that after dinner I am allowed half a glass of whisky or gin made into weak grog.  I never wish for any more, nor do I in my secret soul long for cigars, though once so fond of them.  About six hours per day is good working, if I can keep at it.

March 17.—­Little of this day, but that it was so uncommonly windy that I was almost blown off my pony, and was glad to grasp the mane to prevent its actually happening.  Rode round by Brigends.  I began the third volume of Count Robert of Paris, which has been on the anvil during all these vexatious circumstances of politics and health.  But “the blue heaven bends over all.”  It may be ended in a fortnight if I keep my scheme.  But I will take time enough.  This would be on Thursday.  I would like it much.

March 18.—­We get well on. Count Robert is finished so far as the second goes, and some twenty [pages] of the third. Blackwood’s Magazine, after long bedaubing me with compliment, has began to bedaub Lockhart for my sake, or perhaps me for Lockhart’s sake, with abuse.  Lockhart’s chief offence seems to have been explaining the humbug of showing up Hogg as a fool and blackguard in what he calls the Noctes.[436] For me I care wonderfully little either for his flattery or his abuse.[437]

March 19.—­I made a hard working day—­almost equal to twenty pages, but there was some reason for it, for Ballantyne writes me that the copy sent will not exceed 265 pages when the end of volume ii. is reached; so 45 more pages must be furnished to run it out to page 329.  This is an awful cast back; so the gap is to be made up.

March 20.—­I thought I was done with politics, but it is easy getting into the mess, and difficult and sometimes disgraceful to get out.  I have a letter from Sheriff Oliver, desiring me to go [to Jedburgh] on Monday (to-morrow) and show countenance by adhering to a set of propositions, being a resolution.  Though not well drawn, they are uncompromising enough; so I will not part company.  Had a letter, too, from Henry Scott.  He still expects to refuse the Bill.  I wrote him that would but postpone the evil day, unless they could bring forward a strong Administration, and, what is most essential, a system of finance; otherwise it won’t do.  Henry has also applied to me for the rejected address.  But this I shall decline.

March 22.—­Went to-day at nine o’clock to the meeting.  A great number present, with a tribune full of Reformers, who showed their sense of propriety by hissing, hooting, and making all sorts of noises; and these unwashed artificers are from henceforth to select our legislators.  There was some speaking, but not good.  I said something, for I could not sit quiet.[438]