sed was said for the first time, that the same topics
had been discussed, and the same persons had stated the same opinions on
the same subjects. It is true there might have been some ground for
recollections, considering that three at least of the company were old
friends, and kept much company together: that is, Justice-Clerk,[132]
[Lord] Abercromby, and I. But the sensation was so strong as to resemble
what is called a _mirage_ in the desert, or a calenture on board ship,
when lakes are seen in the desert, and silvan landscapes in the sea. It
was very distressing yesterday, and brought to my mind the fancies of
Bishop Berkeley about an ideal world. There was a vile sense of want of
reality in all I did and said. It made me gloomy and out of spirits,
though I flatter myself it was not observed. The bodily feeling which
most resembles this unpleasing hallucination is the giddy state which
follows profuse bleeding, when one feels as if walking on feather-beds
and could not find a secure footing. I think the stomach has something
to do with it. I drank several glasses of wine, but these only augmented
the disorder. I did not find the _in vino veritas_ of the philosophers.
Something of this insane feeling remains to-day, but a trifle only.

_February_ 18.--I had other work to do this day. In the morning
corrected proofs. After breakfast, made a visit or two, and met Sandie
Buchanan, whom it joys me to see. Then despatched all my sheriff
processes, save one, which hitches for want of some papers. Lastly, here
I am, before dinner, with my journal. I sent all the county money to
Andrew Lang. Wrote to Mr. Reynolds too; methinks I will let them have
the Tales which Jem Ballantyne and Cadell quarrelled with.[133] I have
asked L500 for them--pretty well that. I suppose they will be fools
enough to give it me. In troth she'll no pe cheaper.

_February_ 19.--A day of hard and continued work, the result being eight
pages. But then I hardly ever quitted the table save at meal-time. So
eight pages of my manuscript may be accounted the maximum of my literary
labour. It is equal to forty printed pages of the novels. I had the
whole of this day at my own disposal, by the voluntary kindness of Sir
Robert Dundas interfering to take up my duty at the Court. The proofs of
my Sermons are arrived, but I have had no time, saving to blot out some
flummery, which poor Gordon had put into the preface.[134]

_February_ 20.--Another day of labour;