his travelling name. I wrote several letters too,
and got through some business. Walked, and took some exercise between
one and three.

_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 a