begin to stammer--that
is, to write one word instead of another very often. I impute this to
fancy, the terrible agency of which is too visible in my illness, and it
encourages me to hope the fatal warning is yet deferred. I feel lighter
by a million ton since I made this discovery. If I can dictate freely,
and without hesitation, my fear to speak at the meeting about the road
was vain terror, and so _Andiamo Caracci._ Wrote some letters this
afternoon.

_January_ 22.--Mr. Laidlaw rather late of coming. One of his daughters
has been ill, and he is an approved physician. Pity when one so gifted
employs his skill on himself and family for all patients. We got on,
however, to page 46.

_January_ 23.--I wrought a little to-day. Walked to Chiefswood, or
rather from it, as far only as Habbie's Howe. Came home, cold indeed,
but hearty. Slept after dinner. I think the peep, real or imaginary, at
the gates of death has given me firmness not to mind little afflictions.
I have jumbled this and the preceding day strangely, when I went to
Chiefswood and Huntly Burn. I thought this a week-day.

_January_ 24.--Worked with Mr. Laidlaw, and, as the snow was on the
ground, did so without intermission, which must be sinking to the
spirits. Held on, however.

_January_ 25.--Same drizzling waste, rendering my footing insecure, and
leaving me no refuge but in sitting at home and working till one
o'clock. Then retired upon the Sheriff Court processes. Bran,[423] poor
fellow, lies yawning at my feet, and cannot think what is become of the
daily scamper, which is all his master's inability affords him. This
grieves me, by calling back the days of old. But I may call them as I
may,

"Youth winna return, nor the days of lang syne."

_January_ 26.--I have Skene and Mr. M'Culloch of Ardwell, to the relief
of my spirits and the diminishing of my time. Mr. Laidlaw joined us at
dinner.

Bitter cold.

_January_ 27.--So fagged with my frozen vigils that I slept till after
ten. When I lose the first two hours in the morning I can seldom catch
them again during the whole day.

A friendly visit from Ebenezer Clarkson of Selkirk, a medical gentleman
in whose experience and ingenuity I have much confidence, as well as his
personal regard for myself. He is quite sensible of the hesitation of
speech of which I complain, and thinks it arises from the stomach.
Recommends the wild mustard as an aperient. But the brightest ray of
hope is the chanc