ck, when I sometimes walk--not
often, however, having failed in strength, and suffering great pain even
from a very short walk. Oftener I take the pony for an hour or two and
ride about the doors; the exercise is humbling enough, for I require to
be lifted on horseback by two servants, and one goes with me to take
care I do not fall off and break 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 b