but we must be quiet in case people jalouse the failure of the plates. I called on Lady J.S. When I came home I was sleepy and overwalked. By the way, I sat till Graham finished my picture. I fell fast asleep before dinner, and slept for an hour. After dinner I wrote to Walter, Charles, Lockhart, and John Murray, and took a screed of my novel; so concluded the evening idly enough.
June 13. — We hear of Sophia’s motions. She is to set sail by steamboat on the 16th, Tuesday, and Charles is to make a run down with her. But, alas! my poor Johnnie is, I fear, come to lay his bones in his native land. Sophia can no longer disguise it from herself, that as his strength weakens the disease increases. The poor child is so much bent on coming to see Abbotsford and grandpapa, that it would be cruel not to comply with his wish — and if affliction comes, we will bear it best together.
“Not more the schoolboy who expires
Far from his native home desires
To see some friend’s familiar face,
Or meet a parent’s last embrace.”
It must be all as God wills it. Perhaps his native air may be of service.
More news from Cadell. He deems it necessary to carry up the edition to 20,000.
[Abbotsford.] — This day was fixed for a start to Abbotsford, where we arrived about six o’clock, evening. To my thinking, I never saw a prettier place; and even the trees and flowers seemed to say to me, We are your own again. But I must not let imagination jade me thus. It would be to make disappointment doubly bitter: and, God knows, I have in my child’s family matter enough to check any exuberant joy.
June 14. — A delicious day — threatening rain; but with the languid and affecting manner in which beauty demands sympathy when about to weep. I wandered about the banks and braes all morning, and got home about three, and saw everything in tolerable order, excepting that there was a good number of branches left in the walks. There is a great number of trees cut, and bark collected. Colonel Ferguson dined with us, and spent the afternoon.
June 15. — Another charming day. Up and despatched packets for Ballantyne and Cadell; neither of them was furiously to the purpose, but I had a humour to be alert. I walked over to Huntly Burn, and round by Chiefswood and Janeswood, where I saw Captain Hamilton. He is busy finishing his Peninsular campaigns. He will not be cut out by Napier, whose work has a strong party cast; and being, besides, purely abstract and professional, to the public seems very dull. I read General Miller’s account of the South American War. I liked it the better that Basil Hall brought the author to breakfast with me in Edinburgh. A fine, tall, military figure, his left hand withered like the prophet’s gourd, and plenty of scars on him. There have been rare doings in that vast continent; but the strife is too distant, the country too unknown, to have the effect upon the imagination which European wars produce.
This evening I indulged in the far niente — a rare event with me, but which I enjoy proportionally.
June 16. — Made up parcel for Dr. Lardner; and now I propose to set forth my memoranda of Byron for Moore’s acceptance, which ought in civility to have been done long since. I will have a walk, however, in the first place.
I did not get on with Byron so far as I expected — began it though, and that is always something. I went to see the woods at Huntly Burn, and Mars Lea, etc. Met Captain Hamilton, who tells me a shocking thing. Two Messrs. Stirling of Drumpellier came here and dined one day, and seemed spirited young men. The younger is murdered by pirates. An Indian vessel in which he sailed was boarded by these miscreants, who behaved most brutally; and he, offering resistance I suppose, was shockingly mangled and flung into the sea. He was afterwards taken up alive, but died soon after. Such horrid accidents lie in wait for those whom we see “all joyous and unthinking,” sweeping along the course of life; and what end may be waiting ourselves? Who can tell?
June 17. — Must take my leave of sweet Abbotsford, and my leisure hour, my eve of repose. To go to town will take up the morning.
[Edinburgh.] — We set out about eleven o’clock, got to Edinburgh about four, where I dined with Baron Clerk and a few Exchequer friends — Lord Chief Baron, Sir Patrick Murray, Sir Henry Jardine, etc. etc.
June 18. — Corrected proofs for Dr. Dionysius Lardner. Cadell came to breakfast. Poor fellow, he looks like one who had been overworked; and the difficulty of keeping papermakers up to printers, printers up to draughtsmen, artists to engravers, and the whole party to time, requires the utmost exertion. He has actually ordered new plates, although the steel ones which we employ are supposed to throw off 30,000 without injury. But I doubt something of this. Well, since they will buckle fortune on our back we must bear it scholarly and wisely. I went to Court. Called on my return on J.B. and Cadell. At home I set to correct Ivanhoe. I had twenty other things more pressing; but, after all, these novels deserve a preference. Poor Terry is totally prostrated by a paralytic affection. Continuance of existence not to be wished for.
Tomorrow I expect Sophia and her family by steam.
June 19. — Sophia, and Charles who acted as her escort, arrived at nine o’clock morning, fresh from the steamboat. They were in excellent health — also the little boy and girl; but poor Johnnie seems very much changed indeed, and I should not be surprised if the scene shortly closes. There is obviously a great alteration in strength and features. At dinner we had our family chat on a scale that I had not enjoyed for many years. The Skenes supped with us.
June 20. — Corrected proof-sheets in the morning for Dr. Lardner. Then I had the duty of the Court to perform.
As I came home I recommended young Shortreed to Mr. Cadell for a printing job now and then when Ballantyne is overloaded, which Mr. Cadell promised accordingly.
Lady Anna Maria Elliot’s company at dinner. Helped on our family party, and passed the evening pleasantly enough, my anxiety considering.
June 21. — A very wet Sunday. I employed it to good purpose, bestowing much labour on the History, ten pages of which are now finished. Were it not for the precarious health of poor Johnnie I would be most happy in this reunion with my family, but, poor child, this is a terrible drawback.
June 22. — I keep working, though interruptedly. But the heat in the midst of the day makes me flag and grow irresistibly drowsy. Mr. and Mrs. Skene came to supper this evening. Skene has engaged himself in drawing illustrations to be etched by himself for Waverley. I wish it may do.
June 23. — I was detained in the Court till halfpast [three]. Captain William Lockhart dined with Skene. The Captain’s kind nature had brought him to Edinburgh to meet his sister-in-law.
June 24. — I was detained late in the Court, but still had time to go with Adam Wilson and call upon a gentlemanlike East Indian officer, called Colonel Francklin, who appears an intelligent and respectable man. He writes the History of Captain Thomas, a person of the condition of a common seaman, who raised himself to the rank of a native prince, and for some time waged a successful war with the powers around him. The work must be entertaining.
June 25. — Finished correcting proofs for Tales, 3d Series. The Court was over soon, but I was much exhausted. On the return home quite sleepy and past work. I looked in on Cadell, whose hand is in his housewife’s cap, driving and pushing to get all the works forward in due order, and cursing the delays of artists and engravers. I own I wish we had not hampered ourselves with such causes of delay.
June 26. — Mr. Ellis, missionary from the South Sea Islands, breakfasted, introduced by Mr. Fletcher, minister of the parish of Stepney.
Mr. Ellis’s account of the progress of civilisation, as connected with religion, is very interesting. Knowledge of every kind is diffused — reading, writing, printing, abundantly common. Polygamy abolished. Idolatry is put down; the priests, won over by the chiefs, dividing among them the consecrated lands which belonged to their temples. Great part of the population