is abandoned, and Walter is leaving you, how I wish you would bring dear Anne and partake for a while our little circle here—­we stir not till Christmas—­if before that time such a pleasure could be attainable.  Well, then, for auld lang syne, will you not, now that the Session has no claim on you, combine our forces against the possibility of ennui.  If you will do this, I will positively, and in good faith, hold myself in readiness to do as much by you in the next November, and in every alternate November, nor shall the month ever pass without bringing us together.  Do not tell me, as Wm. Rose would not fail to do if I gave him so good an opportunity, that my proposal would be a greater bore than the solitude it destroyed.  It shall be no such thing, but only the trouble of a journey.  I feel too, as I grow older, the vis inertiae, and fancy that locomotion is more difficult, but let us abjure the doctrine, for it baulks much pleasure.  Pray—­pray as the children say—­come to us, think of it first as not impossible, then weigh fairly the objections, and if they resolve themselves into mere aversion to change, overcome them by an assurance that the very change will give value to the resumption of your home avocations.  If I plead thus strongly, perhaps it is because I feel the advantage to myself.  Time has made gaps in the list of old friends as in yours; young ones, though very cheering and useful, are not, and cannot be, the same.  I enjoy them too when present, but in absence I regret the others.  What remains but to make the most of those we have still left when both body and mind permit us [to enjoy] them.  I have books; also a room that shall [be your own], and a [pony] off which I can shoot, which I will engage shall neither tumble himself or allow you to tumble in any excursion on which you may venture.  Dear Anne will find and make my womenkind as happy as you will make me, and we have only to beg you to stay long and be most cordially welcome. ...  Adieu, dear Scott.  I fear you will not come for all I can say.  I could almost lose a tooth or a finger (if it were necessary) to find myself mistaken.  Come, and come soon; stay long; be assured of welcome.

“All unite in this and in love to you and Anne, with your assured friend,

J.B.  MORRITT.”

DECEMBER.

December 20.—­From September 5 to December 20 is a long gap, and I have seen plenty of things worth recollecting, had I marked them down when they were gliding past.  But the time has gone by.  When I feel capable of taking it up, I will.

Little self will jostle out everything else, and my affairs, which in some respects are excellent, in others, like the way of the world, are far from being pleasant.