_November_ 30.--I am come to the time when those who look out of the
windows shall be darkened. I must now wear spectacles constantly in
reading and writing, though till this winter I have made a shift by
using only their occasional assistance. Although my health cannot be
better, I feel my lameness becomes sometimes painful, and often
inconvenient. Walking on the pavement or causeway gives me trouble, and
I am glad when I have accomplished my return on foot from the Parliament
House to Castle Street, though I can (taking a competent time, as old
Braxie[48] said on another occasion) walk five or six miles in the
country with pleasure. Well--such things must come, and be received with
cheerful submission. My early lameness considered, it was impossible for
a man labouring under a bodily impediment to have been stronger or more
active than I have been, and that for twenty or thirty years. Seams
will slit, and elbows will out, quoth the tailor; and as I was
fifty-four on 15th August last, my mortal vestments are none of the
newest. Then Walter, Charles, and Lockhart are as active and handsome
young fellows as you can see; and while they enjoy strength and activity
I can hardly be said to want it. I have perhaps all my life set an undue
value on these gifts. Yet it does appear to me that high and independent
feelings are naturally, though not uniformly or inseparably, connected
with bodily advantages. Strong men are usually good-humoured, and active
men often display the same elasticity of mind as of body. These are
superiorities, however, that are often misused. But even for these
things God shall call us to judgment.

Some months since I joined with other literary folks in subscribing a
petition for a pension to Mrs. G. of L.,[49] which we thought was a
tribute merited by her works as an authoress, and, in my opinion, much
more by the firmness and elasticity of mind with which she had borne a
succession of great domestic calamities. Unhappily there was only about