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 worked steadily and from dawn to dark, a long time here,—for sixteen days. It would be impossible for me to write down all my feelings and thoughts about my work, or my life here; it may be that in time I shall be reconciled or habituated to the life I now lead, but I can scarce believe this, and often think the woods the only place in which I truly live.

November 25, 1826. I have been drawing all day at some Wood Pigeons, as they are emphatically called here, though woods there are none. The day was cold, wet, and snowy. Mr. Lizars, however, called with Dr. Brewster, an eminent and entertaining man. I received a note from Geo. Combe, Esq., the phrenologist, who wishes to plaster my poor head to take an impression of the bumps, ordinary and extraordinary; he also invited me to sup with him on Monday next. I was to dine at Dr. Monroe's, Craiglockhart, near Slateford, so I dressed and sent for a coach that took me two and a half miles for twelve shillings, and I had to pay one shilling toll,—a dear dinner this. I arrived and entered a house richly furnished, and was presented to three ladies, and four gentlemen. The ladies were Mrs. Monroe, Miss Maria Monroe, and Mrs. Murray; amongst the gentlemen I at once recognized the amiable and learned Staff-Surgeon Lyons. Mrs. Monroe I found a woman of most extraordinary powers, a brilliant conversationalist, highly educated, and most attractive. She sat by me, and entertained me most charmingly, and the rest of her company as well. I need not say the dinner was sumptuous, for I find no other kind in hospitable Edinburgh. After dinner we had music from Miss Monroe, a skilled songstress, and her rich voice, with the pathetic Scotch ballads which she sang so unaffectedly, brought tears to my eyes. My return to my lodgings was very cold, for snow lies all about the hills that surround this enchanting city.