_December_ 4.--Lockhart and Sophia, with his brother William, dined with us, and talked over our separation, and the mode of their settling in London, and other family topics. _December 5._--This morning Lockhart and Sophia left us early, and without leave-taking; when I rose at eight o'clock they were _gone_. This was very right. I hate red eyes and blowing of noses. _Agere et pati Romanum est_. Of all schools commend me to the Stoics. We cannot indeed overcome our affections, nor ought we if we could, but we may repress them within due bounds, and avoid coaxing them to make fools of those who should be their masters. I have lost some of the comforts to which I chiefly looked for enjoyment. Well, I must make the more of such as remain--God bless them. And so "I will unto my holy work again,"[55] which at present is the description of that _heilige Kleeblatt_, that worshipful triumvirate, Danton, Robespierre, and Marat. I cannot conceive what possesses me, over every person besides, to mislay papers. I received a letter Saturday at _e'en,_ enclosing a bill for £750; _no deaf nuts_. Well, I read it, and note the contents; and this day, as if it had been a wind-bill in the literal sense of the words, I search everywhere, and lose three hours of my morning--turn over all my confusion in the writing-desk--break open one or two letters, lest I should have enclosed the sweet and quickly convertible document in them,--send for a joiner, and disorganise my scrutoire, lest it should have fallen aside by mistake. I find it at last--the place where is of little consequence; but this trick must be amended. Dined at the Royal Society Club, where, as usual, was a pleasant meeting of from twenty to twenty-five. It is a very good institution; we pay two guineas only for six dinners in the year, present or absent. Dine at five, or rather half-past five, at the Royal Hotel, where we have an excellent dinner, with soups, fish, etc., and all in good order; port and sherry till half-past seven, then coffee, and we go to the Society. This has great influence in keeping up the attendance, it being found that this preface of a good dinner, to be paid for whether you partake or not, brings out many a philosopher who might not otherwise have attended the Society. Harry Mackenzie, now in his eighty-second or third year, read part of an Essay on Dreams. Supped at Dr. Russell's usual party,[56] which shall serve for one while.