16th.--... A letter from some underling of the scoundrel Cole, C.B., enclosing sheets of print again; subterfuge and insolence; no go in that quarter. A letter from Scott, the poet. Yesterday Seddon[103] came back, after more than twenty months of absence, looking thinner and genteeler than ever and in high spirits: I went with him to Kentish Town, leaving my work just begun. His pictures are cruelly P.R.B’d.... The high finish is too obtrusive. However, they present qualities of drawing and truthfulness seldom surpassed; but no beauty, nothing to make the bosom tingle. Could I but have seen them in progress! I will do all I can to make him improve them yet, but it is late. Hunt, he tells me, gave him no advice at all; he has been prepossessed against him, I fear. It is a great pity. There is not a better-hearted fellow living nor a truer gentleman. He is to be married in June, these pictures all his wealth! how strange!... Hunt used to be in agonies about his joking propensities, and lecture him and get mighty sulky if things did not go right, and tell him secrets of great worth for his getting on in the world, and expect him to do all the housekeeping (which he declined after a time), and indulge in many whims incompatible with the locality and circumstances. But Seddon entertains a high opinion of his worth and gallantry. Hunt knocked an Arab down, and they afterwards stood with pistols cocked at each other a space of time. Seddon used to camp above the valley of Jehoshaphat, for three months, alone with his servant, in a place considered unsafe by the Consul and others of Jerusalem. They used to sleep each with a revolver at hand, but were never disturbed; this was plucky. Hunt since is gone to the Dead Sea.... 17th.--Out to hunt up Ritchie for his rent; got none. Out from half-past eleven till eight; walked about eighteen miles in snow. Ordered liberally of my tailor, who is a brick.... Funds 11s. 3d., no work, no adventures. 20th.--This morning at half-past 12 a.m. dearest Emma was delivered of a son, my first. He is very red, a large nose, eyes and shape of face like a Calmuck Tartar, shape of head like a Bosjesman.... Emma dearest pretty well, feverish. Thank heaven it is over comfortably.... The surgeon ... turned out a very pleasant clever fellow, well informed, and this was because he was a Scotchman; knew all about my grandfather;[104] says his doctrine is every year coming more into practice.... A cheque from Ritchie come for £9, and I went and paid the butcher and baker, and got a bottle of whisky. To-day sent money to get the clothes and pictures back; item to Emma’s mother in arrears: net result, £1. 16s. in pocket. Shoes leaky.... 25th.--Up at near eleven. Got the balance of £16 from Ritchie last night. Paid away all but £5. 10s.; _my all_ till I raise money. Worked at my son’s portrait about three hours; then Hendon, and paid Smart the grocer £10.