"I do not lose view of my design to continue my History, at least for two reigns more; but I question whether party prejudices with regard to me, are as yet sufficiently subsided, to enable me to carry on that work, without meeting with repulses and disgusts from those who have the materials in their power, which must serve for the foundation of my narrative: a little farther time will, I hope, operate that effect."[135:2] He concludes this letter by saying, "I remove my house this week to James's Court." Entering a low gateway which pierces the line of lofty houses along the Lawnmarket, one finds oneself in a square court, surrounded by houses, which have now evidently fallen to the lot of humbler inhabitants than those for whom they were erected. These spaces, walled off by the intervening houses from the main street, were in the Scottish metropolis, like the similar edifices of the French nobility, frequently designed with the view of protecting those who dwelt within the gate from the unwelcome intrusion of either legal or illegal force. But it is probable that James's Court scarcely dates back to times so lawless, and that it was built early in the eighteenth century. The plan of a closed court was, perhaps, adopted as a means of enabling a small community to have the civic functions of lighting and cleaning performed more accurately than they were then administered to the inhabitants at large. Entering one of the doors opposite the main entrance, the stranger is sometimes led by a friend, wishing to afford him an agreeable surprise, down flight after flight of the steps of a stone staircase, and when he imagines he is descending so far into the bowels of the earth, he emerges on the edge of a cheerful crowded thoroughfare, connecting together the Old and New Town; the latter of which lies spread before him, a contrast to the gloom from which he has emerged. When he looks up to the building containing the upright street through which he has descended, he sees that vast pile of tall houses standing at the head of the Mound, which creates astonishment in every visiter of Edinburgh. This vast fabric is built on the declivity of a hill, and thus one entering on the level of the Lawnmarket, is at the height of several stories from the ground on the side next the New Town. In Hume's day, a lake lay not many yards from the base of the building; and the whole space now occupied by the streets and squares of the New Town, was open ground, covered with woodland in those places where it did not consist of agricultural ground or barren heath. A full view of the surrounding country must have been possessed by every floor in this mass of buildings. I have ascertained that by ascending the western of the two stairs facing the entry of James's Court, to the height of three stories, we arrive at the door of David Hume's house, which, of the two doors on that landing-place, is the one towards the left.[137:1]