It was a very wet stormy day; we were therefore obliged to remain here,
it being impossible to cross the sea to Rasay.
I employed a part of the forenoon in writing this Journal. The rest of
it was somewhat dreary, from the gloominess of the weather, and the
uncertain state which we were in, as we could not tell but it might
clear up every hour. Nothing is more painful to the mind than a state of
suspence, especially when it depends upon the weather, concerning which
there can be so little calculation. As Dr. Johnson said of our weariness
on the Monday at Aberdeen, 'Sensation is sensation[476]:'
Corrichatachin, which was last night a hospitable house, was, in my
mind, changed to-day into a prison. After dinner I read some of Dr.
Macpherson's _Dissertations on the Ancient Caledonians_[477]. I was
disgusted by the unsatisfactory conjectures as to antiquity, before the
days of record. I was happy when tea came. Such, I take it, is the state
of those who live in the country. Meals are wished for from the cravings
of vacuity of mind, as well as from the desire of eating. I was hurt to
find even such a temporary feebleness, and that I was so far from being
that robust wise man who is sufficient for his own happiness. I felt a
kind of lethargy of indolence. I did not exert myself to get Dr. Johnson
to talk, that I might not have the labour of writing down his
conversation.
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