ries which Scott told in verse: nor is this all the merit; it is very various and picturesque, full of fine situations, and incident, and character. I suspect its great success arose mainly from the sort of set-off, which the old tartan made against the boddin gray of the lowlands; the demi-barbarous heroism of the mountains, against the more barbarous generosity of the vales. All this was new to the world, and novelty is an attractive commodity, and rather a scarce one. The poems of Ossian gave us the feelings and manners of a remote era, but did not contain a single picture of what could be confirmed by tradition or by history: they were also reckoned spurious by very sensible men. Scott had therefore no rival to remove from the people's love; nor had any poet arisen, whose song was so agreeable to the world as his own. Regarding the composition of this poem, he says, "I had read a great deal, and heard more, concerning that romantic country, where I was in the habit of spending some time every autumn; and the scenery of Loch Katrine was connected with the recollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition of former days. A lady to whom I was nearly related, and with whom I lived, during her whole life,

on the most brotherly terms of affection, was residing with me at the time when the work was in progress, and used to ask me what I could possibly do, to rise so early in the morning, (that happening to be the most convenient time to me for composition). At last, I told her the subject of my meditations; and I can never forget the anxiety and affection expressed in her reply. "Do not be so rash," she said, "my dearest cousin. You are already popular

-more so, perhaps, than you yourself will believe, or than I can even fairly allow to your merits. You stand high; do not rashly attempt to climb higher, and incur the risk of a fall; for, depend upon it, a favorite will not even be allowed to stumble with impunity." I replied to this affectionate expostulation, in the words of Montrose,

"He either fears his fate too much,

Or his deserts are small,

Who dares not put it to the touch,

To gain or lose it all."

If I fail, I said, it is a sign I ought never to have succeeded, and I will write prose for life: you shall see no change in my temper, nor shall I eat a single meal the worse. But if I succeed,

"Up with the bonnie blue bonnet,

The dirk and the feather an' a'."

If I remember right, the critics were pretty unanimous in their commendations of the 'Lady of the Lake;' but such was the popularity of the poet, that the public may be fairly said to have taken up the matter for themselves, regardless of the admonition of the learned, or the colder cautions of critics. It has many and various beauties: the retreat of Ellen Douglas in her Bower in the Loch Katrine isle, may be read any time along with the fine retreat of Erminia in Tasso; the rising of the Clans at the signal of the Fiery Cross, is more poetic than any arousal by message or by trumpet; the highland ambush rising at the signal of Roderick Dhu, and then disappearing at a wave of his hand; the single combat between the Chief and Fitz-James, and the "fetters and warder for the Græme scene at the conclusion, are all in the truest spirit of chivalry and heroism.

Scott had other pursuits, which he set as much store by as poetry, and he generally wished us to understand, that he was not an overzealous worshipper of the muse; but one who sometimes paid her a visit, rather than belonged to her household. He resolved to avoid living upon the bounty, as he refused to wear the

livery, of her Parnassian ladyship; and he was right in this, for her bounty, as some of our best poets, were they living, could safely affirm, is seldom equal to the purposes of life; in short, he resolved to make literature a staff and not a crutch. It followed, therefore, that literary men were not alone to be his friends and companions. "It was my first resolution," he says, "to keep as far as was in my power, abreast of society, continuing to maintain my place in general company, without yielding to the very natural temptation of narrowing myself to what is called literary society. By doing so, I imagined I should escape the besetting sin of listening to language, which, from one motive or another, ascribes a very undue degree of consequence to literary pursuits, as if they were, indeed, the business, rather than the amusement of life." The world is always willing enough to think lightly of intellectual works; and it is not perhaps very becoming in one who owed his fame and importance to these matters, which he calls "amusements," to help the world to pull them down. Literary men form a portion of society, and their productions are a matter of trade, like any other commodity; they are, at least, therefore, entitled to be ranked with

those who not only embellish life, but perform some of its business. Among other things, the poet prided himself not a little on his services in a squadron of volunteer cavalry, at a time when thousands, and hundreds of thousands, appeared on horse or on foot, when Pitt, to use the poet's own language

Armed the freeman's hand to guard the freeman's laws.

"My services," he says, "were found useful in assisting to maintain the discipline of the corps, being the point on which their constitution rendered them most amenable to military criticism. My attention to the corps took up a good deal of time; and while it occupied many of the happiest hours of my life, it furnished an additional reason for my reluctance again to encounter the severe course of study, indispensable to success in the juridical profession." These I consider as not unpleasing traits in the life of this illustrious person: one is amused to think, how useful the poet of Marmion' appeared in his own eyes, riding out to the Links of Leith, marshalling the equestrian heroes of the year of grace, 1810, and how pleased he was, to think that he could sit in his saddle and shake his sword in the sun as well as the best of the band.