drive a couple of these animals in a little garden chair, and whenever her father appeared at the door of our cottage, we were sure to see Hannah More and Lady Morgan (as Anne Scott had wickedly christened them) trotting from their pasture, to lay their noses over the paling, and, as Washington Irving says of the old white-haired hedger with the Parisian snuffbox, 'to have a pleasant crack wi' the laird."" and stoutly, although his feet almost touched | year or two after this time, my wife used t the ground as he sat, was the adjutant. But the most picturesque figure was the illustrious inventor of the safety-lamp. He had come for his favourite sport of angling, and had been practising it successfully with Rose, his travelling companion, for two or three days preceding this; but he had not prepared for coursing fields, or had left Charlie Purdie's troop for Sir Walter's on a sudden thought, and his fisherman's costume-a brown hat with flexi--Vol. v. p. 7—10.* ble brim, surrounded with line upon line of catgut, and innumerable fly-hooks-jack-boots worthy of a Dutch smuggler, and a fustian surtout dabbled with the blood of salmon, made a fine contrast with the smart jackets, white-cord breeches, and well polished jockey-boots of the less distinguished cavaliers about him. Dr. Wollaston was in black, and, with his noble serene dignity of countenance, might have passed for a sporting archbishop. Mr. Mackenzie, at this time in the 76th year of his age, with a white hat turned up with green, green spectacles, green jacket, and long brown leathern gaiters buttoned upon his nether anatomy, wore a dog-whistle round his neck, and had, all over, the air of as resolute a devotee as the gay captain of Huntly Burn. Tom Purdie and his subalterns had preceded us by a few hours with all the greyhounds that could be collected at Abbotsford, Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant Maida had remained as his master's orderly, and now gambolled about Sibyl Grey, barking for mere joy like a spaniel puppy. "The order of march had been all settled, and the sociable was just getting under weigh, when the Lady Anne broke from the line, screaming with laughter, and exclaimed, 'Papa, papa, I knew you could never think of going without your pet.' Scott looked round, and I "There (at Chiefs wood) my wife and I spent this summer and autumn of 1821-the first of several seasons which will ever dwell on my memory as the happiest of my life. We were near enough Abbotsford to partake as often as we liked of its brilliant and constantly varying society; yet could do so without being exposed to the worry and exhaustion of spirit which the daily reception of new comers entailed upon all the family, except Sir Walter himself. But, in truth, even he was not always proof against the annoyances connected with such a style of open house-keeping. Even his temper sank sometimes under the solemn applauses of learned dulness, the vapid raptures of painted and perriwigged dowagers, the horseleech avidity with which underbred fo * On this subject let us report an anecdote furnished correspondent of our own, whose accuracy we can depend on:-I myself was acquainted with a little Blenheim cocker, one of the smallest, beautifullest, and wisest of lapdogs, or dogs, which, though Sir Walter knew it not, was very singular in its behaviour towards him. Shandy, so hight this remarkable cocker, was extremely shy of strangers: promenading on Prince's street, which in fine weather used to be crowded in those days, he seemed to live in perpetual fear of being stolen; if any one but looked at him admiringly, he would draw back with angry timidity, and crouch towards his own man came halting by; the little dog ran towards him, lady-mistress. One day a tall, irregular, busy-looking began fawning, frisking, licking at his feet: it was Sir Walter Scott! Had Shandy been the most extensive reader of Reviews, he could not have done better. Every time he saw Sir Walter afterwards, which was some three or four times in the course of visiting Edingood Sir Walter endured it with good-humour; looked frisking, licking the Author of Waverly's' feet. The down at the little wise face, at the silky shag-coat of hitting him as they went on,-till a new division of snow-white and chestnut-brown; smiled, and avoided streets or some other obstacles put an end to the interview. In fact he was a strange little fellow, this Shandy. He has been known to sit for hours looking out at the summer moon, with the saddest wistfullest expression of countenance; altogether like a Werterean Poet. He song-would have been a Poet, I dare say, if he could have found a publisher. But his moral tact was the most amazing. Without reason shown, without word spoken or act done, he took his likings and dislikings; unalterable; really almost unerring. His chief aversion, I should say, was to the genus quack, above all to the genus acrid-quack; these, though never so clear-starched, bland-smiling, and beneficent, be absolutely would have said with emphasis, as clearly as barking could say no trade with. Their very sugar-cake was unavailing. it: Acrid-quack, avaunt!' Would to Heaven many "This pig had taken, nobody could tell how, a prime minister and high person in authority had such a most sentimental attachment to Scott, and an invaluable talent! On the whole, there is more in this universe than our philosophy has dreamt of A was constantly urging its pretensions to be dog's instinct is a voice of Nature too; and farther, it admitted a regular member of his tail along has never babbled itself away in idle jargon and hywith the greyhounds and terriers; but, indeed, pothesis, but always adhered to the practical, and grown in silence by continual communion with fact. We do remember him suffering another summer the animals injustice. Their body resembles our body, under the same sort of pertinacity on the part Buffon says; with its four limbs, with its spinal marrow, of an affectionate hen. I leave the explanation main organs in the head, and so forth: but have they not a kind of soul, equally the rude draught and imperfor philosophers-but such were the facts. Ifect imitation of ours? It is a strange, an almost have too much respect for the vulgarly calum- solemn and pathetic thing to see an intelligence impriniated donkey, to name him in the same cate-self out of that ;-even as we do out of our imprisonsoned in that dumb rude form; struggling to express itgory of pets with the pig and the hen; but a rather think there was a blush as well as a smile upon his face, when he perceived a little black pig frisking about his pony, and evi-burgh, he repeated his demonstrations, ran leaping, dently a self-elected addition to the party of the day. He tried to look stern, and cracked his whip at the creature, but was in a moment obliged to join in the general cheers. Poor piggy soon found a strap round its neck, and was dragged into the background;-Scott, watching the retreat, repeated with mock pathos the first verse of an old pastoral "What will I do gin my hoggie die? -the cheers were redoubled-and the squadron ment; and succeed very imperfectly!" reigners urged heir questions, and the pompous labour, ditchers delve; and there is endless, simpers of condescending magnates. When altogether deplorable correspondence about sore beset at home in this way, he would every marble-slabs for tables, wainscotting of rooms, now and then discover that he had some very curtains with the trimmings of curtains, orangeparticular business to attend to on an outlying coloured or fawn-coloured: Walter Scott, one part of his estate; and, craving the indulgence of the gifted of the world, whom his admirers of his guests over night, appear at the cabin called the most gifted, must kill himself that he in the glen before its inhabitants were astir in may be a country gentleman, the founder of a the morning. The clatter of Sibyl Grey's hoofs, race of Scottish lairds. It is one of the the yelping of Mustard and Spice, and his own strangest, most tragical histories ever enacted joyous shout of reveillée under our windows, under this sun. were the signal that he had burst his toils, and strong a man into such mad extremes. Surely, So poor a passion can lead so meant for that day to take his ease in his were not man a fool always, one might say inn.' On descending, he was to be found there was something eminently distracted in seated with all his dogs and ours about him, this, end as it would, of a Walter Scott writing under a spreading ash that overshadowed half daily with the ardour of a steam-engine, that the bank between the cottage and the brook, he might make £15,000 a year, and buy uppointing the edge of his woodman's-axe, and holstery with it. To cover the walls of a stone listening to Tom Purdie's lecture touching the house in Selkirkshire with knicknacks, ancient plantation that most needed thinning. After armour, and genealogical shields, what can we breakfast he would take possession of a dress- name it but a being bit with delirium of a kind! ing-room up stairs, and write a chapter of The That tract after tract of moorland in the shire Pirate: and then, having made up and des- of Selkirk should be joined together on parch patched his packet for Mr. Ballantyne, away ment and by ring-fence, and named after one's to join Purdie wherever the foresters were at name,-why, it is a shabby small-type edition work-and sometimes to labour among them of your vulgar Napoleons, Alexanders, and as strenuously as John Swanston,-until it was conquering heroes, not counted venerable by time either to rejoin his own party at Abbots- any teacher of men!— ford, or the quiet circle of the cottage. When his guests were few and friendly, he often made them come over and meet him at Chiefs wood in a body towards evening; and surely he never appeared to more amiable advantage than when helping his young people with their little arrangements upon such occasions. He was ready with all sorts of devices to supply the wants of a narrow establishment; he used to delight particularly in sinking the wine in a well under the brae ere he went out, and hauling up the basket just before dinner was announced-this primitive device being, he said, what he had always practised when a young housekeeper, and in his opinion far superior in its results to any application of ice; and in the same spirit, whenever the weather was sufficiently genial, he voted for dining out of doors altogether, which at once got rid of the inconvenience of very small rooms, and made it natural and easy for the gentlemen to help the ladies, so that the paucity of servants went for nothing."-Vol. v. pp. 123, 124. Surely all this is very beautiful; like a picture of Boccaccio: the ideal of a country life in our time. Why could it not last? Income was not wanting: Scott's official permanent income was amply adequate to meet the expense of all that was valuable in it; nay, of all that was not harassing, senseless, and despicable. Scott had some £2,000 a year without writing books at all. Why should he manufacture and not create, to make more money; and rear mass on mass for a dwelling to himself, till the pile toppled, sank, crashing, and buried him in its ruins, when he had a safe pleasant dwelling ready of its own accord? Alas, Scott, with all his health, was infected sick of the fearfullest malady, that of Ambition! To such length had the King's baronetcy, the world's favour, and "sixteen parties a-day," brought it with him. So the inane racket must be kept up, and rise ever higher. So masons 67 "The whole world was not half so wide To whine, put finger i' the eye and sob, Not he! And if, "looked at from the Moon, With respect to the literary character of these "Waverly Novels," so extraordinary in their commercial character, there remains, after so much reviewing, good and bad, little that it were profitable at present to say. The great fact about them is, that they were faster written and better paid for than any other books in the world. It must be granted, moreover, that they have a worth far surpassing what is usual in such cases; nay, that if litera ture had no task but that of harmlessly amus ing indolent, languid men, here was the very perfection of literature; that a man, here more emphatically than ever elsewhere, might fling himself back, exclaiming, "Be mine to lie on this sofa, and read everlasting Novels of Walter Scott!" The composition, slight as it ofter is, usually hangs together in some measure, and is a composition. There is a free flow of narrative, of incident and sentiment; an easy master-like coherence throughout, as if it were the free dash of a master's hand, "round as the O of Giotto."* It is the perfection of "Venne a Firenze, (il cortigiano del Papa,) e andato una mattina in bottega di Giotto, che lavorava, gis extemporaneous writing. Farthermore, surely | next to no nourishment in them. Opinions, he was a blind critic who did not recognise emotions, principles, doubts, beliefs, beyond here a certain genial sunshiny freshness and what the intelligent country gentleman can picturesqueness; paintings both of scenery carry along with him, are not to be found. It and figures, very graceful, brilliant, occasion- is orderly, customary, it is prudent, decent; ally full of grace and glowing brightness, nothing more. One would say, it lay not in blended in the softest composure; in fact, a Scott to give much more; getting out of the deep sincere love of the beautiful in nature ordinary range, and attempting the heroic, and man, and the readiest faculty of express- which is but seldom the case, he falls almost ing this by imagination and by word. No at once into the rose-pink sentimental,-desfresher paintings of nature can be found than cries the Minerva Press from afar, and hastiScott's; hardly anywhere a wider sympathy ly quits that course; for none better than he with man. From Davie Deans up to Richard knew it to lead nowhither. On the whole, Coeur-de-Lion; from Meg Merrilies to Die contrasting Waverly, which was carefully Vernon and Queen Elizabeth! It is the ut-written, with most of its followers, which were terance of a man of open soul; of a brave, written extempore, one may regret the extemlarge, free-seeing man, who has a true brother- pore method. Something very perfect in its hood with all men. In joyous picturesque- kind might have come from Scott; nor was it ness and fellow-feeling, freedom of eye and a low kind: nay, who knows how high, with heart; or to say it in a word, in general healthi- | studious self-concentration, he might have ness of mind, these novels prove Scott to have gone; what wealth nature had implanted in him, which his circumstances, most unkind been amongst the foremost writers. while seeming to be kindest, had never impelled him to unfold? Neither in the higher and highest excellence, of drawing character, is he at any time But after all, in the loudest blaring and altogether deficient; though at no time can we call him, in the best sense, successful. His trumpeting of popularity, it is ever to be held in Bailie Jarvies, Dinmonts, Dalgettys (for their mind, as a truth remaining true for ever, that name is legion) do look and talk like what literature has other aims than that of harmlessthey give themselves out for; they are, if not ly amusing indolent, languid men: or if literacreated and made poetically alive, yet decep- ture have them not, then literature is a very tively enacted as a good player might do them. poor affair; and something else must have What more is wanted then? For the reader them, and must accomplish them, with thanks lying on a sofa, nothing more; yet for another or without thanks; the thankful or thankless sort of reader, much. It were a long chapter world were not long a world otherwise! Under to unfold the difference in drawing a character this head there is little to be sought or found between a Scott, a Shakspeare, and a Goethe? in the "Waverley Novels." Not profitable for Yet it is a difference literally immense: they doctrine, for reproof, for edification, for buildare of different species; the value of the one ing up or elevating, in any shape! The sick is not to be counted in the coin of the other. heart will find no healing here, the darkly strugWe might say in a short word, which means gling heart no guidance: the Heroic that is in a long matter, that your Shakspeare fashions all men no divine awakening voice. We say, his characters from the heart outwards; your therefore, that they do not found themselves Scott fashions them from the skin inwards, on deep interests, but on comparatively trivial never getting near the heart of them! The ones; not on the perennial, perhaps not even one set became living men and women; the on the lasting. In fact, much of the interest other amount to little more than mechanical of these novels results from what may be cases, deceptively painted automatons. Com- called contrasts of costume. The phraseolopare Fenella with Goethe's Mignon, which, it gy, fashion of arms, of dress and life, belongwas once said, Scott had "done Goethe the ing to one age, is brought suddenly, with singu honour" to borrow. He has borrowed whatlar vividness, before the eyes of another. A he could of Mignon. The small stature, the great effect this; yet, by the very nature of it, climbing talent, the trickiness, the mechanical an altogether temporary one. Consider, brethcase, as we say, he has borrowed; but the soul ren, shall not we too one day be antiques, and of Mignon is left behind. Fenella is an unfa-grow to have as quaint a costume as the rest! vourable specimen for Scott; but it illustrates, The stuffed dandy, only give him time, will bein the aggravated state, what is traceable in come one of the wonderfullest mummies. In all the characters he drew. To the same pur-antiquarian museums, only two centuries port, indeed, we are to say that these famed books are altogether addressed to the everyday mind; that for any other mind, there is chiese un poco di disegno per mandarlo a sua Santità. hence, the steeple-hat will hang on the next peg to Franks and Company's patent, antiquarians deciding which is uglier: and the Stultz swallow-tail, one may hope, will seem as incredible as any garment that ever made ridicu lous the respectable back of man. Not by slashed breeches, steeple-hats, buff-belts, or antiquated speech, can romance heroes continue to interest us; but simply and solely, in the long run, by being men. Buff-belts and all manner of jerkins and costumes are transitory; man alone is perennial. He that has gone deeper into this than other men, will be remembered longer than they; he that has not, not. Tried under this category, Scott with his | Giotto's O. But indeed, in all things, writing clear practical insight, joyous temper, and other or other, which a man engages in, there is the sound faculties, is not to be accounted little, indispensablest beauty in knowing how to get -among the ordinary circulating library he- done. A man frets himself to no purpose; he roes he might well pass for a demi-god. Not has not the sleight of the trade; he is not a little; yet neither is he great; there were great-craftsman, but an unfortunate borer and buner, more than one or two in his own age: gler, if he know not when to have done. Peramong the great of all ages, one sees no like- fection is unattainable: no carpenter ever lihood of a place for him. made a mathematically accurate right-angle in the world; yet all carpenters know when it is right enough, and do not botch it, and lose their wages by making it too right. Too much pains-taking speaks disease in one's mind, as well as too little. The adroit sound-minded man will endeavour to spend on each business approximately what of pains it deserves; and with a conscience void of remorse will dismiss it then. All this in favour of easy writ ing shall be granted, and, if need were, enforced and inculcated. And yet, on the other hand, it shall not less but more strenuously be inculcated, that in the way of writing no great thing was ever, or will ever be done with ease, but with difficulty! Let ready writers, with any faculty in them, lay this to heart. Is it with ease, or not with ease, that a man shall do his best, in any shape; above all, in this shape, justly named of "soul's travail," working in the deep places of thought, imbodying the true out of the obscure and possible, environed on all sides with the uncreated false? Not so, now or at any time. The experience of all men belies it; the nature of things contradicts it. Virgil and Tacitus, were they ready What then is the result of these Waverley romances? Are they to amuse one generation only One or more. As many generations as they can, but not all generations: ah no, when our swallow-tail has become fantastic as trunk-hose, they will cease to amuse!-Meanwhile, as we can discern, their results have been several-fold. First of all, and certainly not least of all, have they not perhaps had this result: that a considerable portion of mankind has hereby been sated with mere amusement, and set on seeking something better? Amusement in the way of reading can go no farther, can do nothing better, by the power of man; and men ask, Is this what it can do? Scott, we reckon, carried several things to their ultimatum and crisis, so that change became inevitable: a great service, though an indirect one. Secondly, however, we may say, these historical novels have taught all men this truth, which looks like a truism, and yet was as good as unknown to writers of history and others, till so taught that the by-gone ages of the world were actually filled by living men, not by protocols, state-papers, controversies, and abstractions of men. Not abstractions writers? The whole Prophecies of Isaiah are were they, not diagrams and theorems; but not equal in extent to this cobweb of a review men, in buff or other coats and breeches, with article. Shakspeare, we may fancy, wrote colour in their cheeks, with passions in their with rapidity; but not till he had thought with stomach, and the idioms, features, and vitali-intensity: long and sore had this man thought, ties of very men. It is a little word this; inclusive of great meaning! History will henceforth have to take thought of it. Her faint hearsays of "philosophy teaching by experience" will have to exchange themselves everywhere for direct inspection and imbodyment: this, and this only, will be counted experience; and till once experience have got in, philosophy will reconcile herself to wait at the door. It is a great service, fertile in consequences, this that Scott has done; a great truth laid open by him;-correspondent indeed to the substantial nature of the man; to his solidity and veracity even of imagination, which, with all his lively discursiveness, was the characteristic of him. as the seeing eye may discern well, and had dwelt and wrestled amid dark pains and throes, though his great soul is silent about all that. It was for him to write rapidly at fit intervals, being ready to do it. And herein truly lies the secret of the matter: such swiftness of mere writing, after due energy of preparation, is doubtless the right method; the hot furnace having long worked and simmered, let the pure gold flow out at one gush. It was Shakspeare's plan; no easy writer he, or he had never been a Shakspeare. Neither was Milton one of the mob of gentlemen that write with ease; he did not attain Shakspeare's faculty, one perceives, of even writing fast after long preparation, but struggled while he wrote. Goethe A word here as to the extempore style of also tells us he "had nothing sent him in his writing, which is getting much celebrated in sleep;" no page of his but he knew well how these days. Scott seems to have been a high it came there. It is reckoned to be the best proficient in it. His rapidity was extreme, and prose, accordingly, that has been written by the matter produced was excellent considering any modern. Schiller, as an unfortunate and. that: the circumstances under which some of unhealthy man, “könnte nic fertig werden, never his novels, when he could not himself write, could get done;" the noble genius of him were dictated, are justly considered wonderful. struggled not wisely but too well, and wore It is a valuable faculty this of ready writing; his life itself heroically out. Or did Petrarcn nay farther, for Scott's purpose it was clearly write easily? Dante sees himself "growing the only good mode. By much labour he could gray" over his Divine Comedy; in stern solitanot have added one guinea to his copy-right; ry death-wrestle with it, to prevail over it, and nor could the reader on the sofa have lain a do it, if his uttermost faculty may: hence, tou, whit more at ease. It was in all ways neces- it is done and prevailed over, and the fiery life sary that these works should be produced of it endures for evermore among men. No: rapidly; and, round or not, be thrown off like creation, one would think, cannot be easy. paper. Consider his leading-articles; what they treat of, how passably they are done. Straw that has been thrashed a hundred times without wheat; ephemeral sound of a sound;' such portent of the hour as all men have seen a hundred times turn out inane; how a man, with merely human faculty, buckles himself nightly with new vigour and interest to this thrashed straw, nightly thrashes it anew nightly gets up new thunder about it; and se goes on thrashing and thundering for a con siderable series of years; this is a fact re maining still to be accounted for, in humar physiology. The vitality of man is great. your Jove has severe pains and fire-flames in | probably, the common Editor of a Daily Newsthe head, out of which an armed Pallas is struggling! As for manufacture, that is a different matter, and may become easy or not easy, according as it is taken up. Yet of manufacture, too, the general truth is that, given the manufacturer, it will be worthy in direct proportion to the pains bestowed upon it; and worthless always, or nearly so, with no pains. Cease, therefore, O ready-writer, to brag openly of thy rapidity and facility; to thee (if thou be in the manufacturing line) it is a benefit, an increase of wages; but to me it is sheer loss, worsening of my pennyworth: why wilt thou brag of it to me? Write easily, by steam if thou canst contrive it, and canst sell it; but hide it like virtue! "Easy writing," said Sheridan, "is sometimes dd hard reading." Sometimes; and always it is sure to be rather useless reading, which indeed (to a creature of few years and much work) may be reckon ed the hardest of all. Or shall we say, Scott, among the many things he carried towards their ultimatum and crisis, carried this of ready-writing too, that so all men might better see what was in it? It is a valuable consummation. Not without results;-results, at some of which Scott as a Tory politician would have greatly shuddered. For if once Printing have grown to be as Talk, then DEMOCRACY (if we look into the roots of things) is not a bugbear and probability, but a certainty, and event as good as come! "Inevitable seems it me." But leaving this, sure enough the triumph of ready-writing appears to be even now; everywhere the readywriter is found bragging strangely of his readi Scott's productive facility amazed everybody; and set Captain Hall, for one, upon a very strange method of accounting for it without miracle; for which see his "journal," above quoted from. The Captain, on counting line for line, found that he himself had written in that journal of his almost as much as Scott, at odd hours in a given number of days; and as for the invention," says he, "itness. In a late translated "Don Carlos," one is known that this costs Scott nothing, but of the most indifferent translations ever done comes to him of its own accord." Conveni- with any sign of ability, a hitherto unknown ent indeed!-But for us too Scott's rapidity is individual is found assuring his reader, “The great, is a proof and consequence of the solid reader will possibly think it an excuse, when health of the man, bodily and spiritual; great, I assure him that the whole piece was combut unmiraculous; not greater than that of pleted within the space of ten weeks, that is to many others besides Captain Hall. Admire say, between the sixth of January and the it, yet with measure. For observe always, eighteenth of March of this year, (inclusive of there are two conditions in work: let me fix a fortnight's interruption from over exertion ;) the quality, and you shall fix the quantity! that I often translated twenty pages a-day, and Any man may get through work rapidly who that the fifth act was the work of five days."* easily satisfies himself about it. Print the talk O hitherto unknown individual, what is it to of any man, there will be a thick octavo me what time it was the work of, whether five volume daily; make his writing three times days or five decades of years? The only as good as his talk, there will be the third part question is, How hast thou done it?-So, of a volume daily, which still is good work. however, it stands: the genius of Extempore To write with never such rapidity in a pass- irresistibly lording it, advancing on us like able manner is indicative, not of a man's ge- ocean-tides, like Noah's deluges-of ditchnius, but of his habits; it will prove his sound- water! The prospect seems one of the laness of nervous system, his practicability of mentablest. To have all Literature swum mind, and in fine, that he has the knack of away from us in watery Extempore, and a his trade. In the most flattering view, ra- spiritual time of Noah supervene? That pidity will betoken health of mind: much also, surely is an awful reflection, worthy of dys perhaps most of all, will depend on health of peptic Matthew Bramble in a London fog! body. Doubt it not, a faculty of easy writing Be of comfort, O splenetic Matthew; it is not is attainable by man! The human genius, Literature they are swimming away; it is once fairly set in this direction, will carry it only Book-publishing and Book-selling. Was far. William Cobbett, one of the healthiest there not a Literature before Printing or Faust of men, was a greater improviser even than of Mentz, and yet men wrote extempore? Nay, Walter Scott: his writing, considered as to before Writing or Cadmus of Thebes, and yet quality and quantity, of Rural Rides, Registers, men spoke extempore? Literature is the Grammars, Sermons, Peter Porcupines, His- Thought of thinking Souls; this, by the blessories of Reformation, ever-fresh denounce- ing of God, can in no generation be swum ments of Potatoes and Papermoney,-seems away, but remains with us to the end. to us still more wonderful. Pierre Bayle wrote enormous folios, one sees not on what Scott's career, of writing impromptu novels motive-principle; he flowed on for ever, a to buy farms with, was not of a kind to termimighty tide of ditch-water; and even died nate voluntarily, but to accelerate itself more flowing, with the pen in his hand. But indeed the most unaccountable ready-writer of all is, of Schiller, Mannheim and London, 1837. |