satisfaction. “In the full tide of mirth, he did indeed laugh the heart's laugh," says Mr. Adolphus. "Give me an honest laugher," said Scott himself on another occasion, when a buckram man of fashion had been paying 5 him a visit at Abbotsford. His manners, free from affectation or artifice of any sort, exhibited the spontaneous movements of a kind disposition, subject to those rules of good breeding which Nature herself might have dictated. In this way he answered his 10 own purpose admirably as a painter of character, by putting every man in good humor with himself, in the same manner as a cunning portrait-painter amuses his sitters with such store of fun and anecdote as may throw them off their guard, and call out the happiest expressions of 15 their countenances. 66 The place where his benevolent impulses found their proper theatre for expansion was his own home; surrounded by a happy family, and dispensing all the hospitalities of a great feudal proprietor. There are many 20 good things in life," he says, in one of his letters, "whatever satirists and misanthropes may say to the contrary; but probably the best of all, next to a conscience void of offence, (without which, by-the-by, they can hardly exist,) are the quiet exercise and enjoyment of the social feelings, 25 in which we are at once happy ourselves, and the cause of happiness to them who are dearest to us." Every page of the work, almost, shows us how intimately he blended himself with the pleasures and the pursuits of his own family, watched over the education of his chil30 dren, shared in their rides, their rambles, and sports, losing no opportunity of kindling in their young minds a love of virtue, and honorable principles of action. But Scott's sympathies were not confined to his species, and if he treated them like blood relations, he treated his 35 brute followers like personal friends. Every one remembers old Maida and faithful Camp, the "dear old friend;" whose loss cost him a dinner. Mr. Gillies tells us that he went into his study on one occasion, when he was winding off his "Vision of Don Roderick." "Look here,' said the poet, I have just begun to copy over the rhymes that you 5 heard to-day and applauded so much. Return to supper if you can; only don't be late, as you perceive we keep early hours, and Wallace will not suffer me to rest after six in the morning. Come, good dog, and help the poet.' "At this hint, Wallace seated himself upright on a 10 chair next his master, who offered him a newspaper, which he directly seized, looking very wise, and holding it firmly and contently in his mouth. Scott looked at him with great satisfaction, for he was excessively fond of dogs. Very well,' said he; now we shall get on.' And so I 15 left them abruptly, knowing that my absence would be the best company." XX. THE BATTLE OF FLODDEN FIELD. SIR WALTER SCOTT. [The following extract from "Marmion" describes the battle of Flodden Field, or Flodden, ir. which the English, under the Earl of Surrey, defeated, with great slaughter, the Scotch, under their king, James IV., September 9, 1513. Flodden Hill, an offshoot of the Cheviot range, is in the county of Northumberland, in England, a few miles from the town of Coldstream. Marmion, an imaginary personage, is an English nobleman of bad character. Blount and Fitz Eustace are his squires. Lady Clare is an English heiress, for whose hand Marmion had been an unsuccessful suitor, and whose lover, Wilton, now fighting on the English side, he had attempted to ruin, but failed. Jeffrey, in his review of "Marmion," in the "Edinburgh Review," says:-" Of all the poetical battles which have been fought, from the days of Homer to those of Mr. Southey, there is none, in our opinion, at all comparable, for interest and animation, for breadth of drawing, and magnificence of effect, with this."] BLOUNT and Fitz Eustace rested still The cry they heard, its meaning knew, 66 Unworthy office here to stay! From the sharp ridges of the hill, 15 Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, 20 25 Told England, from his mountain-throne Of sudden and portentous birth, O life and death were in the shout, 30 Recoil and rally, charge and rout, And triumph and despair. Long look'd the anxious squires; their eye Could in the darkness nought descry. *That is, no hope of being advanced to the dignity of knighthood, of which ilded spurs were the badge. At length the freshening western blast And pluméd crests of chieftains brave, 10 Floating like foam upon the wave; But nought distinct they see. Wide raged the battle on the plain; Far on the left, unseen the while, And with both hands the broadsword plied, Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew 30 The Border slogan rent the sky. Loud were the clanging blows; Advanced, forced back, now low, now high, The pennon sunk and rose; 35 As bends the bark's mast in the gale, When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, No longer Blount the view could bear: Fitz Eustace, you, with Lady Clare, 5 May bid your beads, and patter prayer, And to the fray he rode amain, The fiery youth, with desperate charge, 10 Made. for a space, an opening large, The rescued banner rose, But darkly closed the war around, Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground, 15 Then Eustace mounted too; yet staid, As loath to leave the helpless maid, When, fast as shaft can fly, Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread, The loose rein dangling from his head, 20 Housing and saddle bloody red, 25 30 Lord Marmion's steed rushed by; The tumult roar'd, "Is Wilton there?" |