However it be, thou shall not crow over us with a mere

show of superior skill."

66

"I will do my best, as Hubert says," answered Locksley, no man can do more.

So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked with attention to his weapon, and changed the string which he thought was no longer truly round, having been a littled frayed by the two former shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude waited the event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their opinion of his skill; his arrow split the rod against which it was aimed. A jubilee of acclamations followed, and even Prince John, in admiration of Locksley's skill, lost his dislike to his person, "These trusty nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty if thou wilt take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our body-guard, and be near to our person; for never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so keen an eye direct a shaft.”

"Pardon me, noble Prince," saith Locksley, "but I have vowed that if ever I take service, it should be with your royal brother King Richard. These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave a bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the trial he would have hit the mark as well as I."

Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the stranger, and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed with the crowd and was seen no more.

TALK LIX.

ON WALTER SCOTT, THE NOVELIST.

THE novel of Kenilworth has for its main incident the visit of Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Leicester at his castle of Kenilworth, and the festivities that were made to entertain her. The dramatic part of the story is the meeting of the Queen with Amy Robsart, whom Leicester has secretly married, wishing to keep this marriage from the knowledge of his royal mistress. One of the most powerful situations in all

Scott's novels is given in the following extract.

The Queen is walking in the gardens of Kenilworth, when by chance she enters a grotto, in which Amy Robsart, who has come to the castle without the knowledge of her husband, has concealed herself.

Then the Queen became aware that a female figure was placed beside, or rather partly behind, an alabaster column, at the foot of which arose a pellucid fountain, which occupied the inmost recesses of the grotto. As she advanced she became doubtful whether she beheld a statue or a form of flesh and blood. The unfortunate Amy, indeed, remained motionless, betwixt the desire she had to make her condition known to one of her own sex, and her awe for the stately form which approached her, and which, although her eyes had never before beheld, her fears instantly suspected to be the person she really was. Amy had risen from her seat with the purpose of addressing the lady who entered the grotto alone, and, as she at first thought, so opportunely. But when she recollected the alarm which Leicester had expressed at the Queen knowing aught of their union, and became more and more satisfied that the person she now beheld was Elizabeth herself, she stood with one foot advanced and one withdrawn, her arms, head and hands, perfectly motionless, and her cheek as pallid as the alabaster column against which she leaned. Her dress was a pale sea-green silk, little distinguished in that imperfect light, and somewhat resembled the drapery of some Grecian nymph, such a disguise having been thought the most secure where so many maskers and revellers were assembled, so that the Queen's doubt of her being a living form was justified by all contingent circumstances, as well as by her bloodless cheek and fixed eye.

From her dress, and the casket which she instinctively held in her hand, Elizabeth naturally conjectured that this beautiful but mute figure which she beheld was a performer in one of the theatrical pageants, which had been placed in different situations to surprise her with their homage; and that the poor player, overcome with awe at her presence, had either forgot the part assigned her, or lacked courage to go through with it. It was natural and courteous to give her some encouragement; and Elizabeth accordingly said, in a tone of condescending kindness: "How now, fair nymph of this lovely grotto; art thou spell-bound, and struck with dumbness by the charms of this wicked enchantress, whom men term Fear. We are his common enemy, maiden, and can reverse his charm. Speak, we command thee."

Instead of answering her by speech, the unfortunate countess

ever done so. However it be, thou shall not crow over us with a mere show of superior skill."

'I will do my best, as Hubert says," answered Locksley, "no man can do more.

So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked with attention to his weapon, and changed the string which he thought was no longer truly round, having been a littled frayed by the two former shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude waited the event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their opinion of his skill; his arrow split the rod against which it was aimed. A jubilee of acclamations followed, and even Prince John, in admiration of Locksley's skill, lost his dislike to his person, "These trusty nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty if thou wilt take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our body-guard, and be near to our person; for never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so keen an eye direct a shaft."

"Pardon me, noble Prince," saith Locksley, "but I have vowed that if ever I take service, it should be with your royal brother King Richard. These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave a bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the trial he would have hit the mark as well as I."

Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the stranger, and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed with the crowd and was seen no more.

TALK LIX.

ON WALTER SCOTT, THE NOVELIST.

THE novel of Kenilworth has for its main incident the visit of Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Leicester at his castle of Kenilworth, and the festivities that were made to entertain her. The dramatic part of the story is the meeting of the Queen with Amy Robsart, whom Leicester has secretly married, wishing to keep this marriage from the knowledge of his royal mistress. One of the most powerful situations in all

Scott's novels is given in the following extract. The Queen is walking in the gardens of Kenilworth, when by chance she enters a grotto, in which Amy Robsart, who has come to the castle without the knowledge of her husband, has concealed herself.

Then the Queen became aware that a female figure was placed beside, or rather partly behind, an alabaster column, at the foot of which arose a pellucid fountain, which occupied the inmost recesses of the grotto. As she advanced she became doubtful whether she beheld a statue or a form of flesh and blood. The unfortunate Amy, indeed, remained motionless, betwixt the desire she had to make her condition known to one of her own sex, and her awe for the stately form which approached her, and which, although her eyes had never before beheld, her fears instantly suspected to be the person she really was. Amy had risen from her seat with the purpose of addressing the lady who entered the grotto alone, and, as she at first thought, so opportunely. But when she recollected the alarm which Leicester had expressed at the Queen knowing aught of their union, and became more and more satisfied that the person she now beheld was Elizabeth herself, she stood with one foot advanced and one withdrawn, her arms, head and hands, perfectly motionless, and her cheek as pallid as the alabaster column against which she leaned. Her dress was a pale sea-green silk, little distinguished in that imperfect light, and somewhat resembled the drapery of some Grecian nymph, such a disguise having been thought the most secure where so many maskers and revellers were assembled, so that the Queen's doubt of her being a living form was justified by all contingent circumstances, as well as by her bloodless cheek and fixed eye.

From her dress, and the casket which she instinctively held in her hand, Elizabeth naturally conjectured that this beautiful but mute figure which she beheld was a performer in one of the theatrical pageants, which had been placed in different situations to surprise her with their homage; and that the poor player, overcome with awe at her presence, had either forgot the part assigned her, or lacked courage to go through with it. It was natural and courteous to give her some encouragement; and Elizabeth accordingly said, in a tone of condescending kindness: "How now, fair nymph of this lovely grotto; art thou spell-bound, and struck with dumbness by the charms of this wicked enchantress, whom men term Fear. We are his common enemy, maiden, and can reverse his charm. Speak, we command thee."

Instead of answering her by speech, the unfortunate countess

lovely female whom the Queen upheld by main strength with one hand, while with the other she waived aside the ladies and nobles who pressed towards her under the idea that she was taken suddenly ill.

"Where is my Lord of Leicester!" she said in a tone that thrilled with astonishment all the courtiers who stood around; "stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!"

If, in the midst of the most serene day of summer, when all is light and laughing around, a thunderbolt were to fall from the clear, blue vault of heaven, and rend the earth at the very feet of some careless traveler, he could not gaze upon the smoldering chasm which so unexpectedly yawned before him, with half the astonishment and fear which Leicester felt at the sight that so suddenly presented itself. He had at that instant been receiving, with a politic affectation of disavowing and misunderstanding their meaning-the half-uttered, half-intimated congratulations upon the favor of the Queen; carried, apparently, to its highest pitch during the interview of that morning, from which most of them seemed to augur that he might soon arise from their equal in rank to become their master. And now, while the subdued yet proud smile with which he disclaimed these inferences was yet curling his cheek, the Queen shot into the circle, her passion excited to the uttermost, and supporting with one hand, and apparently without effort, the pale and sinking form of his almost expiring wife, and pointing with the finger of the other to her halfdead features, demanded in a voice that sounded in the ears of the astounded statesman, like the last trumpet call-that is to summon body and soul to the judgment-seat—“ Knowest thou this woman ?"

Scott's success as a novelist in his own time was immediate and complete. From the first publication of Waverley the fame and fortune it brought was like the wonders of a fairy-tale. He had always made money freely by his poems. One of the least popular of these had sold ten thousand copies in three months, but this success was nothing to the success of the novels. From one story alone he received in two months three thousand pounds. It was like the opening up of a gold mine. The ease with which money flowed in upon him, was only equalled by the ease and rapidity with which he wrote. His pen seemed never to tire. As he said himself: "When I once get my pen to paper, it will walk of itself."