sely connected
with him in his business transactions. Blackwood was a native of
Edinburgh; having served his apprenticeship with Messrs. Bell &
Bradfute, booksellers, he was selected by Mundell & Company to take
charge of a branch of their extensive publishing business in Glasgow. He
returned to Edinburgh, and again entered the service of Bell et
Bradfute; but after a time went to London to master the secrets of the
old book trade under the well-known Mr. Cuthill. Returning to Edinburgh,
he set up for himself in 1804, at the age of twenty-eight, at a shop in
South Bridge Street--confining himself, for the most part, to old books.
He was a man of great energy and decision of character, and his early
education enabled him to conduct his correspondence with a remarkable
degree of precision and accuracy. Mr. Murray seems to have done business
with him as far back as June 1807, and was in the habit of calling upon
Blackwood, who was about his own age, whenever he visited Edinburgh. The
two became intimate, and corresponded frequently; and at last, when
Murray withdrew from the Ballantynes, in August 1810 he transferred the
whole of his Scottish agency to the house of William Blackwood. In
return for the publishing business sent to him from London, Blackwood
made Murray his agent for any new works published by him in Edinburgh.
In this way Murray became the London publisher for Hogg's new poems, and
"The Queen's Wake," which had reached its fourth edition.

Mr. Murray paid at this time another visit to Abbotsford. Towards the
end of 1814 Scott had surrounded the original farmhouse with a number of
buildings--kitchen, laundry, and spare bedrooms--and was able to
entertain company. He received Murray with great cordiality, and made
many enquiries as to Lord Byron, to whom Murray wrote on his return to
London:

_John Murray to Lord Byron_.

"Walter Scott commissioned me to be the bearer of his warmest greetings
to you. His house was full the day I passed with him; and yet, both in
corners and at the surrounded table, he talked incessantly of you.
Unwilling that I should part without bearing some mark of his love (a
poet's love) for you, he gave me a superb Turkish dagger to present to
you, as the only remembrance which, at the moment, he could think of to
offer you. He was greatly pleased with the engraving of your portrait,
which I recollected to carry with me; and during the whole dinner--when
all were admiring the taste