on the verge of discovery; but, as I maintained my point
with the composure of a lawyer of thirty years' standing, I never
recollect being in pain or confusion on the subject. In Captain Medwyn's
Conversations of Lord Byron the reporter states himself to have asked my
noble and highly gifted friend,' If he was certain about these Novels
being Sir Walter Scott's?' To which Lord Byron replied, 'Scott as much as
owned himself the Author of Waverley to me in Murray's shop. I was
talking to him about that Novel, and lamented that its Author had not
carried back the story nearer to the time of the Revolution. Scott,
entirely off his guard, replied, "Ay, I might have done so; but--" there
he stopped. It was in vain to attempt to correct himself; he looked
confused, and relieved his embarrassment by a precipitate retreat.' I
have no recollection whatever of this scene taking place, and I should
have thought that I was more likely to have laughed than to appear
confused, for I certainly never hoped to impose upon Lord Byron in a case
of the kind; and from the manner in which he uniformly expressed himself,
I knew his opinion was entirely formed, and that any disclamations of
mine would only have savoured of affectation. I do not mean to insinuate
that the incident did not happen, but only that it could hardly have
occurred exactly under the circumstances narrated, without my
recollecting something positive on the subject. In another part of the
same volume Lord Byron is reported to have expressed a supposition that
the cause of my not avowing myself the Author of Waverley may have been
some surmise that the reigning family would have been displeased with the
work. I can only say, it is the last apprehension I should have
entertained, as indeed the inscription to these volumes sufficiently
proves. The sufferers of that melancholy period have, during the last and
present reign, been honoured both with the sympathy and protection of the
reigning family, whose magnanimity can well pardon a sigh from others,
and bestow one themselves, to the memory of brave opponents, who did
nothing in hate, but all in honour.

While those who were in habitual intercourse with the real author had
little hesitation in assigning the literary property to him, others, and
those critics of no mean rank, employed themselves in investigating with
persevering patience any characteristic features which might seem to
betray the origin of these Novels. Amongst