e must be a good poet; he has the real Parnassian abstraction--seldom
answers a question till it is twice repeated--drinks his tea scalding,
and eats without knowing what he is putting into his mouth. This is
the real aestus, the awen of the Welsh bards, the divinus afflatus that
transports the poet beyond the limits of sublunary things. His visions,
too, are very symptomatical of poetic fury--I must recollect to send
Caxon to see he puts out his candle to-night--poets and visionaries are
apt to be negligent in that respect." Then, turning to his companion, he
expressed himself aloud in continuation--

"Yes, my dear Lovel, you shall have full notes; and, indeed, think
we may introduce the whole of the Essay on Castrametation into the
appendix--it will give great value to the work. Then we will revive the
good old forms so disgracefully neglected in modern times. You shall
invoke the Muse--and certainly she ought to be propitious to an author
who, in an apostatizing age, adheres with the faith of Abdiel to the
ancient form of adoration.--Then we must have a vision--in which the
Genius of Caledonia shall appear to Galgacus, and show him a procession
of the real Scottish monarchs:--and in the notes I will have a hit at
Boethius--No; I must not touch that topic, now that Sir Arthur is likely
to have vexation enough besides--but I'll annihilate Ossian, Macpherson,
and Mac-Cribb."

"But we must consider the expense of publication," said Lovel, willing
to try whether this hint would fall like cold water on the blazing zeal
of his self-elected coadjutor.

"Expense!" said Mr. Oldbuck, pausing, and mechanically fumbling in his
pocket--"that is true;--I would wish to do something--but you would not
like to publish by subscription?"

"By no means," answered Lovel.

"No, no!" gladly acquiesced the Antiquary--"it is not respectable. I'll
tell you what: I believe I know a bookseller who has a value for my
opinion, and will risk print and paper, and I will get as many copies
sold for you as I can."

"O, I am no mercenary author," answered Lovel, smiling; "I only wish to
be out of risk of loss."

"Hush! hush! we'll take care of that--throw it all on the publishers.
I do long to see your labours commenced. You will choose blank verse,
doubtless?--it is more grand and magnificent for an historical subject;
and, what concerneth you, my friend, it is, I have an idea, more easily
written."

This conversation brought them to Monkbar