lanies,' and
'Tales of a Grandfather'--all written in the midst of pain, sorrow,
and ruin. The proceeds of those various works went to his creditors.
"I could not have slept sound," he wrote, "as I now can, under the
comfortable impression of receiving the thanks of my creditors, and the
conscious feeling of discharging my duty as a man of honour and
honesty. I see before me a long, tedious, and dark path, but it leads
to stainless reputation. If I die in the harrows, as is very likely, I
shall die with honour. If I achieve my task, I shall have the thanks of
all concerned, and the approbation of my own conscience." [1519]

And then followed more articles, memoirs, and even sermons--'The Fair
Maid of Perth,' a completely revised edition of his novels, 'Anne of
Geierstein,' and more 'Tales of a Grandfather'--until he was suddenly
struck down by paralysis. But he had no sooner recovered sufficient
strength to be able to hold a pen, than we find him again at his desk
writing the 'Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft,' a volume of Scottish
History for 'Lardner's Cyclopaedia,' and a fourth series of 'Tales of a
Grandfather' in his French History. In vain his doctors told him to give
up work; he would not be dissuaded. "As for bidding me not work," he
said to Dr. Abercrombie, "Molly might just as well put the kettle on the
fire and say, 'Now, kettle, don't boil;'" to which he added, "If I were
to be idle I should go mad!"

By means of the profits realised by these tremendous efforts, Scott saw
his debts in course of rapid diminution, and he trusted that, after a
few more years' work, he would again be a free man. But it was not to
be. He went on turning out such works as his 'Count Robert of Paris'
with greatly impaired skill, until he was prostrated by another and
severer attack of palsy. He now felt that the plough was nearing the end
of the furrow; his physical strength was gone; he was "not quite himself
in all things," and yet his courage and perseverance never failed. "I
have suffered terribly," he wrote in his Diary, "though rather in
body than in mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep
without waking. But I WILL FIGHT IT OUT IF I CAN." He again recovered
sufficiently to be able to write 'Castle Dangerous,' though the cunning
of the workman's hand had departed. And then there was his last tour to
Italy in search of rest and health, during which, while at Naples, in
spite of all remonstrances, he gave several