The Sun.
London, England, 1863-09-24 00:00:00

" Christopher North," otherwise the Great

Professor.

Charming y described in racy prose by an ad-
miring fellow-countryman of Sohn Wilson's, the
author of certain Poems and Songs, one Hugh Mac-
donald.:—

" And now I must say I felt rather afraid to ven-
ture into the presence of the redoubted Kit North,
my heart beat rather thickish when I thought of
my hardihood ; however, there was no drawing
back now, I must go on. * * In going up the
stair to the great man's study, his sanctum sanc-
torunz, the palpitating symptoms threatened to re-
turn on me ; but the moment I was in, and saw his
noble intellectual countenance brighten with a smile
of welcome, as he shock me warmly by the hand
and led me to a seat, saying at the same time that
he was very glad I had called, I felt myself quite at
home. He was in his 'workshop among his books,
which were scattered about in all directions in glo-
rious confusion, none of your gay glittering binding
ranged for show, but mostly 'scuft,' and bearing
the marks of having seen service.' He sat in his
easy chair, with a good stout cudgel in his hand.
Fillan's bust is very correct ; I would have known
him by it, although I had never been told whol was
neck
—hihnineedfibuye tmimuen,lyhafenagtiunrgee,caureul
speaking to. His long yellow hair, now silvered
denibYrooavderhihgihs
dome-like head, would have pointed him out at once
es the mighty Christopher. He is becoming rather
fat and corpulent ; and when he threw himself back,
during our conversation, in his chair, with the one
worthy tthhye
cause Sir
of
leg resting on the other, he brought Shakespere's
notonly w ittut ymhyi
mind.e lf,
b
witw hi
others,o
was
forcibly
Indeed, I felt above myself, as if he had not only
genius himself,but that for the time he had inspired
me with a portion of his glorious spirit. He said that
from my letter and poetry he had looked for an
older man ; that I was still a very young man, &e.
Enquired very kindly after my circumstances; was
very sorry to hear that I had lost a wife. Said that
a great many young men sent him verses, in general
the greatest trash—that they either would not or
could not think for themselves. Said that he had
been pleased with both my letter and verses. * *
Said that he had made up his mind at once, on
reading them, to see me; and again said he was
proud I had called. He then read over ' the birds,'
verse by verse, making remarks on each. The
lark that sings the stars asleep :' Did I mean to say
that the lark sung after the stars begun to shine ?
I said no : but that this bird rising in the early
mot n before the stars began to fade, and continuing
to sing while they were one after the other disap-
pearing, might in a poetic sense be supposed to sing
them asleep. Sail it was beautiful, but did not
strike one at first. The merle that wakes their
beam Ho had often admired the song of the
merle while he was wandering in the saft simmer
gloamin'. ''The wagtail by the forest-spring or
lonely waterfall:' Said that he had been once
taken to sea a painting of a waterfall, by a very
clever artist, one Harvey, that he had noticed a
bird sitting on a stone at the bottom of it ; he had
turned to a friend and said, this must be a wagtail.
His friend, who was a naturalist, said, No; it is a
waterpyet or ousel; and that this bird was more fre-
quently found in these situations than the wagtail; I
would not agree to this; said that what I had written
was from actual observation. That the ousel was a
comparatively rare bird, but that it was always to be
seen walking about the margin of the lonely lions;
and that I saw several last time I was in Killoch
Glen. Said he knew that sweet little glen, and he was
glad I had stuck to my point, as his observations
and mine were in accordance with each other.
' The red-breast wailing sad alone :' He did not
think the robin's song a sad one. When he lived
last in the country, one came morning and evening,
and sung sitting on the top of his pig-house, and
he always thought it a very lightsome and blithe
song; he used to be quite charmed with it, but
singing, as it did alone, at the fa' o' the leaf, there
was no doubt but it excited melancholy feelings—
this was wholly owing to the associations, however.
I said it was probably so, but it appeared sad to
me, and I wrote as I felt. I said I had been to
see poor Ferguson's grave that morning ; and
while musing there, a red-breast had burst into
song on a poplar tree in the churchyard, and that it
had struck me as a very sad song indeed. He as-
sented. 'Familiar as a mother's voice:' He was
not quite sure of this—there was familiarity in a
mother's voice, but there was a great deal more ;
it might pass,however. ' Matchless mottled breast :'
Thought it would be better without matchless.'
' Wells of glee' was a strong phrase, but beautiful,
applying both to throstle and merle, and he thought
there was strength enough without matchless.'
* * * These are the principal remarks he made on
the piece—it was well worth the pains of polishing,
and all short poems should be attended to in this
respect. When he had read it he folded it carefully
up, placed it in a small rosewood box lying on the
table, saying at the same time, I must take care of
this.' He asked what part of Paisley I worked in,
and said lie was sorry to go to that place now—
the old familiar faces were nearly all gone, even
the houses, he scarcely knew them now. There
were cnly two families that he knew--the Lenses
in the Sneddon, and some old ladies named Orr,
somewhere in Causeyside. He minded the Louses,
they came from England when boys; and he re-
membered very well that he envied their roast
beef and plum-pudding dinner, when he only got
his parritch and milk. When he was last in Paisley
he went to see the garden outside the town, where
he used to go for gooseberries, and to look for
birds' nests when a boy. He had gone into some
old haunt of his childhood (a garden), when an
old woman came out and looked after him, as much
as to say, I'm no very sure about you;' he said
he was glad to walk off. He had known very little
of Tannehill until very recently. He said he had
left Paisley when a boy, before Tannahill's time,
and was in England for a lengthened period; and
somehow, even when he came on visits to his
native place, his friends had never spoken to him
of the weaver bard. Talking of Wordsworth, he
said that he had met him when a young man in
England ; Wordsworth's poetry was then very
much ridiculed, even his most beautiful productions.
I said that Wordsworth was much indebted to him
for the high degree of popularity he now enjoyed;
that it was, for instance, almost altogether through
his writings on Wordsworth's poetry that I knew
anything of it. He considered this great poet had
been unfairly treated, and he had done what he
could to place his writings before the public in their
proper light. He did not think that Wordsworth
would ever be very popular, it was only the few
who could devote a considerable portion of thought
to his works, who could perceive the peculiar
beauties of bis poetry. * * * So we shook hands,
and I came a way with a heart rinin' ower wi' grati-
tude, pride, and love to tle greatest mind I have
ever met, or in all likelihood ever may meet in this
world."