The Sun.
London, England, 1827-10-27 00:00:00

ON.

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On the

OLD BAILEY.—(THIS DAY.)
------
OLD COURT.
„ (Before Mr. Serjeant Aitasix.)
steslaalinrriett Harran, aged 19, stood indicted for
ilelas.cog
, 7/.
ill the dwelling house of Henry Abraham
and John 10s., his money, and Elizabeth Watts
Rogers for receiving the same, well know-
Henry A,
ing it to have been stolen.
k
Belasco (the celebrated fighter) swore
eat
ahet lives in
Denmark-court, Strand, and taught
t
(Laught:i.r.)fenciTing, he meant
two months' pugilistic
. fencing.--
twoabout
---"arran had been his servant for
ight b ' The prisoner Watts was her sister. The
night befor The Prisoner Watts was her sister. The
reign ef°re the robbery witness had 701., two sove-
oalbBa, and a hill of exchange, in a pocket book, and
betweenliar.tnihght the book, with its contents, was quite safe
a t this ian
-is bed and the mattrass. When his wife rose,
was admitted into the room to light the fire ;
he ftime Witness was afleep. When he awoke,
due°,lunid, the window of his room open, which in-
come 'll4l to call for his servant, this being an un-
the mon circumstance, but she did not appear. He
h 11
searched for his book,which he found where
-e bad 1
tWo s eft it; but two notes, a twenty and a five,
of itavereigns and some silver, had been taken out
dee It ewes then ascertained that Harran had
Watts •
arniled Soule time afterwards witness saw
tbe ' and asked her what her sister had done with
searched elv itothing
kr' 41"eY she had taken ; Watts said. she
sst then about it. On her ho-use being
Se, several new things were found in it.
till et, she WOUld
S41(1) ii the prosecutor would not hurt her
tell him where she was, and where
Inesesrernty:ailstf'essYhlawhaa:
ta:""eennitt.to Harran and promised her
f she would make a confession; she did con-
?r.tn begat-et A N could not allow her state-
ek to related.RAßl
at larnibation continued—The 20/.note was found
Roger'', In Bth al-green. Witness had
'leer ' 13- -, e n On further
•,..(1 beau convicted in this Court. a
111 r- examination, witness admitted that his house
b 445 frequented by persons, particularly females, of a
4," zeharaeter, and that he had been convicted of
"tning, and imprisoned for it for twelve months.
LA tn. Jury here intimated that they could not be-
sve the prosecutor.
11 •
:' r. Sergeant ARABIN then said the case was at
nendrs e, and ordered the Jury to acquit all the pri-
n--VE-lict—" Not Guilty."
lier a singular scene took place. The pugilist
asked2oi to 4 allowed his expences, and to have the
• on the table nate. vabich bad been produced, and was lying
The
efused to
but r CcAiRT ordered him to have his expences,
the note.
is ,
~ u tation
make any order asto
' the disposal of
A cons 1 •
then took place between a par-
-4:-.."1. attornies as to its fate, but before they
par-
came to a decision, butcher, who had given
valuei for
th e 11 ot, aand who supposed. himself
.
4 best able to say into whose pocket it ought to
$
rap':rPrang forward took it up, pocketed the piece of
laughter ' and Walked off unmolested amidst a roar of
.
tliWe understand Belasco will not be able to recover
the note' the butcher having given value for it, and
(t.ri'c'ner having been acquitted of stealing it.
-we Mr. Justice PARE and Mr. Baron GARROW.)
FORGERY.
e?,
fi) r f :9 Gunson, a clerk, aged 19, stood indicted
19,-, "Ow

1201. and uttering as true a forged cheque for
batik:irected to Messrs. Grote, Prescott, and Co.,
BePtetn'a, Threadneedle-street, on the the 21st of
In 'lel' last, with intent to defraud them.
tlslD,?"sequence of the contradictory evidence of
\\744'1,041:1P41 witness for the prosecution, the prisoner
%ably acquitted.
keL, COINING.
John r'd Rowland, aged 18, George Riley, 19,
aZilittS 25, Elizabeth Cole, 29, Elizabeth Smith,
let t -"4lfary Milton, 25, were capitally indicted
41,4
jittorously coining several counterfeit shillings
Pences.
V. 46 e Jury returned a verdict of " Guilty" against
recommended Smith strongly to mercy.
teQtt verdict of " Guilty" against Smith was di-
Lej contrary to the observations made by the
4m41141 Judge in the course of his summing up;
4,„7-, the return of it, universal disapprobation was
Ned throughout the Court, and hissing.
NEW COURT.

J (Before Mr. Serjeant ARABIN.)
for G Snlith and William Buckley were indicted
44o1rbobbIng, kb.....46b1ng, in company with two John
470, a sailor, at Rotherhithe, on the 25th of
4104 ;"`.st• The girls were convicted last Sessions,
Th.-L them transported for life.—" Guilty."
411(1 eafi'44 Sergeant ordered them to be called
ranSPOrtalltiter a severe address sentenced them to
, John z tin for life.
L9th f 8„„r`.8e°11, was indicted for stealing on the
—till, °in pt ember, a watch, seal, and key, from Isaac
-.'tarY-street, Hampstead-road.
Infor jury found him " Guilty," and the Judge
Nittlned him that he would be sent out of the
'rY for life.

. , A MISTAKE.
14v1.. e,niy Snoto
,7,1', s hammer, the pr9perty of his master.
was indicted for stealing a brick-
11,:ne prisoner ota!ed in defence, that he had pawned
411 harnmer in mistake for his own. He received
Okeellent character, and the Jury instantly ac-
'4'tted him.

PUBLIC SALE
_•
DAY.)
I+ 11 Mr. W. ROBERTS, at the Malt.
Th y
k, e Absolute Revers
4:ll,fed, and receivable on the death of a widow lady,
'''m
61 Years—knocked down at 1851.

Parion' the morning of the 22d inst. Mr. Carter's
Barnes-common, was robbed of a
%list, ,_mildeboard, at Barnes'
and. seven spoons.—
NO d `‘sliot and stand, a pint mug,
it,°a,l:tttiahe thief was disturhed,lf4orephoeolneef: beenidihxedplaiLi.lrn
ofa
ife.ret,, Nita. nd with cruets
Q 4 " which were standing
-EDINBURGH,
in the same place.
°el% INT THE FRITH.—
Itadvezi
rwlii:CebYheassterbdeeayn there
wthaseret•hienhtighheest tideryat
of-N
New-
fl
117,71et1t• At four o'clock in the afternoonniem
height,
IN 14,1: etquinns of water, which rose to a great
the stone
the spray
Pier. 'ing into rooms in the second story, at .
-ki. ,
. 00,,InsItead of bringing up in the Roads, the City of.
found
Clne of the the Frith, and
..
and her goods and passengers
at
- from
li tafer 7,,91 team-packet bore up in
Queensberry
tile L boatk which takes goods and Passengers
6h.°lldoo,and Vilitiburgh st am-packets, during Monday
°" " 'tweed from her e • driven up the Frith
ild dashed to nip moorings, . kin,d„„, +1 • -,ces' The boat belonging to the United
tidy ' -",:1"gla koored in chains, was forced.df Yeater_.;
tiii4n a fathom or
i‘lileill°lThlig• It so happened t that'
the chain snapped
'e4 and was eventually placed in safety. Hardy and
e as the
7411fght of encoNue:tehrllZ
so of teanchor, and she drifted slowly
tifileshelarmteegnalaeere;
anoodneyeeteof trhdeemy
ii)are
ilteam-boat venturea to cross the Frith.—Scotstnan.
111 St ft,T
() -411. TEST ' YACHT
ria A/01144_ . 4 Y 8 . 0
IN DANGER.—
,q (1, rectiY la-.!, two officers of Excise stationed at Dept-
t‘l • 'P4 slim -
L'Esl b ved information that a vast quantity ofwtoobfachcioe
~ ajezitv. ~gled over from Holland by the
Te
'"Yed 6,6 Yseht, the Royal Sovereign, which crew
con-
ffiqt "e Queen of Wurtemburgh to the Continan • _ ml, ii 4seertained that the tobacco had been removed fromof
1,,i1l Yacht on board the Bacchus hulk, for the purpose il (4
(tliken from thence on shore, as opportunities present...-
Ned n the
t day above mentioned, as the officer was ea
vait " the " 100k-out," he met a woman
ibtln,,y side, carrying a basket, which, on examining,
esti_
close.. to thee
ii(),,i`i t 0 contain'thirteeli pounds of tobacco. On fr
P,1,4!. her as to the manner in which it came. into her
~Iti, 41,1, she the
that she was the wife of one
t,,, I') seaa.en on board the hulk, adding, that the tobacco_
hy to Night over by the yacht, and that she was employed ~qa pe of the crew to dispose of it to the best advantaged.
Nq• p:etklaY this woman was taken before J. Barnard an
ile in 4, Escirs., at Greenwich, when the circ.um-
la ti,sll having been stated against her, she was convic
t4a,s7.full penalty of 'OOl., and in default of payment,
q,:::itted to gaol during the pleasure of the CoTmis-
iii „t 4 Excise. The officers, it appeared, obtained a
soklyL,4t tO search the hulk, but did not succeed in seizing
e' Mu) contraband articles on board. They, however,
,IN_a Ileizure of a quantity at a public-house, called the
North
Stst.,,

Wheat Meal orl

Flour
Oatmeal
Aggregatee Flouorf

575 3 6 1 52,192 1 251

PREFACE TO THE CHR.ONICLE4'.'A OF

THE CANONGATE.

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT.

(From the Literary Gazette of this day.)

It was my original intention never to have avowed
these works during my lifetime, and the original
manuscripts were carefully preserved, (though by the
care of others rather than mine) with the purpose of
supplying the necessary evidence of the truth when
the period of announcing it should arrive. But the
affairs of my publishers having unfertunately passed
into a management different from their own, I had
no right any longer to rely upon secrecy in that
quarter; and thus my mask, like my Aunt Dinah's
in Tristram Shandy, having begun to wax a little
threadbare about the chin, it became time to lay it
aside with a good grace, unless I desired it should
fall in pieces from my face. Yet I had not the
slightest intention of choosing the time and place in
which the disclosure was finally made ; nor was
there any concert betwixt my learned and respected
friend Lord Meadowbank and myself upon that oc-
casion. It was, as the reader is probably aware,
upon the 23d February last, at a public meeting
called for establishing a professional Theatrical
Fund in Edinburgh, that the communication
took place. Just before we sat dorm to table;
Lord Meadowbank asked me whether I was still
anxious to preserve my incognito on , the subject
of what was called the Waverley Novels ? I did
not immediately see' the purpose of his Lordship's
question, although I certainly might have been led
to infer it, and replied, that the secret had now be-
come known to so many people, that I was indif-
ferent on the subject. Lord Meadowbank was thus
induced; while doing me the great honour of pro-
posing my health to the meeting, to say something
on the subject of these novels, so strongly, connect-
ing them with me as the author, that, by remaining
silent, I must have stood convicted, either of the
actual paternity, or of the still greater crime of be-
ing supposed willing to receive, indirectly, praise
to which I had no just title. I thus found myself
suddenly and unexpectedly placed in the confes-
sional, and had only time to recollect that I had
been guided thither -by a moat friendly hand,
and could not, perhaps, find a better public opportu-
nity to lay down a disguise, which began to resem-
ble that of a detected masquerader. I had therefore
the task of avowing myself to the numerous and re-
spectable company assembled, as the sole and un-
aided author of these novels of Waverley, the pater-
nity of which was likely at one time to have formed
a controversy of some celebrity. .4 now think it
further necessary to say, that while I take on myself
all the merits and demerits attending these compo-
sitions, I am bound to acknowledge, with gratitude,
hints of subjects and legends which I have received
from various quarters, and have occasionally used as
a foundation of my fictitious compositions, or woven
up with them in the shape of episodes. I am bound,
in particular, to acknowledge the unremitting kind-
ness of Mr. Joseph Train, supervisor of excise at
Dumfries, to whose unwearied industry I have been
indebted for many curious traditions and points of
antiquarian interest. It was Mr. Train who recalled.
to my, recollection the history of Old Mortality,
although I myself had a personal interview with that
celebrated wanderer, so far back as about 1792,, when I
found him on his usual task. He was then engaged in
repairing the gravestones of the Covenanters who had
died while imprisoned in the castle of Dunnottar, to
which many of them were committed prisoners at
the period of Argyle's rising : their place of confine-
ment is still called the Whig's Vault. Mr. Train,
however, procured for me far more extensive infor-
mation concerning this singular person, whose name
was Patterson, than I had been able to acquire
during my short conversation with him. He was
(as I'may have somewhere already stated) aliative
of the parish of Closeburn, in Dumfries-shire, and
it is believed that domestic affliction, as well as de-
votional feeling, induced him to commence the wan-
dering mode of life, which he pursued for a long
period. It is more than twenty years since Robnt
Patterson's death, which took place on the high
road near Lockerby, where he was found exhaust-
ed and expiring. The white pony, the companion
of his pilgrimage, was standing by the side of
its dying master; the whole furnishing a scene
not unfitted for the pencil. • These particulars I had
from Mr. Trani. Another debt, which I pay most
willingly, is that which I owe to an unknown cor-
respondent (a lady), who favoured me with the his-
tory of the upright and high-principled female,
whom, in the Heart of Mid Lothian, I have termed
Jeanie Deans. The circumstance of her refusing to
save her sister's life by an act of perjury; and un-
dertaking a pilgrimage to London to obtain her par-
don, are both represented as true by my fair and
obliging correspondent; and they led me to cofisi-,
der the possibility of rendering a fictitious personae
interesting by mere dignity of mind and rectitude
of principle, assisted by unpretending good-
sense
'and temper, without any of the beauty, grace, ta-
lent, accomplishment, and wit, to which a heroine
of romance is supposed to have a prescriptive right.
If the portrait was received with interest by the
public, I am conscious how much it was owing to
the truth and force of the original sketch, which I
regret that I am unable to present to the public,
as it was written with much feeling and spirit.
Old and odd books, and a considerable collection
of family legends, formed another quarry, so
ample, that it was much more likely that the
strength of the labourer should be exhausted,
than that materials should fail. I may mention,
for example's sake, that the terrible catastrophe
of the Bride of Lammermoor actually occurred
in a Scottish family of rank. The female relative,
by whom the melancholy tale was communicated to
me many years since, was a near connection of the
family in which the event happened, and always told
it with an appearance of melancholy mystery, which
enhanced the interest. She bad known in her
youth, the brother who rode before the unhappy
victim to the fatal altar, who, though then a mere
boy, and occupied almost:entirely with the gallantry
of his own appearance in the bridal proOession, could
not but remark that the hand of his sister was moist,
and cold as that of a statue. It is unnecessary
further to withdraw the veil from this scene of fa
mily distress, nor, although it occurred' more than a
hundred years since, might it be altogether agreea-
ble to the representatives of the families concerned
in the narrative. It may be proper to say, that the
events are imitated; but I had neither' the means
nor intention of copying the manners, nor tracing the
characters of the persons concerned in the real story.
Indeed, I may here state generally, that although I
have deemed historical personages free sub-
jects of delineation, I have never, on any
occasion violated the respect due to private
life. It was indeed impossible that traits pro-
per to persons, both living and dead, with whom
I have had intercourse in society, should not have
risen to my pen in such works as Waverley, and
those which followed it. But I have always studied
to generalise the portraits, so that they should still
seem, on the whole, the productions of fancy, though
possessing some resemblance to real individuals.—
Yet I must own my attempts have not in this last
particular been uniformly successful. There are
men whose characters are so peculiarly marked, that
the delineation of some leading and principal feature
inevitably 'Nees the whole person before you in his
iridividuality. Thus, the character of Jonathan Old-
buck, in the Antiquary, was partly founded on
that of an old friend of my youth, to whom I ana
indebted for introducing me to Shakspeare, and
other invaluable favours ; but I thought I had so
completely disguised the likeness, that it could not
be recognized by any one now alive. I was mista-
ken, however, and indeed had endangered what I de-
sired should be considered as a secret; for I afterwards
learned that a highly respectable gentleman, one of
the few surviving friends of my father, and an acute
critic, had said, upon the appearance of the work,
that he was now convinced who was the author of it,
as he recognised, in the Antiquary, traces of the cha-
racter Qf a very intimate friend Qf my father's family:

I may here also notice, that the sort of exchange of
gallantry, which is represented as taking place be-
twixt the Baron of Bradwardine and Colonel Talbot
is a literal fact. The real circumstances of the anec-
dote, alike honourable to Whig and Tory, are these :
_Alexander Stewart, of Invernahyle—a name
Which I cannot write without the warmest recollec-
tions of gratitude to the friend of my childhood, who
first introduced me to the Highlands, their tradi-
tions, and their manners, had been engaged actively
in the troubles of 1745. As he charged at the battle
of Preston with his clan the Stewarts of Appine, he
saw an officer of the opposite army standing alone
by a battery of four cannon, of which he discharged
three on the advancing Highlanders, and then drew
his sword. Invernahyle rushed on him and required
him to surrender. " Never to rebels !" was the un-
daunted reply, accompanied with a lounge,which the
Highlander received on his target ; but instead of
using his sword in cutting down his now defenceless
antagonist, he employed it in parrying the blow of a
Lochaber axe, aimed at the officer by the Miller, one
of his own followers, a grim-looking old Highlander,
whom I remember .to have seen. Thus overpowered,
Lieutenstnt-Colonel Allan Whiteford, a gentleman
of rank and consequence, as well as a brave officer,
gave up his sword, and with it his purse and
watch, which Invernahyle accepted, to save them
from his followers. After the affair was over, Mr.
Stewart sought out his prisoner, and they were in-
troduced to each other by the celebrated John Roy
who acquainted Colonel Whiteford with
tShtelar
quality of his captor, and made him aware of the
necessity of receiving back his property, which he
was inclined to leave in the hands into which it had
fallen. So great became the confidence established
betwixt them, that Invernahylo obtained from the
Chevalier his freedom upon parole ; and soon af-
terwards, having been sent back to the High-
lands to raise men, he visited Colonel Whiteford at
his own house, and spent two happy days with him
and his Whig friends, without thinking, on either
side, of the civil war which was then raging. When
the battle of Culloden put an end to the hopes of
Charles Edward, Invernahyle, wounded and unable
to move, was borne from the field by the faithful
zeal of his retainers. But as he had been a dis-
tinguished Jacobin, his family and property were
exposed to the system of vindictive destruction too
generally carried into execution through the country
of the insurgents. It was now Colonel Whiteford's
turn to exert himself, and he wearied all the autho-
rities, civil and military, with his solicitations for
pardon to the saver of his life, or at least for a pro-
tection for his wife and family. His applications
were for a long time unsuccessful: I was found
with the mark of the beast upon me in every list,'
was Invernahyle's expression. At length Colonel
Whiteford applied to the Duke of Cumberland, and
urged his suit with every argument which he could
think of. Being still repulsed, he took his commis-
sion from his bosom, and, having said something of
his own and his family's services to the House
of Hanover, begged to resign his situation in
their service, since he could not be permitted
to show his gratitude to the person to whom he
owed his life. The Duke, struck with his earnest-
ness, desired him to take up his commission, and
granted the protection required for the family of
Invernahyle. The chieftain himself lay concealed in
a cave near his own house, before which a small
body of regular soldiers was encamped. He could
hear their muster-roll called every morning, and
their drums beat to quarters at night, and not a
change of the sentinels escaped him. As it was
suspected that he 'was lurking somewhere on the
property, his family were closely watched, and com-
pelled to use the utmost precaution in supplying
him with food. One of -his daughters, a child of
eight or ten years old, was employed, as the agent
least likely to be suspected. She was an instance,
among others, that a time of danger and difficulty
creates. a -.premature sharpness of intellect. She
made herself acquainted among the soldiers, till she
became so familiar to them, that her motions escaped
their notice; and -her practice was, to stroll away
into the neighbourhood of the cave, and leave what
Slender supply of food-she carried for that purpose,
under some remarkable stone, or the root of sonic
tree, where her father might find it as he crept by
night from his lurking-place. Times became milder,
and my excellent friend Was relieved from proscrip-
tion by the Act of Indemnity. Such is the interesting
story which I have rather injured than improved, by
the manner in which it is told in Waverley. This
incident, with several other circumstances illustrating
the tales in question, was communicated by me to
my late lamented friend,William Erskine (a Scottish
judge by the title of Lord Kinedder), who afterwards
reviewed, with far too much impartiality, the Tales of
my Landlord, for the Quarterly Review of Jan. 1827.
In the same article are contained other illustrations of
the novels, with which I supplied my accomplished
friend, who took the trouble td write the review.
The reader whO is desirous of such information, will
find, the original of Meg Merrilees, and I believe of
one or two -other personages of the same cast of
character, in the article referred to. I may also
mention, that the tragic and savage circumstances
which are represented as preceding the birth of Allan
Mac Aulay, in the Legend of Montrose, really hap-
pened in the family of Stewart of Ardvoirloch. The
wager about the candlesticks, whose place was sup-
plied by Highland torch-bearers, was laid and won
by one of the Mac Donalds of Keppoch. There can
be but little amusement in winnowing out the few
grains of truth which are contained in this mass of
empty fiction. I may, however, before dismissing
the subject, allude to the various localities which
have been affixed to some of the scenery introduced
into these novels, by which, for example, Wolfs-
Hope is identified with Fast-Castle, in Berwickshire;
Tillietudlem with Draphane, in Clydesdale ; and the
valley in the Monastery, called Glendearg, with the
dale of the Allan, above Lord Somerville's Ville,
near Melrose. I can only say, that, in these and
other instances, I had no purpose of describing any
particular local spot ; and the resemblance must
therefore be of that general kind which necessarily
exists betwixt scenes of the same eharacter. The
iron-bound coast of Scotland affords upon its head-
lands-oomp and
ea ;isioGnps
everyir
eloi
nmkcdeooetnuahtor promontories trß•
Glendearg;
Baron
noafiftydns
ota. f
castles
sacihil
dee csylval
ami castles eirnse
eas
Tillietudlem,
s a or l
re
are now
Wolf's-
-Hope; re-
semblingo
olefssiift7ostetreinintlynatotebedemstertuwetiitolrti, it is ,
mostt! ot .
casesT l Ie
tacked
ds owing irastortehe rage
removed
in
or ruined so many monuments of antiquity, when
they were not protected by their inaccessible situa-
toof
in
or from memory, but, in the general case, are
these novels, are sometimes quoted either from read-
ingpure invention. I found it too troublesome to turn
tphoeetbreygiiNir;ihiniegh.of haveapbteeerns
to the collection of the British poets to discover ap-
•posite mottos, and, in the situation of the theatrical
mechanist, who, when the white paper which repre-
sented hie shower of snow was exhausted, continued
the storm by snowing brown, I dreW on my me-
mory as long as I could, and when that•failed, eked
it out with invention. I believe that, in some cases,
where actual names are affixed to the supposed
quotations, it would bir to little purpose to seek
them in the works of the authors referred to. And
now the reader may expect me, while in the confes-
sional, to explain the motives why I have so long
persisted in disclaiming the works of which 1 am
now writing. To this it would be difficult to give
any other reply, save that of Corporal Nym—lt
was the humour or caprice of the time. I hope it
will not be construed into ingratitude to the .public,
to whose indulgence I have owed much more than to
any merit of my own, if I confess that I am, and
have been more indifferent to success, or to failure,
as an author, than may be the case with .others, who
feel more strongly the passion for literary fame,
probably because they are justly conscious of a better
title to it. It was not until I bad attained the age
of thirty years.that I made any serious attempt at
distinguishing myself as an author; and at that
period, men's hopes, desires, and wishes, have
usually acquired something
of a decisive character,
and are not eagerly and easily diverted into a new
channel. When I made the discovery,--for to me

it was one,—that by amusing myself with compo-
sition, which I felt a delightful occupation, I
could also give pleasure to others, and became
aware that literary pursuits were likely to engage
in future a considerable portion of my time, I
felt some alarm that I might acquire those habits of
jealousy and fretfulness which have lessened, and
even degraded, the character of the children of
imagination, and rendered them, by petty squabbles
and mutual irritability, the laughing-stock of the
people of the world. I resolved, therefore, in this
respect to guard my breast (perhaps an unfriendly
critic may add, my brow,) with triple brass,
and as much as possible to avoid resting my
thoughts and wishes upon literary success,
lest I should endanger my own peace of mind
and tranquillity by literary failure. It would argue
either stupid apathy or ridiculous affectation, to say
that I have been insensible to the public applause,
when I have been honoured with its testimonies;
and still more highly do I prize the invaluable
friendships which some temporary popularity has
enabled me to form among those most distinguished
by talents and genius, and which I venture to hope

now rest upon a basis more firm than the circum-
stances
which gave rise to them. Yet feeling all
these advantages, as a man ought to do, and must
do, I may say, with truth and confidence, that I have
tasted of the intoxicating cup with moderation, and
that I have never, either in conversation or cor-
respondence, encouraged discussions respecting my
own literary pursuits. On the contrary, I have
usually found such topics, even when introduced
from motives most flattering to myself, rather
embarrassing and disagreeable. I have now frankly
told my motives for concealment, so far as I
am conscious of having any, and the public
will forgive the egotism of the detail, as what
is necessarily connected with it. The author,
so long and loudly called for, has appeared on the
stage, and made his obeisance to the audience.
Thus far his conduct is a mark of respect. To

linger in their presence would cinitusion. I have
only to repeat, that I avow myself in print, as for-
merly in words, the sole and unassisted author of
all the Novels published as the composition of the
Author of Waverley.' I do this without shaMe,
for I am unconscious that there is any thing in
their composition which deserves reproach, either
on the score of religion or morality ; and without
any feeling of exultation, because, whatever may
have been their temporary success, I am well aware
how much their reputation depends upon the ca-
price of fashion ; and I have already mentioned the
precarious tenure by which it is held, as a reason for
displaying no great avidity in grasping at the pos-
session. I ought to mention, before concluding,
that twenty persons at least were, either from inti-
macy or from the confidence which circumstances
rendered necessary, participant of • this secret : and
as there was no instance, to my knowledge, of any
one of the number breaking the confidence required
from them, I tun the more obliged to them, because
the slight and trivial character of the mystery was
not qualified to inspire much respect in those , en-
trusted with it. As for the work which follows, it
was meditated, and in part printed, long before the
avowal of the novels took place, and originally corn
et with a declaration that it was neither to
have introduction nor preface of any kind. This
•
long proem, prefixed to a workintended not to have
any, may, however, serve to show how human pur-
poses, in the most trifling as well as the most im-
portant affairs, are liable to be controlled by the
course of events. Thus, we begin to cross a strong
river with our -eyes and our resolution fixed on the
point of the opposite shore, on which we purpose to
land ; but gradually giving way to the torrent, are
glad, by the aid perhaps of branch or bash, to extri-
cate ourselves at some distant and perhaps danger •
ous landing-place, much farther down the stre:‘4
than that on which we had fixed our

Hoping that the courteous reader will affo-d to
known and familiar acquaintance some portion of
the favour which he extended to a disguised candi-
date for his applause, I beg leave to subscribe my-
self his obliged humble servant,
" WALTER SCOTT.
" Abbotsford; October '171627: -

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

HUNTING APPOINTMENTS
FOR THE ENSUING WEEK.

The East Sussex Fox-hounds meet on Monday, at the
Kennel ; Thursday, at plumptou ; Saturday, at the Rocks
—at a quarter before 11.
The Brighton Harriers, on Monday, near Patchatn ;
Wednesday, near the Race Connie ; Friday, near the
Dyke—quarter before 11.
The Lewes Brookside Harriers, on Monday, at New-
market Hill ; Wednesday, at Ashcombe (the alternate
Wednesday at the Kennel, Ilford); Friday, at Telescombe
Tyc--half-past 10.
Lord Yarborough's Hounds, on Monday, at Manton ;
Tuesday, at Somerby 'House ; Thursday, at Thoaock
House ; Saturday, at Irby Dales-11 (except Thursday,
at 12).
Lord Scarbrough's Fox-hounds, on Monday, at Clay-
worth Village; Wednesday, at Gate House; Friday, at
Aston—half-past 10.
Lord Fitzwilliam's Hounds, on Monday, at Kilnhurst
B ridge.
The Badsworth Fox-hounds, on Tuesday, at Polling-
ton ; Thursday, at Marr Village; Saturday, at South
Hiendley-10.
Sir George Sitwell's For-houndi, on Tuesday, at Sut-
ton ; Friday, at Handsworth Bar-10.

The Shropshire Hounds, on Monday, at the Fos, Al.
Brighton ; Wednesday, at Ercall Heath ; Friday, at Bore-
atton ; Saturday, at Cressage Village—half-past 10.
The Worcestershire Fox-hounds, on Tuesday, at Him-
bleton Village ; Friday, at Stone Bow Turnpike—at 10.
Mr. Dansey's Hounds, on Tuesday, at sth milestone on
the road from Shrewsbury to Ludlow ; Thursday, at Hen-
ley Hall ; Saturday, at Berrington-10.
Sir R. Puleeton's Hounds, on Monday, at Bangor Bridge;
on Wednesday, at Sarubridge ; on Saturday, at Marford
Hill-11.

Mr. Boycott's Hounds, on Monday, at Tuck Hill—
half-past 10.
The Cheshire Hounds, on Monday, at Saudiway Head;
Wednesday, at Ox Hayes Farm ; Friday, at Duddon
Heath ; Saturday, at Highway Side—hall-past 10.