in the sunny air like a dragon-fly, enamored of extremes.”  Of all his contributions, we think the “Noctes Ambrosianae” give by far the best idea of their author.  They are perfectly characteristic throughout, though singularly various.  Every mood of the man is apparent; and hardly anything is touched which is not adorned.  Their pages reveal in turn the poet, the philosopher, the scholar, and the pugilist.  Though continued during thirteen years, their freshness does not wither.  To this day we find the series delightful reading:  we can always find something to our taste, whether we crave fish, flesh, or fowl.  Whether we lounge in the sanctum, or roam over the moors, we feel the spirit of Christopher always with us.

It has been attempted, on Wilson’s behalf, to excuse the fierce criticism and violent personality of Maga in its early days, on the plea that his influence over that periodical was less then than afterwards,—­and that, as his control increased, the bitterness decreased.  This is a special plea which cannot be allowed.  The magazine was moulded, from the beginning, more by Wilson than by all others.  If personalities had been offensive to him, they would not have been inserted, except in a limited degree.  Lockhart, it is true, was far more bitter, but his influence was less.  He could never have been successful in running counter to Wilson.  Besides, though Wilson’s nominal power might have been greater in the control of the magazine in later years, it was virtually but little, if at all, increased.  The fact is, these onslaughts were perfectly congenial to his nature at that time.

His young blood made him impetuous, passionate, and fond of extremes,—­perhaps unduly so.  He was a warm lover, and a strong, though not malignant, hater,—­and consequently deliberately made himself the fiercest of partisans.  It was all pure fun with him, though it was death to the victims.  He dearly loved to have a cut at the Cockneys, and was never happier than when running a tilt a l’outrance with what seemed to be a sham.  Still, he felt no ill-will, and could see nothing wrong in the matter.  We are entirely disposed, even in reference to this period of his life, to accept the honest estimate which he made of himself, as “free from jealousy, spite, envy, and uncharitableness.”  When the fever of his youth had been somewhat cooled by time, his feelings and opinions naturally became more moderate, and his expression of them less violent.  In his early days, when his mother heard of his having written an article for the “Edinburgh Review,” she said, “John, if you turn Whig, this house is no longer big enough for us both.”  But his Toryism then was quite as good as hers.  By-and-by, as party became less, and friendship more, he entertained at his house the leading Whigs, and admitted them to terms of intimacy.  Even his daughter was allowed to marry a Whig.  And in 1852 the old man hobbled out to give his vote for Macaulay the Whig, as representative in Parliament of the good town of Edinburgh.  Conceive of such a thing in 1820!  All this was but the gradual toning-down of a strong character by time and experience.  “Blackwood” naturally exhibited some of the results of the change.