ventriloquism, and frolic of every description, as well as a string of most amusing anecdote, connected with the professional adventures of the elder, and the travels of the son, who seemed as much a genius as his father.  He has never appeared on the stage, although abundantly fit to distinguish himself in that department, but has taken to the profession of architecture.  Notwithstanding that the snow lay pretty deep on the ground, Sir Walter, old Mathews, and myself set out with the deerhounds and terriers to have a large range through the woods and high grounds; and a most amusing excursion it was, from the difficulties which Mathews, unused to that sort of scrambling, had to encounter, being also somewhat lame from an accident he had met with in being thrown out of a gig,—­the good-humoured manner with which each of my two lame companions strove to get over the bad passes, their jokes upon it, alternately shouting for my assistance to help them through, and with all the liveliness of their conversation, as every anecdote which one told was in emulation tried to be outdone by the other by some incident equally if not more entertaining,—­and it may be well supposed that the healthful exercise of a walk of this description disposed every one to enjoy the festivity which was to close the day.”—­Mr. Skene’s Reminiscences.

[119] See Moore’s Life of Sheridan, vol. i. p. 191.  This work was published late in 1825.—­J.G.L.

[120] Burns’s Vision.—­J.G.L.

[121] Lindsay’s Chronicles of Scotland 2 vols.  Edin. 1814, pp. 246-7.

[122] Mr. Skene in his Reminiscences says:—­“The family had been at Abbotsford, and it had long been their practice the day they came to town to take a family dinner at my house, which had accordingly been complied with upon the present occasion, and I never had seen Sir Walter in better spirits or more agreeable.  The fatal intimation of his bankruptcy, however, awaited him at home, and next morning early I was surprised by a verbal message to come to him as soon as I had got up.  Fearful that he had got a fresh attack of the complaint from which he had now for some years been free, or that he had been involved in some quarrel, I went to see him by seven o’clock, and found him already by candle-light seated at his writing-table, surrounded by papers which he was examining, holding out his hand to me as I entered, he said, “Skene, this is the hand of a beggar.  Constable has failed, and I am ruined de fond en comble.  It’s a hard blow, but I must just bear up; the only thing which wrings me is poor Charlotte and the bairns."”

[123] Crook.  The chain and hook hanging from the crook-tree over the fire in Scottish cottages.