and genial in temper ever passed through a period of fret and fury at all.  In other words these were the days of rapid motion, of walks of thirty miles a day which the lame lad yet found no fatigue to him; of mad enterprises, scrapes and drinking-bouts, in one of which Scott was half persuaded by his friends that he actually sang a song for the only time in his life.  But even in these days of youthful sociability, with companions of his own age, Scott was always himself, and his imperious will often asserted itself.  Writing of this time, some thirty-five years or so later, he said, “When I was a boy, and on foot expeditions, as we had many, no creature could be so indifferent which way our course was directed, and I acquiesced in what any one proposed; but if I was once driven to make a choice, and felt piqued in honour to maintain my proposition, I have broken off from the whole party, rather than yield to any one.”  No doubt, too, in that day of what he himself described as “the silly smart fancies that ran in my brain like the bubbles in a glass of champagne, as brilliant to my thinking, as intoxicating, as evanescent,” solitude was no real deprivation to him; and one can easily imagine him marching off on his solitary way after a dispute with his companions, reciting to himself old songs or ballads, with that “noticeable but altogether indescribable play of the upper lip,” which Mr. Lockhart thinks suggested to one of Scott’s most intimate friends, on his first acquaintance with him, the grotesque notion that he had been “a hautboy-player.”  This was the first impression formed of Scott by William Clerk, one of his earliest and life-long friends.  It greatly amused Scott, who not only had never played on any instrument in his life, but could hardly make shift to join in the chorus of a popular song without marring its effect; but perhaps the impression suggested was not so very far astray after all.  Looking to the poetic side of his character, the trumpet certainly would have been the instrument that would have best symbolized the spirit both of Scott’s thought and of his verses.  Mr. Lockhart himself, in summing up his impressions of Sir Walter, quotes as the most expressive of his lines:—­

    “Sound, sound the clarion! fill the fife! 
      To all the sensual world proclaim,
    One crowded hour of glorious life
      Is worth a world without a name.”

And undoubtedly this gives us the key-note of Scott’s personal life as well as of his poetic power.  Above everything he was high-spirited, a man of noble, and, at the same time, of martial feelings.  Sir Francis Doyle speaks very justly of Sir Walter as “among English singers the undoubted inheritor of that trumpet-note, which, under the breath of Homer, has made the wrath of Achilles immortal;” and I do not doubt that there was something in Scott’s face, and especially in the expression of his mouth, to suggest this even to his early college companions.