' It is needless to say with what rapture the health of
this most illustrious of all the sons of Scotland was drunk. This
honour--such is the word--was acknowledged by Mr. Lockhart, in a speech
worth any two chapters in the whole range of British Biography;--it was
clear and concise--vigorous and picturesque--and abounding with anecdote.
Of his illustrious father-in-law, he told how Burns predicted his future
fame, in the house of Adam Ferguson; and of Hogg he related how Scott
found him, thirty-five years ago, with his plaid and dog, watching his
sheep on Ettrick Banks, with more old border ballads on his memory than
any traditionary dame of the district, and with more true poetry in his
heart than was usual to the lot of poets. Of Hogg himself he said much
that was amusing and instructive: one anecdote will not soon be forgotten.
The Shepherd was at the dinner-table of a duchess, when her Grace said,
'Mr. Hogg, where you ever here before?' 'Madam,' said the poet, 'I have
driven cattle often past your gates, but I never was within them till
now.'"
"But we must have done with this splendid Festival: we cannot, however,
conclude without a remark:--the health of 'Lord Porchester and the Poets
of England,' was drunk; and when his Lordship made his acknowledgments, he
was interrupted by the titter of a hundred tongues and sat down, no doubt,
feeling that the spirit of nationality was a little too exclusive.
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