should be the last in which anything should ever be said of my difficulty.

I foresaw what would be the result. I knew that the accomplished lady who had already entrusted me with every journal and letter she could obtain of her beloved brother, must inevitably desire to help me; and, from a few words which she let fall, I perceived that it was only because she fully appreciated the effort which would be required in order to satisfy, not my expectations, but her own desires, if she entered upon the task at all, that she now hung back. To be brief, at the end of a few months, a neatly-written MS. was modestly put into my hands. It was the transcribed result of many patient pencillings, through the long days of summer, when feeble health had kept the writer, for the most part, a prisoner at home. She completed her task in the spring of 1856, and here it is as it was given to me. To have recast what had been put together by so distinguished a pen, would have been absurd; but having been repeatedly requested to add or omit whatever I pleased, I have done so freely-always distinguishing the additional matter by a discontinuance of the inverted commas, or by foot-notes. There exists also, I am well aware, another and a more effectual method of distinguishing between our respective styles than any typographical device could supply.

CHAPTER II.

(1791-1800.)

Miss A. Fraser Tytler's MS.-Early recollections-P. F. Tytler's boyhood-The bicker-Lord Woodhouselee among his children-The "Cottagers of Glenburnie"-Basil Hall and his sister-Sir James Stewart of Allanbank-Evenings at Woodhouselee-Mr. Black-Anecdotes of Sir Walter Scott and his family-Dugald and Mrs. Stewart-Henry Mackenzie-Sydney Smith-Sir James Mackintosh-The Rev. A. Alison-The poet Leyden.

MISS ANN FRASER TYTLER'S MS.

"I HAVE been so strongly urged by that kind friend who has long been anxious to give a Memoir of my brother Peter's life to the public, to assist him in some small degree, that I feel I can no longer refuse to make the attempt to furnish him with a few of such particulars as memory, and some slight memoranda taken down at the time, will afford.

"My brother was the youngest of a family consisting of four sons and three daughters. His eldest brother, William, married, and left us at the early age of twenty-one. His second brother, James, passed as writer to the Signet, and also married some years after. The third son, Alexander, sailed for India in 1805. Isabella, the second sister, died unmarried in 1841; and Jane, the youngest, married, in 1823, her cousin, James Baillie Fraser, of Relig, who was afterwards well known by his various publications.

"As a boy, my brother Peter was in no way remarkable, except for the invariable truthfulness, openness, and perfect simplicity of his character. In acquirements, he was for many years below most boys of his age. His love for music and drawing showed itself at a very early period. blithe songs and his playfulness made him a favourite with

His

high and low. When he did sit still, it was generally with a pencil in his hand; and a scrap of paper was long retained in the family, on which was drawn a very wonderful beast, with a strange variety of legs and an enormous mouth, and under which was printed in large capital letters, The Crater of Mount Vesuvius.

"This early love for the fine arts was not accompanied, at that time, with any literary propensities. He attended Miss Stalker's reading-school, who succeeded her father, (the wellknown reading master in Edinburgh, from whom Walter Scott received his first early instruction;) but to my brother, this school was a sad weariness of the flesh. It was very near our house in Prince's Street; but, as the hour of attendance drew near, he used frequently to be seized with all manner of mysterious indispositions; and when, at last, he would dart off, it was still with a very rueful countenance.

"The following anecdote I give in his brother James' own words: 'He had got hold of a gun of mine, and had contrived to break the main-spring of the lock. Afraid, I presume, to face me on the occasion, he managed to print a little note addressed to me, and containing these words: 0 Jamie, dinna think of guns, for the main-spring of that is broken, and my heart is broken.'”—A glance at the original document, in uncials, shows that the author cannot have been more than five years' old when he indited the cramp piece of penmanship alluded to. How strange, by the way, that the first childish effusion of one who in his maturer years proved so very keen a sportsman, should afford evidence that the ruling passion of his manhood was already developed !

"At the High School, in his attainments, matters were mending rather. He was there under Mr., afterwards Professor Christison, and Dr. Adams, the Rector of the Institution; and though often careless and inattentive, and

C

much addicted to drawing most grotesque figures on his books, he yet always maintained a very respectable place in his class.

By his school-fellows he was greatly beloved his amiable generous temper, and playful humour, made him a general favourite. In spirit and manliness he was by no means deficient. Who, that had seen the apparently gentle boy, with his mild sweet expression, would have known him again, when, with his face all bruised and streaming with blood, he darted into the room one day, and, addressing his youngest sister, exclaimed: 'Wash my face; quick, quick; put a cold key down my back, and let me out again to the bicker'?

"This bicker lasted three successive days after schoolhours. It was the last I remember. The master found it necessary to make a firm stand against so barbarous and dangerous a mode of warfare. The boys of the High School and of the University were jealous of each other, and perpetually quarrelling; and when this spirit now and then proceeded to a height, a bicker was found a necessary, though by no means a safe vent to their fury. They were drawn out in battle array, facing each other; each party with a mountain of small stones by their side, which they hurled without mercy at the heads of their enemies till one of the parties gave in.

"Walter Scott used frequently to mention that those bickers existed in his time, and for a considerable period before. It was not then, as later, between the boys of different schools, but between those of the higher and lower classes, who inhabited different parts of the Town.

"The boys in George's Square, where Walter Scott then resided, having formed themselves into a company, were presented by a lady of rank residing there with a handsome set of colours; a gift more congenial to the ardour of the

youthful heroes than judicious, perhaps. The feud between those gentlemen of the Square and the barefooted lads of Bristo Street and the neighbouring suburbs, became daily more fierce. One young lad in particular, who used to be styled the Achilles of the Cross-causeway, was always foremost in the charge,—a slim, blue-eyed, fair-haired youth, about fourteen, but of undaunted courage. Heading one of those charges, he had advanced some paces before his comrades, and was on the point of seizing the highly-prized standard, when a young aristocrat, infuriated by the threatened disgrace, aimed a blow with a sharp instrument at the vulnerable head of the youthful Achilles, which deluged his fair hair with blood.

“In dismay at a proceeding so unexpected, both parties fled different ways. The unlucky hanger was thrown into one of the meadow ditches, and solemn secrecy was sworn on all sides: but their remorse was great, when they found that the wounded hero had been carried by the watchman to the Infirmary, where he remained several days.

"Repeated inquiries, however, failed in inducing him to reveal the name of his assailant, though perfectly well known to him. When he recovered, Walter Scott and his friends opened a treaty of peace with him, through a ginger-bread baker in the neighbourhood, well known to both parties; and a well-filled purse which they had collected was offered to him, and pressed upon his acceptance; but he declined the gift, saying, that no money should ever purchase his Scotch blood.'

"My father was the one of the family who seemed to feel the least, indeed, I may say no disappointment at my brother's not particularly distinguishing himself in his class. 'You do not understand the boy,' he would say; 'I tell you he is a wonderful boy. Look at the eager expression of his countenance when listening to conversation far above his