cockney of cockneys,” they are compelled to admit in the same breath that he is a Scotchman.
Now if to be a Scotchman is not to be brought up on the Waverley Novels
, to have drunk them in, every one of them, with one's early breath, what is the advantage in having been a child of the Tweed at all?
One might as well have been born an Australian, or even an American.
Even these humbler beings can at least read Scott
The present writer counts it among the joys of his life that he remembers the actual birth of the last two novels of the great series; and that he stoutly declared, with the omnivorous appetite of boyhood, that Count Robert of Paris
, and even Castie Dangerous
, were as delightful as all their predecessors.
He would have walked ten miles gladly — and so would any of his companions — to reach some blissful spot where there was to be found a Waverley Novel (as, for instance, The Betrothed
) still unread.
What an embarras des richesses must have surrounded Mr. Andrew Lang
, that he should have lived fifty years in the world and only just bethought himself of reading this book for the first time!
It is fortunate that he now kindly pronounces it to be, in some respects, “noble and moving” ; in fact, “a moral and nice book.”