" Cbrtstopber ttortb" 165 



passionate, heart-mind-and-soul engrossing hope of some 

 time or other catching a minnow or a beardie ! A tug 

 a tug ! With a face ten times flushed and pale by turns 

 ere you could count ten, he at last has strength in the 

 agitation of his fear and joy, to pull away at the 

 monster and there he lies in his beauty amongst the 

 gowans and the greensward, for he has whapped him 

 right over his head and far away, a fish a quarter of an 

 ounce in weight, and, at the very least, two inches long ! 

 Off he flies, on wings of wind, to his father, mother, and 

 sisters and brothers, and cousins, and all the neighbour- 

 hood, holding the fish aloft in both hands, still fearful of 

 its escape, and, like a genuine child of corruption, his 

 eyes brighten at the first blush of cold blood on his 

 small fumy fingers. He carries about with him, up- 

 stairs and down-stairs, his prey upon a plate ; he will 

 not wash his hands before dinner, for he exults in the 

 silver scales adhering to the thumb-nail that scooped the 

 pin out of baggy's maw and at night, ' cabin'd, cribb'd, 

 confin'd/ he is overheard murmuring in his sleep 

 a thief, a robber, and a murderer, in his yet infant 

 dreams ! " 



But to trace things back for a moment to their 

 source. John Wilson was born at Paisley on May i8th, 

 1785. His lather was a wealthy gauze manufacturer who 

 had raised himself to that eminence from very humble 

 beginnings. His mother claimed descent, it is said, 

 from James Graham, the " Great Marquis " of Montrose, 

 but her son never, either in his writings or in his con- 

 versation, made the slightest allusion to this distinguished 

 ancestry. From his mother John Wilson derived his 



