WILSON, THE MAN II9 



get one predominating characteristic of his earher 

 years — moodiness. One moment he is exulting 

 over some Httle encouragement — a kind word from 

 some one he highly esteemed, or a few more 

 names on his subscription list, the next he is 

 plunged in the "slough of despondency" by the 

 smallest slight imaginable. His whole world 

 glows in rose colors or darkens in gloom accord- 

 ing to his feelings — to use his own words, "the 

 least beam of hope brightens and the slightest 

 shades horrify his tumultuous soul." From his 

 earliest youth Wilson's propensity for rhyming 

 kept hold upon him, and his abiding propensity for 

 rhyming kept him from devoting himself to his 

 other labors with that ardor which is the price of 

 success. Even in this early period of his life he was 

 not wanting in patient industry. How very assidu- 

 ously did he tramp the rough Scotch roads, going 

 from door to door, studying with all earnestness 

 in what manner he might please this one and 

 flatter that one until he had cajoled them into 

 subscribing for his book; poverty often oppressed 

 him, but such times did not come when he devoted 

 his energies to the loom, but only when he heeded 

 the Siren-voice of his treacherous muse, which so 

 often led him astray. He was proud of the little 

 he had accomplished in a poetic way, and vain of 

 his poetic talents. A little praise fired him with 

 tumultuous enthusiasm and turned his thouo:hts 

 from the earning of bread to the winning of fame. 

 A character naturally brave, almost to reckless- 

 ness, encouraged him to leave a good and sure 

 living to take up a most precarious one if only it 



