LOVE AND POETRY. 33 



could be said by the veracious biographer, than that, at the age 

 when nature so ordains, this ardent and precocious youth was pas- 

 sionately in love. So brief and general a statement, however, would 

 but very poorly express the realities of the case, or indicate the 

 depth of the influence which that first overwhelming passion exerted 

 on the whole nature of John Wilson. As he has himself said, 

 " What is mere boy-love but a moonlight dream ? Who would 

 weep — who would not laugh over the catastrophe of such a blood- 

 less tragedy ? . . . But love affairs, when the lovers are full-grown 

 men and women, though perhaps twenty years have not passed 

 over either of their heads, are at least tragi-comedies, and. some- 

 times, tragedies ; closing, if not in blood, although that too when 

 the Fates are angry, yet in clouds that darken all future life, and 

 that, now and then, lose their sullen blackness only when dissolving, 

 through the transient sunshine, in a shower of tears." Such a love 

 affair was this, now for the first time to be made known beyond a 

 circle consisting of some three or four persons that are alive. 



In that note-book, already made use of, the names of two ladies fre- 

 quently are noted. It may be seen that his visits to them were not 

 paid after the fashion of formal courtesy, and that Miss W. and 

 Miss M. had made Dychmont to him a charmed place. Towards 

 autumn, when walks along the banks of the Clyde begin to be de- 

 lightful, these notices are of almost daily occurrence. One day he 

 calls at Dychmont ; then he drinks tea with Miss W. and Miss M. : 

 he rides to Cumbernauld with Miss W. : " Very pleasant and agree- 

 able ride;" again, "drank tea at Dychmont;" then for the next 

 three days at home, and begins his essay " On the Faculty of Im- 

 agination ;" next evening it is again, " Drank tea at Dychmont ;" 

 and so on through the month, — nothing but Dychmont, walking, 

 riding, breakfasting, dining, supping "at Dychmont," or "with 

 Dychmont ladies" somewhere. 



This attractive place was but a simple farm-house, unadorned and 

 almost homely, but the country around it was delightful. The hill, 

 from which it takes its name, is part of the dukedom of Hamilton, 

 and from its summit the valley of the Clyde, from Tinto to the 

 mountains of the west, presents a view of great beauty. No portion 

 of the Clyde is without beauty; for the most part, more noble than 

 the Rhine, with a sweep of water quite as majestic, it flows through 

 a variety of country ever embellished by its presence. Along the 

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