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me an entree to Scott's town house in Castle street 

 (now owned by Scotch Merchants) and on my stating 

 I had come all the way from Canada, a pilgrim to the 

 land of Scott and Burns, I was permitted, thanks to 

 my cicerone, to invade the sanctum of commerce and 

 to pry into a sanctum to me much more holy. I was 

 introduced into the very room in which so much of 

 Scott's literary labor was performed ; the courteous 

 merchant retiring from the table, I was allowed to sit 

 in the very spot, at the identical table (the furniture 

 having been religiously preserved), where in June, 1814, 

 occurred the now famous scene of the " unwearied 

 hand " which had that night startled William Menzies 

 and his jolly fellow-students, convivially engaged, so 

 graphically recalled by Lockhart. (1) The elevated 

 window in the yard opposite, through which the stu- 

 dents looked in, on Sir Walter writing at the table 

 where I now sat, is still the same. My eye scanned it 

 closely, measuring the distance and the extent of the 

 diminutive grass plot, in the little court adjoining 

 Scott's " den " as Lockhart styles it. 



(1) " Happening to pass through Edinburgh, in June, 1814, 

 I dined one day with the gentleman in question (now the 

 Honorable William Menzies, one of the Supreme Judges at 

 the Cape of Good Hope), whose residence was then in George 

 Street, situated very near to, and at right angles with Castle 

 Street. It was a party of very young persons, most of them, 

 like Menzies and myself, destined for the Bar of Scotland, all 

 gay and thoughtless, enjoying the first flush of manhood, with 

 little remembrance of the yesterday, or care of the morrow. 

 When my companion's worthy father and uncle, after seeing 

 two or three bottles go round, left the juveniles to themselves, 

 the weather being hot, we adjourned to a library, which had 

 one large window looking northwards. After carousing here 

 for an hour or more, I observed that a shade had come over 

 the aspect of my friend, who happened to be placed imme- 

 diately opposite to myself and said something that intimated 

 a fear of his being unwell. " No," said he, " I shall be well 

 enough presently, if you will only let me sit where you are, 

 and take my chair j for there is a confounded hand in sight 

 of me, here, which has often bothered me before and now it 



