ALEXANDER WILSON. xxiii 
journal, from which it appears that his success was far 
from encouraging. Among amusing incidents, sketches 
of character, occasional sound and intelligent remarks upon 
the manners and prospects of the various classes of society 
into which he found his way, there are not a few severe 
expressions indicative of deep disappointment, and some 
that merely hint the keener pangs of wounded pride — 
pride founded on conscious merit. “ You,” says he, on 
one occasion, “ you, whose souls are susceptible of the 
finest feelings, who are elevated to rapture with the least 
dawnings of hope, and sunk into despondency by the 
slightest thwarting of your expectations — think what I 
felt ! ” Much, probably, of his disappointment may be 
attributed to the very questionable, the almost vagrant 
character, in which he appeared, — that of a travelling 
pedlar. Of this he seems ultimately to have become 
convinced ; for, in a letter to a friend, dated from 
Edinburgh, in November of the same year, he says, “ My 
occupation is greatly against my success in collecting 
subscribers. A packman is a character which none esteem, 
and almost every one despises. The idea which people 
of all ranks entertain of them is, that they are mean- 
spirited, loquacious liars, cunning and illiterate, watching 
every opportunity, and using every mean art within their 
power, to cheat.” The same sentiment repeatedly occurs 
in his poems. 
Having in vain used his utmost exertions to dispose of 
his poems, and being completely disgusted with the life of 
a pedlar, he returned to Paisley; and, in a short time 
afterwards, we find him again plying his original trade in 
Lochwinnoch. But it is evident, that he was far from 
being satisfied with his employment, or sincere in relin- 
quishing poetry. Indeed, it may be questioned whether 
any man who has ever experienced the true poetic thrill 
could, even if he would, seal up his bosom against its 
rapturous visitations. Be that as it may, Wilson was 
