Before we follow up the chronicle of the life of _Blackwood_ and its proprietor, it will be necessary to take a retrospective glance at the causes which rendered it possible to convert the snug, orthodox, and more than slightly Whiggish _Edinburgh Monthly Magazine_ into the slashing, defiant, jovial, dare-devil of _Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine_. This change was chiefly due to the influence of two men, Wilson and Lockhart, who, together with Hogg, had, under the old régime, contributed all there was of wit and sparkle. With these three writers, and the promise of further support, Blackwood had changed his mind as to putting his ill-fated periodical to the untimely end he had announced; and we have seen something, and shall see more, as to how far this determination was justified by success. In the meantime, it is essential to know a little of these two men, to whom primarily all the success was due. John Wilson, the great Tory champion, was descended, not from a county family, but from a wealthy Paisley manufacturer; and, after taking all possible prizes at Glasgow University, went to conquer fresh worlds at Oxford, where he not only won the Newdigate prize of £50 by one of the best prize poems extant, in fifty lines, but excelled in all sports, to which a magnificent frame, a temper universally good, a wild exuberance of animal spirits, and a thirsty love of adventure could contribute. Strange tales are told of his Oxford escapades; of recess rambles with strolling players; of wanderings, when smitten by the charms of a gipsy-girl, for weeks together with her tribe; of sojournings as a waiter at a country inn, to be close to one of the fair waitresses. However, his dreams of adventure were surrendered only after having planned an expedition to Timbuctoo, and he purchased an estate at Windermere, to be near the Lake school of poets, with whom he soon threw in his fortune. After the publication of the “Isle of Palms,” and the “City of the Plague,” he joined the Scotch Bar, and in the Parliament House struck up an acquaintance with another briefless barrister--Lockhart, seven years younger than himself. John Gibbon Lockhart was also educated at Glasgow University, where gaining the “Snell” foundation, he was sent, at sixteen, to Balliol; after taking a first-class degree he travelled on the Continent, returning only when it was necessary to enter at Edinburgh as an advocate. Silent in private life, he found he could not speak at all in public; and many years afterwards, when making a speech at a farewell dinner, given in honour of his departure to undertake the editorship of the _Quarterly_, he broke down, as usual, and stuttered, “Gentlemen, you know I can’t make a speech; if I could, we shouldn’t be here.”