Great writers in their own houses, like prophets among their own people, proverbially lack much of the consideration they find abroad. Mrs. Douglas Jerrold always wondered what it was people found in her husband’s jokes to laugh at. It is _said_ that many years had passed over the head of Burns’s son before the young man knew that his father was famous as a poet. It is certain that Walter Scott’s eldest son had arrived at more than manhood before he had the curiosity to read one of his sire’s novels. He thought little of it when he had read it. This want of appreciation the son derived from his mother. Once, when Young was admiring the fashion of the ceiling, in Scott’s drawing-room at Abbotsford, Lady Scott exclaimed in her droll Guernsey accent, ‘Ah! Mr. Young, you may look up at the bosses in the ceiling, as long as you like, but you must not look down at my poor carpet, for I am ashamed of it. I must get Scott to write some more of his nonsense books and buy me a new one!’ To those who remember the charm of Young’s musical voice, Lady Dacre’s lines on his reciting ‘Tam o’ Shanter’ to the other guests at Abbotsford, will present themselves without any thought of differing from their conclusion, thus neatly put:-- And Tam o’ Shanter roaring fou, By thee embodied to our view, The rustic bard would own sae true, He scant could tell Wha ’twas the livin’ picture drew, Thou or himsel’! It is a curious fact that Scott, harmonious poet as he was, had no ear for music, unless it were that of a ballad, and he would repeat that horribly out of tune. He was, however, in tune with all humanity; as much so with a king as with the humblest of his subjects. When he went on board the royal yacht which had arrived near Leith, with George IV., amid such rain as only falls in Scotland, Scott, in an off-hand, yet respectful way, told the king that the weather reminded him of the stormy day of his own arrival in the Western Highlands, weather which so disgusted the landlord of the inn, who was used to the very worst, that he apologised for it. ‘Gude guide us! this is just awfu’! Siccan a downpour, was ever the like! I really beg your pardon! I’m sure it’s nae faut o’ mine. I canna think how it should happen to rain this way just as you o’ a’ men i’ the warld should come to see us! It looks amaist personal! I can only say, for my part, I’m just ashamed o’ the weather!’ Having thus spoken to the king, Scott added; ‘I do not know, sire, that I can improve upon the language of the honest innkeeper. I canna think how it should rain this way, just as your majesty, of all men in the world, should have condescended to come and see us. I can only say in the name of my countrymen, I’m just ashamed o’ the weather!’ It was at Scott’s petition that the royal landing was deferred till the next day, which brought all the sunshine that was considered necessary for the occasion.