A favourite entertainment of Scott was the reciting or singing by John Ballantyne of the “Cobbler of Kelso.” On one occasion, when Scott, Constable, and the Ballantynes were discussing at Abbotsford the arrangements for the publishing of “Rob Roy,” at the end of the business Scott turned to John, and said:— “‘By-the-by, ’tis a long time, Johnny, since we have had the “Cobbler of Kelso.”’ Mr. Puff (a name sometimes given by Scott to John Ballantyne) forthwith jumped up on a mass of stone, and seating himself in the proper attitude of one working with his awl, began the favourite interlude, mimicking a certain son of Crispin—at whose stall Scott and he had often lingered when they were schoolboys—and a blackbird, the only companion of his cell, that used to sing to him, while he talked and whistled to it all day long. With this performance Scott was always delighted: nothing could be richer than the contrast of the bird’s wild sweet notes, some of which he imitated with wonderful skill, and the accompaniment of the Cobbler’s hoarse cracked voice, uttering all manner of endearing epithets, which Johnny multiplied and varied in a style worthy of the Old Women in Rabelais at the birth of Pantagruel.”[11] John’s private residence was called Harmony Hall, a villa at Trinity on the Firth of Forth, surrounded by gardens, and about three miles distant from Paul’s Work. Here he kept up an expensive style of living—in all things showing a great contrast to the sober and staid conduct of his brother James. After James Ballantyne’s removal to Edinburgh, he continued to edit the _Kelso Mail_ for about three years, when the pressure of the printing-office compelled him to relinquish the editorial chair. He was succeeded by his youngest brother, Alexander, who conducted the paper with marked ability and success for the next twenty years. Alexander ultimately came to Paul’s Work, and was made a partner in the firm in 1829.[12] He was a good musician, and Sir Walter Scott, several times in his “Journal,” tells us how much he enjoyed his playing upon the violin and the flageolet. Here is an entry under May 31, 1827: “Dined at James Ballantyne’s, and heard his brother Sandy sing and play on the violin, beautifully as usual. James himself sang the ‘Reel of Tullochgorum’ with hearty cheer and uplifted voice.” And again, on July 28 of the same year, he writes: “We heard Sandy’s violin after dinner— ‘Whose touch harmonious can remove The pangs of guilty power and hopeless love.’ I do not understand or care about fine music, but there is something in his violin which goes to the very heart.”