In appearance James Ballantyne was a gentleman of the old school. It was a treat to see him do the honours of his own house in St. John Street, whether in the drawing-room before dinner, showing the proof-sheets of Scott’s poems or novels, bound up with the marginal correspondence between the critic-printer and the author, or after dinner, pressing his guests to a particular glass of Burgundy, “a present from his friend Sir Walter.” The prop of his existence was his connection with Scott; the happiest moments of his life were those that he spent—while the Waverley Novels were appearing in rapid and dazzling succession—amid a small circle of friends, when the eagerly-expected volumes were produced, a week or a fortnight before they were issued to the general public. James Ballantyne read them aloud with his best emphasis and expression, and for this duty he was admirably qualified, being a good elocutionist, and possessed of a melodious voice. There was to the listeners a certain gratification in forestalling the rest of the world—in being able to tell their friends mysteriously that there was a great treat awaiting them. There was much pleasure also in discussing the merits of the work, with timid allusions to the veiled author, whose name was never mentioned. And amid the circle sat James, the founder of the feast, happy in the happiness he was creating. Lockhart gives a vivid description of one of these evenings: “To be present at one of these scenes,” he writes, “was truly a rich treat.... When the cloth was drawn, the burly preses rose, and spouted with a sonorous voice the formula of Macbeth:— “‘Fill full! I drink to the general joy of the whole table!’ This was followed by ‘The King—God bless him!’ and second came ‘Gentlemen, there is another toast which never has been nor shall be omitted in this house of mine—I give you the health of Mr. Walter Scott, with three times three!’... Then James rose once more, every vein on his brow distended, his eyes solemnly fixed upon vacancy, to propose, not as before in his stentorian key, but with bated breath, in the sort of whisper by which a stage conspirator thrills the gallery—‘Gentlemen, a bumper to the immortal Author of “Waverley”!’ The uproar of cheering, in which Scott made a fashion of joining, was succeeded by deep silence; and then Ballantyne proceeded to lament the obscurity in which his illustrious but too modest correspondent still chose to conceal himself from the plaudits of the world—to thank the company for the manner in which the _nominis umbra_ had been received—and to assure them that the Author of ‘Waverley’ would, when informed of the circumstance, feel highly delighted, ‘the proudest hour of his life,’ &c. The name of the forthcoming novel would then be given, and success to it pledged in another bumper.”[35]