Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 10
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 10
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
He had read some of the extracts from the poem--he was sure he could
write better lines--his eyes flashed with ecstasy--his very nostrils
distended with delight--a thousand guineas seemed already in his pocket!
though, alas! out of the eight pounds which he had received as the price
of his father's cow, with all his management, and with all his economy,
he had but eight shillings left. But his resolution was taken--he saw
fortune hovering over him with her golden wings--he purchased a quire of
paper and half-a-dozen quills, and hurried to his garret--for his
lodging _was_ a garret, in which there was nothing but an old bed and an
olden chair, not even an apology for a table; but sometimes the bed
served the purpose of one, and at other times he sat upon the floor like
a Turk, and wrote upon the chair. He was resolved to write an epic; for
the idea of a thousand guineas had taken possession of all his
faculties. He made a pen--he folded the paper--he rubbed his hands
across his brow for a subject. He might have said with Byron--had Byron
then said it--
"I want a hero!"
He thought of a hundred subjects, and with each the idea of his mother's
beautiful but most unlucky first-foot was mingled! At length he fixed
upon one, and began to write. He wrote most industriously--in short, he
wrote for a thousand guineas! He tasked himself to four hundred lines
a-day, and in a fortnight he finished a poem containing about five
thousand. It was longer than that for which the thousand guineas had
been given; but George thought, though he should get no more for his,
that even a thousand guineas was very good payment for a fortnight's
labour. Of the eight shillings which we mentioned his being in
possession of when he began the epic, he had now but threepence, and he
was in arrears for the week's rent of his garret. The landlady began to
cast very suspicious glances at her lodger--she looked at him with the
sides of her eyes. She did not know exactly what a genius meant, but she
had proof positive it did not mean a gentleman. At times, also, she
would stand with his garret-door in her hand, as if she intended to say,
"Mr Rogers, I would thank you for last week's rent."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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