to the touch
To gain or lose it all.'

"If I fail," I said, for the dialogue is strong in my recollection, "it
is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, and I will write prose
for life: you shall see no change in my temper, nor will I eat a single
meal the worse. But if I succeed,

'Up with the bonnie blue bonnet,
The dirk, and the feather, and a'!'"

Afterwards I showed my affectionate and anxious critic the first canto
of the poem, which reconciled her to my imprudence. Nevertheless,
although I answered thus confidently, with the obstinacy often said to
be proper to those who bear my surname, I acknowledge that my confidence
was considerably shaken by the warning of her excellent taste and
unbiased friendship. Nor was I much comforted by her retraction of
the unfavourable judgment, when I recollected how likely a natural
partiality was to effect that change of opinion. In such cases,
affection rises like a light on the canvas, improves any favourable
tints which it formerly exhibited, and throws its defects into the
shade.

I remember that about the same time a friend started in to "heeze up my
hope," like the "sportsman with his cutty gun," in the old song. He was
bred a farmer, but a man of powerful understanding, natural good taste,
and warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent to supply the wants of
an imperfect or irregular education. He was a passionate admirer of
field-sports, which we often pursued together.

As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashestiel one day, I took the
opportunity of reading to him the first canto of The Lady of the Lake,
in order to ascertain the effect the poem was likely to produce upon a
person who was but too favourable a representative of readers at large.
It is of course to be supposed that I determined rather to guide my
opinion by what my friend might appear to feel, than by what he might
think fit to say. His reception of my recitation, or prelection, was
rather singular. He placed his hand across his brow, and listened with
great attention through the whole account of the stag-hunt, till the
dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow their master, who embarks
with Ellen Douglas. He then started up with a sudden exclamation, struck
his hand on the table, and declared, in a voice of censure calculated
for the occasion, that the dogs must have been totally ruined by being
permitted to take the water after such a severe chase. I own I was m