ocean around the honoured heads of the
celebrated men of this eastern hemisphere. This, perhaps, is the natural
course of things, and is as unavoidable as that the sun shall hold the
earth within the influence of its attraction, until matters shall be
reversed by the earth's becoming the larger and more glorious orb of the
two. Not so in Paris. Here men of every gradation of celebrity, from
Napoleon down to the Psalmanazar of the day, are so very common, that
one scarcely turns round in the streets to look at them. Delicate and
polite attentions, however, fall as much to the share of reputation here
as in any other country, and perhaps more so as respects literary men,
though there is so little _wonder-mongering_. It would be quite
impossible that the presence of Sir Walter Scott should not excite a
sensation. He was frequently named in the journals, received a good deal
of private and some public notice, but, on the whole, much less of both,
I think, than one would have a right to expect for him, in a place like
Paris. I account for the fact, by the French distrusting the forthcoming
work on Napoleon, and by a little dissatisfaction which prevails on the
subject of the tone of "Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk." This feeling
may surprise you, as coming from a nation as old and as great as France;
but, alas! we are all human.

The King spoke to him, in going to his chapel, Sir Walter being in
waiting for that purpose; but, beyond this, I believe he met with no
civilities from the court.

As for myself, circumstances that it is needless to recount had brought
me, to a slight degree, within the notice of Sir Walter Scott, though we
had never met, nor had I ever seen him, even in public, so as to know
his person. Still I was not without hopes of being more fortunate now,
while I felt a delicacy about obtruding myself any further on his time
and attention. Several days after his arrival went by, however, without
my good luck bringing me in his way, and I began to give the matter up,
though the Princesse ---- with whom I had the advantage of being on
friendly terms, flattered me with an opportunity of seeing the great
writer at her house, for she had a fixed resolution of making his
acquaintance before he left Paris, _coute que coute_.

It might have been ten days after the arrival of Sir Walter Scott, that
I had ordered a carriage, one morning, with an intention of driving over
to the other side of the river, and had got a