dried up. It might be that these observations were unfortunately
correct, or it might be that we were bewildered with a name, not
disappointed of the reality; for though Shakespeare had brought a
Hamlet, an Othello, and a Macbeth, an Ariel, a Juliet, and a
Rosalind, upon the stage, were there not authors living who had
brought as varied, as exquisitely painted, and as undying a range
of characters into our hearts? The shape of the mere mould into
which genius poured its golden treasures was surely a matter of
little moment, let it be called a Tragedy, a Comedy, or a
Waverley Novel. But even among the dramatic authors of the
present day, he was unwilling to allow that there was a great and
palpable decline from the glory of preceding ages, and his toast
alone would bear him out in denying the truth of the proposition.
After eulogizing the names of Baillie, Byron, Coleridge, Maturin,
and others, he begged to have the honour of proposing "The Health
of James Sheridan Knowles."

Sir WALTER SCOTT. Gentlemen, I crave a bumper all over. The
last toast reminds me of a neglect of duty. Unaccustomed to a
public duty of this kind, errors in conducting the ceremonial of
it may be excused, and omissions pardoned. Perhaps I have made
one or two omissions in the course of the evening for which I
trust you will grant me your pardon and indulgence. One thing in
particular I have omitted, and I would now wish to make amends
for it by a libation of reverence and respect to the memory of
SHAKESPEARE. He was a man of universal genius, and from a period
soon after his own era to the present day he has been universally
idolized. When I come to his honoured name, I am like the sick
man who hung up his crutches at the shrine, and was obliged to
confess that he did not walk better than before. It is indeed