he took to make his lengthy walk, but in September he was
comfortably settled in Leith, being "worthily entertained" by all
the greatest and most learned men of the day. He had money
enough for all his wants, for he was able to give a gold piece
and two and twenty shillings to another poet less well off than
himself. He was given the freedom of the city of Edinburgh and
more than 200 pounds was spent on a great feast in his honor.
About Christmas he went to pay a visit to a well-known Scottish
poet, William Drummond, who lived in a beautiful house called
Hawthornden, a few miles from Edinburgh. There he stayed two or
three weeks, during which time he and his host had many a long
talk together, discussing men and books. Drummond wrote down all
that he could remember of these talks, and it is from them that
we learn a good deal of what we know about our poet, a good deal,
perhaps, not to his credit. We learn from them that he was vain
and boastful, a loud talker and a deep drinker. Yet there is
something about this big blustering Ben that we cannot help but
like.

In January sometime, Jonson set his face homeward, and reached
London in April or May, having taken nearly a year to pay his
visit. He must have been pleased with his journey, for on his
return he wrote a poem about Scotland. Nothing of it has come
down to us, however, except one line in which he calls Edinburgh
"The heart of Scotland, Britain's other eye."

The years passed for Jonson, if not in wealth, at least in such
comfort as his way of life allowed. For we cannot ever think of
him as happy in his own home by his own fireside. He is rather a
king in Clubland spending his all freely and taking no thought