timidity imperceptibly gave way under the familiarity of his address;
and that, in the concluding part of our dialogue, I perhaps argued
with fully as much confidence as was beseeming.

_Author of Waverley._ I was willing to see you, Captain Clutterbuck,
being the person of my family whom I have most regard for, since the
death of Jedediah Cleishbotham; and I am afraid I may have done you
some wrong, in assigning to you The Monastery as a portion of my
effects. I have some thoughts of making it up to you, by naming you
godfather to this yet unborn babe--(he indicated the proof-sheet with
his finger)--But first, touching The Monastery--How says the world--
you are abroad and can learn?

_Captain Clutterbuck._ Hem! hem!--The enquiry is delicate--I have not
heard any complaints from the Publishers.

_Author._ That is the principal matter; but yet an indifferent work is
sometimes towed on by those which have left harbour before it, with
the breeze in their poop.--What say the Critics?

_Captain._ There is a general--feeling--that the White Lady is no
favourite.

_Author._ I think she is a failure myself; but rather in execution
than conception. Could I have evoked an _esprit follet_, at the same
time fantastic and interesting, capricious and kind; a sort of
wildfire of the elements, bound by no fixed laws, or motives of
action; faithful and fond, yet teazing and uncertain----

_Captain._ If you will pardon the interruption, sir, I think you are