sat there while writing his romances, "and perhaps," quoth the man,
smiling, "you may catch some inspiration." What a bitter word this would
have been if he had known me to be a romance-writer! "No, I never shall
be inspired to write romances!" I answered, as if such an idea had never
occurred to me. I sat down, however. This study quite satisfied me,
being planned on principles of common-sense, and made to work in, and
without any fantastic adaptation of old forms to modern uses.

Next to the study is the library, an apartment of respectable size, and
containing as many books as it can hold, all protected by wire-work. I
did not observe what or whose works were here; but the attendant showed
us one whole compartment full of volumes having reference to ghosts,
witchcraft, and the supernatural generally. It is remarkable that Scott
should have felt interested in such subjects, being such a worldly and
earthly man as he was; but then, indeed, almost all forms of popular
superstition do clothe the ethereal with earthly attributes, and so make
it grossly perceptible.

The library, like the study, suited me well,--merely the fashion of the
apartment, I mean,--and I doubt not it contains as many curious volumes
as are anywhere to be met with within a similar space. The drawing-room
adjoins it; and here we saw a beautiful ebony cabinet, which was
presented to Sir Walter by George IV.; and some pictures of much
interest,--one of Scott himself at thirty-five, rather portly, with a
heavy face, but shrewd eyes, which seem to observe you closely. There is
a full-length of his eldest son, an officer of dragoons, leaning on his
charger; and a portrait of Lady Scott,--a brunette, with black hair and
eyes, very pretty, warm, vivacious, and un-English in her aspect. I am
not quite sure whether I saw all these pictures in the drawing-room, or
some of them in the dining-room; but the one that struck me most--and