romantic historian, which you have determined to embrace. What is
the classic Robertson to you? The light which he carried was that
of a lamp to illuminate the dark events of antiquity; yours is a
magic lantern to raise up wonders which never existed. No reader
of sense wonders at your historical inaccuracies, any more than he
does to see Punch in the show box seated on the same throne with
King Solomon in his glory, or to hear him hallooing out to the
patriarch, amid the deluge, 'Mighty hazy weather, Master Noah.'"

"Do not mistake me, my dear madam," said I; "I am quite conscious
of my own immunities as a tale teller. But even the mendacious Mr.
Fag, in Sheridan's Rivals, assures us that, though he never scruples
to tell a lie at his master's command, yet it hurts his conscience
to be found out. Now, this is the reason why I avoid in prudence all
well known paths of history, where every one can read the finger
posts carefully set up to advise them of the right turning; and
the very boys and girls, who learn the history of Britain by way
of question and answer, hoot at a poor author if he abandons the
highway."

"Do not be discouraged, however, cousin Chrystal. There are
plenty of wildernesses in Scottish history, through which, unless
I am greatly misinformed, no certain paths have been laid down from
actual survey, but which are only described by imperfect tradition,
which fills up with wonders and with legends the periods in which
no real events are recognised to have taken place. Even thus, as
Mat Prior says:

"Geographers on pathless downs
Place elephants instead of towns."