feeling so peculiar to the Scotch.

Mr. Scott again called on me to take leave before his return to
Scotland; we entered into conversation respecting the sublimity and
beauty of Lord Byron's poetry, and he spoke of his lordship with
admiration, exclaiming "He is a man of wonderful genius--he is a
great man."

I called on Lord Byron the same day, and mentioned to him that Walter
Scott had been with me that morning. His lordship observed, "Then,
Nathan, you have been visited by the greatest man of the age, and,"
continued his lordship, "I suppose you have read _Waverley_." I
replied in the negative. "Then," returned his lordship, "you have a
pleasure to come, let me recommend it to you; it is decidedly the best
novel I ever read; you are of course aware that it was written by
Walter Scott." It had at this period scarcely been rumoured that such
was actually the case, but Lord Byron was more than usually positive
in identifying the author with his writings.

In speaking of Moore, as a poet, Lord Byron acknowledged his powers,
and spoke highly of his effusions generally. "The Irish Melodies,"
said his lordship, "will outlive all his other productions, and will
be hailed by the Irish nation as long as music and poetry exist in
that country."

Many coincidences in life may seem to border on superstition, without
any existing reality; and, although never personally taxed with the
sin of superstition, yet the following circumstance brings strongly to
my remembrance what passed relative to my friend and patron.