But the instant that he gave over writing
poetry, there was neither man nor woman ever read it more! All
turned to tales and novels."*
*James Hogg.
Everybody read The Novels, from the King to the shepherd.
Friends, money, and fame came tumbling in upon the author. He
had refused to be made Poet Laureate, and passed the honor on to
Southey, but he accepted a baronetcy. He added wing after wing
to his beautiful house, and acre after acre to his land, and
rejoiced in being laird of Abbotsford.
The speed with which Scott wrote was marvelous. His house was
always full of visitors, yet he always had time to entertain
them. He was never known to refuse to see a friend, gentle or
simple, and was courteous even to the bores who daily invaded his
home. He had unbounded energy. He rose early in the morning,
and before the rest of the family was astir had finished more
than half of his daily task of writing. Thus by twelve o'clock
he was free to entertain his guests.
If ever man was happy and successful, Scott seemed to be that
man.
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