I Walk: I Prefer Walking.

She Was Humbled, She Was Grieved; She Repented, Though She Hardly Knew Of What. She Became Jealous Of His Esteem, When She Could No Longer Hope To Be Benefited By It. She Wanted To Hear Of Him, When There Seemed The Least Chance Of Gaining Intelligence. She Was Convinced That She Could Have Been Happy With Him, When It Was No Longer Likely They Should Meet.

She Looked Back As Well As She Could; But It Was All Confusion. She Had Taken Up The Idea, She Supposed And Made Everything Bend To It.

And You Are Never To Stir Out Of Doors Till You Can Prove That You Have Spent Ten Minutes Of Every Day In A Rational Manner.

One Word From You Shall Silence Me Forever.

Walter Scott Has No Business To Write Novels, Especially Good Ones. He Has Fame And Profit Enough As A Poet, And Should Not Be Taking The Bread Out Of Other People's Mouths.