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Contributors to the January Review
WILLIAM HALLER is a member of the teaching staff in Columbia University.
L. WARDLAW Miles is an associate professor of English in Princeton University.
EDGAR W. KNIGHT is head of the department of education in Trinity College, North Carolina.
HYDER E. Rollins is a fellow in Harvard University,
H. ST. GEORGE TUCKER is a member of the faculty in the North Carolina College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts.
A. MARINONI is a professor in the department of modern languages in the University of Arkansas.
A. M. Conway is a resident of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
H. L. CREEK is a member of the faculty in the University of Illinois.
Dudley H. Miles is head of the department of English in the Evander Childs High School, New York City.
In the autumn of 1822 a comedy of profound significance was enacted at Edinburgh. George IV, spent-out rake, sot, and dandy, “the first gentleman of Europe,” sixty years old but king at last, went on a royal progress to his northern kingdom. He was sodden with the profligacy of London and a recent debauch with politicians in Dublin ; he was heir to the house of Hanover and the worst of its vices, but Scotland with Sir Walter at its head fêted him as liege lord and God-given prince, fêted him in Holyrood where the last royal person to be so greeted by his people had been bonny Prince Charlie himself, as all the world knew from Waverley. Scott rowed out in the rain from Leith and clambered aboard “The Royal George" to welcome the king. That potentate, calling for a bottle of highland whisky, as the thing most appropriate to his taste and the occasion, drank to the enraptured bard. Then Scott begged the gift of the goblet as a boon from his royal master. Only Sir Walter and a Scotchman could have taken such a situation seriously. He put the glass into the tail of his coat, and carefully held it in front of him all the way home, in order that this rare memento, destined to be handed down to his children's children,-a goblet from which George IV had drunk whisky,—should be kept safe. Upon reaching home, however, he found the poet Crabbe just arrived on a visit, forgot the glass in his coat-tail, embraced his friend, and sat down. Lady Scott was relieved to learn that she had not left her scissors in the chair. The rest of the story of the king's progress not even the faithful Lockhart could tell with a straight face. The clans marched in full regalia, the good citizens of Edinburgh put on the once-despised kilties of the once-hated