"
It was, he said, during his residence at Smallholm crags that he first
imbibed his passion for legendary tales, border traditions, and old
national songs and ballads. His grandmother and aunts were well versed
in that kind of lore, so current in Scottish country life. They used to
recount them in long, gloomy winter days, and about the ingle nook at
night, in conclave with their gossip visitors; and little Walter would
sit and listen with greedy ear; thus taking into his infant mind the
seeds of many a splendid fiction.
There was an old shepherd, he said, in the service of the family, who
used to sit under the sunny wall, and tell marvellous stories, and
recite old time ballads, as he knitted stockings. Scott used to be
wheeled out in his chair, in fine weather, and would sit beside the old
man, and listen to him for hours.
The situation of Sandy Knowe was favorable both for storyteller and
listener. It commanded a wide view over all the border country, with
its feudal towers, its haunted glens, and wizard streams. As the old
shepherd told his tales, he could point out the very scene of action.
Thus, before Scott could walk, he was made familiar with the scenes of
his future stories; they were all seen as through a magic medium, and
took that tinge of romance, which they ever after retained in his
imagination.
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