reviewer, his dictum in the world of authorship was the guide of thousands, who received it as an oracle; as a general essayist, he directed the public taste, and imbued it with his own feelings; and now, as a national teacher of moral truth he was to train the characters and direct the minds of those who were in turn to become the guides and instructors of a future generation. Was this
the same man who but yesterday, was the midnight tauridor upon the wilds of Cumberland? That the old spirit had neither died nor become deadened within him, his Nodes Ambrosiance, to speak of no other token, were sufficient evidence. As a professor, his elevation introduced a remarkable change in the chair of moral philosophy in Edinburgh. Hitherto, metaphysics, that science so "congenial to the Scottish intellect, had there obtained full predominance, whether propounded according to Aristotelian rule, or the innovations of Locke and Bacon; but Wilson, though he could dream like Plato himself, was no
practised metaphysician. It also behoved him to establish a theory of morals, and demonstrate it with all the exactness and nicety of a mathematical problem; but with Wilson it was enough that he knew what was right—and was not wholly ignorant of its opposite. Whence, then, was he to derive those
materials for which his pupils were hungering and thirsting? Even from the
resources of that fertile mind which as yet had never failed him. He could
enter into the very pith and marrow of a subject, and detect truth or error however concealed. And all this he could illustrate with a poetical array of imagery
and eloquence of language, such as has seldom issued from the lips of an expounder of hard things in ethical and metaphysical philosophy. Such was the
kind of teaching in which his classes delighted a suggestive and impulsive
course, in which, after having been kindled with his ardour, each pupil might
start off upon the career of inquiry best suited to his own tastes and capacities.
This, indeed, was not science, properly so called but was it not something as
good? The toils of lecturing during each session, were combined with the
more onerous labour of examining some hundreds of class essays; and it is
perhaps needless to add, that in such a work Professor Wilson was completely in
his element. In this way he taught the young ideas how to shoot; and if they
did not produce rich fruits, the cultivator at least was not to blame. At the
close of the season, the official gown was thrown off and Christopher North was
himself again. He hied away during the spring to Elleray, and spent the
summer and autumn in the districts of the Tweed or the Highland hills, while
his exploits in fishing and shooting, or his musings among the varied scenery,
came pouring in close succession and rich variety into the pages of his magazine.
Among these recreations by land and water which were so dear to the heart of Wilson, we must not omit that from which he derived his title of "Admiral of the Lake." This he enjoyed in consequence of his taking the lead in those splendid regattas which were held upon the lake of Windermere, when his yacht was commonly to be seen at the head of the gay armada. One of these, held in honour of a visit from Mr. Canning, the premier, and Sir Walter Scott, in 1825, is thus chronicled in the life of the latter by his son-in-law: "There were brilliant cavalcades through the woods in the mornings, and delicious boatings on the lake by moonlight; and the last day 'the Admiral of the Lake' presided over one of the most splendid regattas that ever enlivened Windermere. Perhaps there were not fewer than fifty barges following in the professor's radiant procession, when it paused at the point of Storrs to admit into the place
