under his observation, ransacked book-stalls, dived into libraries, while huge packages of books, straggling after him at uncertain intervals, invariably followed his return home.
In the previous summer, he had paid a visit to London, where he dined with Sotheby, the amiable translator of "Oberon," and met several of the more distinguished literati; and this year (1805), he accompanied his friend, the Rev. Peter Elmsley (afterwards Principal of St. Alban's Hall, Oxford), to Scotland, visited Sir Walter Scott at Ashestiel, and went over the ground to which that poet had imparted a renewed interest by his recent poem, "The Lay of the Last Minstrel."
His manner of life when at home, which afterwards experienced little variation, is thus detailed in a letter to a friend: "My actions are as regular as St. Dunstan's quarter-boys. Three pages of history after breakfast (equivalent to five in small quarto printing); then to transcribe and copy for the press, or to make my selections and biographies, or what else suits my humour, till dinner-time; from dinner to tea I read, write letters, see the newspapers, and very often indulge in a siesta. After tea I go to poetry, and correct, and re-write, and copy till I am tired, and then turn to anything else till supper. And this is my life, which if it be not a very merry one, is yet as happy as heart could wish."
Though thus occupied, he still found time to assist oppressed and struggling talent; and the young and inexperienced always found in him a candid and faithful monitor, a generous and sympathizing friend. When the poems of Kirke White were so unjustifiably assailed in "The Monthly Review," the letter the broken-hearted poet wrote to the reviewers met Southey's eye. His indignation burned at the unfeeling attack. He wrote to White, offering any aid he could afford, mentioned him
