The publication of "The Queen's Wake" in 1813 immediately brought Hogg into connection with the leading authors and publishers of the day, Hogg sent a copy of the volume to Lord Byron, his "brother poet," whose influence he desired to enlist on behalf of a work which Hogg wished Murray to publish.
The poem which the Ettrick Shepherd referred to was "The Pilgrims of the Sun," and the result of Lord Byron's conversation with Mr. Murray was, that the latter undertook to publish Hogg's works. The first letter from him to Murray, December 26, 1814, begins:
"What the deuce have you made of my excellent poem that you are never publishing it, while I am starving for want of money, and cannot even afford a Christmas goose to my friends?"
To this and many similar enquiries Mr. Murray replied on April 10, 1815:
My Dear Friend,
I entreat you not to ascribe to inattention the delay which has occurred in my answer to your kind and interesting letter. Much more, I beg you not for a moment to entertain a doubt about the interest which I take in your writings, or the exertions which I shall ever make to promote their sale and popularity…. They are selling every day.
I have forgotten to tell you that Gifford tells me that he would receive, with every disposition to favour it, any critique which you like to send of new Scottish works. If I had been aware of it in time I certainly would have invited your remarks on "Mannering." Our article is not good and our praise is by no means adequate, I allow, but I suspect you very greatly overrate the novel. "Meg Merrilies" is worthy of Shakespeare, but all the rest of the novel might have been written by Scott's brother or any other body.
The next letter from the Shepherd thanks Murray for some "timeous" aid, and asks a novel favour.
May 7, 1815.
I leave Edinburgh on Thursday for my little farm on Yarrow. I will have a confused summer, for I have as yet no home that I can dwell in; but I hope by-and-by to have some fine fun there with you, fishing in Saint Mary's Loch and the Yarrow, eating bull-trout, singing songs, and drinking whisky. This little possession is what I stood much in need of—a habitation among my native hills was what of all the world I desired; and if I had a little more money at command, I would just be as happy a man as I know of; but that is an article of which I am ever in want. I wish you or Mrs. Murray would speer me out a good wife with a few thousands. I dare say there is many a romantic girl about London who would think it a fine ploy to become a Yarrow Shepherdess! Believe me, dear Murray,