In his old schoolfellow, James Ballantyne, he believed he had found just such an agent as he wanted, the requisite link between literary genius like his own, and the world which reads and buys books; and he thought that, by feeling his way a little, he might secure, through this partnership, besides the then very bare rewards of authorship, at least a share in those more liberal rewards which commercial men managed to squeeze for themselves out of successful authors.

And, further, he felt--and this was probably the greatest unconscious attraction for him in this scheme--that with James Ballantyne for his partner he should be the real leader and chief, and rather in the position of a patron and benefactor of his colleague, than of one in any degree dependent on the generosity or approval of others.

"If I have a very strong passion in the world," he once wrote of himself--and the whole story of his life seems to confirm it--"it is pride."[30] In James Ballantyne he had a faithful, but almost humble friend, with whom he could deal much as he chose, and fear no wound to his pride.

He had himself helped Ballantyne to a higher line of business than any hitherto aspired to by him.

It was his own book which first got the Ballantyne press its public credit.