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MDCCCLX. 200 C0 mfi ISot^tr, THESE MEMORIALS OP THE PAST ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. ' BLESSED ARE THEY WHO ARB CALLED TO THE MARRIAGE SUPPER OK THE LAMB.' PREFACE. The following Memoir has been undertaken at the urgent solicitation of friends. Dreading the temptations to partial — and therefore untruthful — representation, to which relatives are exposed in attempting to portray the character of the objects of their love, I at first resolutely declined to be the Biographer of my brother. It was only when one to whom the public instinctively looked with hope, the Eev. Dr. Cairns, expressed reluctantly, but decisively, his inability to undertake the sacred task, that my scruples were overcome; and the result is now before the reader. While an honest and earnest attempt has been made through- out after truthful simplicity of narration, all expression of personal opinion has been as far as possible avoided. In fact, the mass of letters at my disposal has made the Life in great part an autobiography. I have to acknowledge, with much gratitude, assistance re- ceived from the scientific friends whose names appear as contri- butors to the volume, and also the great kindness with which they and others have placed letters and private papei-s freely at my service. To my brother. Dr. Daniel Wilson, I am indebted for hearty co-operation and assistance. The proof-sheets have been sub- ', Vlll PREFACE. mitted to him, and to others fully competent to judge of the representation given, and now go forth with their sanction and approval. May He who has given strength to complete a record, written under the shadow of heavy grief, be pleased to add His abun- dant blessing, and to illustrate afresh one of the laws of His kingdom : " That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die." J. A. W. Elm Cottage, Edinbvbob, December 1860. ■Jr.- CONTENTS. CHAPTER L Homo and Family Influences — Death of Brothers and Sisters— Early Love for Books and Animals— Beminiscences by his brother Daniel— Holiday Excursions— Orphan Cousins join the Family Circle — Juvenile Society — Recollections by School Companicns— No Coward— A General Favourite — Impressions on Friends — Leaves the High School, PAon 1-31 CHAPTER IL Chooses Medicine as a Profession — Enters on Apprenticeship in Laboratory of Royal Infirmary — Impressions of Hospital Life — First Surgical Opera- tion — Kindness to Patients — Attends Medical Classes — Member of Zeta- lethic Society— Dr. Hope, Professor of Chemistry— British Association holds its first meeting in Edinburgh — L-jtters to Mr. Nelson — Death of Twin-Brother — Begins to keep a Diary — Sacredness of the Body — Power of Coaxing — Bulwer's ' Last Days of Pompeii ' — Thoughts on the Resurrec- tion—Professor Graham— Hopes of a Gold Medal disappointed — Autumn Excursion — Last year of Medical Study — Diagnostic Society — Paper on Iodine— Obtains Degree as Surgeon — Feelings of the Dying — Deficiencies in Ladies' Education 32-91 CHAPTER IIL His brother Daniel goes to London— Holiday— Walks twenty-eight miles — Enters Professor Christison's Laboratory as Assistant — Laboratory Tales —Medical Pun — Illness of a Sister and a Friend — Private Lectures on Chemistry — Story of a Hat — Advantage of being able to speak Scotch — Snow-ball Riot of 1888 — Contributions to the ' Maga' — Enthusiasm for Chemistry — Correspondence with absent Brother— Devout Aspirations- Contributions to Ladies' Albums — Disinclination to Medical Practice — Little Encouragement to Prosecute Chemistry— Passes First Examination for Drgree of M.D. — Lines to a Soap-Bubblc — Dispensary Practice — Private Laboratory — A Troubled Night— Goes to London by Sea, . 92-160 CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. I'Aae ! ! 7* Becomes Laboratory Assistant to Professor Graham, London — David Living- stone a Class-mate — Want of Locality — Home Correspondence — Shak- spere — Steam Balloon — Chemical Pun — Ladies' Dress — Origin of the Snowdrop — Bottle Imp — Mermaids' Tears — Thesis — Temporary Loss of Soul — Death of his cousin Catherine— Return Home — Harvey's ' Cast- away,' Scott's ' Alchemist,' and Allan's 'Slave Market' — Supplement to Thesis — Lines to a Polyanthus — Adventures of a Hat — A Shirtless Doctor — Fancies of a Monomaniac — Obtains Degree of M.D. — Congratulatory Letter from his cousin James — Capping — Thesis commended, . 161-211 CHAPTER V. Tries to get something to do — Dream of Rowland Hill's — Attends Meet- ing of British Association in Birmingham— thence to London — Pleasant Journey Home — A Week at Penicuik — About to abandon the Rhyming Business — Becomes a Member of the Brotherhood of Tnith — John M'Lure — Sketch of the Oineromathic Brotherhood — its Distinguished Members — Makes New Friends — Presidentship of the Physical Society — Thinks of commencing as Teacher of Chemistry in Edinburgh— Whence came the Ball? — Edward Forbes— Rhymes for Mrs. Lillie — Prefers Edinburgh to London — Pedestrian Tour in Prospect, 212-247 CHAPTER VI. Stirling Head-Quarters — Twenty Miles' Walk — Attends Meeting of British Association in Glasgow — Returns Home seriously ill — First Course of Lectures begun while scarcely Convalescent— At once a Favourite Lec- turer — Opinion of Edward Forbes — Dr. Guthrie and the Slide — Transmi- gration of Souls — Permission to select a Wife — Visits London in 1840 — Severe Inflammation in One Eye — Returns Home — Second Attack of Inflamed Eye— Session of 1840-41 — Opens in weakened Health — Delights of a Concert — Suffers from Rheumatism — Illness of his sister Mary — Lectures on Animal Chemistry— Unable to Walk — Sir Charles Bell's Death — Compelled to relinquish Classes from Bad Health — Unable to relish Poetry — A Disembodied Soul — Ordered to the Seaside — Finds Affliction beneficial, though terrible in its nature — Letters from Seafield —Health not improved— A foolish Tale, 248-292 CHAPTER VII. Amputation of Foot — Religious Experience — The Peace that passeth under- standing — Suspense — Rcf every — Gaiety of Hearl, — Sitnilia similibiis curaniwr— His Father's Sudden Death — Removal to Brown Square — Pul- monary Disease begins — Resumes Professional Duties — School of Arts' Class — A Spi raents — First James Rassell with Indepenc i Systematic and ( ; Lectures of liti of a Candle — < Chemistry — L ; Electricity anc The Grievance Love of Pupils — of the Hyacint! tages of not be — Death of his Christ more fi Advantage of chemy — Trave — What makes his cousin John Hand — Camera Thoughts in Sii Lectures — A T room — Removei Health Feeble— I Stories — Hugh '. tor of Scottish Melrose — Profei Argyle's Satisfa Cushion — Inauf — Works harde Wanted a Monli Bridge of Allan- as inferred from A Private and C Cap — Various I Dublin in 1857 The " Graphic : CONTENTS. XI fAQU Class — A Sprained Knee — Daily Life — Repeats Transmutation Experi- ments — First Visit to Church — Able to walk alone — Illness of his cousin James Russell — His Last Days and Death — Pet Terrier — Baptism — Union with Independent Church—' Sleepy Hollow,' . . . 293-322 CHAFfER VIII. Systematic and Occasional Lectures — The Philosophical Institution — Single Lectures of little use — Helps Ragged Schools, etc., willingly — Chemistry of a Candle — Contributions to Science— Colour-Blindness — Text-Book of Chemistry — Lives of Cavendish and Reid — Lines to Dr. John Reid — Electricity and the Electric Telegraph ; and the Chemistry of the Stars — The Grievance of the University Tests, 323-349 CHAPTER IX. Love of Pupils — Presentation of Balance — Lines to the Stethoscope— Sleep of the Hyacinth — Wings of the Dove and the Eagle — One of the Advan- tages of not being able to Write your Name — Friendship of Lord Jeffrey — Death of his sister Mary — Lines to a deceased Terrier — Desire to serve Christ more fully — Letters to Invalids — Lecture to Medical Students — Advantage of a Creed — ' Athanasius Contra Mundum' — Spiritual Al- chemy — Travelled little — Prostration in Spring — ' George's Nonsense' — WhatmakesPatriots— Holiday Times — Crystal Palace, 1851 — Death of his cousin John Russell — Illness — Broken arm — Letters written with left Hand — Camera Obscura — Juvenile Wives — Bearing in general Society — Thoughts in Sickness — Life between Seventeen and Thirty-two — Curtain Lectures — A Troublesome Tenant — Letters to Invalids — Hymn for Sick- room—Removes to Elm Cottage — How to help Absent Ones, . , 350-399 CHAPTER X. Health Feeble — Death of Edward Forbes — Lines to his Memory — Jacobite Stories — Hugh Miller — Alarming Illness — An Epitaph — Appointed Direc- tor of Scottish Industrial Museum — More Sure Hope in Christ — Visit to Melrose — Professor of Technology — Definition of Technology— Duke of Argyle's Satisfaction with the New Chair — Petition for a Gown — A Fairy Cushion — Inaugural Lecture, ' What is Technology ?' — Syllabus of Course — Works harder than ever — Lectures and Addresses to various Bodies — Wanted a Monkey — Nearer to Christ ! — Practises saying No — Changes at Bridge of Allan — General Knowledge — Lecture ' On the Character of God as inferred from Human Anatomy' — The Five Gateways of Knowledge — A Private and Confidential Letter— To be Hanged in Red Tape — Begging Cap — Various Lectures and Addresses — Visits London, Manchester, and Dublin in 1857 — Attack of Splenitis — Lecture to Merchant Compmy — The " Graphic Industrial Arts"— Finds himself Forty, . . . 400-451 xn CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. PAGE Proposed as Candidate for the Chemistry Chair in the University of Edin- burgh — Withdraws from the Arena — Increase of Salary — Visits St. Andrews — Holidays at Innerleithen — Introductory Lecture ' On the Progress of the Telegraph' — Threatened Attack of Erysipelas — Profit from hearing detached Lectures — Four Days at Bridge of Allan — TubalCain — -A Sabbatic Letter— Presides at Burns' Centenary Meeting— Beginning and ending in Christ— Eighth Course of Lectures to the Philosophical Institution — Pleasant to do the most Humble Service for God — Visits London professionally — A Fortnight in the Country — Holidays at Burnt- island — British Association Meeting at Aberdeen — Removes to Laboratory and Lecture Room within the University Walls — Crowded Audiences at Opening Lectures — Severe Cold — Pleurisy and Inflammation — After Four Days' Illness, falls " asleep in Jesua" — A Song of the Night, . 452-491 CHAPTER XII. Universal Mourning — Love of Dependants — ' Paper, Pen, and Ink' — Bi-igra- phical Notices — Public Funeral — Monumental Cross — Funeral Sermon — Farewell, 492-506 APPENDICES. Appendix A. — Estimate of Literary Character, by Dr. Gladstone, 509-522 Appendix B. — The Old Calton Burial Ground, by Professor Daniel Wilson, ....... 523,624 Appendix C. — List of Published Works, .... 525-529 INDEX. CHAPTEE I. HOME AND FAMILY INFLUENCES. " Household treaHures 1 household treasures ! Are they jewels rich and rare ; Or gems of rarest workmanship ; Or gold and silver ware ? Ask the mother as she gazes On her little ones at play : Household treasures 1 household treasures ! Happy children — ye are they." " They grew in beauty side by side ; They filled one home with glee." In the year 1812, on the 2d of June, a new household was formed in the city of Edinburgh. The small group of friends assembled at the wedding little thought that any beyond them- selves would look back on that day with interest. So it ever is : we take part in what seems an every-day occurrence, and find afterwards, that, like the prophets of old, we have been by word and act heralding wondrous things, sowing seed that shall never cease to grow and propagate itself ; uttering words whose echoes shall resound throughout the eternal ages. The bride, Janet Aitken, the youngest of a large family, was a native of Greenock, where her father lived and carried on business as land-surveyor. So fragile was Janet as a child, that it was not expected she could reach maturity, and her mother tried to prepare her for early death. But the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong ; and the tender mother was the first to go, leaving her desolate little girl to A MKMOIU OF GKORGE WIIiSON. CHAP. I. the chill of an unsympathizing world, and disposed to envy every one who had a mother. Janet, at the time of her mar- riage, of which we now speak, had passed through years of grief and change, and only a sister and a brother remained of her family circle. Both w^ere married, and home had long been to her a word of little meaning. The bridegroom, Archibald Wilson, had, a few years before, come from Argylesljire to settle in business in Edinburgh, and thus, to each, "oui* own romantic town" had few personal associations. Yet at this, their wedding-time, how fresh and beautiful it looked ! In the clear mornings and long evenings to watch the Firth and the distant hills peeping in and out in the varying lights ; to feast the eye on the crags and battle- ments of the dear old castle in its nest of green, with pictures of living beauty to refresh the eye at every turn ! Did it not say to their young hearts, " Forget also thine own people, and thy father's house," an, ' in me thou shalt have a home dearer than those of the past ? The first pledge of this unspoken promise was given in the birth of a daughter in the spring of the following year. When Mary was a year old, there came a fair little brother again to open the fountains of love ; and, when John was nearly two years of age, the group received a fresh addition in the arrival of a second boy, who was named Daniel, and is the only son who has survived till now.* The year 1817 opened in sorrow, for it found the heavy hand of sickness on this little band ; and before its first month closed, Johnny had ceased his sweet prattle, and had gone to learn the angels* songs. The first deposit of the family treasures was thus placed beyond reach of the spoiler, and since then, from time to time, the store has been added to. Like the dreamer's ladder, a pathway was formed, by which the yearning hearts left behind have paid many a visit to the happy circle above, and been re- freshed by the assurance from the Saviour's lips, " I will come again and receive you unto myself." About a year after this, on the 21st of February 1818, twin » Dr. Daniel Wilson, Professor of History and English Literature, University Col- lege, Toronto, Canada. 1817-32. BIKTH 0? TWIN BOYS. boys were born. It seemed to the mother, that God, having seen the desolation of her heart in the dreary months gone by, had, in His compassionate love, sent not only a son to increase the little flock, but also one to take the place of his brother in heaven. So while a new name, George, was given to the elder of the two, the other received the name of John. From the first the boys were unlike each other, — John dark, with black eyes; George fair. George was so small a baby, that tiny garments had to be made expressly for him, and for many years after they were kept as cu.iosities, from their miniature dimensions. A proof of this may be Vv'orth noting. When he was five months old, a lady, walking with her husband on the street, stopped him to look at this baby in his nurse's arms. "Did you ever," she asked, " see a child of two months with so intel- ligent a face ? " His energy and vivacity surpassed his brother's, who manifested a delicacy of constitution. George's Highland nurse decided he showed more "spirit" than any of the chil- dren, and she was very proud and fond of him in consequence. His paternal grandmother was one of the Auchinellan Camp- bells, of Argyleshire, and to the Highland blood Jean attributed her nursling's liveliness. When the twins were two years old, a little brother joined them, but only to secure his heavenly inheritance. Two days were all he spent on earth. Over the next five years the sha- dows gathered. Two sisters and a brother were born. Of these, Jeanie died when four years old, Margaret lived three months, and Peter, the second of the name, one year. ' My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay,' The Reaper said and smiled ; ' Dear tokens of the earth are they, , , , , Where He was once a child.' And the mother gave, in tears and pain, The flowers slie most did love ! She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above." What influence these sad events had on George we cannot MEMOIR OF GEOKGE WILSON. CHAP. I. tell, but, undoubtedly, impressions for life were made during those years. At five be perhaps learned the first lesson of death and immortality when his baby sister slept her last sleep ; and as he had attained the age of seven when the sister of four years, and the brother of one, were taken away within two months of each other, he was capable of realizing much that our Heavenly Father only teaches in those hours of darkness. In manhood and later years, he occasionally alluded to them in such a thrilling way, as made one feel that through all his life they had been present with him ; but, evidently, the topic was one not to be dwelt upon. " I saw," he wrote in the last year of his life, "in early childhood or boyhood, so many little brothers and sisters die, that the darkness of those scenes, and the anguish of father and mother, made an indelible impression upon me." It was his belief that the human mind loses no impression ever made on it, and that the events of infancy, though they cannot be recalled, are not effaced, and will pro- bably, like wonders revealed in a palimpsest, come up for review in the future life. His friends will remember many a pleasant wish for the autobiography of a baby, expressed both in public and private.^ It may be that the distress he ever felt, on hear- ing of or witnessing suffering in young children, originated in those early experiences. But though so soon reaping the benefits of a yoke borne in youth, let it not be supposed that his was a gloomy childhood. Far otherwise ; his keen susceptibilities were open to joy as fully as to sorrow. His active, healthy frame, in boyish pursuits and games with his brothers, made life itself a pleasure ; warm affec- tions bound him closely to each one in the home circle ; his mother's face was in his eyes the most sweet and beautiful the 1 " I have always thought and eveu declared in my lectures, tliat the most won- derful of all books would be the Autobiography of a Baby ; but since, I fear, that you will not be able to coax either Freddy or Malcolm to make your fortune by writ- ing it, I go on to suggest that in the life that is to come, our memory of the past will go back over all our earthly reminiscences, not merely over all that we grown folks recall, but over all that we have forgotten, which is at present most vivid to your dear bairns. We shall mount to the origin of our individual lives, and trace to their dim beginnings our first conceptions of space and time, of our own individuality, and of other existences ; of an inner consciousness and an outer univeise." 1817 .12. MATERNAL INFLUENCE. earth contained ; and the peculiar love of twins for each other was felt by him in aii its force. To this has been attributed " something of that wonderful power of attaching himself, and being personally loved, which waK "o of his strongest, as it was one of his most winning powers." His mother is " regarded by all who knew her as a woman of rare natural gifts, who zealously fostered in her children the love of knowledge which they inherited." ' " Any one who has had the privilege to know him, and to enjoy his bright and rich and beautiful mind, will not need to go far to learn where it was that her son George got all of that genius and worth and delightfulness which is transmissible. She verifies what is so often and so truly said of the mothers of remarkable men. She was his first and best alma mater, and iii many senses his last, for her influence over him continued through life." ^ It was a custom of his mother's to pay each night a visit to the little cot of her twin boys, and repeat over them Jacob's blessing, " The God which fed me all my life long, unto this day, the Angel that redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads I " So fascinating was this to George, that in mature years he has told a friend how he used to lie awake watching for it, pretending to be asleep that he might enjoy it to the full. In the family, this blessing seemed in consequence set apart, as it were, to the twin" and inseparably associated with them. Realizing that education is the developing and training of every faculty of mind and body, the children were encouraged in all pursuits likely to further this. A healthy moral and reli- gious atmosphere surrounded them ; their individual tastes and powers were carefully watched and elicited, and a kindly confi- dence encouraged. About the age of four, each one was sent to an elementary school, and the boys afterwards to that of Mr. Knight, a teacher well known for his care in laying the solid substratum so often neglected in schools of greater pretension. ' 'Iloric Subsecivte,' Second Series. Article, "Dr. George Wiljon." * * North British Review ' for February 186C. Article, " Colour Blindness." » ' HoRB SubaeciviB,' p. 104. MEMOIR OF OEOROR WILSON. f'lTAP. r. On his first appearance at tlie annual public school examination, Geoi-ge recited the ' Newcastle Apothecaiy ,' receiving at its close the encomium, " Well done, Polus I " Hence the name we find him appropriating in the following letter, believed to be the first he penned ; and in which it will be seen he already parodies an early and lasting favourite, " John Gilpin." It was written while from home, during the vacation immediately following his recitation, when he was not above seven, and is addressed, " My mother, Edinburgh." " My dear Mother, — We left Edinburgh on a very disagree- able day ; we arrived safe and well. I take a bowl of whey porridge every morning. Bolus takes a drink of milk every morning and evening. You will receive six peas-bannocks on Saturday with the box. Janet Brown is going to make you a sweet-milk cheese. " Now let us sing, long Live tliti King, and Bolus, long live he ; And when he next Does say this piece, may I be there to see. — " Your affectionate son. George Wilson." As a specimen of progress, a letter may be given of a later year, while at a farmhouse in Peeblesshire, where he saw much that excited wonder in a town-bred boy. The wide kitchen- chimney, where, sitting on the seats in its sides, he could look up and see the stars, was one of the novelties never forgotten. The letter is partly to his sister Mary, and partly to his mother. Mary, it will be remembered, was five years his senior, and was, like himself^ a child of unusual promise. " ROMANNO Mains, September 15th. "Cara Maria, — Tua epistola venit mihi sex-dies. Vides scripsi te secundum oras. Scribam te major epistola post. Epis- tola abs Matre venit ad Nancy. Spero ut Mater et mea parva Soror sunt melior. — Ab tuo Frater, Georgius Wilson." Send roe two or three old pill-boxes to put the insects in. 1817 38. EAKLY LOVE FOR HOOKS. I have got a grasshopper with a red head, but it had the nns- fortune to lose one of its lugs, which are red also. ,, " George Wilson." " Dear Mother, — Little Robert is now well again, and enjoys the country very much. Grandfather is very grateful for what you sent him ; tell Mary to address the letters Romanno Mains, Noblehouse, and not Peebles, as the last one was addressed. — From your little Dosy,* 1828." The sister alluded to in the Latin epistle had been born two months previously. Coming as she did after the death of four, her welcome was a warm one, and children and parents looked on her as a precious gift. She and a sister two years younger still survive, and reference will occasionally be made to them. The elder one received her mother's name, Janet or Jessie, and the younger that of the dearly loved Jeanie, who had " fallen asleep" three years before. Even at this early age, George's love for books was manifest. Jessie's nurse, in speaking of the family at that time, has often summed up his pursuits in the following words : — " Oh, as for George, he was aye to be seen in a corner, wi' a book as big's himsel* ;" probably a volume of the first edition of the ' Encyclo- paedia Britannica,' a great favourite in those days. She does acknowledge, however, that he took a daily walk with her and the baby, when telling stories and listening to them was the favourite occupation. He has often told with glee how his mother, remarking his diligent study of Brown's ' Dictionary of the Bible,' at last, after silent rejoicings, expressed to him her satisfaction at his choice. " Oh, mother," was the reply, looking up with a bright face, " I am making a list of the precious stones !" His first attempt at rhyme gave her pleasure from the feel- ings that prompted it. A friend sharing a love for natural histoiy in common with him and his brothers, had instructed them in the art of impaling live insects as specimens. It much grieved her that boys should learn cruelty so early, and ' A pet imnip, u> In a letter to Mr. Godfrey Wedg^vood, Etniria, Staffordshire, allusion is made to tills. "By the way, are the moulds or dies of the famous anti-slavery medallion 1817 22. LOVE FOR POETRY. 15 and tea, was efer- iel at we sides ade to lallioii Cowper, Heniy Kirke White became an early favourite ; and by and by, Felicia Hemans' ' Records of Woman' was added to our library, and read aloud amongst us ; and even select passages from Milton's ' Paradise Lost' were rendered pleasant to very youthful ears by our mother's feeling and expressive mode of reading and commenting on them. Thus a taste was formed at an unusually early age for poetry, which by and by, when faci- lities for reading increased, made us familiar with Moore, B3TX)n, Southey, Coleridge, Shelley, and Scott ; and then, in preference to all of them, with Shakspere : from which it followed that there was pretty soon writing as well as reading of verse, and sundry juvenile poems, long since burnt and forgotten, were produced, though I shall by and by refer to others, preserved in later years. The tueme of one ambitious effusion, extending to some hundreds of heroic couplets, was, I remember, ' Woman !' and doubtless embodied some very fresh and original views on the subject. " At Mr. Knight's school some of the most lasting of George's early friendships were formed. Dr, Philip W. Maclagan, RN., now of Berwick ; Dr. John Alexander Smith, of Edinburgh ; Mr. Philip Dassauville ; Dr. John Knight, and others who passed with us to the High School, were already favourite companions ; and it was from among these, with the addition of Mr. William Nelson, the Rev. James Huie, now minister at AVooler, Northumberland, Messrs. Alexander and James Sprunt, with one or two othei's, that, in 1828-29, a 'Juvenile Society for the Advancement of Knowledge ' was formed. The Society met weekly at our father's house, where already we had a room of our own, with our books and natural history speci- mens, out of which was now formed the museum of the Society. A glazed book-case, provided with the requisite shelving, held the accumulating stores ; and as everything had to be done with as solemn dignity as the Royal Society itself possibly could as- sume, we, amongst other becoming proceedings, adopted a coat witli the motto, 'Am I not a man and a brother?' still in existence? If so, and a medallion is procurable, please remember a man who dropped taking s\igar in his tea wlieu seven years old, as a protest against slavery, and has never tiiken it since in tea, though I am sorry to say the inconsistent philosopher never abandoned its use in puddings and other viands." -May 19, 1857. ., 16 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. I. of aims, which was duly coloured and put up prominently in the museum. The blazoniy I have forgot, but the motto was this bit of juvenile Latinity : ' Iniens cetas est tempus.' A weekly journal was also established, of which I was constituted editor ; and in it were not only recorded selections from the weekly papers on Natural History, etc., but also choice extracts and pen-and-ink illustrations. I have not seen it for more than twenty years ; but I believe it is still in existence. It was written in double columns on a folded half-sheet of foolscap, and I think I could recognise still certain fossils drawn in its pages ; and also some amusingly crude discussions on palaeo- graphy, with illustrations, executed in China ink, the materials for which were chiefly derived from the old folios and dumpy quartos already referred to in our uncle's libraiy ; for there was a good deal of antiquarianism mingled with our natural history, mechanics, astronomy, etc., and John Alexander Smith and my seK, who have each sincie filled the office of Secretary to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, were already embryo numis- matists, and knew a Roman denarius from a bodle as well as Edie Ochiltree himself Our musoum accordingly had its little collection of coins, penny-tokens, Chinese cash, a shilling of Edward i., and two or three dearly-prized Roman brass." Dr. Philip Maclagan has kindly supplied the following re- miniscences of his friendship with George Wilson in boyhood, in a letter addressed to his sister : — " We entered Mr. Mackay's class together, and speedily be- came very intimate, from the similarity of our tastes in the matter of amusements ; and I was one of the original members of the 'Juvenile Society for the Advancement of Knowledge' which met in your house, and of which your brothers were the founders. The Society met on Friday evening, papers were read by the members in rotation, ar _ questions previously started were debated. I remember some of them — Whether the whale or the herring afforded the more useful and profitable employment to manJcind? Whether the camel was more useful to the Arab, or the reindeer to the Laplander? and similar puzzles for youthful ingenuity. We had a museum, too, kept 1817-32, ' JUVENILE SOCIETY.' IT in a cabinet with glass doors, which your mother kindly gave up to us, and a scientific newspaper in MS. was written by, and circulated amongst, the members. I remember that Daniel con- trived and executed an allegorical heading for this paper which was much thought of ; and many items of news which found a place in its columns, I can recall as if I had read it yesterday. In it, also, we recorded the results of our Saturday excursions into the country, the plants and animals noticed, with any facts as to their habits and peculiarities, " I do not think that at this time George had any fancy for chemical research. Chemistry was becoming popularized then, long before either Botany or Zoology, but it was to these latter branches, so far as I know, that his taste for inquiry was first directed. I owe him a debt of obligation for firat affording me the pleasure of reading the ' Pilgrim's Progress,' though at that period neither of us thought of anything but the story : I re- member quite well the look of the copy which he lent me ; a rather thin old-fashioned octavo in calf. As years wore on, I became rather an ardent collector of plants and insects, for which George did not care much, so that our paths diverged a little, and we v^ere not so often together on Saturdays. But until we left the High School, our friendship remained un- broken, and I can testify to George having been a very general favourite." edge' Mr. Alexander Sprunt, of Wilmington, North Carolina, an- other school-fellow, speaks of contemporaneous events : — "During the period of our High School curriculum great questions were occupying the public mind, and startling events taking place in Europe, — the final struggle of the Poles, the French three days of July, the Keform movement, etc. On all such questions George Wilson took the extreme liberal side. The subject of the immediate or gradual emancipation of the negro slaves in the colonies was keenly discussed about that time. Some of us being related to families of the colonists, were familiar with the arguments for a gradual abolition of slavery. George was an unremitting advocate of immediate emancipation." 0: 18 MEMOIR OP GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. T. " After we entered the High School," his brother proceeds, " our long vacation holidays were spent, on several occasions, at the manse of Cumbernauld,' in Dumbartonshire, where the Rev. John Watson, wlio had been our father's tutor in liis youth, made us hospitably welcome, and introduced us to all the no- velties which country life presents in so charming an aspect to the town-bred boy. The hay-making was over before our holi- days arrived ; but the reaping, the carting and stacking, and the harvest-home, were all within our happy holiday weeks ; diversified by an occasional ramble when the minister's paro- chial duties called him off to visit some outlying farm or cot- tage, and by visits to Cumbernauld House, where Mrs. Aitken, the old housekeeper of Admiral Fleming, made us welcome, and we occasionally enjoyed the luxury of a ride through the park on a frisky little Shetland pony which was at our service — when we could catch it. It would seem, however, that in 1830, John and I alone went to Cumbernauld, and to this, accordingly, is due the earliest fragment of George's corre- spondence which I have preserved. Here are some of the con- tents of it, suggestive of many other pleasant memories : ' John mentioned in his letter that Mr. Watson had promised him a cat in place of the grey one. But I am sure you will be glad when I tell you, your old friend, Mr. Grey Cat, came back on Sabbath morning.' Then, after news of other kinds, occurs this important passage relative to some coveted treasure for the museum : ' Mother would have bought the sturgeon's head, but they asked half a guinea for it I have had several de- lightful walks since we parted. The mice are lively, and get a run on the table every night. They are very impudent, and bite whoever touches them. The cat gives several side looks at them, but never dares to touch them.' " Tlie concluding reference here is to one great triumph achieved in the course of our Natural History pursuits. Our do- mestic menagerie never wanted some favourite pet, though these » In tlie quiet little village of Cumbernauld, a sensation seems to have been pro- duced by the appearance of the boys. John writes to his twin-brother in 1830, " All the people in the village know us, but when we go through it, we generally get a good stare, and a good many boys and girls run after \i8 crying, ' Look, there's the braw callants.'" 1817 32. ENUMERATION OF PETS. 19 were of the most varied description. We rejoiced successively in a tame owl, a sparrow-hawk, hedgehog, tortoise, guinea-pig, rabbits, etc. The hedgehog was long a favourite. It used to sleep all day coiled up by the fire ; and towards dusk it began to move, and would run about, with its grunting cry ; coming, when called on, for a bit of apple, or a cockroach — one of its favourite delicacies. But it chanced on one occasion that a poor, barefooted Italian boy, with his hurdy-gurdy and white mice, became an object of compassion to us ; mother was readily induced to provide him with stockings and an old pair of shoes, and in gratitude for these and other services, he pre- sented us with a pair of white mice. A cage was made, which by and by expanded into a sort of mouse-palace of two storeys, with parlour, breeding- cage, etc. A part of it was apportioned to a pair of black and white mice procured by some means or other ; and as they multiplied on our hands, our great ambition was to teach a rough little Scotch terrier that we had — famous for rat- hunting, — to lie and let our tame mice run about his shaggy coat. The mice were entirely devoid of fear, but Coxy used occasionally to show his teeth in a way that did not promise very weU for his discrimination between white and ordinaiy mice had he been left with them alone. From George's letter, however, it would seem he had been trying the same experiment with Mr. Grey Cat, and, though the case was a harder one to deal with, apparently with equal success.^ " Meanwhile, the museum was receiving his special care. In a letter from mother to me, of date 24tli August 1830, she says, ' George has just come in from seeing Maclagan. On his way home, lie saw a shop full of curiosities. If I can find time, I * Letters of this date, of the brothers to each other, give amusing evidence of the deep affection entertained for the mice. In one, the following passage occurs : "Tliere was no mention made of the mice in any of the letters, Lut from that, I suppose they are quite well, for if anything had been wrong with them, it would have been mentioned in every one of the letters." Parallel instances to this, of late date, might be found in George's more than once rescuing mice about to be made the subjects of experiments in his laboratory. No such things, he said, should be done there. Any talk of poisoning mice always seemed to distress him ; and when such death was unavoidable for them, he endeavoured to insure that the poison used should be that most speedy in its effect. so tlEMOIR OF OEOROE WILSON. CHAP. I. shall pay it a visit ; but you must not fonn any expectations, as I am not disposed to part with much money in that way.' In spite of the prudent warning, expectations were, no doubt, formed and realized also. One of these ' curiosity shops' was Mrs. Somerville's, in East Register Street ; where many a gather- ing of pocket-money was expended on minerals and shells ; the arrangement and naming of which were unfailing sources of pleasure. But the tastes and habits that were then being de- veloped, will be better illustrated by the following letter of the same period : — < Tuesday, 24th Auffusl 1830. * Dear Daniel, — I was very happy to hear you had begun Botany. I forgot to mention in the letter I sent you that I got the present of Bingley's Introduction to Botany, with coloured engravings of trees, shrubs, flowers, leaves, roots, stems, and all the other component parts of flowers. From it I learn the parts of plants. On Thursday, Philip Kobert Maclagan and I went out to Duddingston. We saw some beautiful dragon-flies. We went on to Craigmillar, where we saw some pretty young foals in a park. We returned home by Liberton, with our boxes filled with plants. On Friday, we set off for Corstorphine ; but falling in with some empty carts at the three-mile stone, we got in, and rode past Corstorphine to a place called " Four Mile Hill" (though it was six miles from Edinburgh). Returning, we found a great many small frogs, some h so MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IL pass. lu fact, the appearance of a child sleeping, the lovely smiles on the lips, show the presence of happy dreams : and, oh ! what can be the subject of the dreams of an infant a few days old ? They cannot be dreams like ours, for all ours are tinctured by surrounding circumstances, which have affected us, or are mere versionn of commonplace occurrences, rendered ludicrous (when thought over), by those anomalies that take place in dreams only ; or they are horrible imaginings of fearful circumstances, or dreaded events, aggravated to so intense a degree as to make awaking from them positive pleasure. But the visions of infants cannot be tinctured by surroimding objects, or be the exaggerated depictings of every- day occurrences, and the smiles show they must be beautiful, supremely beautiful. Oh! what can be their subject, what their cause, or what delightful emotions do they feel, ere they seemingly have asso- ciated with aught that could afford subject for thought, or have obtained the power of thinking at all ? But thought is not necessary for dreams, except those of association, and this is proved by the fact of the lower animals dreaming — the dog, the elephant, and, I believe, some others. All these circumstances, my dear "V\^illiam, seem to show, that in spite of all that educa- tion produces and experience adds to our knowledge, in spite of all that critics have said and may say, our infancy and childliood is the season of poetry. I think it was so in my own life, and I believe it is the case with all who possess any share of talent at all. I do not need to tell you that by poetry, I mean not writing verse, for who has not felt the most glorious thoughts impossible to express? and the great and ecstatic pleasure of writing or explaining fully an idea, I believe, is always accompanied with the consciousness that more glorious and beautiful ideas can be felt than expressed. Thus childhood may be the most poetical stage though no expressions show it, and though the child is imconscious itself. Now that I have thought over this subject, some reveries and strange recollections, like dreams that have long pleasurably haunted me, seem the relics of those poetical days, and I am sure at times I remember some of them. There is a strange fact, viz., that on the point of sudden drowning, or the like, the whole life of the individual, from his youngest days. 1832 37. DEATH OF TWIN-BROTHERS. 51 has passed before him, accompanied by an aptitude to com- prehend the whole ; and a writer has most beautifully imagined that the Book of Account of the Bible will be our own mind endowed with a power of contemplating all its past conduct and judging of its propriety. I fear this writing will be illegible. " Now, how delightful it would be to have an aptitude to understand all, given with a remembrance of the past ! I be- lieve the vision would be more beautiful than aught of the con- ceptions of maturer years. Do write me your opinion about all these points, and excusing the strangeness and illegibility of this letter (I intend to mend the last),- -Believe me, yours most affectionately, " George Wilson." The few religious allusions contained in those letters are interesting as the only guide by which we may trace his feelings on such subjects ; and they are the more so when we remember how strongly materialistic was the tendency of the Medical School at that time. One of his dearest early friends says — " I have a vivid remembrance of a long talk with him one day while he was in the Infirmary Laboratory, in the course of which he lamented the Sabbath service required of him there. This remark impressed me much, for at that time I fear I should have been glad of any seeming work of necessity which broke in upon the Sabbath rest." Once again was the household darkened by the shadow of sickness unto death. John, the gentle, loving twin-brother of George, had never been robust, and pulmonary symptoms had caused anxiety for some years past. Those now became so marked as to leave little ground for hope, and sonfe months of lingering illness brought him to his heavenly home. Blessed months they were to him, for in them he learned the wonderful secret how God can be just, yet the justifier of the. ungodly. Instead of murmuring at the wearisome days and nights ap- pointed him, he rather most gratefully rejoiced that time had thus been given to work out his salvation with fear and trem- bling. A friend already mentioned^ says of him, " He was a sincere and lowly Christian, and died in perfect peace, leaning ' Ante,-p. 20. 52 MEMOIR OF (JEORGE WILSON. CIIIAP. IT. upon his Saviour. I saw him the day before his death ; I shall never forget his look, it was full of joy and hope. Mrs. Wilson was in truth ' a mother in Israel/ for notwithstanding the bit- terness of her sorrow, she it was who directed his mind to the Cross, and supported and comforted him during the languor of disease by her presence and Christian conversation, never allowing her feelings to overpower her judgment, but always appearing composed and even cheerful." The contrast to his brother in personal appearance became more striking as his life approached its close. He had attained nearly six feet in height, and when, with his lustrous black eyes and raven hair, he was seen beside George's slender little figure and fair complexion, none could have guessed how close the tie was that united them. But two months before, John had entered liis eighteenth year. No record of George's sorrow at this mournful separation exists : it was a grief too deep for much expression. His friend, Wil- liam Nelson, remembers a walk they had together in this time of sadness, and George with great earnestness ^elling him there was no text in the Bible he thought so beautiful as this, " God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." As a child this had been a favourite, and was to have been the text of his first sermon had he ever mounted a pulpit, but now new beauty was seen in it. No wonder that in later years he writes, — " The other world and the shadow of death have been in my thoughts ever since I remember." To one or two intimate friends he frequently spoke tenderly of John ; and the only wish he was known to express regarding his burial was in conversation with a friend, " I should like to be laid beside my twin-brother." This desire has been fulfilled ; side by side they lie as in the happy dreams of childhood, safer now and happier than then ; for them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him, and they shall be satisfied when they awake in His likeness. How truly does the wise Jeremy Taylor tell us, that " the sadnesses of this life help to sweeten the bitter cu j of death." The winter Session of 1835-36 found George steadily at work. The lectures of Professoi-s Alison, Syme, and Home, were at tended, together with Anatomy in Mr. Lizars' class-rooms, and the Hospital wards. The determination to keep a diary, an- 1 1 il l«32-37. BEGINS TO KEEP A DIARY. 53 iiounced in one of his letters to Mr, Nelson, was fulfilled so far. The first entry was made before the year closed : it forms a preface to the volume, but, unfortunately, only an eighth part of the book is filled, the rest being blank paper. The entries are irregular, ten occurring in 1836, one in 1837, three in 1838, and the last one in 1839. " December 2Sd, 1835. — I have sat down this evening to com- mence what I have long thought of doing, the record of some of the curious thoughts and wild imaginings that pass through my mind during the course of the day. It is not to be a diary either of events or feelings ; that is to say, I have not the inten- tion of chronicling every circumstance that happens to me ; but I intend putting down in this book such of my thoughts as appear to myself worthy of preservation, either on account of their singularity or beauty. And the end I hope to gain by so doing is twofold : 1 hope to create for myself a store of images, and thoughts, etc., which have been the product of my own meditations, and which will form (independently of their pos- sessing no other claim to attention but the circumstance of having once been my own thoughts) a summary and conclusion of all courses of reasoning which have busied me ; and in this light will occasionally be of service, by affording the necessary conclusions, without the labour of going through the necessary preliminary steps. But the main object of my commencing is the wish to treasure up the prominent features of my mind as it acts at present, both to watch its progress, and to afford a fund of pleasing delight afterwards, in musing over the thoughts of my young days ; and it may appear strange to thee, reader, whoever thou art, that I should put any preface to a collection of my own meditations ! But though destined to be a book read by none but myself at most times, yet there are some who love me, and take a kind interest in me, to whom this shall not 1)6 denied, and there is one to whom it will be freely given ; but besides all this, it is possible and by no means improbable that no one will see it during my own life, but to whom it will be ot great interest when I am dead ; and though I might wait to see who shall be my survivors, and address them particularly, u MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. II. yet the possibility of my death being a violent and sudden one, preventing the arrangement of such things as this, has induced me to preface this book, that those into whose possession it may designedly or accidentally come, may perfectly understand the cause of its being written. " Several evenings ago I had a curious dream, different from any preceding one, both as to kind and degree. I awoke in the middle of the night surrounded by deep darkness and utter stillness. I had the most distinct sensation of having been dreaming, although the precise nature of the dream I could not recollect, I felt a strange indescribable sensation of great hap- piness, evidently a continuation of the feelings which had pos- sessed me immediately before awaking, and there was no evident cause to excite such lively feelings of delight. I had the sen- sation of being alone in some great hall or boundless valley, in a state of the utmost loneliness and stillness imaginable, yet pervaded with a feeling of intense happiness, and that happiness calm and deep, in no way partaking of the character of idle mirth or careless levity, but accompanied with a feeling of the deepest solemnity and reverential awe felt for some invisible being of great power, to whom I had some obscure idea I was indebted for the feelings of pleasure ; but my thoughts were so intent on reflecting on the curious condition of happiness, that I turned my attention very slightly to the cause of their occur- rence. I awoke, but this feeling of deep happiness did not immediately disappear, not indeed till it had been much the subject of reflection and analysis. " I have no remembrance of having such a dream before. My dreams are for the most part, in health, ludicrous, in dis- ease, frightful ; but in no way resembling the dream in question. It may be plausibly accounted for. On the preceding evening I had been reading, with feelings of great admiration, the ' Confessions of an Opium-Eater,' and in addition enjoying the conversation of a highly intellectual and imaginative friend, and retired to bed under feelings of great excitement, more especially my imagination called into play ; and it may be supposed that such a state of mind easily produced the effects in question, i.e., the dream. This would go to prove the truth of Dr. Macnish's 1832 -37. SACREDNES8 OF THE DEAD. 55 theory regarding dreams, that we dream all the night long, and that the reason we do not recollect them is because memory is not called into action. If that theory is correct, and I think it is, what glorious visions I must have lost ! what entrancing pictures of seraphic beauty and unimaginable glory !" On the next page is a morsel of Infirmary life, in writing which he seems to have been interrupted, for it closes abruptly in the middle of a sentence. Two pages have been left blank for its continuation, but the story was nevf r resumed. "January 5th, 1836. — I have this day had to perform one of the most melancholy duties which it has fallen to my lot, for some time, to perform, the burying of a stranger in a foreign land, in the cold grave, 'Tis about two months since I was struck, in going round one of the wards of the Infirmary, by the handsome contour of one of the patients, and the exceedingly beautiful forehead towering over a Grecian nose and well-formed features. I learned he was a German, a valet de place, who had been travelling from Aberdeen to Edinburgh, but in getting off the coach had had the misfortune to twist his leg at the hip. The pain and inconvenience were slight at first, so as not to prevent him travelling on ; but on reaching Edinburgh he be- gan to suffer more and more, and at last the pain and inability to move the limb which he experienced, increased so as to pre- vent walking, and he came into the Hospital. For some days the injury appeared a trivial one; he was cheerful, in good health generally speaking" At the death of this man, no friends were found to claim his body ; and the thought that his " beautiful forehead" should be touched by the dissecting- knife, George felt to be unbearable. He could not, however, undertake to be responsible for the ne- cessary expenses, so many demands did the patients make on his slender stock of pocket- money. The result of anxious pon- dering how his object might be accomplished was, that he searched out some Germans, waiters in one of the clubs in town, and telling them of their coimtryman's death, he assured them that, if they claimed the body, his stock of clothes would amply I 56 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IT. \ I! HI. i i refund all outlay. Their acquiescence was readily gained to this plan, and he and they were the mourners at the funeral. The gratitude of the men for this act of kindness was great. Not content with thanks, they said, " Oh, sir ! is there nothing we could do for you? would you like to see the club-room?" He did pay it a visit to satisfy them that it was in their power to give him pleasure. One memorial of the patient he retained, a German prayer-book, hoping at some future day to visit his native place, and communicate with his friends. This unprofessional cheating the dissecting-room of lawful subjects was not a solitary case. Where his love or interest was excited in patients, their bodies had a sacredness in his eyes, and at almost any sacrifice he would save them from what he deemed desecration. It may be supposed how much more strongly such feelings influenced him in reference to relations and friends, for whom his affection was so strong, and almost passionate in degree, as to surprise those who casually became aware of its nature. He was, in the days we now speak of, an impetuous, ardent, and often impatient youth, capable of any act of unselfish devo- tion to those dear to him, but abounding in strong and some- times unreasonable aversions ; yet, with a certain waywardness, there was mingled such a winning grace that it was a notorious fact that when he chose, consciously or unconsciously, to exert the power, no one could refuse him aught he asked. Indeed, throughout life his powers of " coaxing" were often called into requisition in cases where others had failed. Thus, while a student, he was applied to by ladies whom he knew, to try what could be done with an old woman in PortobeUo, a sea-bathing resort a few miles from Edinburgh. She was aided by a charit- able society, but for her own sake it was most desirable she should become an inmate of the hospital. All persuasions or entreaties to this effect, however, were in vain ; and so week after week had passed, till George went down, and to the un- bounded astonishment of the ladies, brought her triumpliantly to town in a cab, and deposited her, a subdued and willing cap - tive, in one of the wards. From this digression, we return to the private journal, as the best source of information in regard 1832 37. SPECULATES ON THE EMOTIONS. 57 to the inner life. The entries are more full in the first month of its existence than at any future period, though some of them are too sacred and personal to be made public. " January Wth. — Logicians have given much attention to the study of the emotions likely to be legitimately excited by certain occurrencQs, and on this point Dr. Abercrombie has most parti- cularly dwelt, and yet I cannot perceive the possibility of ever ascertaining or fixing what emotions should originate from known causes ; for in every individual these emotions must differ as well in kind as in degree, and there appears to me no subject better fitted than this to show, to prove, how much mind differs in different individuals, and how essentially it is the reflection of the raind on objects and events which is the greatest cause of joy and sadness, and delight and horror, and not those occurrences themselves, so much so that we often find that the contemplation of such objects awakes startling, striking, and vivid feelings, which these objects themselves did not excite, though apparently cal- culated to do so. There is a curious case illustrative of this in the life of the celebrated physiologist, John Hunter. This gen- tleman had among a collection of animals two leopards, which by some accident escaped one day. Hunter was aroused from his studies by their noise in endeavouring to get away ; and on running down, found them attempting to scale the walls of the court -yard. He courageously sprang forwards, grasped each by the neck, dragged them back to their den, and secured them ; but on retiring again to his study, he was so struck with the risk he had run, and the extreme hazard of the attempt, that the thought almost maddened him. The longer he thought, the more forcibly was he struck with the thought of what danger he had been exposed to. To adduce another case, in one of the autumnal months a summer or two ago, walking along one of the tributary streams of the Tweed, I was struck with the ap- pearance of an old castle near the river. This castle (the Drochill) being in excellent preseivation, I walked up to it, and after viewing its external excellences, began to examine the internal accommodation of the donjon-keeps. Looking into one, I saw it had a hard, firm floor, and jumped down through the window 68 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. II. to examine it. Unfortunately I had made a very great mistake as to the consistence, and instead of landing on solid ground, T descended to my knee in t mass of mud and green weeds and water. Immediately on feeling myself sinking, I made a con- vulsive spring at the window, and grasping the stone lintel with supernatural enr -ry, ra'Pf.\I cyselfwith the utmost e.v3e from this quii'^truie, altiiougli uiiasjissed by the despiiration of the mo- ment, I believe I could i)ut lave made iny way as I did. My first feeling on reacuing ,1 grn?: d was amazement, succeeded by involuntary laughter at the al;;ju 'd mistake of thinking a ditch of water terra jirma. With the utmost alacrity I immediately proceeded to remove the mud from my nether limbs, and an adjournment to the neighbouring river soon removed all the adventitious stuff I had acquired in my luckless leap. I laughed a good deal on thinking of it, and soon banished it from my mind, nor the whole of that day did I think of it. But at night while lying alone on my bed in utter darkness, when the circumstance came back on me, it awakened thoughts of a fear- ful description ; for the keep might have been fourteen feet deep, as well as three or four, and I might have sunk and died a most horrible death, and my mysterious disappearance must have been a source of great sorrow to my friends ; and when I thought of all these things, I was so horrified that I eagerly courted sleep to banish thoughts of so terrible a description ; and even yet, after the lapse of many a month, my heart throbs with unusual emotions, and the thoughts excited are still pain- ful and horrible. " The two preceding cases are curious in showing how false the common idea is, that when causes of joy or grief are over, the effects will cease ; but in all minds of any power, both will be immeasurably increased by reflection deepening their hues and heightening their effects, and producing deep and inefface- able impressions on the heart of the thinker. " There is another curious thing with reference to mental phe- nomena, which I note down here as very curious and interesting, that in poets and men of fervid, gorgeous imaginations, whose minds are essentially non-mathematical, and who do not parti- cularly care for sciences or mere matters of fact, their most i'l 1832-37. ' THE '^ST DAYS OF POMPEII.' 59 lal phe- [resting, whose It parti" lir most ■tplenclid and st'-'king productions have often been, not the result of thinking over the subject >> find what could be made of it, but from the subject, or some part of it, as in some way connected with it, striking their mind as being particularly curious or novel , ad the perception of that unique beauty has stimulated their mental powers, and led to their brightest effects. To take an instance, the talented and imaginative author of the ' Last Days of Pompeii,' has mentioned in the preface, that the idea of introducing a blind girl into that delightful book, was d'^rived from a remark of a friend that the blind would be the most advantageously situated of all when the pitchy darkne '» covered the devoted city, for to them it would make no differ- ence, and they could easily make their escape, when f. eji> gifted with sight would be confounded wiMi the unusual dark- ness. This remark, one of sterling beauty and origin^' ^v, seems to have struck the mind of Mi", Bulwer, and sciik deeply into his thoughts, and from the revolving in his mind of this simple remark, has given rise to a beautiful creation, the blind Thessalian flower-gatherer, Nydia, one of the most exquisite characters of the work ; and I please myself with imagining what delight Bulwer must have felt, when the idea shot into his mind, and he saw what a rich and beautiful chain of incidents he could elicit from the remark of his friend ; for whatever were his intentions in resolving to write The Last Days,' the introduction of the blind girl into his work has evi- dently had a great influence on the whole plot and characters of the book. And the above might easily be shown to be the case with all poets in whom the feelings of delight from such slight remarks as that alluded to, are among the most signal proofs of the intensity of their genius, and the excellency of their powers of creation, as well as palpably demonstrating how much their minds must differ from those of other men." " Jamiary 12th — "What a great and wondrous change comes over the mind emerging from boyhood to youth, at sixteen or seventeen. What a change spreads itself over every thought and feeling, and how does it deepen and render more intense every emotion. When I was a boy at school, my thoughts were brilliant, my wishes ardent, and my cares few ; and, lo ! now v> MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. II. If. what an altemtion, that which was liked is now beloved, ami that which was disliked is now abhorred. The pleasure of school-boy life was in a great measure the result of a conscious- ness of animal life ; the feeling of being a living creature, as Moore has beautifully expressed it in ' Lalla Rookh,' is sufficient to give happiness ; but when sixteen or seventeen has arrived, along with the striking and rapid development of the body, the mind also increases in all its capabilities. With what different feelings do I now look on objects calculated to excite strong emotions. What rapturous feelings of delight are excited in my heart by the contemplation of the ' Beautiful,' whether it be the beautiful in physical or mental conformation, or in com- position, elocution, poetry, or means to an end. Whatever can claim title to the tenn beautiful in my estimation, awakens in my heart feelings of uncontrollable emotion. How delightedly do I gaze on works of art or design, such as Martin's or Turner's, or the sculpture of the renowned masters, the Medicean Venus, or the Graces of Canova. How rapturously and passion- ately do I dwell on beautiful poetry, or the wild imagina- tive works of rare genius ; and how pleasing it is to contemplate God's provision in this world ! So great an ecstasy of happiness have I felt from the above-mentioned causes, that it seemed that death could be the only termination of feelings which were utterly opposed to the daily occurrences of the world. But in sad subjects as much are my feelings deepened in intensity : the cries of distress, the moanings of anguish, break on my heart far more acutely, and sink into my heart far deeper, than they ever did heretofore ; and the prospect of evil and misery, and sin and woe, affects me much more powerfully than it did "f old. In shoit, now my mind is much more developed than two years ago, and can ascend and descend much more widely than it could at that time, and my joy or sorrow is much more the result of legitimate causes than it was then." " JanvAiry litJi. — Wliat a horrible thing remorse is ! how fear fill in its influence over the soul ; clouding all the gay prospects that have been opened to its view ; throwing a black and gloomy shroud over the fair and beautiful, and tinging everj"- emotion of 1W2~37. * SONG OP THE BUND FLOWER GTRT..' «T the same ghastly hue, whether the mind may liave been turned to really proper or merely frivolous pursuits ; and how balefully and abhorredly gleams back on my own mind the recollection of the multitude of accursed sins I daily commit ; — my exceed- ing and ungrateful unkindness ; my wayward temper, and my excessive instability so much increased lately, that even the slightest noises are sufficient to enrage me. Would that I could, with Divine assistance, overcome, banish them, and turn the mental activity to more useful purposes." " July 2d. — Bulwer's ' Nydia.' — Every time I read the songs( in Bulwer'« ' Last Days of Pompeii,' I see something new to admire, and of these I would take for subject of notice at present 'The Song of the Blind Flower- Girl.' Beautiful creation! I have formerly referred to it while speculating on the causes which gave rise to the idea of its mention in his wildly beautiful book. This song, like the whole of the poeti;^^ in the volume, has evidently been the production of elaborate revision, added to a highly- cultivated imagination ; and it has that character of true poetry deeply impressed on it, that each repeated perusal brings to light new beauties and rarer excellences, and, as one has justly remarked, that idea must have something new, or striking, or beautiful which comes unbidden to the heart, and, beckoned by no effort of the will, presents itself to the mind when not wholly engrossed with some other subject. And often have the ideas of that song come t- my recollection, with their rare beauty and most affecting comparisons, almost making the tears fall in sympathy with that which, though in the present case the imagined declaration of a fictitious being, is so similar \o what many a one may or might have said with all justness and truth, that it must awaken as much compassion for the mournful state of the blind as could have been excited by that which was known to be the faithful record of a real occurrence. There is great art displayed in making Nydia, after referring to the Earth as the mother of the flowers, ask- as if in a lower voice, in parenthesis,-— ' Do they her beauty keep ? ' And \\ovi beautifully is the allusion to the Earth, as their parent, 02 MEMOIR OF OEOROE WILSON. CHAP, II. kept upl How much is the unity of subject preserved; how true to nature is the whole picture ! The fond mother represented sitting with her young children fast asleep in her lap, bending ' With her soft and delicata breath, over them murmuring low,' and kissing them so often, that, when taken from her, ' On their lipH lier Hweet kins lingorH ; " while yet, with that strange, curious paradox of the mind, ' She weeps, to Hee tl'.e yuung things grow so fair.' How exceedingly natural the last idea is ! how cons onant with the experience of mothers — of all mothers, I firmly llfTOve, who have ever fondly loved their offspring ! Yet it is a strange and most curious phenomenon of the mind, that the seeing beloved objects growing more endearing should make the heart over- flow with tears. It is too curious a subject not to have received the notice of those who are fond of metaphysical inquiries. Isaac Taylor, refemng to the subject, says : ' No position of the mind is more peculiar than the one it occupies when, at the same moment, the reasons of hope are irrefragable, and the motives of despondency are overwhelming.' {Saturday Even- ing). — And I recollect to have read, in 'The Confessions of an Opium-Eater,' a reference to this, in which De Quincey gives the only attempt at explanation of this phenomenon which I have seen. That writer mentions, that he could never walk out in a beautiful summer day, an(' see all nature pro- lific in life; the air, and earth, and watt'i'S teeming with myriads of animate beings; the hills crowned with forests, clothed with full foliage, and the vaUeys rich with the freshest verdure, — he could not look on all this without a deep feeling of moumfulness coming on him, which he conceives most truly to depend upon the antithesis between summer and the pro- lusion of life, and winter and the silence of death. And follow- ing out the subject, he conceives it a fixed law of the human mind, that if two objects stand in relation to each other, as things utterly different, the one will suggest the other. Thus does the wild profusion of life suggest the solitary silent loneli- ness of death ; and thus to the mother will the sight of her young babes, day after day growing fairer, awaken in her mind I8M-37. THOUGHTS ON THE RESURRECTION. 09 the dread of pain, and disease, and death ; and the fond, loving, hoping, and fearing heart will find relief only in the overflowing of the ' well of a mother's love,' which has so often dropped its scalding tears on the face of the fair young babe that reposed in quiet rest on its parent's knee." "July 10/A, Sabbath Evening. — I have opened the Bible this evening to read one of its most beautiful and striking passages, the 1 5th chapter of First Corinthians, containing the full de - scription of the resurrection of the dead, one of the most solemn and seriously interesting subjects that can occupy the mind. Solemn it is and must be to all, the idea that the period of our existence in this world is but a minute fraction of the period during which we are to exist as immortal souls. I have often thought with sadness on the dim, dark vista, down which the Ancients must have looked when they contemplated death. How must the mind have recoiled from the idea of annihilation ! A Catiline might deem such an ending no undesirable thing ; but would not the thought of it throw a cloud over the musings of Cicero or Plato ? How must the man of the world, the Epi- curean, have seen the locks clustering over his forehead becom- ing grey and lustreless, his eye becoming dimmer and duller, the smooth cheek becoming invaded by wrinkles, and care stamping his im-age on the furrowed brow ! Mournful must have been the spectacle, each new wrinkle, each additional grey hair adding to the despondency that already was invading the mind : the wine-cup and the evening libation might bring hope and joy to the soul, but the morrow would bring the aching head and the desponding heart, and bid all the woes stand forth in a more soiTowfui irray. This is no vain conjecture of mine : doth not Horace abound in multiplied reflections on the ' Inex- orabile Fatum ?' and i/i vain for him were woman's blandish- ments, and ' the spiced Falernian wine.' He tells in sorrowful strains of the inevitable end, and the visit that all must make to the black Cocytus. Sorrowful picture of this world's joys ceasing to delight the heart of one who knew no more enduring pleasures, whose most joyous prospect beyond this planet was extinction and annihilation. 64 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. II. " A curious task it would be, a pleasing and not unprofitable employment, as I have long thought, to see in what manner the old Eoman and Grecian philosophers looked forward to death, and met him ; how all the varieties of sects, both of the old times and the more modern ones, resigned the joys of this earth, and grappled with that invisible but terrible foe ; but it will require much reading in many languages, and the reflection of maturer years, before this can be attempted. " I turn, then, to the solemn description of St. Paul (passing over some symbolical tokens, which do exist in nature, till an- other time). In a strain of the most beautiful and impressive reasoning, the Apostle proceeds, step by step, to show that the resurrection of Christ from the dead was at least undoubted, and combating the doubts of those who questioned the reality of Jesus' rising from the dead, and yet preached eternal life, by showing that if Christ have not risen from the dead, then the resurrection of men cannot take place. If God did not, or could not raise to life his Son Jesus, he would not resuscitate human beings ; but, on the other hand, the evidence being complete that Christ was raised from the dead, becomes a point whence the necessity of our resurrection may be shown ; and he continues to describe the glories of Christ, summing them up by stating, that ' he shall reign till death, the last enemy, shall be destroyed.' He continues to show that the question is vain, ' How are the dead raised up ?' For the peculiar manner in which the dissi- pated elements of the human frame shall again form the perfect whole, we cannot explain or understand, nor is it of importance we should. We are told that the body ' is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ;' and that the change will be of a most important kind is shown by the 50th verse, ' Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, neither doth corruption in- herit incorruption ;' and this mystery the Apostle, eagerly enter ing into his subject, dwells more pointedly upon in the succeed- ing verse. Tor this corruptible must put on iiK raption, and this mortal must put on immortality ;' and finalij-, he concludes the course of reasoning by exhorting the brethren to be stead - fast, 'forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.'" 1832-37. CLASSES ATTENDED. 65 This is the last entry for the year 1835, The quotations are given, not for their intrinsic merit, but chiefly as showing the metaphysical bent of his mind at that age. Like the glass win- dow of a bee-hive, the journal reveals the workings that produce the beautiful results, permitting us to hear him thinking, as it were. The comments on 1 Cor. xv. derive interest from their being the first evidence of his pondering the subject of the Resurrection, which in after life was so reverently and earnestly studied. In some points regarding the resurrection-body, his views were different from any he met with, and he frequently expressed, up to within a few weeks of his death, a purpose of extending those of them already committed to writing, and em- bodied in an Address to Medical Students. The reading aloud of this chapter at his own funeral service had a touching signi- ficance for those of his friends present who knew his special love for it, and to whom it seemed inseparably associated with him.^ The Session of 1835-36 found him attending the lectures of Professors Alison, Home, and Syme, on the Institutes of Medi- cine, the Practice of Medicine, and Clinical Surgery, with those of Mr. Lizars on Anatomy. Attendance on the hospital wards was also continued as before. In May, the pleasures of botany were renewed under Profes- sor Graham. As a boy we have seen the attractions this science had for him, but many occupations had placed it beyond his reach for years. The blank page of a note- book for botanical extracts gives this entry : — "May \Mh, 1836, Sunday. — An annular eclipse of the sun took plac J this day : the next day I commenced my botanical studies seriously. G. Wilson, Monday, 16th." /^ain in • The following fragments of cr.nversaticju are pieseived on this subject. They are written in pencil, as, owing to his mother's inability to hear his voice unless raised to a high pitch, it was often his custom thus to converse with her :— " I have thought a good deal about the resurrection- body. It is every way a great mystery. Our bodies will not be like that of Lazarus, the old body over again ; nor like that after Christ's resurrection, but rather Ml rfejc/ce like his after his ascension. . . . The Saviour said he was not a spirit, but bad Itesh and bones, and he ate before his dis- ciples after his resurrection ; yet the hands were still pierced, and the spear-wound leading to the heart remained." E 66 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. II. The " prelections were delivered in a pleasant lecture-room in the Gardens, where the foliage of the luxuriant trees, which peeped in at its windows, served as window-blinds, and singing- birds took the place of the College bell."i The lectures are given at 8 A.M., and most students, ; ,ccustomed to late hours of retiring, find an effort required to accomplish the necessary feat of early rising ; but how pleasant are the remembrances of the return of George and a friend, as daily guest — Mr. Williamson, a fellow- apprentice and clerk in the Infirmary—to a late break- fast, very hungry, and full of fun, with flowers in their hands which had been used as specimens in the course of the lecture. They never could agree as to which of two routes was the shorter way home, and each holding to his own opinion, they parted at one point, and met in time to arrive together. The sight of a magnolia never fails to recall those merry breakfasts, from an image stamped ou the memory of a morning when that flower had been used for illustration at lecture. " To an extent unknown elsewhere in Great Britain, least of all, perhaps, in London, the energetic and genial Professor led his students, each summer's Saturday, on a botanizing march in some direc- tion across the countiy within a few miles of Edinburgh. In the autumn he headed a smaller party on a continuous excur- sion of a week or more, to more distant districts, such as Clova in Forfar, Sutherland, the Welsh Hills, or the Lakes of Kil- larney. The field-botanists who made those campaigns acquired a knowledge of plants, such as the closet study and the finger- ing of herbarium- mummies cannot give. They gained health to the bargain, and enjoyed not a little fun ; whilst now and then, like other campaigners foraging in lands not their own, a ciisus belli would occur, and the invaders be accused of for- getting that the fields in which they were reaping what they had not sowed, were the property of neutrals, who could forbid their presence if they pleased. The more thoughtless students alone gave occasion to complaints, which were rare. Genial and hearty though the Professor of the day— Dr. Graham- was, he could become the stern provost- marshal if occasion de maudod. liut the hearty welcome shown year after year to the '' 1 ' Life of Edward Forbes,' chap. iv. 1S32-3T. BOTANICAL CLASa 67 University botanizing parties, by those who have long received their visits, is the best proof that the landed proprietors and farmers, whose grounds were traversed, were willing to excuse a little youthful foUy, for the sake of the good which so largely preponderated."^ The advantages to the students were, however, very inferior to those offered now by the liberality an^l -nthusiasm of the present accomplished Professor, Dr. Ball*. . Instead of the hundreds of beautiful diagrams, the profusion of specimens, the carefully arranged microscopes, and the richly stored museum, " it was a dispute among the students whether Professor Graham, an accomplished botanist of his day, had six or seven diagrams to illustrate the structure of plants. A microscope was never seen in the class-room, and the majority of students coidd not have told with confidence what end of the tube should be put to the eye. No instruction was given in dissecting or examin- ing plants, further than by pulling them to pieces with the fingers, and examining them with a pocket lens. There was no subdivision of the class into sections, who, in convenient small groups, could be tutorially taught from the systematic arrange- ments of plants in the garden, or the rare exotics ia the green- houses. Finally, though every student was laudably encouraged by precept, prize, and example, to collect a herbarium, and preserve, a hortus siccus of the smaller plants, a mausoleum of the giants was unknown, and a museimi for them would have seemed to most like a sepulchre in the midst of a garden of roses, »2 George Wilson's hours this summer were very fully occupied ; but while it was his custom to enliven the family circle with details of each day's doings, humorously told, it was evident that some mysterious work was going on, to which no clue was given. At the close of the session, revelation was made in the following manly record of hopes disappointed. The letter is to his elder sister, then in broken health, and a guest at the Cumbernauld manse ; though without date or postmark, internal evidence loaves no doubt that it was written in 1836. ' ' Life uf Eilwiird Forbes," elinp. iv. a Jhi:i. 68 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. II. "Edinburgh, August 2 ' Life of Dr. John Reid,' p. 47. 1832 -37. PAPER ON IODINE. 81 gymnastic exercises. The members were training themselves for the bar, the pulpit, or the academic chair, if haply they might reach one or other of these high places, and could not always be discussing, 'Was Charles i. a martyr?' A novel topic was welcome to all classes of students, and it was dis- cussed by them in a novel fashion," ^ In summer the botanical class was resumed, but no special record of the earlier months of the session remains. In July, he says in a letter to his sister Mary, " My iodine inquiry is finished, although not half so satisfactory as I hoped or expected it to have been, and indeed so unsatisfactory that I declined g'ving Dr. Cogswell any report on the subject : he however in- sisted, and I have given him a paper which will be printed in a day or two.^ Meanwhile, till I am surgeon, I have forsworn chemistry, got my window and drawers'-head purified, which they will remain till some new project enters or rather leaves my head ; for there are plenty in it waiting only for time to develop themselves, and I hope with more success than the iodine." In the following month the journal once more tells a little, though only one extract will be made. "August 25th, 1837. — I have not written anything in this tome for a very long time ; in truth, I have been far too busy thinking and working to have time to record either my thoughts or my works ; and it is only because this evening I feel too much exhausted from bodily fatigue for anything else, that I have taken up this, and it is but to record feelings already suf- ficiently imprinted in this book. Since I poured out my feel- ings on this subject, my faculties have acquired a firmer and healthier tone, my energies have been directed to the zealous study of the physical sciences, and, above all, chemistry, in which I hope to distinguish myself, and my harassing connexion with the Infirmary has long since ceased. I have enlarged the circle of my acquaintance, and made some kind new friends, the Misses S— - — , kind, simple, artless, obliging. I hope for much pleasure from this society." Allusions to other ladies follow. » ' Life of Edward Forbes,' chap. iv. ' See * Prize Essay on Iodine,' by Dr. Cogswell, in the Appendix of which the paper referred to appears with the title, ' On the Decomposition of Water by Iodine.' 82 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. II. whose accomplishments added much to the enjoyments ox his leisure hours. His passionate love of music made it a delight to see the exquisite pleasure their performances gave to him. His manner to ladies whom he respected was peculiarly fasci- nating, and he was a very general favourite with them. Music seemed a necessity of his life ; even the acquirements of his younger sister, then a school-girl, were daily called into requi- sition, and the interval between dinner and tea thus filled up. He expresses the influence it exercised over him to his sister Mary in a letter : — " I know this, that I cannot by any word I eould learn from others, or by one of my own coining, or by any form or number of words, tell of the passionate love for music I have." In the autumn of this year the family circle lost two of its members b} his cousin John Eussell's marriage, and subsequent departure for Australia, and his brother Daniel's settlement in London. The loss of the brother who had been his daily com- panion for so long a time, was keenly felt by George. Their intercourse had been more like that of lovers than, any other. Commimity alike ^^ g'^ods f'ud thoughts had been theirs, and henceforward George, witn his usual self-forgetfulness, tried to contribute to the happiness of the absent one, in making letters do their best to compensate for the pleasures of confidential con- verse. To this we owe an abundant store of letters, not such as the penny-postage has introduced, but long, well-filled sheets of foolscap, written within and without. Before this parting occurred, the examination for the College of Surgeons* Degree was passed. Here is its announcement to Daniel, who was then from home on a visit : — '■n " 6th September 1837. " Mine good Brother and Friend, — Give me hold of your right hand ; there, shake it right stoutly, and congratulate me on having passed Surgeons' HalL Ah ! ha ! ha ! it is but two hours since the memorable metamorphosis took place, and here I am ready not merely to perform all kinds of bloody opera- tions, which is small matter, seeing diplomaless folks can haggle wonderfully well, but ready, prepared, and resolved to take fees, 1832-37. OBTAINS surgeon's DEGREE. 9> 1837. your lite me it two here jpera- laggle te fees, and be independent of the subsidies of any one. I took good care none of the good folks at home should know aught about it. I completely blinded them, and the more so, that in a Walk last night with Catherine and Mary, I took care to talk as much nonsense as possible, imagining that such a careless, thought- less-like piece of policy would completely mislead them as to my intentions. To atone for it, however, I had to sit up till one, spelling over all the mysteries of bones, muscles, nerves, etc. ; and all next (that is, this) day, I have been busy reading over half a book of chemistry, and the whole anatomy of the Teg and arm, from the shoulder and haunch to the fingers and toes ; and well it was I did so, seeing I was examined on the arm, and I was all the more expert at answers from having looked over it. At the eventful hour of haK-past one, having slipped out in my best coat and waistcoat, and taken your cane, that I might delude any of my friends with the idea I was about to wander out on a walk, carelessly looking into the jewellers' or toy shops when any one passed even on the other side, who I thought might recognise by my dress my intentions, all the while swinging your wonderful stick with as much composure as possible, though I believe it kept pretty good time with my heart thumping on my ribs, so much indeed, that * thinks I to myself,' I'm in love — with what, I leave you to guess, being one of those courteous writers who don't insult their readers by explaining everything, as if they were address- ing children. "I was ushered into the waiting-i-oom, a little plain room, which contained two fellows sitting in the window, and putting on a very big magnanimous look, I strolled down to a seat, on which planting myself, I kept stedfastly looking at them, that they might not look at me, a plan which succeeds as well with men as lions (see African travels). At last, however, tiring of staring, I fumbled in my pocket to see if I had any sort of book to while away the time. I dragged out of the recesses of my pocket Mr. Williamson's French Prayer-book, and for want of better, fell to reading Epistles, Collects, Prayers, and Psalms, all very much to my edification no doubt. At last, saturated with theology, the clock having struck two, I returned the book to 64 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. 11. its cell, and pulling off my gloves, laid them, hat and cane, aside. I now learned that one of the gentlemen at the window had passed the day before, and that one (comforting thought) had been rejected ; and I was awaked out of a chirurgical reverie by the other fellow singing out, ' Have you any tremors ?' 'No,' said I, and thrust my head up against the wr 11, and planted my feet firmly on the floor, that the said tremors might not appear. They were two good-natured fellows, and were busy telling me to answer as quickly as possible, lest they shoiild hear too dis- tinctly. Hem ! thought I, and the bell rang, and in I was vhered to the grandees, whole four inquisitors. There they fell to , shoved me Gregory, made me translate, twice write a pre- scription, tell them as much about drugs and cliemistry as would fill a pharmacopoeia, and so much about the anatomy of the arm, skull, neck, etc., the surgery of the same part, and the philosophy of broken skulls, and the method of coopering such casks, that I might rival Syme, Liston. or Lizars. ' You may depart, sir,' said the President. I was kept for a moment in a small side-room, and then pulled in to be told, ' that my exami- nation was highly creditable to me, and that they were very much pleased.' — Rejoiced in heart, here I am, your affectionate brother, George." To his cousin James, also from home at that time, he gives the same news, with some interesting additions. James Eussell, four years his junior, had distinguished himself at the High School, and given proofs of the genius which was afterwards developed with great promise. The brotherly love and compa- nionship between him and George, so tender and true through many years, was now beginning to be established. " September 9, 1837. " My dear Cousin, — I am breaking through the acknowledged rules of epistolary correspondence in writing, for all learned judges of such matters teach, that he who departeth from home to sojourn in a foreign laud oweth the first letter to those at home ; for the most cogent of all reasoning, that he who is left at home has but the accustomed round of everyday duties, 1832 37. EXAMINERS HIGHLY PLEASED. Sd High 1837. irledged learned home lose at is left I duties, amusements, and pleasures to discourse upon , whereas ho, the vagabond, has travelled by land and sea, has voyaged on the great deep, and been a peripatetic on the solid earth, and visited a strange town, and seen many new sights, and made new com- panions, and, in short, Ima entered into a new circle of folks, things, and circumstances, which should yield to an inquiring mind, a watchful eye, an eager attention, and a prying spirit, the elen. its of many a joke, and many a story and circum- stance ; so that I shall hold you in the highest degree culpable, if you do not afford me a rich, well seasoned dish, compounded ' de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis.' '* Yet although I plead the excuse of travelling in the same home circle, like the mill- horse, and therefore in sight of a horizon whose every prominent object has already been often scanned, yet, in truth, one little change has passed over my out- ward circumstances and inward feelings, sufticiently important to deserve a short notice in this my epistle. On the 8tli day of September, which was last Wednesday, I, your most worthy cousin, appeared before that dreadful, inquisitorial tribunal, the College of Surgeons, and having been duly examined, sounded, and tried as to my proficiency in the arts of medicament-com- pounding, limb-dissecting, and wound-curing, was duly declared,- pronounced, and registered ns one in every respect fitted to bear the honourable title of Chirurgeon, commonly called Surgeon. I found the tribunal of a far less terrible cast and character than I at all anticipated ; in truth, I should have liaced it long, long ago had I dreamed it could have been half as easy. A little bit of Latin to read, which was soon despatched ; a cough-mixture to prescribe, which was equally soon got over; and a volley of questions on all sorts of pharmaceutioal and chemical subjects, followed up by a round of subtle interrogations on the mysteries of anatomy and the grave matters of surgery, and I was thrust into a little closet, to be immediately dmwn out again, and told that my examinators were highly pleased with my appearance, and that my examination was highly creditable to me. And I, most highly pleased, scampered home to give the welcome and most unexpected news ; for I had taken great care they should not have the dimmest notion of my intentions, and I had been i i i 86 MEMOIK OF GEORGE WILBON. CHAP. n. quite successful in the means I adopted for blinding them as to my real projects. I have, of course, tossed away to the furthest and most dusty comer of my room those grim and unwelcome volumes, which I had too long been under the necessity of brooding over, till I could have found in the dark the passages referring to the various unwelcome topics. " Now that I am released, I shall turn to more congenial topics, more especially to my beloved chemistry, in which I hope and trust to make a figure ; and I have some leeway to make up in literature, both ancient and modern, which I trust I shall be able to compass. " I have heard with pleasure of your having taken with you your classic works. They cannot fail often greatly to interest at times, when weather and other contingencies prevent you en- joying those delights which are more properly rural ; for in spite of all poets, novelists, and romancers delight to sing of concerning the pure, holy, delightful, and inspiriting beauties and pleasures of the country; and though most merchants, tied down from day to day to their mercantile pursuits, love to ' babble about green fields,' and to sigh for running brooks, and secluded glens, and ro- mantic dells, and cloud-capt mountains, and clear pellucid lakes, and frowning cliffs, and gloomy precipices, and all the other romantic, picturesque, and exquisite pleasures of the country, — yet it is very possible, as I believe must be the confession of every one who has often spent a week or two in the country, to spend a most stale, flat, and unprofitable day, in spite of all the elements of the sublime being within sight and easily accessible. " In truth, we are a most discontented race of shuttle-cocks, who are unhappy with staying here or there, mountain or val- ley, hill or dale, river or lake, town or country, but must be driven about, now east, now west, now north, now south, in a restless, wandering mood, which is ever thirsting after some un- attainable good, some unrealizable project. The temple of Alad- din was bereft of all pleasure in his eyes, although built of the most gorgeous materials, gold, silver, and precious stones, ivory, ebony, and scented woods (for the full inventory of which see the 'Arabian Nights Entertainments') because it lacked the roc's egg, which it was thought would be the crowning pinnacle of mi 37. EDWARD FORBES AND HE TWIN- STARS. 81 of glory and perfection ; and Hainan thought hia pleasure in- complete because Mordecai hung not on gallows thirty feet high, and Alexander found this round, spacious globe far too little for him. That was Alexander the Great : what says Alexander the Little ? I daresay he finds room enough to move about in Stirling. Give my be it wishes and hopes for his happiness, comfort, and renown, and for youi-self, be sure you read your classic books. I left the liigh School just when I was becoming alive to the beauties of what had formerly been looked cii merely as tasks. You have been more fortunate, and you ought not to lose your opportunity. As it is, I find much delight in Cicero, Lucretius, Seneca, and in a modern writer, Sir T. Browne ; but you are a far better classic than I am, and must find far greater delight in having a more extensive and varied round of pleasures than I can at all command. "Although I have been gravely proving the cc'mtry not Paradise itself, yet I may be soon there myself. Perhaps you shall see me at Stirling in a week or so, on my way to Callan-^ der. I am not sure, however. Write soon ; see you address to G. Wilson, Esq., Surgeon, or the other George Wilson will get the letter. — And believe me, your affectionate cousin." un- dad- If the Ivory, [h see the Inaele The journal will be allowed to speak for itself before we pass to a new epoch of life, bidding farewell to scenes wherein the nucleus of all future greatness has been year by year forming itself. "The tastes of most men can be traced back to the habits of their youth, and their habits are, in a great measure, moulded by the circumstances, physical as well as intellectual, in which that youth has been passed. . . . The youth whose hours of relaxation are spent in the presence of those magnifi- cent prospects so rife and many around us, carries with him in after -life the memory of their beauty and grandeur." So said Edward Forbes, in his Inaugural Lecture on entering his Pro- fessorship in the Edinburgh University ; and as twin-stars revolving around each other, alternately coming forth in bright- ness, he and George Wilson have in this chapter thrown light on each other. Once more we boiTow words that are wonder- fully appropriate to both of them : " The dew of his youth was I 88 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP, 11. still upon him. The corrupting breath of the world had not tainted his freshness, or its cold touch chiUed him. His eager eyes looked forth on a rich and boundless future. Young men of genius and tastes like his own had become his attached friends. Seniors of the highest repute welcomed him as a pupil. Libraries and museums of the greatest value were open to him daily. His shortest walks were through the streets of a city which delighted his artist-eye, and had a strange fascina- tion for him."^ "September 19th, 1837. — I have entered on the third week since I passed the portal of Surg'^ons' Hall, and am long tired of my dignity, if, in truth, I ever esteemed it one, which I never much did. In my sight it was rather an ordeal to be imder- gone than a triumph to be achieved, and I looked forward to it for a long time with a feeling of carelessness, which prevented me from seriously preparing for it ; and in addition, through the bygone summer, I was so thorougLIy occupied with chemical speculations, that anything in the shape of anatomy or surgery filled me with disgust. If anybody gave the degree of chemist I would not mind how stiff an examination I got, and proud I certainly should be of such a title. As it was, I had resolved, if rejected, for ever to give up the notion of Surgeons' Hall, and I believe my friends would have striven in vain to have induced a second trial, although by such refusal I should certainly have dcpii.<.J myself of a very beautiful patent lever, jewelled and caped silver watch, which my good, kind uncle Peter had in reserve for me. Fortunately I passed without any difficulty, in truth I may say with flying coloui-s, for I only missed a few trivial questions, and they made me a flattering speech, when I was dubbed surgeon. In short, I found it a great deal easier than I at all anticipated ; yet I never felt more distrust in my own powers, more want of confidence in my abilities, than just before I stepped into the examining chambers. I felt a strong wish to walk home and give up the idea of confronting them, and the great probability of rejection for a thousand reasons arose before my anxious and troubled mind. The inordinate * ' Life of Edward Forbes,' chap. iv. HAP-II. llQS-37. TEEUNGS OF THE . TING. 8d ad not a eager ig men btached a as a re open ets of a •ascina- d week flg tired I never under- ird to it evented through ihemical surgery chemist proud I esolved, all, and linduced ly have lied and had in sulty, in a few when I 1 easier in my lan just strong them, ireasons irdinate palpitation of my heart, which up to the moment of my enter- ing the room had troubled me exceedingly, ceased as soon as the first question was asked, and I was calm and collected throughout the whole scene ; so let it pass. It has at least, I think, given me a clearer view of the sad state of feelings which a dying man may be believed to have, especially one who has to prepare for eternity. The fond hope, the eagerly entertained expectation, the gloomy doubt, the oppressive despondence, commingling in the mind, and shifting its purposes in the most fantastic, lawless, and painful fashion, were, I doubt not, the very same in kind as those which the anticipation of immediate dissolution must produce, though, of course, greatly different in degree. I felt that abandoning of the mind to one subject, that thorough occupation of it by the one engrossing idea, which has been so beautifully described by J. B. Patterson as the charac- teristic of the dying, even when they appear most delighted with the attention of their friendly ministrants. I wish to ex- press what I am afraid I have not done sufficiently, that I con- ceive the doubts of fitness to undergo an examination are exactly of a kind with the dread of an insufficiency of prepara- tion for the tribunal of the Almighty, which haunts the mind of the most holy and Christian saint." " September 20th. — I am not in a scribbling humour to-night at all, but anxious to write down a thought or two before going off to the country, so as to leave a clear way for marking down whatsoever of interest may happen thero. . . . Monday, saw some good ladies at tea with us, and, fortunately, thanks to a long post-prandial walk, I was merry and frolicsome. I greatly edified Miss B. by proving how many quaint and passed-over virtues repose in the folds of a brown coat. She answered me gravely in my own fashion, but soon gave in, in a fit of glee- some laughter. What I said of the coat I cannot now remem- ber. I never can remember what I have said when I ruminate over a night of fun and folly, and as for sitting to coin, or gravely to rehearse -a joke, I never dreamed of it. .Anything of that kind is with me the unbidden impulse of the moment. Yet I feel the love of the thing, and the power of excelling daily increasing, and I don't see any good reason for nipping it in the 90 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. JL bud, SO I'll let it blow and become a full-blown flower, if it will However, I contrived to say a great deal of apposite nonsense concerning the said brown coat, and sundry other things, and we laughed right merrily ; but the great happiness of the even- ing to me was K/s most beautiful music. I really never heard any one sing with so much taste and expression, or seem so thoroughly to enter into the spirit of the songs. There is some- thing especially thrilling, and, to my ear, most beautiful, in the full roimd tone in which she pronounces the ' again,' in the concluding line of Mrs. Hemans' affecting duet, 'The Child's First Grief,' which, sung by two sisters whose voices most sweetly harmonize, affects me more than anything else I have heard this long time. ' The Last Links are Broken,' has gotten hold of my inmost soul, prompting me to give utterance to the beau- tiful sounds and beautiful words which compose it, as yet in- effectually, for though the whole is present to my inmost ear, I cannot speak it with my tongue. . . . Although I do think the forte of the female mind is moral greatness and purity, in which, in spite of the silly, base, and groundless hints of liber- tines, they very far excel the rougher sex, and for the possession of which I venerate the sex in general, and many individuals in particular, yet I meet with scarcely one lady in ten or fifty who has suificiently cultivated her natural intellectual powers. Excuses and explanations may be given, which I most willingly admit. Ladies moving in the highest and least embarrassed circles have so many domestic duties for papa, mamma, old and young brothers and sisters, that they never can steal time enough to study. Some good ladies admit the intellectuality of their own sweet selves, but waive apologies for its non-advance- ment as absurd, because unnecessary ; while some of them, and these often the most amiable and clever, disbelieve the excuses, because they deny the intellectual power. I know many young ladies who honestly and modestly shrink from the study of a science, which yet they confess to be inviting and interesting, which I am sure they could completely master. Far be it from me to imagine that there is not a cardinal difference between the male and female mind ; equally distant from my thoughts be that fantastic foolery, the modem ' march of intellect' system. 1833 37. LADIES NEGLECT MENTAL CULTIVATION. 91 ngiy assed and time tyof fence - and uses, oung of a ting, from I do not wish to see young ladies blue -stockings, t.e., female pedants, or to see one grain of their high-toned morality and purity lost, to give place to literature or science ; yet I believe they would add to their own happiness by affording the mind a more extensive and interesting circle of subjects for thought, did they study, with some little care, our litterateurs and scien- tific men. But mothers wiU keep their daughters scouring and dusting, and sewing and mending, and darning stocking-heels, to teach 'five hundred points' of housewifery; and to that every moment of time and study is given, because, forsooth, mamma read no books when a Miss (except stolen novels) but on a Sunday, and cannot see why the daughters should need what the mothers had not ; and this absurd ' stocking-darning system' is pursued by women of strong, active, intellectual minds, of which mismanagement I have seen too many examples. But this winter shall see me do my utmost to sug- gest an improvement among my own small circle. I must not forget, when talking of ladies, to make honourable mention of Miss , a pretty young coquette, who promises to have beauty, handsomeness, and nonchalance, in equal doses. She is a happy young girl of some fourteen or so, already bent on making conquests, and resolved to lead a whole host of discom- fited suitors at her chariot. ' May I be there to see ! ' but only to see, and not to feel her coquettishness." «> QfMl.. ' MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IJI. CHAPTER III. A YEAR OF STUDENT LIFE IN EDINBURGH. " The pleasure and delight of knowledge and learning, it far surpasseth "• all other in nature."— Bacon's ' Advancement of Learning.' A LETTER to Dr. Niven, his friend and companion alike in school and college life, gives particulars as to the purposed re- laxation from labour mentioned in the close of last chapter. Ten days only were available, as his connexion with Dr. Christison's laboratory, as assistant, was about to begin. That the most was made of those few holidays, will be evident from the notice of the excursion in letters which follow, and speak for them- selves : — To John Niven, Esq., Willow Grove. ;j^ "September 20, 18ZS.^ " My dear Friend, — I very much regretted my being out on the evening you called before you went to the Highlands. In truth, I am so seldom out at untimeous hours, that I do feel annoyed when a chance call finds me out wandering ; and I should have called the next day to testify my anxiety to wish you well in your northern journey, had not all my doubts, and dreads, and fears, been occupied with the approaching horrors of Chirurgeons' Hall. In truth, I made no visits anywhere, dreading to be asked anything about the unwelcome subject. Now, however, I am relieved from all apprehension, ' from the consummation so devoutly to be wished' having left me learned » The date of tb's letter ought to he 1837, as the facts it contains shoAs-. Mistakes as to the year are of very frequent occurrence in early letters, characteristic of the inaptness for numbers in George Wilson. When there is no doubt as to the correct date, it will henceforth be altered without referring to the blunder. 1 1M8. AN EXCURSION IN PROSPECT. 93 and gifted in diplomacy (forgive the pun) ; and I should have been delighted to have accepted your kind 'nvitation to Peni- cuik, where I know I should have been very happy. A splendid equestrian I doubt not I should have become, undor the foster- ing care of you for my Ducrow, and though I might not have learned to stand on my head on the saddle, or play a somersault over a horse's back, or drive four horses in hand d> la courier, yet I think you might have turned me out, albeit little versed in the mysteries of horse-flesh or the delights of the saddle, at least fitted to trot gaily, perhaps to canter, assuredly to gallop ; and your uncle, too, I am sure, w^ould have been kind and obliging, and I should have relished the place, society, and country abundantly, had it been in my power to accept your kind in- vitation. I have been most earnestly invited, however, by friends in Stirling, Callander, and Glasgow, to visit them, and I propose setting off to-morrow for Stirling, then to Callander, Loch Katrine, Loch Lomond, etc. I am fortunate in having friends in all these places, and I am the more anxious to set ofif immediately, as I must be home by the first of October to begin with Christison at his laboratory ; and I have, in addition, some most important projects of my own, which in truth cannot well stand over longer, for I must look forward to the next winter as a Tory busy one. I had hoped to have had Mr. Williamson with me, but being now completely enrolled as clerk in the Infirmary, Mr. Lizars won't let him go, at least he strongly advises him to stay at home ; for it would appear that he got his situation with some difficulty, and had better not be very ready making requests till he has been longer in office. So I shall be deprived of his most pleasant society, and shall not enjoy my journey half so much as I should do had I the company of my ci-devant fellow-apprentice, whose merry, happy joyousness would much have beguiled the weary minutes, which more or less beset even the most delightful journey, and which I cannot expect any more than most other folks to avoid. . . . Now, though I cannot have the pleasure of accompanying you this autumn, I may perhaps find you disengaged, and as willing to put yourself about for me next season. Honestly, nothing could delight me more, and nothing would delight my friends, espcr 94 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. cially my mother and sister, than my going Penicuik-ward and becoming a bit of a cavalier dragoon ; and I shall feel sincerely glad of your company and friendship this winter, for I have just parted with my brother, who, having gone away to London to push his fortune as well as he can, has left us melancholy and disheartened, and me especially, who never loved any one so fondly as my brother, and will with difficulty find any one to supply his place or cheer my solitude. I pro- pose, and I hope you will assist me in what I imagine will excite in you as much mirth, though not perhaps as much indignation, as it did among my good sisters and mother, viz., to get a dog to be my companion, and in some degree break up the tiresome solitude of a study. It won't be to your liking, but I'm going to tax your friendship to get me none of your great, big, black- and-white Newfoundland dogs. My room is too small, and my tastes too domestic. What I should like to get hold of is a wiry, fierce, little terrier. I think I've got something of the terrier in my own perverse disposition, and I could love one and get on very nicely with it. I had the company of one for two years ; a handsome, rough, little, rat and cat hating fellow, who showed great affection for me, which I did my best to recipro- cate, till some wretched scoundrels about Silver Mills poisoned the poor animal, and ' I was left lamenting.* I can't get on studying alone ; I must have some one beside me. Now, my sister can't come, for my cousin would be left companionless, and my two young sisters are inseparable, and a great old skull on my mantelpiece is not the most engaging of companions ; and I think I should be greatly the better of Phantom, for such shall be his name, with whom I could amuse myself in my idle moments." " Glasgow, Tuesday, Sept. 26. " My dear Mother, — I sit dowu in a great hurry to write you a few lines before leaving Glasgow, although I trust the arrival of Mrs. Thomson has abundantly informed you of the manner in which I spent my time in Callander, so that I. shall say nothing, as I might merely recount to you things already suffi- ciently well known. I started from Callander at five o'clock 1837 3& WALKS TWENTY-EIGHT MILES. OS 1 26. lyou rival mer say iffi- lock on Monday morning, and, with the crescent moon for my only light, journeyed along, singing and musing and meditating. In an hour the first slant rays of the sun began to peep above the horizon, and I had the pleasure of seeing his illustrious majesty the sun rise in all his glory, — no small pleasure to me, who can- not recollect to have ever seen him before in similar circum- stances. I arrived, after a most delightful walk, at the head of Loch Katrine, nothing doubting that I should find a boat ready to receive me, and waft me along the lake, but although boats and oars lay about in abundance, there was no appearance of rowers. Imagining that the boat had already gone, although I was quite in time, I walked along the banks of the lake, hoping to make up to them if passed, and to be taken up if they came after. As it afterwards appeared, they sailed after me, and I saw them slowly sailing up the loch, but though I halloed and shouted, and waved my handkerchief, they either would not or could not hear me, and I had to tramp on along the sides, which as they form every here and there wide bays, make the land journey much longer than the way by water. I pushed on, however, at a rapid pace, keeping almost up to them, till I came to the last two miles, where I lost my way and wandered in a wood*. Skirting the waters, having no notion at the time that I was wrong, I pushed on, though I saw no road, and after a very perplexing, weary journey, now clambering over rocks, now climbing over walls, now creeping through rough hedges and palings, often uncertain which was the right path, but, contriving to fall in with the footpath, without very miich difficulty, I at last threaded my way, wearied out and exhausted, to the ferry- man's house, — for the road runs along the east side of the loch, and you must cross to gain Lochlomond.^ Here I earnestly craved a drink of butter-milk, but the woman had none. She at once, however, sent out her pretty little girl to get water at my request, but, meanwhile, milked her cows, and brought me a bowl half full of milk and warm water, which I most greedily drank, and was thereby greatly refreshed ; in truth, it was no doubt the best thing I could have taken ; and when, in answer to some inquisitive questions of her fine manly husband, I said I was a surgeon, she so simply said, ' And to think that I should ! 96 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. is.fr be giving you advice!' I assured her I knew them as being very skilly folks, and that I was half a Highlander myself, and I at once craved her husband to sing me a Gaelic song. While crossing, he told me he ' couldna sing' iinless he ' had a glass o' whisky ;' but as I had every reason to believe there was none in the loch, my only accessible place for liquors, I had no means of making him musical ; and so, with stories about Eob Roy, and jokes, and the like, we sat and talked while he rowed me across. I had still five miles to walk, which was no cheering prospect to me, who had already walked twenty-three ; and, in spite of my invigorating drink of warm milk, I crept very laggingly on. The road was a dull, sterile, rugged thing, only, every now and then, I saw the party which had passed up the loch, moving with ponies. I should have been very glad to have made up to them, and should certainly have treated myself to a pony's back had I reached them. A last, jaded and exhausted, I arrived at the small clachan of Inversnaid. After resting, I took off my collar and washed my face and hands in the cool- ing waiors of Lochlomond, along whose surface I very speedily was moving in a comfortable little steamer. I was much too weary to enjoy it as I should have done, had I been re- freshed ; but it is truly a magnificent (that's the word) loch, especially at the west end, where I was greatly delighted with the fairy-like f ppearance of the scattered islands. "We make a work about our Arthur Seat and Calton Hill, and our Dudding- ston and Lochend, — the market here is quite glutted with them. You might tumble Ben-Ledi or Ben-Lomond and fill up half a dozen lochs, and the only effect would be to bring into view twice as many more of hills, lochs, straths, guUeys, peaks, and I know not what. I am just going off to Dunoon ; and with the kindest love to all, I am, your affectionate son, " George." " To Miss Mack ay, Glasgow. October 6, 1837. "My dear Miss Mack ay,— Having finished the perusal of some tomes treating of certain recondite philosophical and lite- rary subjects, I gladly sit down to dispel all your anxious fears 1837-38. ENTEBS DR. CHRISTISON'S LABORATORY. 91 B37. ll of fiite- rears regarding my safe arrival from your most hospitable city. Some foolish people would at once have called for pen and paper, and before their boots were fairly pulled off, have indited a scanty unreadable scroll, purporting to tell that the steamboat had not blown up, nor its engine gone wrong, nor itself come in colli- sion with another, nor the writer fallen overboard, etc. Then reverting to travels ly land, the scrawl would go on to say, that the horses did not run off, nor the coach tumble over a cliff, nor the traces break, nor the wheels suffer any mishap, a id so on. But I am far too much of a philosopher to write any such non- sense, nor am I about to bore you to death with a melancholy recital of my being almost frozen to an icicle, and nevertheless nearly tumbling off the coach with sleep. I have fortunately forgotten these trivial and temporary inconveniences, and the reminiscence of them would be of no possible use to either of us, so I. meddle not with it any more. After the sobering influence had duly improved me, I set off on Monday morning to the College, and the fii-st person I beheld was my most respected instructor. Dr. Christison. After shaking hands with the worthy professor, and making inquiries after his health, I whipped off my surtout, and on with my old coat, — I say my old coat, but it stands in the same relation to my back, that Elijah's mantle did to Elisha, being the legacy of a departed (to the Continent) friend, — and I fell to a very curious case of attempted poisoning, by putting vitriol in tea, in the analysis of which I occupied the whole of the first day. Since then I have been engaged up to the period when I write, with two deli- cate processes for the purification of Sulphuric Acid, one for the more accurate preparation of Tinctures of Barks, not to mention the analysis of Laudanum, and assistance in opening a box from Ceylon, containing roots, fruits, leaves, etc., from that most interesting place, sent by a lady for Dr. Christison's Museum. " Situated as I am just now, — buried in the difficulties of several of the physical sciences, changing from pharmacy to chemistry, from chemistry to physiology, or taking a refresh- ment in the subtilties of logic, or the elegancies of rhetoric, — you must not expect my epistle to be very rich in what may O i 1 I 98 MEMOIB OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. in. either amuse or instruct, the more so, that I have lost my brother, who sharpened every faculty as ' iron sharpeneth iron.' I have no one now to laugh and joke with ; or, if a feeling of lonesome - ness comes over me, and I cast my eyes round for a familiar countenance, they fall on a grim, grinning battered skull, sur- mounted by two cross-bones, the adormnents of my mantel- piece. Nevertheless, I am not to be outdone in grinning -by a skull, and when any odd idea comes from the caverns of my rest- less head, I grin and show my teeth, and a great many more too, in a far more joyous fashion than the said lifeless cranium can do. " Whatever the reason, medical men are never more at fault than in reasoning on their own disorders. I seein to have bid good-bye to a considerable portion of my senses, not to talk of bottles, messages, appointments, and articles of dress, forgotten, misapplied, or neglected ; of a letter put into the post-office marked paid, thrust into the common receiving aperture, and safely lodged at the bottom, before I remembered that I had written in great characters the ' paid ' so cheering to the receiver, but in this case, destined only to raise the compassion, or awake the indignation of the young lady, its recipient, at the melancholy poverty of the writer. .... " Now I think I know the reason of all this mental absence, and as you are a discreet young lady, I shall not scruple in con- fidence to tell you. I am over head and ears in love, and the object of my attachment so thoroughly engrosses my thoughts, that I have scarce a speculation to give to anything else, and though I have wooed her steadfastly, she, with the coyness and fickleness of her sex, gives me but doubtful signs of a recipro- city of affection, and I feel that I make but small progress in her esteem ; and eager as I am to ingratiate myself with her, and high as I should esteem the honour of having a most thorough acquaintance with her, I know that many of my friends would imagine her a very unfit companion, and I can conceive you saying that although a lady might occasionally converse with her, a familiar intimacy would be most undesirable, and I believe you to have more than common charity in such a case as this. Nevertheless, she is descended from a noble and influ- 1837-38. CHEMISTRY HIS LADY-LOVE. 90 ential family of very at'cient oi.gin, which can show incontes- table proofs of haying flourished in the dark ages, under another title, and which received great additions • its power and influence, under the reigns of Elizabeth and James I, under the Chancellorship of Lord Bacon. If you wish to see the birth, descent, and fortunes of the family, I would refer you not to Burke's Peerage, but to the Encycloptedia, where, under the article ' Sciences,* you will find a minute history of the family ; and if you ask me which of the daughters has awakened in me such admiration, I reply, the ' Right noble the Science of Che- mistry,' who in my eyes is by far the most attractive and interesting of the family. In case a kindly feeling to the writer should incline you to know more of this noble house, and its collateral branches, I would refer you to a work written by a lady, deeply versed in this branch of Heraldry, Mrs. Somerville's ' Connexion of the Physical Sciences.'" Jnverse and I I a case influ- We shall now be greatly indebted to the series of letters, addressed to his brother, just settled in London, for information as to his emplojmaents and aspirations. Speaking of this cor- respondence, Daniel says : — " London, to one crossing the Border for the first time, had perhaps greater novelties then even than New York or Washington at a later date, and some of the allu- sions in one of his first letters are in repl^ to an account of its marvels. Amongst these, one of the oddest, to my unpractised eyes, was the public display of the undertakers' establishments, with miniature cofiins and all the paraphernalia of death, so totally imknown in Edinburgh, where, excepting an ambiguous sign-board, labelled 'Upholsterer and Undertaker,' there is nothing to indicate the fact that the last sad rites supply a pro- fitable trade to the craft of undertakers. In total contradistinc- tion to any such decorous euphemism, the London tradesman engraves a couple of coffins on his card, and presents it to you with a courtesy that clearly says how happy he will be to find you speedily requiring his services ; and in full accordance with this he paints boldly on his signboard, 'Funerals performed I'" To a description of these and other London wonders, Greorge thus replies, with a running pun on the names of two London 100 MEMOIR OF OEOROE WILBON. CHAP. III. 1K)7 publishers, with whom his correspondent hail then some trans- actions:— "My dear Daniel, — I had just awaked from a tolerably sound and refreshing sleep, at the excellent and philosophic hour of half-past seven, when in bounced into my room, mother, holding in her hand an opened letter, assuring me she had but read one sentence. She proceeded to go over it again for my satisfaction. I, still rubbing my eyes, and not very sure where I was, patiently ensconced behind my curtains, sat trying to collect my scattered ideas, and make out what mother and you would be after, (those horrid steel pens, I could not write a kind letter with them!) till my attentive ear felt the word ' Moon,' which, coupled with the circumstance of my having watched an eclipse of the said luminary the evening before, and joined to the fondly-cherished belief that the word struck had been kindly passed over by mother, explained the whole mys- tery. Your conduct in the omnibus, which you so unblushingly relate, justified my fear of your being moon-struck, and I needed only to read your cautions against communicating the news to feel satisfied. There is no surer proof of lunacy than suspicions entertained of intimate friends. My only consolation and com- fort is that it was into the power of the 7noon, and not that of the graves, that you had fallen ; an accident which the treatise on cofiBn-making in your last epistle to me made me dread had befallen you. By the by, what a very odd and amusing thing, of a sort, would the entry-book of one of these London performers be. You can imagine some scamp who had spent his time in kicking his heels in the air, like the donkeys, leaving in his wiU, ' Item, that my coffin be made roomy at the heel end ;' or a gouty old gentleman, who felt very doubtful how he should reach the Styx without his sticks, and feeling «lso convinced that in case of old Charon getting surly, and ' couping* the boat, the said stilts would be of great use, might append a codicil addressed to the undertaker, * Item, that room be left for my crutches;' and as for those unfortunate beings whom Campbell used to characterize by his strangely expressive phrase, as able to act Richard iii. without stuffing, I know what they would say, perhaps, 'Wanted an Italic S coffin, to be 1M7-38. BIRTH OF A PUN. 101 made roomy at the bends. . . .* My dear brother, we are most heartily delighted at your success, in every way so far superior to what we could have expected, and 1 do congratulate you most sincerely, and with a lightness of heart which I have not known since you left, and which is my only apology for the nonsense I may write or have written. . . . Let us return to more trivial things, and first to the exploits of others, and then of myself ; for I am going in my yepistles to cater from all sources for news for you. Well, on the sixth, my friend John Niven was safely de- livered of a right good pun, and both child and parent are doing very well, and as I was present at the accouchement, you may feel interested in the detail of facts. I was dining with his uncle, who told us a grave, cober piece of nonsense, believed by him, however, about the Countess of Mar having had a nuntber of children born blind, a mischance which no one could under- stand or explain, till an old spaewife, who called at the door, referred it to a great stone statue of some heathen god standing in the park, which the Countess greatly admired, and whose great convex pupilless eye-balls the old crone said were the sympathetic cause of the children's blindness. The statue was removed, and the next child could see. Now, said the uncle, turning to us, what can you doctors say to that? ' Why,' says John, gravely pulling up the comers of his mouth, 'there is no mysteiy in it at all; the children were stone blind.'" " mh October 1837. " My dear Daniel, — Though you can scarcely have digested the contents of my last epistle to 'you, I make no excuse for again writing, — the more so that I forgot a great many things in my last, which I hope to be able, like Campbell, to ' squeeze into ' this ; and, in addition, I have been mainly prompted to write at this short interval that I might tell you what, if left for a longer time untold, might from passing occurrences become historical events, and pass out of the jurisdiction of the letter-writer. . . . " Jessie has been rather complaining for a few days batlc, and yesterday became so feverish that we called in the doctor. It 102 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. 183; proves to be an attack of smallpox, which is prevalent in Edin- burgh just now. Her case, however, is quite mild ; . . . and she is the contented, uncomplaining occupant of the sick-bed which you could foretell. . . . Mother is, of course, anxious, but does not anticipate any but a mild attack. For my own part I never saw a mUder, and Mr. Lizars is equally convinced of its non-severity ; so that we are not distressed by anxious fears, but patiently wait for the disease running its course. I have taken the earliest opportunity of letting you know the particulars, lest any exaggerated rumours reach you ; . . . but you will remain satisfied, I am sure, with what I have written, which is the whole truth, and we shall write you from time to time of the progress of recovery. Meanwhile, pray God for her speedy recovery to complete health : it is all, my dear brother, that you or I can do, and we know too much of the Christian dispensation to stop at the consideration or applica- tion of mere secondary causes or means, or to doubt the ef&cacy of prayer. " All the rest of us are quite well, and get on very comfort- ably in all respects, forming a household somewhat diminished in size, but knitted closely together. Mother says I don't write you proper letters, that instead of stuffing them full of nonsense 1 should tell you about the family's doings ; but, besides that I was never a very enthusiastic watcher or recorder of family incidents, — and in addition conceived them, like ginger-beer or Seltzer water, apt to lose all their spirit by travel, — I thought I should be most likely to please you in my epistles if I just wrote to you what I would have chatted to you had you been sitting over your work, and I at my window with book in hand, surrounded by my bottles and tubes, ' the gods of my idolatry,' with the exception of snatches of bongs, which are as untrans- portable as the articles mentioned above ; though, by the by, I may say I'm making considerable advances both in singing and whistling, as well in compass of voice as in number and variety of tunes. I have seriously begun the piano, and I am told I finger the scale in a very promising fashion ; to all of which profitable occupations of time I am greatly cheered bv the hope of amusing you when I have the happiness of visiting Lo pu 1837-3S. TROUBLES COME THICKLY. 103 London. Well, this parenthesis, worthy of Knickerbocker, purporteth to let you know that, till orders to the contrary arrive, I shall write as I have written and spoken. . . . " I have no time to tell you how busy I am with Christison all day, and chemistry and physiology all night. ... I need not tell you, 'I'm lonesome without thee, my own dear br' — other. — Your afifectionate George." irisitiijg Two days later than the preceding letter is the last entry for the year in the jouri/fl : — "Saturday, October 2()th. — I was agreeably surprised on coming home to-day to find a parcel awaiting me, addressed in a very pretty lady's hand, and, as it was easy to know, from Miss . I opened it with great glee, expecting an answer to a very odd, whimsical letter sent to thank her for a present of bottles ; but how amazed and aghast was I to find in it that my poor friend, Samuel Brown, had been seized with fever the day he should have left for Berlin, and that 'accounts are very unfavourable indeed.' Poor fellow ! I don't know what I should do if I lost him, almost the only friend I have except my brother ; gained as a friend, though an acquaintance before, at a time when returning health and energy had sent me to the careful study of the physical sciences. I was delighted to meet him, and to meet one who so fervently reciprocated an enthu- siastic love for such pursuits. The gaining of such a friend was a stimulus to more active study, and a most potent motive to steady perseverance, and many a day-dream of the future, and many an air-built castle had him for its hero. And now, when I eveiy day expected a letter from him, to be stunned and startled by such terrible news ! I prayed to God for him every night, and perhaps God was beneficially watching over him, and preventing his reaching Berlin, where cholera is very bad. It has quite unsettled me ; the idea of studying — what I thought to have done — chemistry this evening seems cruel, while a brother-chemist is lying in the fangs of fever. I cannot open my books, and instead am in a listless, melancholy mood of mind. Troubles have come thick on me : my brother gone to London to buffet with the distractions of that great city, my 104 MEMOIB OF CEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IIL sweet sister Jessie lying ill of smallpox, my friend Brown dangerously iU of fever, and poor Dobbie [an artist friend] dreading the development of consmnption. I have been out at Mr. Dobbie this afternoon, and feigning a mirth I did not feel, have succeeded in raising his spirits above their former most melancholy state, without in any degree swerving from the truth. But to my sister I can be of little use, and to my brother and poor Brown not only of none, but an anxious, passive, not even spectator, but most anxious listener, depending on letters for the increase or removal of my sorrows. I don't much crave sympathy, and my brother Daniel would suffice of my own sex; but I've lost him, and it's a terribly awkward way of exchanging feelings, the post. I would I had one dear lady, either beside me or in correspondence, but I am denied so great a privilege, and must e'en feed, as best I can, on my own thoughts, for friends of either sex I have scarcely any to share them with me. What poor will do, I don't know ; it's a most melancholy situation, suspense is so agonizing; . . . and the risk of infection makes it impossible for my sister Mary to call there. The fortnight that's to elapse before more news come, how wearisome and long to all of us ! Could it but be annihilated ! I shall exist in most troubled suspense." Ten days later he informs Daniel of home affairs : — "Lest you should entertain groundless apprehensions regard- ing your sister's health, and magnify her ailments, I, at this early period after the receipt of your most kind and acceptable epistle, sit down to write you ; allow me to give you the con- soling intelligence, that Jessie is declared convalescent, and freed from all the restrictions of an invalid. She is now engaged, after the approved mode of all convalescents, in speculating after the finishing of one meal what shall be the character and quantity of the next : already has she so much progressed, as to have made great havoc in the corner of a beefsteak, not to talk of eggs, calf-foot jelly, grapes, plums, and other such trifles, which are despatched without so much as ' by your leave.' The periods between meals she eidivens, after the equally orthodox 1837-38. STUDIO DESCRIBED. 105 this Stable con- and iged, iting and Id, as Dtto ifles, [The t)dox fashion of recovering sick-folks, in listening to odd tales and fantastic anecdotes : the great demand is for ' funny stories,' and such a thing as drugging the market is quite impossible, so great is the consumption of the article in question. She has already digested a great portion of the celebrated story of Eoiy O'More, with the top-boots, the illigant stick and the gridiron ; has devoured piecemeal Croker's Legends of Ireland, and having her eyes now open, she has been able, in addition to hearing the inimitable story of your namesake, O'Eourke, to feast her eyes with a sight of the sketch taken from life, of * 'pon the honour of a gintleman,' and the stone sinking in the bog. This evening has seen Mary and me relieving each other (like shipwrecked passengers at the pumps) in instilling into her the wholesome precepts of Mansie Wauch, and as a further proof of her being on the high road to complete recovery, though yet very weak, and unable to do more than half sit up in bed, she and I sing together the ' Angel's Whisper,' the ' Mistletoe Bough,' and the ' Fairy's Song,' every verse with great 4clat and mutual congra- tulation. Before I close the letter I shall have a message from herself, but just now she is sleeping, so I for the present close my duties as Secretary for the Home Department. " Lest you should throw back in my teeth some of my grumb- lings, let me tell you something about my own doings. Well, you will be delighted to hear that I have made great progress in the — honing of razors. Excuse the vanity that dictated that last sentence, while I proceed to tell you what alterations have been effected in my studio, that you may be able to realize the idea of myself sitting in the ancient morning gown. Well, there are no wooden or brick partitions built up ; it has four walls, one window, two hat pegs, two doors, one museum (see you pro- nounce that rightly) ; and in addition to all that, your protege, the muse's son, M'Donald, brought me over, the night you sailed, an oil painting of the Dutch s'orgeon, and his patient squealing before the knife touched him, — a fine spirited thing. Dobbie is greatly pleased with it, and I have got the young fellow engaged to paint me a partner for it, in the shape of an old grave grey- headed and bearded alchymist, puffing his furnace among fan- tastic vessels, so that, as the one points to a surgeon's room, the li'i i in h 106 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. in. other may point to a chemist's. In addition, generous Mr. Dobbie has given me a dog's skull to match the leopard's, a cast of the sheep and bull's head from Trajan's column, and two heads from the same, so that when they are hung, one on either side of the cattle, my two pictures farther out, my skulls, and two or three busts, on the mantelpiece, interspersed among crystals and alche- mical-looking bottles, in a mission for the obtaining of which, I am about to set off to the Cowgate, I shall boast of having a unique room for my study. I have another object in making it neat. You know I proposed beginning a set of demonstrations on chemistry this winter ; well, I did begin, though I got no time to tell you, Jessie's illness permitting me only to give one, which was attended by all the Misses L and Mrs. L, Mr. L, being prevented by necessitous calls on his attention. These, added to the family, made a goodly audience, and I am promised Miss Gibson and Miss Blackwood, not to mention others. I created quite a sensation with my first prelection, Mrs. L. won- dering if I would print it ! and with Mr. Macgillivray's assistance, we made a splendid enough show of experiments, only a few of the more trivial ones failing. B took notes. Jessie's ill- ness drove the idea out of my head. Now that she is fast reco- vering, I shall begin to get my bottles in order anew, but a gloom is cast over my chemical speculations, by the knowledge of poor Samuel Brown's illness. I feel it in the light of a piece of hard-heartedness, to be thinking of such matters when he is lying ill ; but it would appear it is a nervous fever which very rarely is fatal, so I augur the best. But to wait a whole fort- night in restless suspense is a most torturing thing ; poor B- must feel it very deeply. I work some three hours with Dr. Christison. I get on finely with him, and we are knowing each other better eveiy day ; I hope we shall soon be on the thorough - est footing. Have you seen or heard anything of Faraday? I have not seen the Misses L, or Mr. Scott, or in truth, any one, since Jessie took ill. I have nothing new in the way of story or intrigue to tell you, which is my only apology for the barren character of tliis yepistle. " Jessie bids me tell you that she will soon be up and will write you. She sends, carefully sealed, signed, and marked 1837-38. GENEROSITY OP NATURE. 107 ' this side up,' a kiss, which you are leisurely to devour. If the hope of visiting London was great heretofore, how much greater is it now. Your account of the pretty young Quakeress, to whom I should be delighted to sing anjrthing I could, and the notice of Mr. Mitchell's organ, are great attractions. If I knew the piano, he would perhaps teach me how to manage the organ stops, and I should make some progress. Meanwhile, don't you imagine I'm an accomplished piano-player ; I'm just fagging away at all the horrid scales, gamuts, etc., but I'll stick closely to it. You must on no account think of waiting for me to see the sights of London ; it is extremely doubtful if I shall get up at all ; at any rate, it cannot be earlier than next autumn, so don't think of waiting. If I gained the Essay I am working at, that would decide me in the affirmative." very fort- th Dr. each [ough- laday ? ly one, story )arren will larked George's unselfish devotion as a brother and friend, was never more visible than now. Whatever his own sorrows and dis- appointments, at some of which even his most intimate friends can but dimly guess, he was able to put them aside, and assume the most hearty mirth, if others were cast down. "When the infectious nature of his sister's illness kept almost all aloof from her, he would not be restrained from trying to cheer the little invalid. The evening-time that brought him home was eagerly longed for, and when her eyes were sealed up from the effects of the disease, and a ray of light unbearable, this good brother sat outside the chamber door, with a candle so placed, that no light could enter the room, and for hour after hour read the drollest stories, laughing over them with a heartiness peculiarly his own. Wishing to give some slight token of her gratitude for all this love and care, the child said to him one night before going to sleep, " Kiss me, Dozie." Immediately was the kiss given, tcf her great satisfaction; and not till weeks after, when the first glance at a mirror was permitted, did it flash upon her what she had asked, what the repulsive state of the lips had been, and the danger even to his life. Trifling though the incident is, it was a true expression of the generous nature, ready at any moment with unconscious grace to sacrifice life itself for the objects of his love. P I 1 108 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IIL The last entry in the journal treats of the lectures given at home ; though written at a later date, its contents make it suit- able for our notice at present. "May 1839. — Following out the proposal to amend the sub- jects of ladies' conversation and study, I assembled some of them in my father^s house, and delivered a course of lectures on chemistry, especially the chemistry of nature. It was in the winter of 1837-38, so that I was then cet. 19 ; the majority of my audience were older by a year or two. I was greatly praised and encouraged, most kindly listened to and assisted in many ways, especially by John Macgillivray, a generous, unself- ish, happy fellow, without whose aid I should have come on very poorly. This course, which began in October, was first interrupted by the illness of my sister, and afterwards, in February, by the mournful indisposition of my cousin Catherine, so that only ten or twelve lectures were given. " I place here the names of those who smiled on a juvenile attempt, both because I would keep on record the titles of those persons who gave rise to many a happy thought, and that as I hope to address other audiences, I may not lose the recollection of my first, which was more kind, generous, and forgiving to- wards me than any future audience ever can be." Of the list which follows of twenty-seven names, thirteen have passed into the unseen world, almost all in the bloom of youth and hope, so that it recalls sadly, years of anxiety, fear, suspense, and desolation to the hearts in whose depths all those loved ones lie buried. In a letter of 1839, George says to his brother, referring to the death of his cousin Catherine, — " How little did I think, when last winter I assembled a few happy, youthful forms to hear of my favourite science, that in another year two of the fairest, and kindest, and seemingly most healthful of them should be struck down by the demon disease of our country." Tlie correspondence with Daniel continues the narrative : — 1837 3a VISITS GEORGE HARVEY. 109 " November 4, IS&7. My dear Daniel,— 5py. ther iful lour " 'Tis the last sheet of paper Left blooming alone, All its foolscap companions Are crumpled and gone, and gone to you every one of them, saving and excepting a single sheet which winged its way to the Eow, and cost two- pence, and this yepistle you certainly should not have had, had not the kind Mr. L— sent up to acquaint us with his pro- posed journey to the capital of Cockneys, I have therefore just arisen from the old piano, whence I have been educing the most melodious strains, again to take plume in hand, and indite a few lines to keep you from quite forgetting, among the ecstasies of 'big works,' that you have got both 'wee' brothers and sisters at home. " To begin, as is befitting, with sisters : Jessie has been greatly delighted with your letter, has read it over and over again, and all the favoured entrants of her bedchamber are privileged with a sight of the elegant sketch of the Charity Boy. " In addition to what I told you of formerly, I am to get from Dobbie a bas-relief of Arago's head, by David, and perhaps another of Cuvier. You see how covetous I am, and I entertain some hopes of getting a portrait of Fanny Kemble, whose portrait I long ago fell in love with, and used to go a particular road to see. If I get it, old Irvine shall leave his frame and give room to the fair ladye. It was the last work of Sir T. Lawrence, and is, according to my notion, the most beautifully expressive face I ever saw. It shall hang over my mantelpiece as my guardian angel. " I called last Wednesday evening on Mr, Harvey ; as it was after daylight had departed, I did not see his picture, but enjoyed the pleasure of a long conversation with him. He begged me to call again, which I certainly shall do at an early opportunity, and think myself proud of an admission to his studio, , . , " We have had a very busy month of it, plotting and plan- ning apparatus, and executing analyses, in most of which we have been very fortunate. All our wits were at work to manu- 110 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. facture a convenient arrangement of tubes for distilling, and at last we succeeded in erecting a most beautiful and simple appa- ratus, which completely effected its purpose, and saved us all trouble in tending it. You would be greatly amused did I tell you some of the little incidents which take place in the labora- tory ; they are rather of too flimsy a kind for grave insertion in a letter, however well fitted for telling you while chatting to- gether ; but as this will only cost you the breaking of the seal, I may venture to tell you one. While rummaging one day over one of the dark cellars which are appendaged to the class-room, we stumbled on a great, large, thin, glass vessel in a hamper, generally used for holding sulphuric acid, and knoA^m to mer- chants by the title of a carboy. It was at once agreod on by the triumviidte, composed of Eob, Christison, Geo. Wilson, and Mariano Martin de Bartolom^ that the said vessel would make a most excellent recipient for the distilled water we were en- gaged in preparing. We soon succeeded in dragging it from its obscurity ' into life, and light, and fame,' and in doing so dis- covered that it contained a large quantity of some liquid. Christison out with the bung and down with his nose al- most to the bottom, and slowly pulled it out with a most merry, gleesome look, as he sung out, ' Smell that, Mr. Bartolom^, and you too, Mr. Wilson.' As soon as we had inserted our probosces as far down as we could (I half wish that I had your nose, but no matter), he declared it w^is the mother liquor of opium ; in other words, the infusion of opium, from which the morphia alone had been removed, and which contained all the other pure and crystallizable principles. Here was a prize, a very useful bottle, and a valuable liquid. All the basins and platters were immediately in requisition to contain the nectar ; and Barto- lom6 and I set about devising a plan of cleaning the bottle, which was encrusted with the thick resinous matter. Alas, alack-a-day! man is bovn to disappointment; the fragrant liquid, after boiling for three days, and almost suffocating us with its extraordinary odour, ended in smoke, affording us no- thing but an abominable tarry stuff, which has spoiled all our filters, towels, etc. ; and for the bottle, woe is me ! ' Frailty,' as I had occasion to write to Miss L — in the letter I told you of. 1837-38. FIRST LECrrURES ON CHEMISTRY. Ill ' thy name is glass.' While Bartolom^ was working away with a long flexible rod and a sponge, polishing the inside most care- fully, for he is a very neat-handed, ingenious fellow, bang waa heard an awful sound, and the point of the rod protruded ! So much for our calamities. I hope you sympathize. I am sure J. G. retains a sufficiently vivid remembrance of his apothecary dealings most sincerely to feel with us in our present bereave- ment. " I may tell you another odd conversation — one with Barto- lom6 — who is really a fine fellow, from whom I learn a great deal We were talking about some of the infidel and atheistic students, and mourning their folly. ' Ah ! I wish they were Free-Masons, they would then know the true God.' I am sure this idea of evangelizing wicked people will greatly amuse you, and I could tell you a great deal more ; but here is James L — arrived to say that Mr. L — is just going, so I must seal up this bad and hurriedly- written letter." " Laboratory, November 26, 1837. " ' SPECIMEN OF HIEROGLYPHICS.' " My dear Dan, — I have been upbraiding myself for many days back for not writing you, but, in truth, I have been very busily occupied, so much so, as almost to preclude me writing any one, and I am still in debt an epistle to Macmillan and B — , both of whom I allow to stand aside (though you are not to tell them) till your superior claims are satisfied. All notion of letter for letter is absurd in our present circumstances. I shall write you when I find time, taste, and opportunity, and I have no doubt you will do the same to me, so I proceed to describe.. I may observe, that I should not likely have had leisure suffi- cient to write to you to-day, had it not happened that last night, while engaged in delivering my second chemical demonstration before an audience of twenty, a piece of phosphorus on the end of a wire, which I intended should have descended in a vessel of oxygen-gas, became refractory, and whether because not dry enough, which is Macgillivray's theory, throwing the blame on me ; or because it was not sufficiently fixed on the wire, which was only stuck into it, which is my hypothesis, blaming Macgilli- •K& 112 MEMOIR OF OEOKOE WILSON, CHAP. III. vray, who insisted on trying his own way of impaling it, I know not ; but suffice it to spy, that he and I got three fingers apiece burned, and here am I with a great blister on the neh of my middle finger, prevented from going to Christison's, and thereby enabled to write you an yepistle. We both deserved the punish- ment ; and with my hand stuck in a jar of water, I spoke on for a short while longer, but the phosphorus still sticking to my fingers, I had soon to stop, and after a few remarks, closed the scene ; the evening, however, had got on magnificently before, and this was but a startling episode. With my one hand in a jug of water, and my other across the table, I bade the ladies good-bye, assuring them that if they would return next Friday, I should promise them something better than even that night, with which they expressed themselves pleased, and whispered to Miss Gibson that I would only bum my own fingers, and not theirs. Our digits wrapped in cotton, my fine young friend Macgillivray and I sat quaffing our tea together in joyous and laughable reminiscence, endeavouring to throw the blame on each other, but obliged at last to confess that we had both neglected certain ii cessary precautions. We shall repeat the experiment next night, we hope and confidently expect with full success ; but fire is ' the goddess of the chemist,' and I don't mind being burned in carrying on chemical researches. " Now, I am going to tell you another laboratory incident, for unless I tell you them I shall have nothing to tell you at all, for as far as concerns ' moving accidents,' my life lacks them : the variety is change of thought, notion, or speculation, not of place, personages, and scenes of action ; only, if I weary you, tell me, and I will fish up some other thing for you, " It so happens that Dr. Christison's laboratory comprises three huge rooms, at considerable distances from each other, and all far removed from the outer door ; it generally happens that we are spread through the rooms, most of us separated from the entrance-door by two long passages and two flights of stairs. It is therefore a great bother to us when people come to the door, obliging us to follow this long cimtmhendibus of a way to let some idler in ; for it unfortunately happens that the laboratory is near the college gate, and vagabond strollers of all sorts come 1R37 sa STORY OF A HAT. 11.1 for all, sm : of tell ■ises and ntliat Ithe It |oor, let fory jme poking, and peering, and rattling at the said door. For the last month the door has been most carefully attended to (this being the primary chemical duty of the Doctor's assistants), because the new students are taking out his ticket, and he says himself merrily, ' I am willing enough to run to the door just now when the prospect of a fee allures me, but you'll see, Mr. Wilson, I'll not be so alert by and by.' " Well, Christison and two of us were standing together carry- ing on some analysis of salts ; over and over again the door had been knocked at, and shaken, and rattled. ' That restless door,' says Christison ; but I know something more restless. " It happened, the Doctor told us, refusing to answer some questions about the chemical operations we were engaged in, and declaring that he would tell his story first, that when he was a young man, he was a clerk in the Infirmaiy, residing there. Among his companions was a grand-nephew of the celebrated Cullen, the physician, a very clever young fellow, by far the cleverest person Christison had ever seen; moreover, good- looking and handsome, and having a very large circle of ac - quaintance among the fashionables of Edinburgh, and a great favourite, from his talents, handsomeness, and politeness, with the ladies. Accordingly, when he and any of his companions walked through the streets together, every few minutes he met some one he recognised, especially ladies, and of course he politely raised his hat and did graceful obeisance. Well (for my plot is complicated), there was another Infirmary clerk, one S , I think, an ' uncombed' lad from the country, who, from his various oddities, was the butt of the rest ; nevertheless by no means destitute of some cleverness, and although generally the theme of ridicule, often succeeding, as you must have seen such persons do, by lucky single strokes, in occasionally flooring a whole bevy of cleverer fellows. One day, after dinner, it chanced that the clerks, being very religious, fell to talking about the probability and nature of punishments in another world. Espousing the doctrines of Pythagorean transmigration, they wondered much into what sort of animal or form each would be transformed. ' I wonder,' sang out Cullen over the table, 'what animal you'll be turned into, S ?' 'I don't H iii'i i SI lU MEMOIU OF GEOBOK WILRON. CHAP. III. 1W7 know,' says S , bristling up, for the very question had awakened a wild ahout of laughter ; ' I don't know, but I would not, at any rate, like to be turned into yaiir hat' Was it not exquisite ? So much for the ' restless hat.' .... " We have received the most gratifying intelligence from Kussia, Samuel is fast recovering, and was able to dictate a portion of the last letter. He was very ill ; a whole month delirious : he will likely come home, and not think of Berlin at all" " LABoBATonv, Friday Eveninf/. " I have finished my foui-th discourse on chemistry, and the knife which mended this pen has just been absolved from the cutting of corks so as to fit accurately the bottles which ser\'o so many useful purposes. I shall, however, take up no time with a recital of the various perilous risks which fragile tubes i-un, and how they escaped being broken, etc. etc. " Let me take other topics, though not to be less egotistical, for I am about to recount to you so many particulars of my own most wonderful doings. Well, an odd enough incident occurred to me the other day. When entering the College, I saw in its post-office, in a hand which I did not know, a small note, marked ' George Wilson,' which, presuming it must be for me, as there has been no G. W. about college since I joined it, I im- mediately dragged out, and promised Mr. Borrowman uis two- pence next day. On opening the epistle, I was startled by the first words ' Dearest George,' and, on turning to the end, scarcely less so by the concluding term, ' Yours in love, Agnes Y. S. M.' You may guess what kind of letter it was ; inquiries after the health of the G. W. addressed, protestations of fond admiration, and a curious declaration that the correspondent, all the time specified, was suffering under toothache, which she declared would be dispelled, as by a 'farry's wand,' by the sight of her beloved, and some more of such stuff. Perfectly puzzled, I read it over and over again ; there was no other G. W. known or re- gistered about College ; it must be for me. I did not know any one, high or low, named Agnes ; so that, unless some servant maid or the like liad fallen in love with me ! and taken this modest plan of saying so, I could not tell who could be intended. III. isn? n'». LAllOllATOIlY INCIDENTS. 11.'^ me, im two- >y the ircely S. M.' the atioii, time lared f her read )r re- vany rvant this InJed. Puzzled what to do, I showed it to Bartolomd, and then to Chris- tison, who could make no more of it than I ; Christison declar- ing, however, it must he for mo. At last, Bartolomd went to the college alhum, but I was the only G. W. It might still, however, he some student of divinity, or some extra-collegian who took advantage of the post-office ; and, as I felt perfectly convinced that I was not the enchanter that ^ould wield the 'fairy's' wand, and as it was no business of mine to keep her from her ' Dearest C4eorgo,' though I was not he, I marked within the envelope my profession and address, and a statement of my having opened it, but being sure it could not be for me, I had returned it ; I sealed it and gave it back ; this was on Saturday. On Monday it was gone, and no questions asked, nor have I heard any more about it. I thought it possible the veritable fellow might conceive the opening of the letter a designed insult, and demand satisfaction ; but he had the good sense to say no- thing about it. How he and Agnes took the singular denoue- ment, I, of course, do not know ; but Christison veiy justly remarked that it would have been the best answer to a demand for explanation, to declare that I was the insulted person, in having my name connected with such persons ; and so the mat- ter rests. " Now for some Laboratory incidents, though I fear you will but shrug up your shoulders at the word, and think of the middle syllable, ' bore ;' nevertheless, as your sensitive nose cannot be offended by noisome odours or pestilential emanations, I shall venture to record another thing or two, begging you will read them with the window up, and put out all the contaminated air with your bellows. " Well, my first is a claim on your sympathy, but about a very trivial matter. You'll remember a paragraph regarding the find- ing of a huge glass bottle, containing an opium liquid, which disappointed us completely, our bottle breaking in the cleaning, and our stuff almost suffocating us with its overpowering odour, and after all yielding nothing. It so happened, that some of the large porcelain basins, in which the stuff had been evaporated, were left standing on the table of our farthest back room. Something led me into that room, where I had not been for 116 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. some time, and carelessly casting my eye over the table, I saw something dark and shining in the bottom of the basins ; re- membering our former trials, I picked out a little of it, and saw it had a crystalline structure. What, thought I, if this be the muriate of morphia, which has slowly separated from it. I showed it to Dr. Christison ; ' Oh,' says he (for he had been too often disappointed to entertain sanguine hopes), ' it will just be muriate of lime,' a useless thing. I resolved to try ; boiled a little with alcohol in a tube, and having my attention at the time directed to something else, put the tube aside, thinking that the proof of its being morphia was incomplete, yet puzzled to conceive it anything else. For two or three days I was em- ployed in other processes ; and, on the third or fourth, it chanced a test tube was wanting. I carelesslv took the one in which the solution of the cr^'stalline matter had been put, but as I proceeded to wash it, I was struck by a singular appearance inside, and what was my astonishment and delight, on looking more closely, to find a most beautiful circle of small feathery crystals, which it could not be doubted were morphia, and which was completely proven to be this, by adding the test of morphia, which gave the most characteristic results. I am now analysing the whole, some two gallons of stuff, having volunteered to un- dergo the disagreeableness of the smell, which I keep f^m every one else, by shutting two glass doors between me and them. You will understand that this is refuse liqiior, discarded by the druggists as useless, from which we are separating a large quantity of the precious high-priced muriate of morphia. We shall have a fine laugh at old throwing away the good morphia, and work hard at it, for I believe it will please Chris- tison ; and there is a great deal of useful manipulation to myself " But I'll tell you another laboratory tale, which cannot fail to interest you as a Scotchman, away from your country, and fond of your native language. The other morning, when all standing before the museum fire, before going in to lecture, Bartolom^ announced some rather singular proposition, on which the Doctor commented by saying, ' It's all a lee frae end to end.' This was quite unintelligible to Bartolome, who is a capital English scholar and speaker. On this Dr. Christison took iw; IfiSr 38. SCOTCHMEN IN PARIS. 117 occasion to remark, that he had generally found a few Scotch words sufficient to confound one who was well versed in English, and quoted as a case what occurred to him in Paris. It so happened that he and several other young Scotchmen paid a visit one evening to the Thdatre-Franqais ; a short time after their arrival, seating themselves in one of the most conspicuous places, they began, with tlie characteristic recklessness of Britons, to talk treason about all that was going on around them. In the midst of their criticisms, a very polite old French gentle- man, with a low bow, leaned over the seat behind them, and suggested to the thoughtless fellows, that there were a great many more of the audience knew English than they were at all aware of, and that they would assuredly get themselves into scrapes if they continued talking as they had done. ' Come,' says Christison to his friend Cullen (he of the hat), ' we'll try them with a little Scotch;' and so they began, Christison watch- ing the face of old Monsieur, but soon convinced that he at least had not studied the mysteries of ' but an' ben,' etc., and ever after, when they had any foolish thing to say, they discoursed it in good broad Scotch. When you commend me to my much esteemed and loved friend, J. G., give ) "m my advice, if you please, to be sure and study Scotch before going abroad, and then he may say anything about their vaunted pictures without getting himself guillotined for his trouble. " In spite of Christison's studiousness in Paris, lie seems to have loved most heartily all sorts of fun. He told us of himself and half a dozen otlier Scotchmen, celebrating a new- year's night by a supper, and shouting and singing, to the amusement or vexation of the restaurateuLs ; winding it all up by finding their way home through the streets of Paris, singing at the full pitch of their voices, * God save the King !' to the utter astonishment of the sentries, who m'cII knew the tune " I wish, I hope, and I expect for you all success ; and I can do this the more heartily, as 1 can in return crave sympathy ; for though it might appear otherwise, by a reference only being made to lectures and Christison, my whole time and energies are occupied in reading, writing, and experimenting for my 118 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP III. im Essay ; and I only allow myself half an hour when walking, to think of my next lecture. Dr. Christison has given me liberty to try as many experiments as I like in his laboratory, and I shall not miss the opportunity. Meanwhile, I am toiling night and day, as you are, elated with hopes and depressed with fears and troubles, as you are, and feeling how much more would be my progress had I you beside me." " •Sutnnlai/, 16ih December. " The letter which envelops this was written to-day, and I now snatch a moment to bring up to the present time, as far as time will permit me, the news of house and family. "To my last I intended to add a postscript, but so many things have since occurred to me as deserving a place there, that now I have dropped the idea of filling up that space ; and I doubt not that, after filling up this letter as far as time will permit, the accompanying Maga will sei-ve to amuse you and J. G. about Dr. Barry's fooleries. He has been bringing home an odd animal, one of those, you will remember, referred to by Sir H. Davy in his * Consolations of Travel,' as found among the lakes of Carniola. Of course he has been acting Jamie the showman with it, and deserves the whipping he gets. The other picture is of young Thomson, very like ; the rest can scarcely interest you. " Mr. Dobbie and Mr. M'Donald form a part of my Friday audience. I have received great kindness from the former. He has given me a most beautiful — I cannot say more of it, I sum up all, I think, in the words, it is a beautiful — basso relievo of Arago's head by David the French sculptor ; it is a very fine head, and exquisitely done : as the head of a scientific nmn, as the head of one I have seen, and especially as a piece of fine and high art, I greatly value it, he had a Christ's head also for me, so you see I deal to make my solitude happy. 1 am going to have a unique Study. You remember two white jars of unglazed porcelain, one of them the property of a lady in Glasgow, a Miss Mackay, but I have seized on both. Mr. M'Donald is to paint them or stain them brownish -red. Thev are then to have black devices, jNIr. Dobbie told me last night have a great IS37 38. CHARLES lamb's LETTERS. 119 'riduy He f fine great nn or alchemical retorts, crucibles, etc., painted in black, like the Etruscan vases. Mr. Dobbie is to supply a Moritz Retsch-like design for the central part of some alchemical thing ; and won't I be a happy man ! " I must scamper off to Christison, so forgive this scrawl," The length of letters in those old days is inconceivable to the degenerate correspondents of this penny-post prepaying genera- tion. When a letter cost thirteenpence halfpenny sterling, and its recipient was expected to pay for it, his correspondent felt himself on his honour to send the money's worth. Such, how- ever, was not needed as a stimulant to brotherly affection. A well-filled sheet of foolscap to Daniel, of date 20th January 1838, concludes as follows : " How I have wished to be beside you, when reading Lamb's letters, which, after reading all the reviews on them, I got hold of in reality this week. They are most exquisite. I have laughed and giggled to myself over my solitary cup, and wished I had been near to read them to you, and have a sympathizing agreement in praising them. Many of them, I think, far excel some of his essays. The India- House and the Temple are now hallowed in my eyes, and if ever in London, I shall take care to travel to them, and you will ' join me, I am sure." And being now close to the foot of the fourth page of a closely Avritten sheet of foolscap, and one o'clock A.M. striking, the letter abruptly closes ; but with the morrow receives a postscript nearly as long as itself, embodying the chronicle of an event famous in the College annals — the great snow-ball bicker of 1838. Here it is : — "20lhJanmryl8?8. " Good-morning ! You must have seen by this time a notice of certain College disturbances, which being in truth riots or insurrections, have a good deal excited public attention. The newspapers have given most lying accounts of it, which I dare - say, or rather am sure, you have already passed over as un- worthy notice, knowing the doubtful morality of newspaper editors, especially liadical ones, towards students, who are of necessity Conservative in their likings. Well, here's a true. 120 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. and I am sure a refreshing account of the College bicker and its consequence. " Last Thursday was the first good snow storm we have had, and a goodly quantity bespread the ground. We, the students, began to bicker each other as usual. A posse of students set themselves in the quadrangle, so as to command each class door, and pelt the sober fellows, who had to run the gauntlet as they came in or out ; then the pelters divided into two parties, and bickered each other. And it was most amusing to see one event of the skirmish. While throwing at each other, a host of idle shop-boys, bakers, servants, etc., had placed themselves in the College gateway, and were amusing themselves gazing on, when all of a sudden the two parties, without laying their heads to gether, raised the war-whoop, and rushed on the spectators. Wliat a scene ! tumbling over each other, knocking, driving, letting fall candles, and other contents of baskets ; while a mer ciless shower of snow grapeshot thwacked them soundly. " This, however, was an episode in the day's deeds, and not in any way necessarily connected with them ; for, meanwhile, a set of idle apprentice lads had begun attacking the students as they went to their classes, and soon the fight became warmer. And now the first element of riot began, namely, that the police would not take up the idlers, while they came into College and apprehended students. This was a double affront : first, the police showed partiality in only taking students ; second, they came into the quadrangle, which the students believed (it after- wards appeared wrongly) was sacred from their intrusions. " So they had a meeting on the Mound, swore to avenge their affronts, and agreed to meet, each with an old hat and a short stick. Away then they went ; a procession, four abreast, fine gallant young fellows (Medicals, I need scarcely say) ; and after wandering through all the streets, they parted. Next morning, they provided themselves with chajoeaux and shillelahs. Little was done in the first part of the day, but it is notorious that even on the second day it began with the misconduct of the police in refusing to take up blackguards who assaulted students. A regular bicker began against all who passed ; the middle gate being shut, and the Meds crowding on the stairs, showered away. 1837-38. SNOW-BALL RIOT. 121 their bhort fine ifter ling. little tven |)lice A ^ate my. All the shops were necessitated immediately to shut their windows, to prevent more breakage, and the thoroughfare blocked up. Still the police continued to aggravate the feel- ings of the students by refusing to take up any of the primary aggressors, and now the attack began on them. They had as sembled in considerable numbers, and Bailie was strutting in all his dignity, and getting pelted soundly. At last some of the superior lieutenants of police arrived, and they attempted to dislodge the students : they repelled them easily, and a shout was raised, 'Open the middle gate, and see if they can get in ;' so the middle gate was opened, and in they rushed. At first the students gave way ; the short, heavy batons of the police were more efficient in the porch, and they drove them back in the quadrangle, without ever taking prisoners. " The students, too, at first fought in detached groups, and necessarily quailed before the regular phalanx of the batoned mercenaries. Soon, however, counselled by an Irishman (every one of whom was, of course, led there by natural instinct), who made a speech to them, and ranged them in an opposing line, bringing all the short sticks to the front, the long ones being behind, so as to hit over the heads of the first rank —a glorious plan. After this was resorted to, victory never left the students. They battered the police, and six different times drove them to the porch, where their short batons availed them, and there they stopped. Along with them, and this was the grievous thing, was an infuriated mob, who gladly took part against the stu- dents — bakers, and butcher-boys, and sailors, mingling in the affray by police connivance, and being even given the sticks captured from students. This was an hour's work from two to three, and things getting serious, a despatch was sent for the Lord Provost, who made an attempt at addressing the students, with the hope of pacifying them. One huge Irishman walked up, and, patting him on the back, asked in a slang phrase of the day, but sufficiently expressive on this occasion, 'Does your mother know you're out ?' Another promised him protection in his waistcoat pocket ; and all laughed and jeered at him. In- furiated, he rushed off, addressed some words to the mob, and up to the Castle for the military, who by this time had become I 122 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON, CHAP. III. absolutely necessary, for blows had been given desperately, and many gashed heads testified to the fury of the contest. 'Tis said, I know not on what authority, that many of the police got their arms broken. I don't veiy well know, but it was their own fault as a body. Meanwhile, an official was obtained, and the Eiot Act read at the gate, amid the pelting of the officer, who got it knocked out of his hand, and himself driven out, the students encouraging each other to kill the police, which they could do before the reading of the Act was over. Meanwhile, down came the military as fast as they could run, with two ball-cartridges in their pockets ; and having reached the gate, the bugle was sounded ! and with fixed bayonets, the officers with drawn swords, they charged the gate, and, of course, drove the students before them. The scoundrelly police now came forward, and picked their men and the ringleaders, lugging them off to the police-office. Meanwhile, the company of soldiers was drawn up across the quadrangle, and five minutes given for dispersion. The major looked very nervous, dread- ing evidently that the students' rashness would drive him to extremities. He is a fine fellow, a Waterloo man, and, of course, like all good officers, dislikes quelling a civil riot. He seemed afraid of his men taking the students' part, especially when a Pole shouted over the window, ' Shoot the jjolice !' " The major had him immediately apprehended, and with the back of his sword drove back the students, declaring he did not wish to hurt them. Very likely something awkward would have occurred, had not Christison mounted one of the broad corner stones of the balustrade, and thence addressed the stu- dents, who received him with acclamations, and waved tlieir hats, which they took off as a token of respect. He bade them go aw^ay, as they were all liable to be apprehended and lodged in jail. We had to find our way out, through a line of soldiers across the North Bridge, amid the jeers of the dastardly mob, the soldiers laughing, while the police put out their spleen against us. " That .light every one like a student was assaulted by the rabble, who always fell on single persons and abused them. Macgillivray was lufvented from coming over on Friday, in 183r-38. THE UNIVERSITY MAG A. 123 spite of his courageous bravery, by the attack of a crew who severely hurt him. He was taken, however, as a culprit to the police-office, which was so full that he got out. The other students were bailed out, and trial is coming on. Meanwhile, the students and the professors are having a daily committee, sitting in Dr. Christison's room, collecting evidence, a Mr. Scott, solicitor, having volunteered his services ; and we hope to have against the police various charges, likely to cost them their places. The students will probably be fined, in which case we'll all subscribe to pay. I shall most cheerfully contribute my mite. The students are all in great glee. A number of songs and parodies are written on the occasion, such as the * Battle of the Quadrangle,' the ' Gallant 78th Eegiment,' and so on. There are parodies, one a most excellent one, on Hamlet's famous scene, 'The Policeman's Soliloquy,' — 'To stand or not to stand, that is the question.' One on the Battle of Hohenlinden, the Battle of the Baltic, the Lady of the Lake, Byron's Hebrew Melodies, Burns' Tam o' Shanter, etc. It is intended to publish them in a pamphlet afterwards; if so, I'll send you a copy. The students have no ill-will at the soldiers, but praise them highly. It is declared that the soldiers were brought to accus- tom them to snow-fighting in Canada. In another song, the 'Mfijor's Address to his Men,' he shows the probability of his being knighted, and recommends the expunging of Sala- manca from the flags, and putting in its place. Quadrangle, and so on." The Maya alluded to in this letter was a weekly periodical, sold at the College gates, of which Edward Forbes was editor, and the contributors students. It might be considered a Uni versity Punch., containing, as it did, caricatures of lecturers, chiefly professorial, as well as of civic dignities, or others who chanced to rouse the wrath or mirth of the students. A healthy spirit ran through it, and it formed a safety-valve by which the worries of student-life found a harmless outlet. Correspondents were informed that " no lil)ellous personalities, or hetises of any kind," were admissible. The number George speaks of sending to his brother was the first of that Session ; and Dr. ]\Iartin Harrv, of whom it treats, had excited much iunusoment by 12t MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IIT. IK wonderful accounts of an ascent of Mont Blanc, from which he had just returned. To George and his cousin James, also attending College, the Maga was the source of much enjoyment. On the day of pub- lication it was brought home with glee, irvariably producing an amount of merriment incomprehensible to those in the house - hold to whom the butts for satire and ridicule were less familiar. They were not only admirers of, but contributors to it. The first article sent by George at this very time is mentioned in notices to correspondents. The signature B. I. stands for Bottle Imp, a name he had adopted long before this, occasionally dat- ing letters from " Lahoratorimn Impicum." " B. I.'s communication is received, and meets with our ap- probation. All articles from the same quarter shall receive due consideration ; so he may spin another yarn or two with a fair prospect of insertion." A private note accompanied the article. "To THE Editor of the Maga. " Sir, — Being a warm admirer of the University Maga, I read with sorrow your doleful account of editorial difficulties, and with the hope of assisting you, bestirred myself to the producing of the following. I know not whether it will suit your purpose or not ; perhaps its length will be sufficient to exclude it ; if that be passed over, the subject may be amiss ; but having quizzed police, military, mob, Council, Provost, etc., till the subject is threadbare, why should we not quiz our sensitive selves, and hand down to posterity a record of our present Col- lege fashions for the benefit of future Antiquarian Societies ? If the thing suits your purpose, give it what name you please. Perhaps ' Ourselves,' or ' Sketches about College, 'No. 1,' might do ; but of this you will be best judge. To save yourself and the printers tiouble, I ha\'e eschewed hieroglyphics, and got a youngster fresh from the irons to write it out in his best hand. — I remain yours, etc. etc., " B. I." The name given was "The Consulting Room, and College Philosophers." 1837 38. COLLEGE PHILOSOPHERS. 125 " ' 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view ;' so saith our poet, and so seem to think the sight-seers, who value places the more, the nearer they are to our antipodes. We read daily of a ' Visit to the Slave-Market at Cairo,' of a ' Day spent with the King of Timbuctoo,' or 'Among the Inhabitants of Pitcairn Island,' or 'With their Majesties of Otaheite.' We hear of stolen journeys to the mosques and harems of Constantinople, of visits to Jewish synagogues, Greek convents, and Catholic monasteries, with sundry other notices of peeps into salt-mines, coal-pits, madhouses, and all sorts of charitable institutions ; yet we never chance to find among the multifarious tomes of those vagabonds who wander to and fro over the face of the earth, in search of choice specimens of ' men and manners,' any record of a visit to the Consulting Eoom of our University Library. We have in vain searched through all our Voyages and Travels, from the folios of Humboldt down to the octavos of Sir Francis Head, Mrs. TroUope, or K P. Willis, but hitherto hopelessly, unless a reference, in the late work of Rich on Koordistan, to the site of the ancient Babel, has an implicit allusion to the confusion of tongues characteristic of the Student's Den. And we have equally mourned to see the many strangers who enter its precincts, attracted by our unique Museum, our magnificent Library, and our choice collection of pictures, pass by the ' open Sesame' door of our Eeading-Eoom, except at rare times when some illustrious stranger, with one of our august Professors for a cicerone, thrusts his hand inside the door (thereby exhibiting men and manners), and listening for a while to the 'sounds within like music flowing,' draws it back, and marches off to some more noble Academic Lion. "To prevent a continuance of this mournful inattention to one of our most noble institutions, we now crave our reader's attention to the short notice our limits permit us to give of it. " After the first hum of many voices has become familiarized to an entrant into the Consulting-Eoom, he begins, like a tea dealer or a pearl-fisher, to arrange the busy crew into three sorts — good, bad, and indifferent; which, of course, he afterwards subdivides into various genera, species, and varieties. We shall rather treat the subject in a popular way than in a strictly dia- 126 MKMOIU OF GEOUGE WILSON. CHAP. III. lectic one, being unwilling to trench on the business of the Logic chair. " We set out with the fundamental law, that the farther in you go, the more quietness, thought, and study you find. There is one square table at the door, with magnificent mahogany chairs, in the same style of costly decoration as the rest of the gorgeous apartment, where, to the best of our knowledge, a new idea was never picked up, it being the rendezvous of a set of raffs, who loll on the chairs, lay their accoutrements on the table, and bravely bid defiance to the demon of enmii. At the other end of the room a different set are seen. We generally find, about the second divan, some two of Forbes' crack students, unravelling the mysteries of the last week's problem, now with head bent over, tracing the course of their mathematical hieroglyphics, and anon, when some debatable point arises, talking with a loud- ness and energy sufficient to square the circle, though it were as large as Ducrow's ampliitheatre. A little farther on sit ann- in- arm, most lovingly, their debate being over, two neophyte Aris- totles, fresh from the logic class, diving deep into the subtleties of innate ideas, concepts, con-elates, and the like— these, we need scarcely say, are disciples of the Academic school : the philosophers of the Porch, a much larger body, will be found clustered round the College gates, studying human nature on the great scale ; and the Peripatetics, by far the most numerous body, oscillate between the North Bridge and Princes Street, unless the weather be wet, when they join their rivals of the porch, or, along with them, mingle with the Academics ; the Epicureans, an equally large body, are spread over the many tem- ples of their order situated in the neighbourhood, among which we may particularize one, having marked on its walls the mystic words DOULL, SINCLAIR, AND WHITE, which, according to the learned Greek Professor, indicate the names of the ministering hiero- phants within ; the Stoics in our University a distinct branch from the disciples of the porch, a mere handful, will be found in an adjoining edifice, sacred to their order, eating hard biscuits and drinking water. But to return : we can only indicate the more prominent characters of the room, and we draw attention to a species, individuals of which are to be found at every table. isr-3s. ACQUAINT.VNCE WITH EDWARD FOUBES. 127 They arc known hy their care-worn, anxious looks, and by having a huge folio of anatomical plates before them, and a Dublin Dissector lying hard by. You peep over their shoulders, and find them tracing the course of the vidian nerve, the rela - tions of the external carotid, or the like ; and you know that before the eye of each floats, like the Mirage of the desert, a japanned tin-case, which, when attempted to be grasped, fades like Macbeth's visionary dagger into viewless air. Reader ! these unhappy mortals are asjDirants to the name and honours of Surgeon. You will join us in wishing them a chirurgical exit from the inquisition in Nicolson Square. " We pass over the stray Divinity students, who have wan- dered from their own libraiy ; the Law students, digesting Digests of Scotch Law ; the students of Hiimanity micrdcring Isim, et Jioc genus omne, to notice a strange crew, whose occupa- tion we could never divine, or the exact object of their frequent- ing College. We thinly naturalists vvould style them the aber- rant types of the geims Student. We observe them stalk up to the librarian, and ask the ' Small ' favour of some huge Greek or Hebrew tome, over which they bend for hours together. From the want of ' Attic salt ' in their conversation, as well as from direct proofs, we believe that the object of their studies is to restore to its ancient glory the forgotten Doric dialect. " B. L" It may have been shre'vdly surmised by our readers that Doull's temple was a pastry-cook's shop ; and as the name of the college librarian is Small, we can understand what a huge book had to do with the smallness of the favour. So fully did the preceding communication " meet the approbation " of ihe Edi- tor, that it induced him to seek the personal acquaintance of B. I. Those two genial spirits found in each other many points of sympathy, and the friendship then fonned soon ripened into true regard and affection, which only terminated with life. The second contribution of B. I. was not inserted ; its quiet satire was abundantly appreciated, but it did not seem to the wise editor prudent to turn the pecub' "ities of the College Museum into ridicule, and thus offend t le Professor of Natural 128 MKMOIR OF UEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. History. Seeing it can injure none now, and may amuse many, there seems no reason wliy it should not appear in our pages. "It is now nearly four years since the courts of the Univer- sity rang with a (hsbate which for a long time engrossed public atteni/ion. There was as yet no Marja, and the world was not enlightened by the wisdom of the disputants. It is not our intention to do more than merely allude to it, as a fitting intro- duction to tlie subject under consideration. " Among the literary students arose a question concerning the proper pronunciation and etymology of th(5 word generally spelled and pronounced musfeum. After much wrangling and turbulent debate, the disputants divided into three sects, to one of which each student interested in the progress and result of the discussion joined himself. " The first party, or disciples of the ohl school, advocated the common or vulgar pronunciation already referred to, declaring that the word in question was derived from the Latin vinsa, since the first cabinets were dedicated to the Muses. " The second sect, the disciples of the middle school, reversed the sound of the word, and named it as if it were written muz- zeum, scoffed at the invocation of etymology as fitted to deter- mine the point, and rested the truth of their doctrines on some new laws of euphony, deciphered from one of the manuscripts found in Pompeii. " The views of the third party (which included all the stars about college) supplanted in the minds of all men of calm and sober intellect the opinions already considered. They declared the right pronunciation to be museum, contending that the word was derived from the Latin mus, a mouse, since, though cabinets may come to contain elephants, camelopards, and even mam- moths in the course of years, yet must they all have begun by enshrining the stuffed skin of a mouse. True it is that the illustrious Pillans, seconded by the learned Scholtenbruner, held it to be against all classical precedent to derive a word from the nominative and not from the genitive ; but as the pages of the Maga are as open to them as to us, and there being no claim on us to record their reasons and arguments, we unconditionally advocate the common-sense view of the question. is:)r :««. CANVAS LIPPED KLKPH ANT. 129 " Let us now enter the Museum, and in this paper we shall confine our attention to the lowiu- room containing the larger animals. We are not about, showman like, to say, on the right you will behold this, and on the left that ; but, taking the great Cuvier as our exemplar, we are about, as he did, to open up a new field of fossil zoology not less striking than that which the illustrious Frenchman mrvcd out of the gypsum beds at Paris. " We had not paid more than two visits to the Museum before we began to peer narrowly into the characteristics of the assem- bled animals, and for the sake of simplicity we took the larger quadrupeds first ; and, singidarly enough, we have discovered two extinct species, which we proceed to indicate to our readers. " On your left hand as you enter the room stands the effigy of a huge elephant, at first sight not apparently much different from other stuffed elephants. To be sure, it has a resplendent coat of blacking, which all of them have not ; but we daresay Day and Martin, or, failing them, Warren, could nigrify any others as well ; otherwise, this animal, to the vulgar eye, pre- sents nothing remarkable. Great discoveries, in truth, are only made by those who, as Professor ^Vliewell remarks in his late work on the inductive sciences, possess ' exact facts and clear ideas,' P)eing favoured with a very acute perception of both these desiderata, we carefully scrutinized the wondrous quad- ruped ' from the tip of the nose to the insertion of the tail ; ' and as our eye wandered over the huge mass, we were struck with something singular about the lower lip. We had traced the wrinkled skin from the bosom upwards in unbroken texture, when suddenly we were startled by a strange line of demarca- tion which ushered us into a new territory. On approaching nearer, it seemed marvellously like a piece of interpolated canvas, and a closer inspection convinced us that the pointed characteristic lip was neither more nor less than a piece of cloth painted black without and red within. It was not without great caution and many doubts that we adopted this opinion. We had read of 'canvas-backed ducks' (see Stewart's 'America'), but of canvas-lipped elephants, never ; and as a diligent inquiry soon satisfied us that not only did no living specimen exist, but that no dead one adorned the walls of another mu.seum, we gazed on 1 130 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. this relic of a former age, this strange extinct genus, and thought of ourselves its discoverers ; like Franklin, we heaved a deep sigh, and declared us immortal. To this genus we have given the name of ' Elephas linteolabiatus,' or canvas-lipped elephant. ■ " Stimulated by our discovery, we made a ' labial' journey round the room, but no other canvas trophy rewarded our la- bour ; but wliilst stooping to examine the mouth of the rhino- ceros, we were startled by something rough in the cavity. We gazed within the mighty jaws expecting to behold a white and polished skull, wLon a large, shapeless mass, much resembling a block of fir- wood, attracted our attention. Here was an un- described characteristic ; the replacement of bony matter by ligneous fibre struck us as a physiological phenomenon hitherto unnoticed ; and we need scarcely say that this led to the con- clusion that we had here a solitary specimen of another extinct genus. Till the learned Professor of Materia Medica publish his analysis of this curious mass, we shall only say that we have satisfied ourselves that it contains a large proportion of lignine mixed with that variety of gelatine called glue. We purpose therefore to term this genus ' Ehinocero xylocephalus,' or wooden-headed rhinoceros. But we may remark that it is not our intention to depart from the current fashion of naming new genera after distinguished individuals ; we shall only make the trivial difference of naming the individual after the genus, and not the genus after the individual. We are aware that many illustrious men have begged the title of the latter animal, but we gladly take this opportunity of showing that forgiving spirit towards the hero of a late memorable engagement inculcated on us by our eminent counsel; instead therefore of naming it ' Ehinoceros xylocephalus,' we shall entitle it ' Rhinoceros For- restianus,' or, for brevity's sake, * Frostianus.'"^ In a letter of March 1st, the last notice of the memorable snow-battle occurs : — " I suppose you got a paper containing a report of tiis ' students' trial.' I shall say nothing more of it in this epistle, but in an early one will refresh you with some of the amusing ^jleasantries of our witty counsel [Lord Robertson]. 1 Th( reference is to a well-known civic dignitary, who had made himself very luipopiilai ivith the students durin.'j the snow-ball riots. 1837 38. ILLNESS OF A COUSIN. 131 The students' expenses amounted to two hundred pounds, and we are all subscribing. " Catherine is much the same ; for some days back she was better, i.e., in her feelings, for the real state of the case never altered ; but she is again not so well. She is in that state of iuind which theorists might deny, as impossible, but which all who have felt keenly or have thought much, can enter into and sympathize with ; she is entertaining the incompatible feelings accompanying a looking forward to another world and yet a lingering interest in a present. That the latter should remain is no cause of wonder, specially in her disease." What this disease was, with its clinging to life, the reader will easily sur- mise. Catherine was the second oldest of the cousins, and was loved as a sister. Her illness was of long continuance, as will be seen from references in future letters. Truly the clouds re- turned after the rain in this household, and the stern monitor, affliction, seemed commissioned to take up her abode in it, and teach, for many years to come, lessons hard to be learned. The enthusiasm with which work in chemistry was prose- cuted is strikingly shown in some letters of which specimens are now given. ig it rable inga lof it leof |son]. very " February 7, 1838. " My dear DanieI;, — I am quite ashamed to take up so small a bit of paper to begin writing to you. I have no foolscap, and a long sheet appals me. In truth, I should not have written to you at all (for my time is very much occupied at present), had I not been told of a gentleman going to London, who will take the accompanying drawings, which I have had lying beside me waiting an opportunity. You will recognise them as sketches of the leopard's skull, and they were done for practice' sake by your quondam pruief/e, }'oung Macdonald. As soon as I saw them, and called to remembrance your fondness for that osteo- logical ornament of our mantelpiece, I thought the drawings would please you. " I am veiy glad to learn your comfortable progress. Your persevermg undauntedness, spite of frozen water, etc., was to me quite refreslung and invigorating. 132 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. 1837- " Be it known to you, most worshipful brother, that in the course of some speculations on crystallography, which sprang out of my abortive essay to bring to the test some views, which, could I but realize, would be the making of me, I thought of trying to make a chemical compound, whose exi>itence hitherto has been only guessed at — a compound of iodine and sulphur. Searching in Dr. Christison's, I fell upon a glass ball, a most necessary piece of apparatus, and cut and bent a piece of glass tube for myself, and fished out a small glass bottle, my object being to pass the vapour of iodine over melted sulphur, thus : I suppose a drawing will please you most, so there's for you. Well, I only waited for an opportunity, which soon presented itself in the illness of Dr. Christison, which kept him at homo on Saturday. Secure from interruption (though remember Dr. Christison would let me experiment before him, but I hate to have any one near me, and work best alone), I set up my appa ratus, as you see it above, and worked from ten till two in a lower room without a fire. On first removing the vessel there- after, I was stopped by an explosion from the stoppage of my tubes. There seemed nothing but a concrete mass, and, with a heavy, deep-drawn sigh, I said, ' Then there's no compound such as I expected?' when, turning the vessel, I saw a little portion of rich red fluid — all was right. I carefully set aside the in- valuable liquid, a'-.d succeeded by a few hastily contrived ex- periments in showing that it possessed curious properties. The next point was to make a large quantity, to purify it, and exa- mine its chemical relations. Away T went to the glassblowc^-, 1837-38, ENTHUSUSM FOR CHEMISTRY. 133 and got a piece of apparatus with tubes of longer diameter, and, on King Charles the First's martyrdom day, tried the process on the larger scale ; but though I worked from ten till four in the same cold room (obliged to dip my hands now and then into hot water kept boiling over a gas-light, or I should have ' starved'), not a single drop of the liquid did I get. Then I re- solved to reverse the process, and pass the sulphur over the iodine. The thought struck me about nine o'clock. I imme- diately got three test-tubes, one without a bottom, and tried it. I made a veiy little this way, and cleared out my large apparatus, which with much difficulty I did, and, sitting down next day to bore a cork for it, I forgot it was in my pocket, and crushed it to pieces. No time was to be lost, so I fished out an old funnel, and rigged it up thus ; but I only got the smallest quantity. Then I thought of a different plan, and I bought from Mr. Duncan a compound of iodine and lead, and tried it — equally unsuccessful; a compound of iodine and potassiimi — no better. Then I thought of getting a new arrangement of apparatus, where both should meet in a state of vapour. Whilst getting the corks ready for this, I bethought of trying with different proportions of iodine and sulphur fused to- gether. Some dim indications appeared with a glass tube, so 1 fused some in a tobacco-pipe bowl, and noticing ruddy va- pours, I held a glass jar over, and was delighted to see some of the fluid condensed. All doubt was at an end, and, this day, discarding all glass para- phernalia and other fooleries, I have made half a bottleful in three quarters of an hour, with an old and well-known black 134 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. 183' ink-bottle, and a curved glass tube. In my next epistle, I hope to tell you more about this ; meanwhile I am very glad, with all my disappointments and labours, to have met with some success. Enough of chemistry." " March \st. " I am glad you were pleased with the chemical dissertations. I shall give you more of them, for I give you all credit for sym- pathy, but I cannot add very much definite as to results. The compound I have got is a very curious one, and throws very great light on the constitution of a supposed element, bromine, which I am at present trying to decompose. Mr. K. Kemp is much interested in the inquiry, but I dare say nothing yet as to the results, for they may be very tedious, and complicated processes must be gone through before any conclusion can be safely drawn. I have to regret that I must almost entirely re - linquish chemistry for the next two months, to study for exami- nations, and revel in the delights of anatomy and practice of physic. You must not contrast your situation and mine as you do — ^years of labour, and months rich in discoveries. Eemem- ber that you have fairly begun, have got all the machinery set in play, which can ' lead on to fortune.' You are engaged in purely professional labours, and the result is very much in your own hands. Now, I have not even entered on the threshold of my profession. I am obliged to study what I abhor, and cannot get pursuing the branches that I wish ; and even if I could, I would not, my dear brother, make discoveries so very plentifully as you think they may be made, and, like yourself, I must imperiously mind the main chance, and alchemist or no, study the art of gold-making. Don't think I am proving myself to be miseraljle — not at all; I'm content and wiUing to wait and hope the best, but the future is very dim and doubtful " I read, with very gi'eat pleasure and sympathy, of your kneeling at the altar of St. Paul's. I cannot understand the religion which mingles not with every act and feeling, or con- ceive of those who dismiss God with the morning and evening prayer, as too pure or holy for the affairs of this busy world. The busy world may perhaps be the scene of many actions wl wh rie has vol the 1837 38. THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART. 135 and where God could not be invoked as the spectator or disposer of what was just or good, but *an undevout anatomist,' Dr. Fletcher says, 'is a maniac;* and while perhaps the chemist has less powerfully than the anatomist the incitements to de- votion, yet must he study his subject in a wrong way if he find them not. I have no altar to kneel at but my own bedside, where I have often prayed to God for you ; but there I have prayed for success in my endeavours, and there, should God grant me the honour of going deeper into His laws than others, I would pour forth my sincere thanks and gratitude. I found a strange verse in reading over the Psalms. I have not now time to look for the exact place, but it was to this effect, that he who ^ obeys God 'shall have the desire of his own heart.' Do look-^ at the passage. I think it is in the early Psalms ; but of course to love God should be the primary feeling, though the secondary ' desire' will in our minds too often supplant it. . . . " You say the folks ask if I'm coming to town. I think you might have told me whether it was ladies or no. As' to my reaching London, you know, Dan, nothing would give me more pleasure ; and to spend a winter there would greatly delight me, and I'm sure I could turn it to veiy great professional benefit. Dr. Christison and Mr. Kemp would give me letters to Professor Graham, and I would perhaps get introduced to Faraday ; also there are classes there that I cannot attend here, and I won't state any hypothetical objections, but I do not en- tertain a hope of being there. Had I gained that Essay, I should have come up in autumn to spend the winter with you ; but I did not, and I ceased to look forward to the realization of my hopes. Further, and let this be your consolation, I would not like to leave Mary at present. Meanwhile, I shall be very busy preparing for my first physician's examination in May. I, in the midst of much haziness from dull weather, remain your very affectionate brother, George." '• March 20, 1838. "I am breaking my promise in taking up a sheet of long paper, though that is but half- stating my crime, for I sent out expressly for it, that you might have no cause of complaint con- 136 MEMOIK OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. 183 ceming littleness of letter, and so I thought old John^ and his concerns worthy of a long sheet. I do also think certain youngsters, who have lately sojourned with us, equally worthy of what is so justly, as 1 feel it, called Foolscap. This is, I believe, positively the last long sheet you will get for some time, as I have put on my wisdom-cap and taken to osteology and its delights again. I shall send you a parcel soon, and perhaps a few lines, but Maiy must be your correspondent till my examinations are over. You will remember my delightful leisure when preparing for Surgeons' Hall, and excuse silence. Well ; away ye bones ! Have you seen any strangers floating in your tea ? — yes or no ? Well, whether or no, here they have come — the two daughters of an excellent old gentleman you have heard me speak of, one Hugh Mackay of Glasgow. They have spent a whole week with us, and now, after slowly becom- ing reconciled to the dulness which has succeeded the pleasur- able feelings their presence awakened, I sit down (or being already seated, remain sitting) in some degree to call back the pleasure by recounting it to one who will beUeve all said, and think it too little. ... I get on hazily with this letter ; but now that I have got clear of what does not belong to myself, I'll perhaps amend. I suppose, like me, you iind any little incident regarding folks or things you know about, amusing and pleasant, as disturbing the monotony of your thoughts. When I can get speculating on chemistry, I don't care for these things ; but now when I dare not speculate, as I would soon leave my studies to chase atoms and the like, I am very glad of any foolery to amuse me. Well, here follow a few of the last incidents for your benefit : One night, at my only visiting place, it chanced that I asked the young ladies to sing ' The last links are broken.' They sang it, but declared that, although wearied of the words, they loved the tune, and would sing it to new words if I would write them. Accordingly they sent me the original words, and I fell to, setting James at the same time to the task. We both wrote a couple of verses. James took, as I suggested, autumn, and wrote very quickly two verses ; the first halted, the second was very good, and, failing in the autumnal lines, I ' John M'Lure, of whom more ngain. 1837-38. LINES TO BE SUNG. 137 took the '--^oliaii harp' and soon despatched eight lines, and sent both off with a letter. They were most favourably re- ceived, and I was down on Saturday night to hear them sung. James's did not sing well, in spite of the goodness, especially of the last verse. There was, from his almost complete want of musical ear, a certain indescribable roughness, which threw a discord over their singing. Mine own did better ; in truth, they were declared faultless ; and both B. and R. sung them (you know it is a duet), as they said, with gi-eat pleasure. like Campbell, I'll squeeze them in here, as they won't take up much room ; and I have a very useless head to-night ; but mind you don't give anybody a copy, for I think they are the property and copyright of the Misses L ,/or whom they were written. Only, as I used formerly, when I promised to keep a secret, to make the reservation that I should tell you ; I now send you them, premising that I was restricted to two verses, that each line must have a double rhyme, and that the first rhyme must be a dissyllable, or equivalent to it. Here, then, the lines are. * To be said or sung.' " The deep tones are dying that haunted mine ear, Lilce the summer wind sighing, wlien autumn is near ; Wlien the fairies are singing along the green lea. And bright birds are winging their way o'er the sea. . " Tliat music revealing awhile to my heart, Each heaven-born feeling, too soon to depart, But awakes the desire, that so witching a strain Should steal from the lyre o'er my senses again. " I amuse myself in my afternoon ramble in stringing to- gether different rhymes promised for insertion in ladies' albums, in somewhat an odd fashion. I have the three somewhat oppo- site subjects of a quizzing Conversation with a Skull, an Ode to a Soap-Bubble, and a Hymn on Death. They are all begun, none of them ended. Now I apostrophize the grinning cranium, now I address the resplendent soap-bell, and 1 again move in the trappings of woe. ^ly mind is a mobile one, and loves the shifting. I don't hurry with the execution of these poems, as I don't care to lose the amusement very speedily. " I will not let slip any opportunity I can improve, of writing to you, spite of anatomy, biology, and all the ologies." 138 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. 1837 " April 7th, 1838. " I did not expect to have had the pleasure of writing, except, perhaps, a few lines at the bottom of some other person's letter, but I studied this last week till I gave myself a headache that drove me from the college to wander away and inhale the spring breezes. " And this day being Saturday, and Sam Brown having come into town yesternight, I shall just take a holiday, hoping the better on Monday to assail all the recondite and abstruse sub- jects which must be made al present my daily fare. " Many and manj'^ a choice thought you should have had and have lost, because, not having an amanuensis, they were all givpn to the winds and lest for ever ; now and then only did an idea seem deserving enough of treasuring up, to be thought of a second time, and commissioned southwards. There was, for instance, a declaration of Professor Jameson, that leather, espe- cially that from the sow's back, was of great use to ' saddlers, trunkmakers, and other artists,' which I thought could not fail to give you a pleasing idea of the category to wliich your fellow- worker and friend belonged. . - " Owen has been here with his wild vagaries of a new moral world, and his living in parallelogi-ams of harmony. D, is smitten ; came to me telling that he had had veiy few antipa- thies before, but he had none now ; and explaining to me how foolish and absurd it was of me to be angry, seeing the object of my anger was possessed of the character he had because society had made him so, and a great deal more in that strain. He left me Owen's book, desiring me to read it. I tried a page or two, and found it as you may imagine, just such a tissue of nonstn.se as Whitelaw, the vapour-bath man, wrote in his Buttercup theories of disease. You had ju«t to change the subject-matter, and the mode of reasoning would have served eitJier. I ex- pounded a page to him, forcing his assent to the preposition ; I built upon it, by obliging him to confess that he could not understand it, and he of course reolied, in his own chara.cteristic way, that Moses and David and Job did not knc^A' of a future world, and sundry other equally cogent arguments ; and when I proceeded to prove to him that Job and his friends did, he wit spr III. IK}?- 38. UNWhLCOME STUDIES, 139 departed, declaring at least that Solomon did not, and so it is with him the bubble of the hour, to live till a bigger and brighter spring. " I made a vain attempt on Saturday to write more than the preceding page ; so here on Monday night, I am again doing my best to write you a few lines, though in such a state of ferment as to be unable to write anything very worth reading. In truth, occupied, as I am at present, all hours of the day except one (and meal hours), it is not very easy to shift the thoughts from the multitudinous technicalities of manifold sciences, and at once fall into the pleasing vein that fraternal love demands, — the more so that each hour given, even to the worthiest pur- pose, awakens only the feeling that rejection may be the result, and calls up the thousand ugly yet relentless phantoms that wait but for one moment of remorseful leisure, to rush in and over- whelm the unfortunate medico. It is not that, in an hour of leisure, I cannot turn over a merry thought, and get the good of it, for I am never merrier than in the sweet hour that succeeds fagging ; but never reading anything but dry matters of medical sciences, all the fresh and juicy ideas of my brain are sucked out and expended on my own needful self, and no overplus remains to send to a friend for his help. But you must remem- ber my former willingness to write to you, and anticipate the renewal which emancipation will assuredly bring, and in the hope of this, suffer me for a while to drink in at my studies, and aft(!rwards you shall receive the outflow thence welling. " I have, in spite of the narrowness of my bonds, read one interesting work, of which you have probably already heard from Macmillan, Isaac Taylor's new book on Home Education. It is certainly an extremely interesting and very beautiful book, on which this opinion, which you and I have often passed on others of his -works, may be held, that, without putting faith in all his statements and views, there is a very great deal curious, novel, ingenious, and true ; and few, whatever their age be, can fail to derive very great good from it. I at least have, and I am sure you w .11. We are both of us past the age when the Home Edu- cation he proposes should be put in force, but we are not past the age when i.}ie hints intended for an earlier period may be prac- 140 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. 1R.17 tically useful to a riper age ; and Samuel Brown and I, waiving the application to ourselves, justified our perusal, by declaring we both proposed to be educators, meaning public teachers of science, — but I suspect Samuel might have an inward reserN'a- tion of a looking forward to have a cliarge of Home Education in its most natural and most simple sense ; I have none, but you may. " I descend to no parties Inra on the system till you have read it, but I should enjoy very, veiy much a long talk with you over it, its benefits and the like, as we used to have in our evening walks. And this leads me to remark, that I grieve to say I cannot encourage the hope of seeing you in London this svmimer or autumn, and that I trust you will not either form high hopes, or, above all, deny yourself the visitation of inter- esting things about London with the affectionate intention of waiting for me, for really, Daniel, I know not when I shall get up. As soon as I pass my examination, which will be some time in May, I shall have to begin German, to re- study French, to attend the Infirmary, to attend (most hoiTible) the Dispen - sary, — as necessary studies and duties. Further, I shall have to write my Thesis,* which I cannot put off till winter, seeing I shall have abundance then to do in preparing for my second examination, with all its delights of midwifery, surgery, practice of physic, pathology, etc., etc., so that 1 fear, even could I other- wise reach London, I saould commit an error in going, which you would be the first to mourn, T shall likely go out to Haddington as soon as I pass, but that will be a thoroughly practical journey, to have the benefit of Sam Brown's laboratory and assistance in carrying on my series of expeiiments in bromine, on which, if my researches are successful, I shall early publish a paper ; and I shall have a very extended series of experiments to perform there, at home, and at Dr. Christison's on the subject of my Thesis ; for my only hope, and it is a feeble one, of getting on as a chemist is to succeed in some projects which shall convince unwilling friends that I have some chance of success in such a pro- fession, and this I must do before I pass as physician, for that consummated, I must at once begin for myself in some capacity. ' The inaugural dissertation required from graduates of medicine. sun la onl hac 1R37-38. OBSTACLES BOLDLY MET. 141 " I shall betake myself to the study of pmctice of physic this summer and next winter, and fit myself for practice when I am set afloat on the world, should such an alternative be my only resort ; but what I have ever felt is, that even although T had no liking for chemistry, I should be most miserable as a pmctitioner, for I am neither intellectually fitted for discerning the nice shades of disease, in observing and detecting which a physician's sagacity is shown, nor am I morally formed to grapple with the tremendous moral responsibility that in my eyes hangs over my profession, and 1 am physically unequal and averse to the eternal trot of going rounds ; and thus I feel, that if I should practise, all labour at other things is hopeless. But of course none of these are reasons for my staying to burden my father, or making greater claims on his house and purse, and I have too much pride and independence to be beholden to others for a livelihood, when I may make one for myself. I wrote Uncle A , at mother's request, to tell him about Catherine, and as he has always been veiy kind to me, I mentioned cau- tiously my wishes regarding chemistry. He writes me back (in a very kind, however, and affectionate letter, in which he asks for you particularly), ' Respecting chemistiy, you may find it more pleasing than profitable,' and regarding the future hopes I held out of liecoming a lecturer, he says, ' I entertain the idea that it is but a poor profession.* The letter is, let me however say, written in a veiy kindly spirit, and he adds that I am better (qualified than he to judg(^ and begs me to write him soon. You see what I must expect, and that every moment between this and my final passing I must turn to the best account. I write this neither with morbid feelings towards my profession, or towards those who do not see things as I (and you) do ; they shall only stimulate me to redoubled energy ; and 1 shall neither mourn nor repine, for I have high hopes, and not unprofitable speculations, and if God grant me health and leisure, my most urgent needs, t shall not despair. All this I write as my apo- logy for giving up the hope of seeing you. I am sure you will agree, and we shall meet the sooner and the more honourably to ourselves, when all the sorrows are past. I^on't write, unless your health permits." 142 MEMOIR OF GEORUE WILSON. CHAP. III. " LABoiuTonT, May 4, Friday. " My examinations arc over, and I am half a physician, and 80, five hours after birth, I am writing you the good news, knowing it will interest you. We receive our summons a week before, from a kindly wish to give us time to look ovor our sub- jects. I luckily got hold of mine at the College, so they had no idea at home that I was going up. I shall not trouble you with a recital of the toils and troubles through which I passed ; suffice it to say that I began yesterday at ten o'clock, and studied straight on without stopping till three o'clock this morning, so I am rather wearied now, which is my only excuse if this letter be didl and iminteresting. I might amuse by re- citing the contrivance I fell upon to keep myself awake last night. I was in the finest studying trhu all day, and dreading I shoiUd become sleepy at night, I pilfered a portion of tea, kept a slice of toast, a little cream and butter, which I hid behind a rampart of books, and having commissioned Margaret [a servant] to leave the tea-kettle where I put it, I made myself a cup of tea, and got on excellently; the object of all this secrecy being to conceal my intention of going up for examina • tion to-day. . . . " I shall not attempt to run over the peculiarities of each letter you have sent me since I was chained to the oar, but shall only say they were great treats. I took them with me out in my afternoon walk to the Dean Bridge, and read them with much comfort and inward refreshment, and to the last of them I shall somewhat more minutely bind my attention and exchange a few thoughts, as many of the subjects you touch upon are n - teresting to both of us, and excellently fitted for the easy freeaom of letters. Don't you fear that I will take into consideration the getting to London ; if possible, I shall come, for nothing could be more delightful, and I could study excellently beside you, but I cannot say anything yet very definite, although I shall write you more explicitly afterwards. . . . Albums are the most flattering and comfortable records of poetry for folks like you and me ; one is sure to please, and I should never think of writing songs did not the wish to please, or promise to fill a page, form a stimulus. Now for the story of the soap-bubble, 1R37 3a TO A SOAP-BUBBLE. 143 11 of la which is certainly, as the sternest mathematiuian would allow, a trifle light as air. " Miss reproached mo for not writing in her album. 1 told her I never wrote without being asked, but would will- ingly if she wished. On receiving it, I inserted the following verses : — " TO A SOAP-BUBBLE. " Bright little world of my own creating. Blown with a breath of the viowlesa air, Thy fragile form in circles dilating Seems destined each hue of the rainbow to wear ; The amethyst's purple is given to thee, And tlie ruby has lent thee its own ruddy hue, And the emerald's green, like the sparkling sea, Mingles its tints with the sapphire's blue. Thou art a sun, rich in thy brightness ; Thou art a moon, silvered with whiteness ; Thou art a planet, begirt with a glow Of colours enamelled above ond below. As only the pencil of light can bestow. " Who knoweth now but that each starry sphere That silently floats in the heavens on high, Was once a gay bubble, pellucid and clear, Before it was given a place in the sky, And blown by the lips of some young anj^el, trying,— While his close feather'd wings were yet tiny and frail, - By other bright things, and their fashion of flying. To luani on his own gilded pinions to sail ? For thus one by one the planets were blown. And the bright milky way with starry gems sown. In the ether above no storms ever blow To crush their frail forms, or toss to and fro Those delicate worlds,— so round in their orbits they ever shall go." "J/ay 28, 1838. " It is now a long time, nearly a month, since I wrote you, and without the excuse of busy study to plead for silence. Not a line has reached you from me fcince I wrote immediately after passing. I told you then that I purposed going to Haddington, on Samuel Brown's invitation. At the time, however, which suited me best, some friends came out to see the family, and it woidd not have been convenient to receive me, so I was left disappointed in the very beginning of the flitting [Anglic^, removal]. You will not wonder that I hesitated little to accompany Mr. Mackay to Glasgow, in which place, and the 144 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. adjoining towns and the like, I have spent more than two weeks, having returned to town on Friday evening from Lanark, which I made the goal of my journey." The day after he writes to Miss Mackay : — " You will not doubt my sincerity, or think the less of me for it, when I say I am very glad to be at home again. I am such a slave to habits, and so easily set wrong in bodily frame, and therefore so unequal in spirits, that the change of mode of living, and the like, however slight, which attend moving about, soon discomfort me ; and with much greater wish to be meny, thoughtless, and at ease, than among llie grave studies of home, I am always less so ; and would rather have my friends come and see me, than I go to see them. In all this, I talk of the part I play, not of that of my kind entertainers ; so you are to regard this in the light of an apology for any lulness, stupidity, crossness, or the like, which appeared in me. Since I came home, I have got several new ideas, especially in geology, which I am studying, and have devised many foolish poems, quilibles, and much such nonsense, which of course evaporates away, leaving, I hope, a clear full-bodied liquor, as the brewers say, all the better, like porter, of losing the barm. My visit to Glasgow was a very pleasant one, and the source of much pleasure and happiness." '• Gayfieijj Squakk, Jiinn 18, 1838. " My dear Daniel, — Your most acceptable letter to mother arrived to-day, and the reading of tlie last line lias set me to writing you. Tliink not that I have suddenly had my discern- ment of logic so powerfully increased, as to make the question of whose letter was last, decide ray periods of correspondence ; even if I had, I should be guilty, for your letter recognised both of mine, and I was inexcusable. My only excuse for not writ- ing you, has been the apparently paradoxical one — to you, I am sure almost without meaning and weight — of having too little to occupy me ; not that 1 have been idle, for that I cannot be, but my business has been more of the body than of the mind ; more of the feet than the head. As soon as 1 came home from Glasgow, I knew I had to begin dispensary duties, and set 1837-^8. DISPENSARY PRACTICE. 145 about finding one. I found the New Town one full. The Old Town Dispensary had the Grassmarket district, which they offered me ; but I felt little inclined to take on me at once the onerous responsibility of so large a district, in which I knew I should be little assisted by superior doctors, but left to blunder my way on through fevers and wounds and distempers. In an agony of fright, and a delirium of suspense, fearful of committing evil, and by the very fear unnerving my hands and paralysing my energies, — in short, doomed 'to wade through slaughter to' a knowledge of practice, — and bent on learning the profession of a doctor, I articled myself to the Port-Hopetoun Dispensary, where, though their list was full, I was taken on as a subsidiary ; the period I serve being sufficient to give me claims to a certi- ficate, so that I learn and get over all difficulties at the same time. The great recommendation, however, is that, instead of being a principal, I am hooked to my good friend John Niven, with whom I every day perambulate the delightful purlieus of the West Port and the neighbourhood, sometimes steering across the 'bridge that spans' that prince of ditches, the Canal, and at other times winging our flight to the Grassmarket ; and wind- ing up all by journeying to the Weot Kirk Charity Workhouse, where we have charge of all the little urchins' health and wel- fare. So you see I am a great man in the way of practice, and not destitute at least of patients, and the means of learning that branch of medicine. " John Niven is an exceedingly clear-headed fellow, the very opposite of me in perhaps every point and every prejudice ; dif- ferent in the constitution of his mind and body, different in the education he has got, and very different in his views of all sorts of matters. But he is an excellent fellow, gifted by nature with that estimable but unacquirable qualification, ' a physician's sagacity,' which, like the ability to be a poet, of which Montgo- mery speaks, and which you may think far too noble a thing to be placed side by side with the calling of those who ' thru 3t their solemn phizes into every abomination,' is nevertheless equally the gift, I said, of nature and of God ; — I mean that acute discernment, at a glance, of the state of a patient ; tliat perception of the change of a symptom, its aggravation or cessa- »v 146 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. tion, which have flashed on the gifted physician and decided his practice, while the man, like me, of common gifts, is feeling pulse, and looking at tongue, and touching skin, etc., after the approved method handed down by Galen and Hippocrates to their medical posterity. One after all is puzzled to know what to think or what to do. This sagacity, which has much in it of a noble instinct, John has largely, and he has cultivated it by a zealous attendance on hospitals and dispensaries, by a generous expenditure on books and other means of acquiring knowledge, and by a hearty enthusiasm in his profession ; further, he is an exceedingly well-informed person on most matters, and, though not very speculative, fond of hearing anything odd, and greatly pleased with a joke ; to all this add great kindness of heart and action, invariably shown me, and particularly in this present instance, you will not think me so badly off in my daily walks ; and let me say we don't always talk of medical things, of which more hereafter. " I trot about every day from ten till two, and most tiresome it is, and when I come home, I am fit for very, veiy little. Up to the present time, however, I have taken geology in hand, and get on with considerable speed, and with very great delight ; but I have got nothing done at chemistry. There is no room for working at home, and I cannot work to my heart's pleasure in Dr. Christison's. I must have no one overlooking, even kindly ; so, up to this time, I have been miserable from want of my laboratory, and means to tiy, by the test of experiments, the projects of my brain. It is the disagreeable mood of mind, at- tendant on this state of things, which has kept me from writing, though I had plenty to say, and have a great deal more than this letter, big as it is, will hold. To-morrow sees my chemical labours begin, as you will learn before you finish this letter ; but lest I make this a mere preface and rvpology, and because I have been w^earying to say it, let me heartily congratulate you on your success. I cannot, as mother did when she read it, bring tears to my eyes ; that becomes a kind mother ; but a kind brother will, with exulting, joyous feelings, wish you all tlie comfort and happiness so auspicious an event should bring, and feel his own soul bettered by the knowledge your 1837 33. A PALACE OF A LABORATORY. 147 you liould your letter conveyed. I am proud of you, Daniel, with your high thoughts and high hopes, and persevering laborious duties, and unresting application " For the present I bid you good-night, and as night brings sober, chastened, religious feelings and duties, let me only add the hope (alike for both of us) that earthly things, however noble, will not shut from our straining eyeballs the higher things which must swallow up all other feelings, when death- beds and eternities come. God bless and preserve you, my dear brother, from all evils and snares, and myself too, for I have many. Good-night." "June \Wi. — I do not resume with good-morrow, for night is the time with me for writing, and I have just fallen to again to your epistle. Having discoursed of your prospects, occupa- tion, and the like, let me say a word of my own. After the first re-beginning of Dispensary rambles was fairly past, I began seriously to think of some way of getting my chemistry prose- cuted, and it came into my head, as my wisest plan, just to have a room, a garret, or the like, and turn it to good account. I betook myself to requesting the assistance of some old dames to get me one. Chancing to call on Mrs. to see Samuel Brown, I had to sit a while, and mentioned the wish to that old lady, who immediately stalked about the Lothian Eoad, and such places, in search of a room. Whilst engaged thus, I called at Leith Street, and mentioned it to Mrs. , who at once offered and gave me her most kind and most useful assistance, for she sent me over to a pensioner of hers, a widow, who had rented a room for six months or so, but having lost her daugh- ter, had gladly taken a place as housekeeper in a family. From her I got the key of the room, which will cost me nothing but a trifle a week to the old deaf lady who sweeps and sorts it ; and will be as it is a very palace. It is situate in that strange and not very decent place of Edinburgh, Eichniond Court ; but, as far as I have yet seen, it is an excellent little corner, with the best window in the court. I have a goodly sized furnished room — a perfect palace of a laboratory ; the window to be sure does not command a very fine view, but lets in a great stream of light, that valuable auxiliary to all sorts of researches that 148 JIEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. don't ask the shelter of tlarkness. I have five arm-chairs, with flaming yellow covers ; walls adorned with sewed samplers, por- traits of Queen Mary and Eichard Cceur de Lion, and which is a great deal better, a beautiful, unframed, fine engraving of one of Gerhard Douw's pictures, not to mention an elegant looking- glass, basin-stand, tumblers, glasses, etc. ; and a press, the key of which I am promised, if I don't break the old lady's china. In short, I want but one thing, as you will be pleased to mention to , — a housekeeper. You woidd have been greatly amused at a conversation between Mrs. , of Argyle Square, and me. She is a kind, simple, affectionate woman ; and I at once ad- dressed her, ' Well, Mrs. , I have taken up house for myself ' Taken up house, Mr. Wilson ; is it possible ? You are not veiy old.' ' No.' ' Have you really left yoiu' father's ?' ' Yes, ma'am, I have got a house of my own,' said I, adding it was ' in a retired part of the town, as we wished privacy ;' and I explained I had been visiting it Lliat day, getting the furniture (a few bottles) in. ' Well,' said the good-mannered but wondering lady, ' you'll need a housekeeper.* ' Of course,' said I ; ' whom do you re- commend ?' and so on. A gxeat deal of fun I got, laughing and blushing for the last foolish thing I did, seeing two very nice pretty young ladies, strangers to me, were listening to all this nonsense. 'Well,' says Miss , *I won't be your house- keeper.' Said I, ' You might have waited till you were asked. I see there's been somebody here before me ;' and ended by in- viting the ladies to visit me at my private residence. Explana- tions, fun, nonsense, and laughter followed, and all enjoyed the joke. I told them if they knew any young heiress, wishing to be lady of a house, to send her to me ; I would know the motive, and spare her feelings any questions. The promise was made. Make you a similar one. I must close this long yepistlo. I shall write you in a few days, by a bearer whose face you will be delighted to see." "GatI'IKIJ) Squark, ./I'/.y (!, 18^8. " In spite of lost time from several causes, and at eleven o'clock P.M., I begin, not on short glazed paper, but on long foolscap (the foolscap seems to fit me), to write something. I 1S37-3S, OUR COURT OF RICHMOND. 149 long don't know what you could make of my last epistle, so hurriedly, confusedly, and stupidly written was it ; and so conscious of this was I, that as soon as I wrote it, I sealed it, for fear of being tempted to look over it, and put it in the fire. Busy as I am, I have not been unforgetful, my dear brother, of your interests. . . , " This day on which I write, Saturday morning, is very beau- tiful, a great thunder-storm last night having swept away the darkness and gloom and mist. I write away busily to you, intending, when done, to get my chemical labours on a bit, as the thunder-plump of last night was so severe that I could not stir out, and the day before I was almost suffocated with chlorine gas, and obliged to come home and recline on some chairs for a couple of hours ; my headache has scarcely left me yet, and a snuff of the fumes brings it back, but it would never do to retreat for that. That's quite enough of a letter to be full of sense ; I must now see if I have no nonsense to fish up for you, of some kind or other. 1 get strange visits at my Eichmond Court, from friends, I presimie, of the previous resident. Yes- terday, a dumb man knocked at the door, and looked with amazement when I opened it. I tried to speak on my fingers, but found I had forgotten the dumb alphabet. I hailed him, and took pen and paper to write, but he could not read writing ; liowever, he whipped out of his pocket a bit of chalk, and snatching up a black tray, wrote on it with his left hand, back- wards, ' Friend of way,' wliich I suppose stood for my friend is away. I saw him in the street, and begged the clialk to write his friend's address, but he would not give it me. When I took possession of my royal apartments,^ I saw lying on the window-sill one of those large buttons which livery-ser- vants wear, with their master's crest on it. The eye being broken off, I doubted not it must be a button pitched up by some of the players at pitch and toss, this being the season ; accordingly, a rap came to my door, and two laddies put their heads in ; ' Will you gie's our button. Sir?' Just think of the simplicity ; they never seemed to dream I could be ignorant of llie place where the button lay, nor did they preface their re- ' A book containing notes of I'xiieiiments made in them, li:is for title-page ' Inipic Arcliives o'i Labours iicrfoniiecl al our Court of Richmond in August 1S38.' 150 MEMOIK OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. quest by any statement that the button was theirs, that it had accidentally been tossed up there, that I would find it on the siU, etc. etc., but evincing the most perfect confidence in my universal knowledge, they at once asked for it. I thought such confidence deserved similar treatment, so I, without any unne- cessary remarks, said, ' yes ;' walked to the window and got them their button. " What a delightful walk it is round Arthur Seat ! When the evening is dull, I walk through the valley and the Hunter's Bog; when anyway clear, I journey round the Eadical Eoad, for the sake of the extraordinary view, never two nights alike, and yet always so beautiful. I wonder some of the painters don't build themselves a painting-box, as the sportsmen do a shooting-box, beside the Cat-nick : the whole line of buildings, the alternation of land and sea, are so fitted to show every charm which varied atmospherical effects can produce on a scene. If I had a son who showed any capacity for landscape painting, I would stick him up, I think, on Salisbury Crags, and disinherit him if he did not beat Turner. The scene is altogether so Avondrous, so changeful in all its bearings, and so soothing to a mind busied with turning over a thousand subtle subjects, that I shall never weary of it, and probably as long as I go out to Richmond Court, I shall come home that way. " I lately gathered some forget-me-nots, from the spot where you used to pluck them at the foot of tlie rocks below St An- thony's Chapel ; but I was more fortunate than you, for a little boy brought me down a drink of St. Anthony's water, which, though not dry, I readily drank, to show him I appreciated his kindness. I lately had a visit from your pupil; M'Donald ; he seems very diligent and veiy enthusiastic; and is a curious enter- prising promising fellow, though extremely simple in his views. When he chances to be sent to any house, to look after painting its walls, or the like, he gets the servants to find out for him who painted the pictures on the walls, which he takes care to study. " He tells me there are two unknown or scarcely known pic- tures of Sir Joshua Eeynolds in a house in Edinburgh, repre- senting George iii. as introduced to his Queen, and liis man-iage. 1S37 -38, BUSY FROM 9 A.M. TILL 12 P.M. 151 One has not been quite finished ; the figures, he says, are stiff, but the faces very beautifully painted, and said to be all por- traits. In Sir Charles BeU's house, too, he saw some curious paintings. This certainly is the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties." ... To Miss Mackay. " July 21. " I daresay you have thought the old Scotch proverb, ' Out o' sight out o' mind,' completely verified in your case, seeing my promise to write a second time has never been fulfilled, and no reason for silence given. I can only say in excuse that if I have not written you, it has not been because I have been writing others, for except to Daniel, I have written but one letter (No. 2) since I left you, and if I have thought by chance for a few minutes of ladies, as ladies, you have had a very large share of those very rare thoughts. In truth, I am at present from 9 A.M. till 12 p.m. completely occupied ; one half of the day with Dispensary duties, the other half with chemical and lite- rary labours. It is not, however, the actual occupation of time that has stopped my pen ; but the mood of mind engendered by chemical speculations excludes almost wholly other thoughts. I am devising, suggesting, experimenting, breaking glass vessels, and melting, and fusing, and evaporating ; and when I am doing so, and I am thoroughly possessed with the idea, I don't care for anything else. " I am no longer able to afford myself the hour's walk at three o'clock, which I spent in traversing Princes Street, and walking out into the country. I never see ladies now, therefore, even on the street, except when huiTying home from Dispensary or Laboratory, and so I am more and more every day losing any opportunities (few at best) of gratifying the passion for seeing pretty faces ; though now, often hurried as my glimpses are, I see some forms and countenances I cannot easily forget. I saw the lady that's like you to-day, with her lame and very interest- ing looking friend ; I have seen neither for a long time. I looked on them as friends and felt quite pleased, for I had been looking in all quarters for them in vain, for some time. I ¥• it 152 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CH\P. III. have lately got acquainted with a new face in the street, a very- interesting one ; I would give a great deal to know its possessor. I am sure she has come lately to towxi ; she is young, florid, with regular, good-tempered, but dignified features, and something very pleasing in her appearance. I cannot get out of my head that I have seen her before ; -t any t; :e the is very like a particular f.'iend of mine. T >nn n tcriuivcc to and out who she is, and 1 am likely to succeed, for i ioiivi 1 <:ut a lady's name, etc., lately, after a three months' st.a'ch, ;!!; the t ir>;a I told you of having met her at the Exhibition of Pictures, i '^ad, however, seen her often going to school before, admired her eyes and forehead, and was tormented about her. However, in spite of these annoyances, and to the great amazement of my friends, I made a point of asking at every house I was in the practice of visiting, about the lady, whom I described to the best of my ability, from the contour of her form to the material of her gown. The ladies of the families where I inquired kindly assisted me ; three families in the south side who have a very wide circle of acquaintance, lent me their aid. One gossiping widow, whose room commands one of the most famous streets for belles in Edinburgh, went over the inhabitants of every house, commenting on the ages, sizes, accomplishments, and the like, of all the female intellects, and opinion Avas divided between a great tobacconist's and a jewel- ler's daughter. However, I would not believe she was either ; and in spite of the assurances of a friend, a young Secession student and a great beau, that she was the daughter of a gentle- man in Leith, I persevered in my scepticism, and at last learned who she was- -but you don't deserve to know, and I'll not tell you any more. However, I'll immediately set an inquiry afoot about this other lady, who is a far nicer one than the former. " I have a goodly set of duties, like those you voluntarily im pose on yourself, in the visiting of patients, having the famous or infamous district of the West Port for my share of the town. I see queer sights and queer things, and am amused, and grieved, and made indignant, and rejoiced, and wearied by turns. I shall be glad, however, Avlien the work is over. With visiting and chemicalizing all day is spent, and evening brings a recur- rence of either or both duties, while new ones are added. The 1R37 na OVliUWOKK To BE nUKAUED. 153 present Is ^vith me a sea-.ou of labour, whetb^^r or not to purpose has ye+ to appear ; T mention so much to 3xcuse the matter-of- fact tt' \e of t: is epistle." T( iiis brother he says : " I have iieen veiy much shocked to iieai" thfit Dr A. B. j u_)mg of consumption. Poor fellow! ho seemed to be going on so prosperously, and now to be stopped by that cruel disorder. Daniel, be warned ; remember you are drawijig on your capital of health— hoping afterwards to refund it — but remember you have no means of ascertaining the capital you possess, and may find yourself in irretrievable bankruptcy. You will say, 'What can I do?' Well, I can say nothing, only don't let ambition conceal herself under other titles and mislead you. Both you and I are in perfect health, but we have nothing above present wellbeing in the least to look to, and I fear you are not sufficiently alive to the risks you run in woriwing so hard. I beseech you, for the sake of yourself, and of every one who has an interest in your welfare, if possible, walk at least two hours every day, an hour morning and afternoon, and see that your room is as well ventilated as possible, and as little confined as may be — that at least you can do. I assure you, the tears come to my eyes when I think of you working at that rate, and I dread the consequences. I don't consider you an invalid ; I only fear the results of the life you lead. If you have thouglit my previous remonstrances unnecessary, tuke a warning by poor B., who has suffered from working too hard. If in all this I have done nothing but awaken useless fears, forgive the imprudence of a brother's love, who has learned from the sad records of his family and his patients, that it is more easy to prevent than to cure. " I said I did not know when I should be up at London, but since I wrote circumstances have occurred to change my inten- tions, and I think I shall be able to spend the month of Octo ber with you. I don't think I can get away sooner ; perhaps I may, in the end of September. However, meanwhile believe me, your affectionate loving brother, Geokge. " P.S.— Now, Daniel, my head 's hazy, or I would write more, but my heai-t opens up at the idea of seeing you again. I have not I5i MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP, nil a friend like you, and what a host of things I have to tell you, that could not be written, with divers funny jokes and the like, which the occasion no doubt will inspire, and as I'll not bring any of the chemical stuffs, you need have no fear of your nose. I'll bring Euclid, and get lessons in Mathematics and Algebra. I have left mother laughing at the idea of studying Mathe- matics with you. She sends kindest love, and requests as the greatest favour, that you will conceal no difficulty from her. My head yearns for the pillow, so good-night." '•7thAuffusilS38. " Mother gives me this paper, as ' small paper ;' it looks veiy large, however ; nevertheless I'll try what can be done in the way of filling it, " Your letters and their bearer arrived safely, three days ago, and we have all been feasting on them. The description of London is exceedingly enticing and amusing, and all the motives for visiting so goodly a metropolis, weigh well in my mind to urge a visit ; but my main object in coming will be to see you and spend a while with you, my dear brother and best friend. I can now speak a little more confidently as to when I shall come up. I am at present the only student in the Dis- pensary. I shall have heavy and responsible duties till the end of August, when my time expires. " I shall hope to spend a part of September and a bit of Octo- ber, perhaps the whole of it, with you, and surely that would satisfy you. Tell me, when you write, veiy particularly about the arrangements you propose, mention the expenses and the like, and I'll get all put right in time. I shall haul up with me sArv.a Viooks, and study beside you ; however, we'll not say much about the study. " I am going to publish a paper in one of the Journals, on a new exposition of a chemical law, which has been debated all over Europe, and argued one way and another, without any one being able to prove which of two opinions was the true one. " While engaged in a wholly different inquiry, I made a little discovery which threw some new light upon the subject. I was confined at home two days unwell, and tried an experiment or im 38. A TROUBLED NIGHT. 165 two, which proved my views, and, in short, before the week was done, I had proved my point, beyond the possibility of contra- diction. " Samuel Brown recommends me to speak to Christison to get it put in the IJoyal Society's Transactions. I intend doing so to-moiTow. I was only kept by a dread of seeming to over- value the matter, and especially by on unwillingness to seem courting patronage ; but I'll see him, and be guided by his con- duct to me. " I am extremely tired and sleepy, so excuse the remaining blnnk paper." An extract from a letter to his sister gives a specimen of his medical practice and its unwelcomeness to his tastes. " My dear Mary, — You should long before this have heard from me had not a succession of engrossing cares so occupied my time, that it was im])ossible for me to do almost anything. John Niven left me last ]\Ionday, and now I am relying on my own resources, and fighting away most horribly, at the Dis- pensary. I purposed writing you two nights ago, but on the morning of Wednesday, I was awakened at six o'clock, and hurried away to the Dean l^ridge, to see an afflicted woman ; all day I was kept running after her, and night brought me no rest, for I was liable to be sunnnoned at any hour. I lay down on the sofa, wrapped in my INIackintosh cloak, a little Camlet covering of James's on my feet, my heac' being cased in a good white cowl ; but I soon got cold, and I whipped off my boots, and laid me without undressing under the bed-clothes. This was at one o'clock. I slept ill, thought eveiy minute I was liearing the door-bell ring — started up, and awoke fairly at four o'clock— fell asleep again, and awoke finally at six — dressed, read till breakfast, and then walked out to see my patient, to find my trouble misplaced, seeing they had called in another doctor, as they did not like to send to such a distance. A wee bairn's voice was the first thing that saluted my ears, and I saw its little red face peeping from below the quilt. The mother's name was Mrs, King ; and willing to prove my skill in logic, if not in physic, T observed that a King's daughter must be a 156 MEMOIU OF GKOttGE WILSON. CHAP. III. Queen, and therefore the child's name should unfailingly he Victoria. Tlio good woman smiled, hut I'm not quite sure that the logic told on her. The upshot of this childish .story is that neither that night, nor last night, which was its successor, was I in an epistolary vein. You nuiy well suppose I was very thankful to get to hed soon last night ; in truth I could not fall asleep, for felicitating myself on my good fortune in not having to sit up or tremble in fear of a knock. In real earnest, I spent twenty-four hours in a state of the most miserable solicitude and timorous apprehension, prophesying for myself I know not how many unwelcome things, uud quite unable to rest at any- thing. I was never made to be a physician, and I'll never, I do believe, try practice again. " I'm much delighted to think you are beside Miss Campbell. 1 pray thee, Mary, question diligently anent our genealogy ; I have a very particular reason for wishing to know our lineage. I know that Highland lore is more concerned in tracing out the lateral ramifications, and intenveaving families of this Ilk with families of that Ilk, and goeth seldom up to the stock, whence the sprouts have budded ; but if you can get our lineage some good way back, either among the Campbells, which I suppose is the only chance, or among the Wilsons, which is a doubtful clue, I should be greatly pleased. Follow it up to Adam, or as near as you can, unless midway, about Noah's time or so (N.B. — not Noah Webster's time), you find out some vagr^ond who was hanged, drawn, or quartered, or who hung, drew, and quar- tered some one else ; there you may stop and take a rest, and we'll refresh ourselves about the scoundrel's prowess. In serious verity, I would willingly believe the rumour that the Wilsons are of Danish extraction, and s^^•ear that my veins throbbed with the blood of Handet, but that good prince having died without issue, leaves me in an awkward dilemma, and forbids that line of descent. I'll be satisfied if you trace up any of the branches ; the Campbells surely can be linked on to the Duke of Argjde, and that may do for them." On September 11th, the final arrangements for visiting Lon- don are announced :- - " You will be surprised not to have heard i^n: 38. PERILS BY WATER. 15; imm nio liefore this. 1 havo waited to bo able to tell you evcrythiii}.,' as definitoly as possible. Mary and .Teanio are now home, both lookinj^ a ^Yo.at deal better, and in all respects im- proved. Their arrival sets me free to set off when I choose. Now, I am not coming up directly by one of the Leith and London steamers, l)ut by Hull. I shall arrive there on Sunday evening, stay all night with our old friends, leave on Monday morning, and bo in London on Tuesday afternoon or evening. . . . I am in no mood for writing, have bv>en so knocked about, have so much to do, been so late u]), and am so sleepy, that I shan't write a word more. Everything it is desirable you should know, I keep for oval communication. — Believe me your very affec- tionate, loving, sleepy brother, George." "Okoroe Inn, Hull, Afonrhif, 1'th September. " My dear Mother, — The best of friends are often bad ad- visers, and so it has proved in my case ; for the ' Innisfail,' instead of arriving in Hull on Sunday at twelve o'clock noon, did not get in till one o'clock at midnight of Sunday, and no- body got ashore till this morning. " On Saturday, up to eleven o'clock p.m., when ' I turned in,* the weatlier was most delightful, and the voyage in all respects veiy pleasant. I did not fall asleep for an hour, and then I tumbled over into a doubtful snooze. I believe there was a sensitiveness among all present to any alarm, from the late accident on the station ; and, accordingly, when the engine stopped at two o'clock in the morning, I and many others awoke. 1 did not know what hour it was then, and being aware that a gentleman and lady wqvc cjoing ashore at Scarborough, I thought it would be the boat stoj 'ping to let them out. One of our number, however, got up and went on deck, and learned that some pin in the engine had broken, and caused the stoppage. However, it was deemed so trivial that he went to bed again, and we began to talk about steamboats and accidents, and the like. Now, you must notice that I slept in a room contaming four berths, three of which were occupied by Englishmen, the fourth being occupied by your Scotch son George. I was soon embroiled with the whole three about the nature of the last 158 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. accident : and when I pushed one of them too hard, he began his speech by telling me, that * we in arguing in England do so and so,' implying a full anxiety to show he knew my nation, and hated it. However, disregarding the taunt, I baffled them all, and was not a little amused next morning, when a surgeon of dragoons, who had lain in some corner or other within ear- shot of us, remarked to one of tliem on the amusement he had had listening to our conversation, adding, ' There was a great deal of eloquence in it at times.' I take the credit of all the eloquence to myself, the precious triumvirate can divide the remainder of praise among them. I and the surgeon enjoyed a laugh at them afterwards. All that is episodical. After talk- ing a wliile, I thought I heard the steam cease blowing, which is always dangerous if the steamboat be still, and I immediately dressed and went on deck. The steam, however, was blowing away all right, but one of the engines was completely maimed. The whole crew were at work unshipping the broken engine, a work of nearly two hours, during which time we were lying off North Shields, on the Sunderland coast. The night was most beautiful, the water as still as a mill-pond, which was well for us. Had the wind blown hard, it would have been scarcely possible for us to have managed ; and had the gale blown on the shore, nothing could have saved us but casting anchor, which caimot always be done on these coasts. As it was, we not only lost two hours in absolute inaction, but being palsied of one side, we could only creep along at five or six miles an hour, so that it was one o'clock last night before we reached Hull. One of the many pigs which we had on board walked overboard in the confusion, and was to be heard squealing at a distance. A boat was sent in pursuit, and 1 had an opportunity of seeing verified two truths sometimes doubted. A foolish pre - judice prevails that swine cannot swim, but cut their throats with their feet ; but tliis pig, I assure you, swam, and well t .', — so well as to be nearly a mile off. What was its exact object in going over, has not yet transpired. Whetlier it had been exhausted with its exertions in the way of squealing the night before, and wished a cold bath ; or mistook the English coast for its own beloved Irisli coast, and M'as journeying homewards, 1837-38. A PIG OVERBOARD. 159 as it thought ; or possessed a devil, like the sacred swine of old ; or purposed (' awful thought') to commit the crime of sowicide, I cannot say ; but so fervent was its love for the ' deep, deep sea,' that it sprang from the embrace of the loving mate into the wave, and was only secured after a gallant struggle. " While the boat was setting off, I saw the other curious thing I referred to, — the phosphorescence of the sea, which I have so long w^ished to behold. Nothing could be more beautiful. In the wake of the boat was a line of the most delicate pale green light, speckled with stars of a darker green, while each dip of the oar broke the wave into the most beautiful scintillations. I walked the deck till five A.M., and having no fancy for being 'laid on the shelf again, T wrapped myself in my cloak and greatcoat, and laid me down on two chairs, where I brooded till seven, when I washed and redressed, and was among the first to gain the quarter deck. 'Twas a most queer sight the cabin at rising time, — here a cowl was popped up, and there a long thin shank came delicately over the shelf s edg(> ; and such unbuck- ling of boxes, and bags, and portmanteaus, and hauling out of razors and soap-brushes, and combs, and the like ; for my part, thinking it right to ' rough it out' at sea, I kept my beard on ; and thanks to the goodness of an excellent old man, who gave me, unasked, a hair-brush, when he saw me stroking my head with my fingers, 1 was able to make myself comfortable. 'Twas a sorrily kept Sunday yesterday. I saw only the old gentleman who gave me the brush take out a small Testament, when he got up, and read a chapter to himself He then offered it to a tall, old, military-like man, whom I suspect to be an East Indian general or the like. Nothing could equal the wonder, and fierceness, and politeness of the refusal. He seemed amazed that he shoidd offer that to him (doubtless an Episcopalian, for he was after- wards hoping he'd be in Hull in time for evening prayers) ; angry, because it was an implication on his imjiiety ; and polite, because it was kindly and sini]ily offered. When I heard the repeated refusals of the old gentleman, it quite overcame me, and I laughed long and loud. It was without comparison the most lovely day I have seen this summer : the sun slione out P ■^ J 160 MEMOIR OF GEORGE AVILSON. CHAP. III. without a cloud to dim his brightness ; the sea was literally covered — studded — with vessels ; and the low undulating coast of England, with here and there a picturesque windmill, and the like, was seen to the highest advantage. My animal spirits quite overflowed. I lay stretched at full length on a locker, indulg- ing in the most blissful reveries. I did not go to bed last night, but lounged on the sofas, and laughed almost to suffocation at the old Indian general wlio lay next me, popping ixp his head and muttering the oddest oaths." 1838-3}). VISIT TO WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 161 ' CHAPTER IV. RESIDENCE IN LONDON — DEGREE OF M.D. " In this theatre of man's life, it is reserved only for God and angels to be lookers-on." — Preface to Bacon's ' Advancement of Learning.' In the renewal of the joyous companionship of former times, the brothers were truly happy. " I can't tell you haK what I have seen," George's first letter to his mother says. " I've been at the British Museum, and gazed with delight on the splendid fossils, the huge crocodile-like monsters of the ancient deep, and one specimen I wislied you had seen of those marks of beasts' feet which you used so much to laugh at. ... I called on Professor CJraham, and received a most courteous reception. We talked together for an hour and a half. I told him some of my speculations, and he smiled, as all older and wiser heads always do. I was invited to come to the laboratory whenever I listed ; but the distance is tremendous, at least six miles from Daniel's place." About a week later he tells her, " I have visited Westminster Abbey since I wrote you last, and strolled through that magni- ficent pile. Daniel and I were fixing on the corners we should lie in when we are buried in that nol)le sepidchre. Daniel's steps led him to a wide but gloomy cloister ; mine were long arrested at the small tablet raised to Sir H. Davy's memory It's a shame, a sliame ! — that's far too feeble a word -it's a poor piece of very mean feeling, to see in Westminster Abbey enor- mous piles of marbles, pyramids bolstered up by all sort of extravagant allegorical figures, raised to the memory of soldiers, many of whom were but the obedient servants of accomplished generals, while Davy has Init a little corner of one of the subsi- I. t.k% 162 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON, CHAP. IV. ii I diaiy chapels, and iieitlier figure nor allegory ! His birth, his death, his name, and a few words more, cover the stone ; not that any pile would have made him more noble, but it would have shown a wish to ennoble him, Wliat, after all, is fame ? The man who walked with us, pointing to Sir H, Davy's tomb, said, ' See, sir, he was a Baronet,' That was all the merit he had in his eye. Fame is a bubble; but, like the soap- bell, it is a beautiful one painted over with very bright hues, and arrayed in most enticuig colours. It may burst in the grasp, bat it is beautiful till it hath burst, " Were yoa to wander along the streets as I do, finding abun- dant occupation and pleasure in watching the flood of faces that rolls past, you woidd be at no lofs to guess the subject of each one's thoughts. Business — business — business, is written in letters of black, with squaring of red, on each ledger -like face, with pens -seemingly steel-pens, to judge from the lines they leave on each shrewd countenance. Yet is this stir of business healthfid and exhilarating ! 'Tis true they are worshipping Mammon ; yet are they putting forth great mental energies and much talent, and power is to be respected, for whatever ends it works, " I dined last night with Prtfessor Graham, and I spent a veiy happy evening among a circle of young chemists, I stayed behind them all, and had a long talk with him, from which I learned a great deal, I did not get home till one o'clock, so great are the distances," " I am afraid I shall not see Faraday, He's not in town at present, and his lectures are not begim ; nor shall I bo present at a meeting of the Eoyal or any other of the Societies. This is just the ^vorst period of the year for all these things. Some of them begin in November, the majority not till Feb- innnry, the beginning of the fashionable season, when the titled p' >ple rptuni. to town. I must, therefore, depart without seeing these U'vu ami things. Yet there is still a chance of seeing Faniday ; but I fear none of b(>holding the Queen." Of tlus ]H:ri;)(> Daniel sny- —"My lodgings were then at the t r.tTv"' ;)o cistern \crge of L«)ndon''^ suburbs, in the village of Snatioid 'e ikiw, on tlie bo.ders ci Essex, mto which we occa 1838-39. A STEEPLE CHASE. 168 at the occa sioually rambled together ; to Westham, wliere an introduction had procured us a friendly welcome ; and to Barking, through the marshes, and so to the Thames dykes, where a steeple-chase was long cherished by him as a favourite jest against me. Rambling on a holiday we had made for ourselves, through that strange, Dutchman's corner of merry England, lying below the level of high-water, with river-dykes, sluices, and other fea- tures, then as foreign to our eyes as any Dutch canal scene could be, we spied a steeple in the distance and gave chase. Already we had got a peep at some of Engknd's lovely little parish churches, and here was another chance ; but to make for it as the crow flies could only be done by a crow or a duck. Carefully navigating our way by means of dykes and hedge- rows, at length we reached the banks of the Thames, and found the great river was between us and the object of our desire ; but we had gone too far to be baffled now. After waiting and long- ing, we at length succeeded in hailing a boat, got into it, and, as we rowed across the river, the boatman was drawn into con- versation about the church, its name, its history. ' It was an old one ? ' 'Oh yes, it was an old church.' ' Very old ? ' for, as we drew near, we began to suspect that distance had lent a little enchantment to the view. * Well,' said our ferryman, ' he did not doubt it was well nigh fifty years old ! ' which was pro- bably a very accurate guess. It turned out to be about as plain a red brick meeting-house, with square belfiy at its end, a« ever village bricklayer designed and executed. But we enjoyed our ramble on a clear October day, making up for the long in- terval since our Edinburgh country walks, by many a remini- scence of the past, and so beguiled our walk to another ferry and home. Epping Forest was reached by a similar ramble, and George's imagination excited by the romantic encounter of a small encampment of gipsy tinkers with their donkey and covered cart. The season, however, for wanderings in the gxeen lanes of Epping Forest or the Essex marshes Avas soon at an end, and time was viiluable to both of us. The wonders of London, how- ever, were an inexhaustible delight. Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, the Tower, and all other lions, were thoroughly and lov- ingly explored ; the British ISIuseum was a never-failing resort ; 164 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP, IV. I and through the kindness of our old schoolfellow, Adam White, it was as free to us on private as on public days, and the read- ing-room of its libraiy became a favourite resort of both of us when we could spara the time. Nor is it to be doubted that both the Temple and the India House were visited for Charles Lamb's sake." At the close of a month, when about to return to Edinburgh, the offer of a place as unsalaried assistant in the Laboratoiy of Professor Graham, now Master of the Mint, but then I'rofessor of Chemistry in University College, <.'aused a complete change in George's plans. The advantages it offered were too great not to weigh strongly with him, as in no place in this countiy could better op])ortunity present itself for acquiring a knowledge of analysis and the other branches of Chemistiy. He wrote to consult friends at home, saying to his mother — " I will not make a vain parade of the grief my non return will give me. A thousand links of the dearest kind which nothing here can make vpfor, draw me to Scotland and Edinburgh; but you, 1 am sure, would be the first to say ' go.' " The week of suspense caused by the tardy postage of thost^ days was happily ended by the receij^>t of the desired permission to remain ; and a few days later found him settled at work, and reporting to the home circle — " 1 have not completely recovered my chemical vein ; besides the dissipation of thought whicli occurred during my idlent>ss here, the long distance I have to go every day, and the consequent fotigue, as well as the un settled nature of my views yet, have hindennl me reacquiring the thoughts which were my summer companions. . . . Let me say a very little of the Laboratory and my com]ianions there, as you will be anxious to know with whom niv days are to be spent. I have at least entered on my labours with the best wishes of my preceptors and fellow-labourers. Both Mr. Graham's assistants, Mr. Young' and INFr. Playfair,' are glad of my addition to their number, and give me all the assistance hi their power, and as they are both good practical chemists, and Playfair a geologist, I hope to profit by their society." ' Mr. James Youii;;, UuUigate Clieniical Works. - Dr. Lyon Playfair. Prol'i'.Hsor of Chemistry in the University of Edinburgh. 1838 39. MEETS DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 165 After naming pupils in the Laboratory, lie goes on to speak f)f " an odd little mortal, a sort of apprentice, who does the dirty work, cleans the bottles, etc., a poor friendless orphan, aged fifteen, who never learned anything but his alphabet. He has contrived to teach himself chemistry most thoroughly, and with few or no encouragements has attained (no difficult thing, as I know) to love it too. He is a very obliging, good-tempered, happy little fellow ; has taken a inncy for me, and I for him. I sliall certainly help him every way I can, and he says he will do anything for me. 1 shall immediately begin at his own little cell some of my old things, as I shall not have, or wish to have, at home any convenience for such things." Among the students in the Laboratoiy that session was Dr. Livingstone, now distinguished for his labours and discoveries in Africa. On the return of the celebrated traveller to th/'o country a few years ago, it was a pleasure to him and George to renew their previous intercourse. A much prized copy of his travels bears the autograph inscription, " To Professor G. Wilson, with the kindest regards of his friend and class-mate David Livingstone." Letters from the rivers Shire and Zambesi have come to this country since George Wilson's death, in which Dr. Livingstone speaks of specimens intended for the Industrial IMuseum of Scotland. " I have collected," ho says, " some little things for you, but they are really so rude that I have doubts whether I ought to send thom. The mill for grinding corn, for instance, is a great block of stone with a hollow worn in it of about three inches in depth, and the mortar, exactly like the Egyptian, is about the size of a man's body. A web in process of weaving, is an uncouth affair, as indeed everything here is. Tliey have not improved a bit since Tubal Cain, and those old fogies, drove a little into their heads. Such as they are, how- ever, you shall see them some day." How m\ich these and other gifts mentioned in the letters would have delighted the Director of the Industrial jNIuseum, we can readily imagine. Some of Daniel's remembrances are amusing. He says — " At an early stage of George's London wanderings the unfami- liar face of Charles Lamb's India House led him strangely astray. His connexion with Professor Cirahani's Laboratory Ml ie$ MEMOIR OF GEORGE 'WaLSON. CHAP. IV. I t necessitated a daily walk from my remote suburban quar- ters, through the City, to Gower Street. But at that time the vigorous and enthusiastic young chemist thought little of a walk, through Mile End, Whitechapel, Cheapside, and Hol- bom, with such a goal in view ; nor was it easy to wander, where the road was sti'aight and well defined. Cleorge, however, ■was not more remarkable for his singidar memory of every face he ever saw, than for his utter want of what phrenologists call locality. Pe would persist in taking short cuts on his way to and from Gower Street, in spite of all warnings, and was picked up after pursuing !• is devious track in far-away unexpected nooks, such as only those who know the intricacies of old London's back streets and lanes could conceive possible. Warned, however, by such dear-bought experience, he resolved on contenting him- self with the plain long road, steering his way by well-known landmarks, which even his im topographical head could appre- oiflLu. Guiding his way accordingly by such means, as he CA^^lained to me aftenvards, he wended his way eastward one afternoon. St. Andrew's Holborn, Field Lane, St. Sepulchre's, and the Blue Coat School were all safely passed ; the Post- Office and St. Paul's were .-^Mnced at, in emerging from Newgate Street into Cheapside ; ant., -pursuing his course steadily onward, — tlie por- tico of the Mansion House was next noted, as the mariner satisfac- torily descries a guiding landmark or lighthouse — so far all was well. But coming soon after upon the portico of the East India House, in Leadenhall Street, George pulls up in sore confusion : ' Wliy,' said he to himself, ' where can I have been wandering to ? I passed the Mansion House not long since, and here it is again ! ' So to put matters straight he turned up Bishopsgate Street, and started with renewed energy on a road which, if pursued far enough, might have landed him in Edinburgli, but could never have brought him to his desired haven. After getting ever more and more perplexed, he had recourse at length to that unfailing remedy for such a dilemma, a hackney cab, and was comforting himself over a favourite passage in Foster's essay on ' Decision of Character,' in which the author laments the want of a parallel resource for the midecided man — when, feeling for his purse, he found he was moneyless ! The cab was 1838-31). LONDON PASTIMES. 167 only intended to put him in the way of the Bow omnibus ; but that would not do now ; and I well remember the eager head out of the cab window, as he at length caught sight of me on my way to meet the absentee, already long after his time. A few such incidents, added to the unreasonable length of the road, led to our changing our quarters, and we set up our abode in Great Clarendon Street, Euston Square, where we fell into the hands of the Philistines, and got initiated into some of the mysteries of London lodging-houses, which furnished materials for many a joke at a later date, but were serious matters at the time, when our purses were fully as light as our hearts. " We did not fail to make good use of some of the great Lon- don sights of that time : its pictm'e -galleries, museums, cathe- drals, etc., and among the rest, I do not think that George ever repented of having availed himself of the opportunity of witness- ing some of tlie wonderful reproductions of Shakspere's choicest dramas, with which Macready was then delighting the London world at Covent Garden ; nor of his first peep at a pantomime, brought out with all the glories of a London stage, and which he enjoyed with a mirth as hearty and unrestrained as the happiest child there. ' Peeping Tom of Coveiitiy ' was often afterwards lauglied over, and furnished illustrations, both gmve and gay, in writings of a later date. Such pastimes, however, were only the rare relaxations of an exceedingly busy and happy season." Further details of Laboratory duties are given in writing home, " I go to the Laboratory at nine o'clock, and do not finally leave it till five o'clock. Long as these hours are, they are agreeably broken up : thus, at eleven o'clock, I go in to hear Mr. Graham's lecture ; at two I go home to dinner, and at five I leave finally. Three days a week there will be a practical class, where I shall have to assist, so that there will 1)e no room for wearying. You will observe I am never more than two hours contiraumsly at work : at Dr. Christison's Laboratory I was often four or five, and as many at Eichmond Court always. My lodgings are at a mile's distance from the Univeisity, so that I shall have a comfortably long walk, to and from my working place, twice each day. I i m 168 MEMOIK OF OEOUGE WILSON. CHAP. IV. lal " We have just learned to-day that Mr. Graham has obtained the gold medal of the Royal Society, endowed by George iv., for the best papers in the Philosophical Transactions. Every body was coming in congratulating us on our master's prize. " I think 1 referred, in my last letter to you, to a young boy who was in the place — a friendless orphan of fifteen, who learned nothing but his alphabet from others, but has nevertheless con- trived to make himself a thorough chemist, the best I know. There is scarcely a fact, however out of the way, he does not know, an experiment he has not tried, nor a subject on which he cannot give you something. After slaving all day at the laboratoiy, cleaning bottles and such things, he goes home to a miserable dreaiy garret, where he falls to his own labours, and works away at the science he loves. He is a most striking instance of the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties, and that you may keep in remembrance one of whom I shall likely speak often, I add his name, William Saunders. I shall probably work with him, repeat some old inquiries, and engage in new ones, but i»f that more hereafter. .... " I hope Jessie and Jeanie were satisfied with my extremely hurried notes, especially as J wrote them before I got Jessie's at all, which t(jll her. They must write me now and then, and so must all of you, when you can. I shall live upon my Scotch letters, as I know so veiy few people here. I cannot find pleasure in visiting. " I shall stop here, promising you a larger epistle the next time, if I can spare the time ; but considering the multitude of those I must write, you will be merciful, and be sure 1 cannot make more evident, or feel more towards you, the affec- tion of a loving son, than I do now that I am for a period a stranger." " I shall not send any papers to the journals, so do not look for such things ; my Thesis must be my first labour, and till that is done, eveiy other subject must be laid by. Nor is it likely I should write if I had the time, though I have many things in hand ; I am more anxious at present to be a learner than a teacher, and still look to more profitably extending science he the 1838-38. ENGLISH CLERGYMEN. 169 it my ler ICC hereat'tur, by storing myself with all the truths it has already gathered, " Mr. Graham is an excellent teacher ; so well versed in his subject, and so earnest in displaying it aright, and in impressing it on his audience, that the hour of lecture speeds very rapidly away. I cannot make intelligible to any of my non-chemical friends the nature of the inc^uiries he is pursuing, except per- haps by saying, that he is prosecuting the study of the ' Laws of Combination' between differ(>nt substances. " Another assistant, as well as I, is working at his subjects : the other pupils, four in number, are labouring for their own profit. We have at last succeeded in getting a corner apiece in the Laboratory ; before this desirable arrang(Mnent was accom- plished, we were always in each other's way, and half the ana- lyses were ruined in their middle stages by the carelessness of some one else than the experimenter. It would often have been amusing had it not been very provoking, to return anticipating the progress your analyses had made, and find your vessels, materials, ay, everji;hing gone, — some other philosopher having found a use for your apparatus, and not troubled himself to inquire whether the vessel and its contents were precious or no. That is past, anc\ it is now death by law to meddle with anything on another's table. Suffocation in the laughing gas is the method proposed for the infliction of capital punishment. " So much, my dear mother, for my weekly emiiloyments. I had intended writing you at length on the system of church worship here, and I shall do so yet, at some early period. Let me only tell you that I came up to London embued, in spite nf my love for Episcopacy, with the idea that a pious, sincere, simple-minded English clergyman, was a ver} rare thing. I was most agreeably disappointed. I have now heard a great number of the London ministers, and can assure you, that in meekness, simplicity, and earnestness of purpose, they cannot well be sui-passed by the ministers of any denomination, and 1 should feel that I pi-aised any denomination amply if I said its preachers equalled them. ]My love for Episcopalian form of worship is a love in the abstract ; that is, I love the system of bishops, archbishops, and the like, I like the solemn simplicity i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) & < ^ A f/u & ^ 1.0 I.I 1^ Ilia 2.0 IL25 i 1.4 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation v >^v ■1>' \ ;\ ts 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 f/u 170 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IV. of their prayer-book, and I am delighted with the beauty and aptness of the musical part of the service. But I do not meddle in the least with Church and State questions, nor do I care for the party interests of the body ; I attend the Church of England, because it seems to me to conduct he public worship of God in the most befitting and devout way. There are doubtless some wrongheaded men in the body ; probably not a few in so large a hierarchy ; and I could tell of the amusing ingenuity of a vicar S. has been telling me of, who went out to shoot snipes in the snow with his equally white surplice on, so as to escape the observation of both the feathered and unfeathered bipeds, who might have made a bad use of their observations. But putting such cases aside, I am sure I shall convince you that the great majority of the preachers of the English Church are excellent men, and I know I can write you freely on this topic. " I shall forget nobody at home, not even the little (query little now ?) black cat." However the head and hands might be filled with plans and work, the heart had stUl room and to spare. To his sister, the juvenile chemical assistant of previous days, he writes, — "I daresay you are now so completely taken up with your studies (do they deserve that name ?), chattering French with the little foreigner, or plajdng the piano under the watchful eye, and still more fastidious ear, of Miss M ; or engaged in the intricate meshed of a sampler stitch, slipper pattern, or the trying diflfi- culties of hemming a shirt-border straight ; or some of the other important duties which wise preceptors require from youthful disciples, — that you have clean forgotten, in the whirlwind of cares, that any such a brother as George ever tormented you. Well, for any good you will get by reflecting on the fooUsh words and deeds of that brother of yours, you may as well dis- miss the recollection of his existence ; yet fain would he keep a place, even in your little heart, which he hopes possesses an ' apartment unfurnished,' and therefore fitted to hold him, his laboratory, bottles, bluelights, nonsense and aU." A difficulty was found in obtaining scientific works, the library of the College being only for consultation, and the store 1838-39. LABORATORY INCIDENTS. 1 171 of his fellow- workers too small to last any of them long. He requests, therefore, that his own be sent up, averring that other- wise he will perish of mental starvation, and when the mete- physicians hold an inquest on him, they shall find the organ of the mind shrivelled into nothing. Apparatus, too, he finds ne- cessary to carry on experiments for his Thesis, which must be ready before April Apparatus of all kinds being expensive in London, he requests that the " corners" in the box to be sent from home be filled with " the best of his bottles." The subject of his Thesis was ' The Existence of Haloid Salts of the Electro- Negative Metals in Solution ;' and shortly after this the parlour of the brothers was amply stored in all available comers with test-tubes, bottles, spirit-lamps, and solutions, which their little Welsh landlady was trained and lectm«d into leaving untouched, whatever amoimt of dust might accimiulate on or around them. The comparative leisure of the Christmas recess was eagerly seized to help forward his own researches, besides working with Dr. Playfair at having some salts crystallized for Professor Graham, and ready against his return to town. On the day preceding Christmas day, he was surprised at the unusual con- dition of the laboratory. " I found it," he says, " in a sad mess, a furnace knocked down, and a crew of bricklayers at work re- pairing it, while a couple of blacksmiths set my teeth on edge, and wounded my musical ear, by filing 'ud hammering at bars of iron. To add to the confusion, a whole bevy of those water- nymphs called charwomen, had taken possession of the place, and had made themselves quite at home, presenting a spectacle strange to a chemist's eyes, and according ill with the usual ac- companiments of a laboratory. On a fireplace, sacred hitherto to crucibles and retorts, and glasses redolent of fuming acids and most potent but unpotable fluids, stood a cofifee-pot, wherein was simmering the aromatic infusion which charwomen love. A jug stood by, to refresh those who preferred the more common beve- rage of tea, while in a pail, near the water-cistern, were lying some roundish red bodies, which, after considerable hesitation and rubbing of my spectacles, tumod out to be — potatoes. Arti- cles of domestic ccmfort are rarely foimd in such a workshop as ours, and excited my suspicion that more valuable creature com- 172 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IV. forts would reward a more diligent search. I was, however, satisfied with what I saw, and, after listening for a few minutes to the maledictions of the women against the fumes which filled the place and made them cough, I turned away and treated my- self to a walk in the crowded streets of London." Next day, along with his brother, he attended divine service in Westmin- ster Abbey, and passed a happy evening with kind friends. Part of the holidays were spent in writing long letters to the home circle, which being forwarded by " a private opportimity," took a month to reach their destination, much to the annoyance of the writer. The following alludes to this disappointment : — " London, February 9, 1839. " My dear Mother, — These horrible ' opportunities' are so disappointing, that I have resolved to give you the expense of a postage, rather than trust to the precarious chances, especially as I have delayed writing in hopes of getting the books, and if I wait longer, must keep you in unwelcome suspense regarding your boys. This non-arrival of the parcel from Edinburgh has served to keep up the vexation, which your notice of that long- delayed bundle of letters caused me. I have by no means got over the disappointment yet. I know I can appeal to you for sympathy when I say, that we often feel much disappointed when those little arrangements, by which we hoped to surprise our friends, fail in their success, or produce an opposite effect. " I believe women oftener than men, and the best of women too, busy themselves in such kindly sti-atagems, and suffer the bitterness of disappointment when all their plots fail or are disregarded. You will think of your favourite authoress's beau- tiful, beautiful lines of her most beautiful poem, — ' To make idols, and to find them clay. And to bewail that worship.' Now, when Mr. Graham's departure and the Christmas holidays left me a period of leisure, a breathing time, between the labours past and the worse labours to come, I turned my willing thoughts homewards, and remembering that the Christmas week must pass more quietly there than it had done on most former 1838-39. LETTEBS OUT OF DATE. ^73 occasions, I thought I might happily and usefully occupy my time in writing you all Christmas letters. Accordingly, I wrote under the inspiration of mince-pies and mistletoe, roast goose and boiled turkey, i.e., I wrote, as 'The Doctor' would say, Christmatically, and never supposing that I needed, like Charles Lamb writing a Christmas letter to a friend in China, to make any allowance for the time that must elapse before my letter reached its goal, I made the whole virtues of my story turn on allusions which were out of date and meaningless, if read a week later than they were written. Think after all this, after wondering and wondering and wondering that my letters were not acknowledged, let alone relished, that the first word should be that my letters were very short (this referred to other and former letters, as it afterwards came out), and next the staring, hideous truth, that the epistles had loitered a whole month on the wr.y, and came lagging in like a cold dish at table, not quite unpalatable, but, as the cook would say, quite out of season. " When I write letters to those I love, and having time, and having the happy mood on me, feel that I have written what will please them, I am fond of anticipating the effect particular passages will produce on the readers. Here a smile, I hope, will be elicited ; there it will go hard, but the smile will be fostered into a full laugh ; at another place a doubtful shake of the head may be given, and the whole letter, perhaps, ended by an exclamation, ' George will always be George !' And then the re-readings of the choice passages, the spelling over and over again of special lines, and perhaps the little tit-bits read out to Jessie, or Jeanie, or Mary, all this had been amusing and pleasing me in my thoughts about the letters, and then to find that not merely had not these letters arrived in proper time, but letters written afterwards, and of no value unless coming after them, had arrived sooner, and been divested of their own value, and seemed only to stand in the way of their tardy pre- decessors. There now, I am sure, when you got my brief note accompanying the verses to S., you thought my apologies for brevity very ill-timed, when accompanying the confession and proof that I had been devoting the time to spinning rhymes for a lassie instead of writing to my dear mother ; whereas, had you 174 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IV. got the long letter first, and not anticipated another very soon after, the brief note and the verses (written during Christmas) would have borne some value, instead of coming as a mockery and a disappointment. And we seem destined to as long and as provoking a delay as you were, for no tidings have reached us of the books, and how or when we shall get them I don't know ; but do not say anything about it — it is the stormy wea- ther and nobody that's to blame. I'll be in the City on Mon- day, and shall learn about it then, I have no doubt. Meanwhile, although neither you nor I have read (I have not) the Queen's Speech, and are not much given to political speculations or anticipations, I am sure we shall heartily agree that far above universal suffrage, vote by ballot, negro slaves, or factory chil- dren bills, is the Post-Office Eeform, which would enable us, at the come-at-able price of a penny, to write as much sense, non- sense, or love, as we felt in our hearts wearying to get utter- ance. . . . " My love to all I love, and aU who love me. Imp though I am (a very bottle-imp, as you know, when you think of the pennies you now save, by lacking the temptation to buy queer vials for your alchemical son,) — Imp, I say, though I am, I have, I know, some affectionate and most dearly-loving friends, who think of me far above my deserts, and forget the cloven hoof ; and to all these remember me kindly. I am not about to chronicle their names in rank and file, like the debtors and creditors in the merchant's day (or some other of his, to me, mysterious) books, or a Serjeant's list of militia recruits, or an apothecary's list of his simples ; but I will speak of them as a chemist, and say, all that answer to the test of thinking, asking, or wishing well of me, are my friends and beloved of me. . . . For my own part, I am now very busy ; the class is only every second day, but ii; includes thirty-four students ; and so large a practical class involves a great deal of trouble. I work at it every day from nine till five, and sometimes till six or seven ; and I have sometimes had to spend my dinner hour in the Laboratory. All analysis or personal improvement is at an end — quite at an end. My health and spirits are quite good, but my daily occupations are uninteresting, and I never get a walk. 1838-39. OBIOINALITY OF SHAKSFERE. 176 even through the streets of London. It is this makes we wish my friends to write to me, as I have no materials whence to devise letters for them. I was lately visited by one of those yearnings which I think must often visit London-detained Scotchmen, — an intense fancy for a walk by a babbling brook, a bright conception of hills and rocks and trees, such as I have somewhere seen long ago either in day dreams or night visions; but such thoughts I always have in the spring months, and I believe I could as little gratify them in Edinburgh as here. . . . Talking of poor folks, and thinking of the black man, and the other black man, the sweep,^ I think I can now sjrmpathize with a sweep's Sunday feelings. One of my prospects of the day is, that I'll have my hands clean the whole of it. . . . Remember me to all the poor people, and if you ever long for me, think how soon you shall see your most affectionate son, " George." Extracts from home letters at this time give pleasant glimpses in various directions. " You tell me in your last you have been reading Shakspere. I am delighted to think you are so engaged. You cannot but feel it to be a most divine work. When James spoke of non- originality in Shakspere, if he referred to his ideas, his thoughts, and imagery, he talked great nonsense ; if to the plots of his plays, he stated a notorious and easily explicable truth. The plays of Shakspere are not, I believe, in a single case original in thbir plots, and purposely not. When Shakspere began writing there were a great many subjects familiar to men as having been dramatized, certain plots and characters and even names being as familiar to the play-goers, and as much stock pieces in their eyes, as ' Little Eed Riding-Hood' or * The Babes in the Wood' are in the apprehension of the inmates of the nursery. When Shakspere, therefore, wrote his plays, he pur- posely took plots familiar to his audience, secunng so far their favour ; for it must ever be remembered, in thinking of Shak- spere, that he was himself an actor, and wrote his plays as ' Acquaintances made in the Iniirmaiy during his apprenticeship, and kept on as pensioners. 176 MEMOIR OF GEOBOE WILSON. CHAP. IV. pieces to be perfonned on the stage of theatres with which he was professionally connected. But the genius of the man was the more seen in thus, as it were, shackling himself. The ori- ginals of many of Shakspere's plays, such as ' King John,' and 'Romeo and Juliet,' may be compared with his writings on similar subjects, and such a comparison brings out the great power of this wondrous man in more marked prominence ; indeed often the only similarity between his play and preceding ones is in the names of the dramatis personce ; all the force, truth, and individuality of each separately drawn character, and aU the blending of the whole piece into one harmonious whole, are his, and prove his possession of powers which no other writer has ever exhibited. No one can read him, and remain for a moment in doubt as to the originality of his conceptions ; no one can bo aware of the powers of his own language, and the high rank of its poetry, who does not read, and read, and read the wonderful works of Shakspere. The names of Dr. Johnson, of Cowper, Wilberforce, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Southey, Isaac Taylor, John Foster, Professor Wilson, and many more whose names are passpoT+<5 f^^r god to what they speak of, will urge you to go on in your readings. Meanwhile, I'll stop to add another name, that of your loving son, George." " London, 21st February. " My dear Mary, — It shall never be that you and I shall be left at the sport of the winds and waves, and debarred writing to and loving each other, because the seas take a fit of wild- ness, and the waves become impatient of the ceaseless beatings of the steamboat wheels. Why, I have a project for a steam- balloon, which I'll finish and put into practice. Would it not be a glorious thing to leave this dull earth, and, far above its mists and its vanities, fly straight as the crow to the point we wished, and when that was reached, descend like a plummet, with as true an aim as the eagle has when he drops the tortoise or the doomed oyster on the flinty rock ? " So manifold are the advantages such a machine wovJd give for loving intercourse, that now that my steam is up, I could go on for the whole of this paper, ballooning. But I doubt if 1S38-39. A CHEMICAL PUN. 177 that would exactly please you ; and I shall be satisfied with in- dicating a single advantage which such an engine would give us for assisting our friends to comfortable abodes. You antici- pate me, I am sure, and are already smiling ; I must, however, write it. Don't you think, that by raising ourselves among the clouds, high above every earthly thing, we should find it a most easy matter to drop each friend into his or her ' niche' as the baUoon passed over it, just as the old gander opened his webfoot and let Daniel O'Rourke descend, as he thought, to the ship below, but in reality to the marine villa of an astonished whale, who whipped him for his untimely intrusion. You might, per- haps, sagely ask, if my machine were possessed of a safety-valve, and if there were no risk of being blown up ; but such a risk is effectually cared for by the patent wadding-cushions I have devised for the use of aerial voyagers. Talking of blowing up, I have lately devised a most excellent pun, which I shall here record for your amusement, my dear sister, though to record so foolish a thing, and gravely to find a place for it in this letter, is very absurd; and moreover, puns, like mineral waters, are very uncarriageable articles, and being amorphous, cannot be warranted and marked ' this side upwards,' so as to insure their going off with proper effect. That's the priming ; here's the charge : — Last Saturday, Mr. Graham, chancing to be illus- trating the nature of flame, required one of Sir Humphry Davy's lamps. I went and asked Mr. Young, the assistant, for one. He brought me one, adding, ' You had better trim it, and make it bum well, or you'll get a blowing up.' ' Oh,' said I, after smiling a few moments, ' I defy him to blow me up as long as I have a safety lamp.' And while they all laughed and enjoyed the chemical pun, I advised every assistant to provide himself with one to ward off explosions." d give i t could mbt if sr " Fdyrxmry 1839. "My dear Mother, — Wind, and storm, and bad weather, and broken rudders, and maimed steamships, have failed in their cunning conspiracy to keep us from communication with each other, and I have resolved to celebrate the deliverance from the plot by writing you a long letter. M 178 M£MOIR OF QEOBOE WILSON. CHAP. IV. t t I n " The weather here, which for a while was warm and sunny, has suddenly repented of its mildness, and made us shiver with keen, cold, and cutting blasts ; whether because Murphy, the Almanac maker, had so arranged it ; or because, as I hope, the warmth and sunniness are being hained for their right time, sum- mer ; or in consequence of the ladies presuming on a few good days to doflf their tippets and thick cloaks, and sport lighter, frailer, and less comforting dresses. " How oddly ladies' ideas shift as to the part of their dresses needing decoration. They used (I speak of my remembrances) to wear lace in the form of veils, then it descended and be- came flounces to their gowns ; a partial rise took place, and last year it was dedicated to adorning their mantillas and tip- pets. This winter, I find, it has climbed to its former heights, and black fringes of precious old lace are hung along the edges of bonnets, or thrown around (I know not what it is termed) the straw built capital — I mean of a lady's bonnet. It will next be woven into veils and resume >ts ancient place, after the approved /as/iiow of fashions, which, like endless chains, return to themselves, or like the fingers of dials, revoh e in appointed circles, which they never leave. By the by, I saw a very curious head-dress the other day, which I intended to have written about to Jeanie, whom I always look upon as destined, at no far distant day, to take her stand among the arbitresses of fashion. Subtle and discriminating I know she is, in the patterns of samplers and foot-stools, and very learned in all the mysteries and niceties of perplexing stitches. For her, there- fore, this fact is specially intended ; but having forgot to tell it her in the letter to herself, I intrust you with its delivery. Well, not to make a very trifling matter swell into absurd pro- portions, I was greatly surprised to see last Sabbath day, as I walked home from church, a bird of Paradise on a lady's bonnet. I have seen tails and wings, or wic" feathers, of these glorious creatures glistering in the sun, as they did wueu cloth- ing living members ; but a whole bird surprised me ; — yet there it was, the head and beak projecting over the side. When I say a whole bird, I of course exclude one element of integrity, or wholeness, in birds, viz., feet ; for you know that birds of Para- di n( 1A38-3&. DELIGHT FROM SPSINO FLOWERS. 179 dise have no feet, and, according to poet' a lying set of men. never roost ; physiologists, a presumptuous set of men, declare they have as good pedal extremities as geese or ganders ; mil- liners, a foolish set of women, evidently support the poets, and unfeet them. Where, I wonder, do the feetless birds of paradise roost or slumber? We might send out a balloon on a voyage of discovery. Till I can blow a soap-bubble large nough to carry Samuel Brown and me after them, I'll believe that they slumber among the ruins of the ca^tlea in the air. " I was out at Westham last Wednesday, and what do you think I got irom S. ? A kiss — eh ? Perhaps I did, but I won't say anything about that. I got from her two snowdrops. I was quite amazed when she put in my buttonhole two of these lovely flowers. I'm thinking of making some verses on them, involving and evolving a new theory of snowdrop births ; but I don't think it would be quite fair to send them to you till she has gotten them ; besides, I have got some verses on the stocks solely and specially for yourself, which, as soon as my hobbling muse helps me out with them, shall be sent to you. Let me re- turn, however, to the flowers. I always experience a strange and delightful exhilaration when I meet with flowers out of their season ; they catch me by surprise, and ministering to that efiicient cause of strong and keeu-felt sensations, the novelty of impressions felt, they awaken all kinds of happy emotions. I got no good of the flowers somehow last summer. I made a few new acquaintances among them, and acknow- ledged the return of old friends ; but as a whole, the season was so much spent among rottenness and disease on the one hand, and among fumes and noxious odours on the other, that the steaming fragrance of the flowers found my nostrils deadened to their delicacy, and the beauty of their petals was wasted on my smarting eyes. Do you remember the forget-me-nots I ga- thered for you among the rocks of Arthur Seat ? That is a pleasing exception to the flowerless year. Have they all died away, and sunk into the earth ? Is there any sign of awaking from sleep ? any signal of their slumbers breaking into a glori- ous resurrection ? Flowers lead to my telling how glad I was 180 MEMOIR OF GEORQE WILSON. CHAP. IV. to learn of B — L — 's convalescence. I do not wish to see more of those I love die, to prove — " Thftt the go