shook hands with him, and as I was leaving said that I had some intention of sending a short sketch of his labours to ' Good Words.' I asked if he had any objection to his name being mentioned.

"Weel, sir," he said, "I'm real gratefu' for your kindness in coming twice to see me, and takin' notice o' me the way ye've dune. It's far mair than I deserve. I dinna think the readers o' 'Good Words' will care muckle aboot the like o' me, and I've never been fond o' makin' a show; but if ye think an article wi' my name in't wud encourage ithers in my humble way to do a' they can for the upbringin' o' puir creaturs that hae nae ither way o' gettin' education, I'll no forbid ye to do just as ye like."

"Well, then, I'll do it. Good-bye!"

"Wull ye gie me anither shake o' your han' afore ye go? I may never see ye again."

"Most willingly," I replied.

He took my hand in one of his, and, laying his other on my shoulder, said, "I'm no a man o' mony words, but I wud like ye to believe that I'm gratefu', real gratefu', for your kindness-as gratefu' as an auld man that kens weel what kindness is can be; and I wud like ye to promise, if ye're hereaboots next year, and me spared till

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that time, that ye'll no gang by my door. Wull ye promise this?"

I gave the promise, and was rewarded by two or three kindly claps on the back, a hearty squeeze of the hand, and "God bless ye, and keep ye!"

The moral of James Beattie's life requires no pointing. A life that has been a discipline of goodness, and to which benevolence has become a necessity-" I canna do without my bairns noo at a', and as lang's I can try to do them gude, I'll no gie't up"-has a simple eloquence that needs no aid, and admits of no embellishment from well-balanced phrases.

James Beattie was a man who had been diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord!

CHAPTER XI.

SHERIFF NICOLSON -J. F. MACLENNAN

D'ARCY THOMPSON
PARTY ALEXANDER

SWEARING IN LATINA READING

SMITH-PUNCH' TO THE rescue-p. P. ALEXANDER.

WHILE living in Edinburgh I saw a great deal of Alexander (afterwards Sheriff) Nicolson, who was my colleague as examiner in philosophy for degrees in Edinburgh; of John F. Maclennan, advocate, cut off when little past his prime; of the late D'Arcy Thompson, Professor of Greek in Galway; of Alexander Smith, poet and novelist, who also died early; and P. P. Alexander, a man of fine literary faculty, but sadly wanting in continuous effort. How exhilarating were the evenings spent with these men. What an alternative they were to dutiful but monotonous writing of school reports; how brilliant their conversation, how happy their repartees, how genial their intercourse!

Nicolson the Celt-a name by which he was

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universally known among his friends-a man of brilliant ability, literary taste, sympathetic nature, keen sense of humour, and very considerable capacity for philosophical research, passed through life amid crowds of cultured friends, but from want of steady continuous energy fell far short of the future which his friends predicted for him. He was the most delightful of companions, composed and sang songs which will be long remembered, but from his easy-going temperament he was surpassed, not in popularity, but in solid success, by many who were in intellect much his inferiors.

Maclennan was as industrious as he was able. He wrote a great deal for the 'Leader,' contributed to the Encyclopædia Britannica' the article on "Law"; was parliamentary draughtsman for Scotland, and in his treatises on 'Primitive Marriage' and 'Totemism' showed great research and independent thought. Failing health prevented him from rewriting Primitive Marriage.' While his theories on this subject have not met with general acceptance, the acuteness and ingenuity with which he supported them are universally acknowledged. It is certain that he gave a great impulse to such prehistoric research. As a companion his con

versation was exceedingly stimulative and invigorating.

No,

D'Arcy Thompson was then writing his 'Day Dreams of a Schoolmaster,' and read over to me part of the chapter "Back to Babel," in which he discussed the meaning and nomenclature of Latin cases. The original MS. ended somewhat thus: "You are tired, Reader, by this time. I can hear you indistinctly muttering, 'Confound these cases, do let them alone.' gentle Reader, they are already confounded, and I could heartily wish they were damned." I made a strong protest against this being printed, urging that it would be injurious to him as a teacher, and that Edinburgh parents would not tolerate sweerin' at lairge by an Academy Master. He at first obstinately refused to change it, but on the application of stronger pressure I convinced him of the inexpediency of arousing parental wrath, and he consented to a compromise. The paragraph now stands thus: "No, Reader, me judice illa antiqua vocabula non CONFUNDENDA sunt, quippe quæ jam satis confusa sint; sed prorsus et in æternum DAMNANDA." I think my advice was good. It is much safer to swear in Latin than in English.

I have a most pleasant recollection of a de