about me; how weary of my college life; how I
longed to see the grand world that lay beyond
the hills! Many a time I looked up into the
heavens and marked the position of the Northern
Bear, and, setting my back to it, I knew that my
face was towards the great city which I longed
to see. I envied the moon up there looking
down upon it!

But now when my ambition has been fulfilled,
when my longing has been satisfied, when I have
seen all the kingdoms of the world and the great
cities thereof, I come back to the scenes of my
early days with something of the chastened
feeling of the Prodigal Son. Not that I have
wasted my substance in riotous living, or drunk
too deeply of the cup of the world's pleasures;
not that I have proved to myself that all is vanity;
but because I am weary of the noisy traffic of
the great Highway and long for rest in quiet
spots, where I can muse in peace amid the
simple memories of the past.

Here amid the noise and bustle of this busy
quay I am as much alone as if I were wandering
in some secluded country lane. The old familiar
houses speak to me with silent voices; the stones
that knew my footstep in days of old whisper
pleasant greetings in my ear. The human faces
I see are all strange to me, the voices unfamiliar.
The only faces that I know and that seem to
know me are the faces of the clocks. They are
not changed. Perhaps, being in Time's employ,
their master favours them and exempts them
from the tax which he levies upon everything
else — on the principle of letting the "hands" in
a business have goods at cost price. In the
days of my youth I have looked up at yonder
clock and said, "Haste thee, haste thee; why
so slow?" I look up at it now and say,
"Gently, gently; why so fast?" When I have
been conjugating "tupto" how I have longed
for it to strike! I would have it linger now
and not be so ready with those warning bells.
Do you know the sensation of being in a state
of complete sensuous happiness; of being
agreeably intoxicated with pleasant thoughts
and feelings! And did you never wish to be
struck so — to be turned into a pillar of sweetness
as Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of
salt? I know the sensation well; it is one which
leaves no higher happiness beyond. It is a
feeling that may come upon you in a cellar, or in
a garret, and while it lasts you will not wish
for heaven itself. Such a feeling did I have,
while walking along in a dream, among the old
familiar streets of Aberdeen.

Our loftiest thoughts are sometimes associated
with very common things. The sublime and the
ridiculous do not always walk a step apart; they
often go arm in arm. I come to a certain shop,
and a philosophical turn is given to my thoughts
by the sight of a meerschaum pipe in the
window. It is fashioned in the form of a shell.
Such a pipe as that did I envy when I was a
boy, strictly forbidden by my parents ever to
smoke. It was in this very shop window that
I saw it. I looked at it with longing eyes day
after day for many weeks. I saved up my money
to buy it; but I never saved enough. The
coveted pipe never became mine. But now I
would not give a fig for all the pipes in the shop.
Yet, I don't know that I ever aspired to
anything so eagerly as the possession of that shell-
shaped meerschaum pipe which lay in this window
twenty years ago. I have no desire in connexion
with the pipe-shop at all now, except that the
proprietor would let me sit down upon his
doorstep and have a good think.

What a long way it used to seem from the
steam-boat wharf to Marischal-street. It seems
very short now. I turn the corner before I
know where I am, and straight before me I see
inscribed on the front of a blue granite house,
the words "Theatre Royal." There I saw my
first play. It was Pizarro. I went to the pit,
and for three hours dwelt in a land of the wildest
delight. Such handsome noble men; such
beautiful majestic women! And the fire from
heaven! How solemn and imposing that was!
I did not see the wire, and the bit of tow steeped
in spirits of wine; which I have subsequently
become familiar with, and consequently learned
to regard with contempt. Nor was I personally
acquainted with the majestic Pizarro and the
noble Rolla. Alas that I ever should come to
know them personally, and find out that they
were only five feet eight, and liked rum, and
when in London were reduced to the sad
extent of playing general utility. There was a
farce after the tragedy which gave me great
delight. I don't remember the name of it; but
I remember two officers in blue frock-coats and
red trousers who sat at a table and drank, and
a comic groom who sang a funny song about a
fair, and a pretty actress — oh, such a pretty
actress, who — well, I only remember that I
fell over head and ears in love with her and
haunted her steps, and wrote letters to her,
when I ought to have been writing my Greek
exercises, and learning a moral from the little
story of the pretty Grecian girls who laughed
at Anacreon and called him a silly old man.
Ah, how pretty she was; how clever! I
am glad I never saw her afterwards, for I
still retain the impression that she was the
cleverest and prettiest actress that ever was.
I carefully preserve a similar impression with
regard to Pizarro — and believe that it is the finest
tragedy that ever was represented, albeit I know
that it is "down right booth at a fair." But
nothing will induce me to be convinced of this
by going to see another performance of the
piece. I will adhere to my early faith.

I go across the road and look at the bill. I
notice the names of actors whom I know. No
doubt they are at this moment rehearsing the
tragedy of King Richard III., which is to be
performed this evening by special desire. Shall
I call upon them? What! And see that the
Peruvian altar is composed of an old egg-box,
that heaven's lightning-conductor is a bit of bell