varied movements of the endearing child, who frequently leaped upon my knee, and then looked into my face so bewitchingly that the stranger could not well comprehend how the child could be so free and affectionate, never having before seen scholar and teacher so happy.

"Auntie Maggie,' said I to myself, after Aggie's father and I had done with the philosophical subjects. Auntie Maggie,' I added, almost audibly, for I could scarcely help myself; 'there is something so sweet in the name and lovely in its owner.' And suddenly I had to chide myself for having taken a sly peep into the loveliest face I have ever seen. But it was no use to check and chide myself, for, in a moment, I was smitten-that spark was kindled in my soul which the poets call love."

CHAPTER IX.

OTHER SCHOOLS AND OTHER SCHOLARS.

BOTANY CLASSES AND LITERARY SOCIETIES.

By the time the school was closed, he was so overpowered by hard work-learning and teaching-that he was scarcely able for his annual journey to Edinburgh, far less to apply himself, as he had previously done, to the use of such means as led to his advancement in Scholastic knowledge. But he was not disheartened; never was he at a loss. In him necessity was ever the mother of invention. Referring to this

period, he says, "I had heard of what was called Lord Brougham's rule-'When he was tired walking, he rode; and when he was tired riding, he walked;' and this suggested to me that as I was not then able to follow in the path of the schoolmen, as I had previously done, I should think of another school, not less genial, but less severe on the mind—the field, with book in hand. This was a happy thought, bringing to my mind the fact that what is right can never be lost, if rightly done. When striving to encourage my scholars, I opened botanical as well as biographical classes. In the first I was greatly assisted by the knowledge and experience of one of our literary companions, Mr George (now Professor) Lawson. His kind and useful hints were given in letters, and in the first of which there was this sentence, 'I highly approve of your proposal to teach your young charge the rudiments of Natural History. It has long been my conviction that were the people

more addicted to the study of such a pleasant subject they would be all the happier for it. It would greatly improve the moral feelings.' So far as my pupils were concerned, I found he was right. But the good thus begun accompanied me when I was no longer able to teach. By this time my love for flowers gave me additional delight in examining the various conformations and learning the valuable properties of plants. And this was the very thing that did me good, when, perhaps, I might have gone to bed instead; and then I was always improving a little, and I now turned my attention to medical botany.

"But I was enabled at this time to realise, in another direction, that nothing was lost. I loved my book as well as the field, and delighted to think of the benefit of the profitable nights spent in "The Halls of Lamb," in connection with the various literary societies that met there. Speaking from experience, I would say to every young man, however pressed for time and means in following out a given course of study, a night given, say weekly-cheerfully, heartily, and wisely—in a genial and generous literary society, is sure to be so much gain. Apart from the facilities it is likely to afford for mental culture and mutual improvement, it helps to brush away some of the fantastical notions from the minds of those who are apt to suffer from an abundance of pleasant fancies and whimsical ideas-such as vanish in the presence of sound knowledge. And more, a good society, well conducted, is also of great value to those who at first may be rather timid. I have known such to be very awkward to begin with, yet, in time, pick up a little of that courage which is always necessary in the defence of a good cause. Never had I reason to regret the acquaintanceship formed at that time with those of a literary turn of mind; and, to this day, I rejoice in the lasting friendship of genial souls. I am the more grateful to such, because I was then so far behind them—they having previously given themselves up to the study of literature. When

IIIS LITERARY ASSOCIATES.

79 I was first introduced to them I had read little save books on the art of teaching, and such as had a tendency to advance me in my profession as a teacher. This deficiency on my part led me to bear a low sail, so that, for a time, I was little other than a silent partner. Ultimately, however, they urged me on and pushed me forward till I ventured to read an essay occasionally. Then it was that they had their enjoyment. If I had been inclined to be uncharitable, I might have supposed that they had induced me to come thus far forward to become a target for their sharp-shooting, which they called 'fair criticism.' Of course I was all the better for the 'sharpening up.' It drew me out in self-defence, and latterly I took a share in the regular debates, many of which seemed to be as hot as a set battle."

HIS LITERARY ASSOCIATES.

To win a prize, Mr Hillocks was induced to speak of himself; but he has also spoken of others, and that in hearty praise. This we find in connection with his first literary associates. He says, "When I think of the lives and efforts of many of those with whom I met in the various literary societies, their experience confirms my own-that mental culture in youth is of great service in active business and general usefulness. Some of these earlier friends have passed away, but not without leaving a few 'footprints on the sands of time.' First of all was one of my latest tutors, before I became a public teacher, the late Rev. George Hunter, afterwards the able and respected minister of the United Presbyterian Church, Tillicoultry. He introduced me in the way of obtaining the benefits in which I now rejoice.

"There, too, was Robert Leighton, the poet, the author of 'The Whittle.' He died in Liverpool at the early age of 47, but not before he gave marked proofs of the earlier promise

seen in his intense thoughtfulness. It has been said, 'What Burns did for the plough, Robert Leighton did for the counting-house.'

"And then there was James Adie, who devoted himself to the study of Geology. Being very modest, loving, and gentle, he became the favourite of all who knew him and understood him. Because of this, and being passionately fond of poetry, especially Hogg's beautiful Idyl, he was called 'the Gentle Kilmany.' He went to Canada and became connected with the press there, where he was known as a dutiful son, a faithful husband, a loving father, an enthusiastic student, a useful man. But, when returning from a jury trial, he was overtaken by a snow-storm, and afterwards found dead in the neighbourhood of Niagara-a sad event, which created profound sorrow throughout the country.

"And of those who have manifested that enlightened zeal which was at that time fostered in Dundee—and who are still active in their own special walks of life-is Professor Lawson, the kindly and manly friend already mentioned as having assisted me in the study of the interesting science in which he shines. George Lawson was not unlike 'the Gentle Kilmany' in winning ways, but he seemed to me to take a firmer grip of his theme-Botany. He began life as a lawyer's clerk, but he began early to devote his mornings to rambles in the neighbourhood of Dundee, and continued thus to botanize till he knew every plant and flower there within a radius of seven miles. He also studied hard with the view of preparing himself for a situation more in harmony with his tastes-contributing to magazines and newspapers. This attracted the attention of the Edinburgh Scientific Institution, and he became Secretary to the Edinburgh University, and latterly became assistant to Balfour, Professor of Botany. In the first he was succeeded by Alexander Smith, the poet; and in the second by John Saddler, the botanist. He is now the