第3章

Wehavenotsofartoclimbtocometoshepherds;anditmaybeI

hadoneforanascendantwhohaslargelymouldedme.ButyetI

thinkIowemytasteforthathillsidebusinessrathertotheartandinterestofJohnTodd.Heitwasthatmadeitliveforme，astheartistcanmakeallthingslive.Itwasthroughhimthesimplestrategyofmassingsheepuponasnowyevening，withitsattendantscamperingofearnest，shaggyaides—de—champ，wasanaffairthatI

neverweariedofseeing，andthatIneverwearyofrecallingtomind：theshadowofthenightdarkeningonthehills，inscrutableblackblotsofsnowshowermovinghereandtherelikenightalreadycome，huddlesofyellowsheepanddartingsofblackdogsuponthesnow，abitterairthattookyoubythethroat，unearthlyharpingsofthewindalongthemoors;andforcentrepiecetoallthesefeaturesandinfluences，Johnwindingupthebrae，keepinghiscaptain’seyeuponallsides，andbreaking，everandagain，intoaspasmofbellowingthatseemedtomaketheeveningbleaker.ItisthusthatIstillseehiminmymind’seye，perchedonahumpofthedeclivitynotfarfromHalkerside，hisstaffinairyflourish，hisgreatvoicetakingholduponthehillsandechoingterrortothelowlands;I，meanwhile，standingsomewhatback，untilthefitshouldbeover，and，withapinchofsnuff，myfriendrelapseintohiseasy，evenconversation.

CHAPTERVII.THEMANSE

IHAVEnamed，amongmanyriversthatmakemusicinmymemory，thatdirtyWaterofLeith.OftenandoftenIdesiretolookuponitagain;andthechoiceofapointofviewiseasytome.Itshouldbeatacertainwater—door，emboweredinshrubbery.Theriveristheredammedbackfortheserviceoftheflour—milljustbelow，sothatitliesdeepanddarkling，andthesandslopesintobrownobscuritywithaglintofgold;andithasbutnewlybeenrecruitedbytheborrowingsofthesnuff—milljustabove，andthese，tumblingmerrilyin，shakethepooltoitsblackheart，fillitwithdrowsyeddies，andsetthecurdedfrothofmanyothermillssolemnlysteeringtoandfrouponthesurface.OrsoitwaswhenIwasyoung;forchange，andthemasons，andthepruning—knife，havebeenbusy;andifIcouldhopetorepeatacherishedexperience，itmustbeonmanyandimpossibleconditions.Imustchoose，aswellasthepointofview，acertainmomentinmygrowth，sothatthescalemaybeexaggerated，andthetreesonthesteepoppositesidemayseemtoclimbtoheaven，andthesandbythewater—door，whereIamstanding，seemaslowasStyx.AndImustchoosetheseasonalso，sothatthevalleymaybebrimmedlikeacupwithsunshineandthesongsofbirds;—andtheyearofgrace，sothatwhenIturntoleavetheriversideImayfindtheoldmanseanditsinhabitantsunchanged.

Itwasaplaceinthattimelikenoother：thegardencutintoprovincesbyagreathedgeofbeech，andover—lookedbythechurchandtheterraceofthechurchyard，wherethetombstoneswerethick，andafternightfall\"spunkies\"mightbeseentodanceatleastbychildren;flower—plotslyingwarminsunshine;laurelsandthegreatyewmakingelsewhereapleasinghorrorofshade;thesmellofwaterrisingfromallround，withanaddedtangofpaper—mills;thesoundofwatereverywhere，andthesoundofmills—thewheelandthedamsingingtheiralternatestrain;thebirdsoneverybushandfromeverycorneroftheoverhangingwoodspealingouttheirnotesuntiltheairthrobbedwiththem;andinthemidstofthis，themanse.Iseeit，bythestandardofmychildishstature，asagreatandroomyhouse.Intruth，itwasnotsolargeasI

supposed，noryetsoconvenient，and，standingwhereitdid，itisdifficulttosupposethatitwashealthful.Yetalargefamilyofstalwartsonsandtalldaughterswerehousedandreared，andcametomanandwomanhoodinthatnestoflittlechambers;sothatthefaceoftheearthwaspepperedwiththechildrenofthemanse，andletterswithoutlandishstampsbecamefamiliartothelocalpostman，andthewallsofthelittlechambersbrightenedwiththewondersoftheEast.Thedullestcouldseethiswasahousethathadapairofhandsindiversforeignplaces：awell—belovedhouse—itsimagefondlydweltonbymanytravellers.

Herelivedanancestorofmine，whowasaherdofmen.Ireadhim，judgingwitholdercriticismthereportofchildishobservation，asamanofsingularsimplicityofnature;unemotional，andhatingthedisplayofwhathefelt;standingcontentedontheoldways;aloverofhislifeandinnocenthabitstotheend.Wechildrenadmiredhim：partlyforhisbeautifulfaceandsilverhair，fornonemorethanchildrenareconcernedforbeautyand，aboveall，forbeautyintheold;partlyforthesolemnlightinwhichwebeheldhimonceaweek，theobservedofallobservers，inthepulpit.Buthisstrictnessanddistance，theeffect，Inowfancy，ofoldage，slowblood，andsettledhabit，oppresseduswithakindofterror.Whennotabroad，hesatmuchalone，writingsermonsorletterstohisscatteredfamilyinadarkandcoldroomwithalibraryofbloodlessbooks—orsotheyseemedinthosedays，althoughIhavesomeofthemnowonmyownshelvesandlikewellenoughtoreadthem;andtheselonelyhourswrappedhiminthegreatergloomforourimaginations.ButthestudyhadaredeeminggraceinmanyIndianpictures，gaudilycolouredanddeartoyoungeyes.Icannotdepict（forIhavenosuchpassionsnow）thegreedwithwhichIbeheldthem;andwhenIwasoncesentintosayapsalmtomygrandfather，Iwent，quakingindeedwithfear，butatthesametimeglowingwithhopethat，ifIsaiditwell，hemightrewardmewithanIndianpicture.

\"ThyfootHe’llnotletslide，norwillHeslumberthattheekeeps，\"

itran：astrangeconglomerateoftheunpronounceable，asadmodeltosetinchildhoodbeforeonewhowashimselftobeaversifier，andataskinrecitationthatreallymeritedreward.AndImustsupposetheoldmanthoughtsotoo，andwaseithertouchedoramusedbytheperformance;forhetookmeinhisarmswithmostunwontedtenderness，andkissedme，andgavemealittlekindlysermonformypsalm;sothat，forthatday，wewereclerkandparson.IwasstruckbythisreceptionintosotenderasurprisethatIforgotmydisappointment.Andindeedthehopewasoneofthosethatchildhoodforgesforapastime，andwithnodesignuponreality.Nothingwasmoreunlikelythanthatmygrandfathershouldstriphimselfofoneofthosepictures，love—giftsandremindersofhisabsentsons;nothingmoreunlikelythanthatheshouldbestowituponme.Hehadnoideaofspoilingchildren，leavingallthattomyaunt;hehadfaredhardhimself，andblubberedundertherodinthelastcentury;andhiswayswerestillSpartanfortheyoung.

ThelastwordIhearduponhislipswasinthisSpartankey.Hehadover—walkedintheteethofaneastwind，andwasnowneartheendofhismanydays.Hesatbythedining—roomfire，withhiswhitehair，palefaceandbloodshoteyes，asomewhatawfulfigure;

andmyaunthadgivenhimadoseofourgoodoldScotchmedicine，Dr.Gregory’spowder.Nowthatremedy，astheworkofanearkinsmanofRobRoyhimself，mayhaveasavourofromancefortheimagination;butitcomesuncouthlytothepalate.Theoldgentlemanhadtakenitwithawryface;andthatbeingaccomplished，satwithperfectsimplicity，likeachild’s，munchinga\"barley—sugarkiss.\"Butwhenmyaunt，havingthecanisteropeninherhands，proposedtoletmeshareinthesweets，heinterferedatonce.IhadhadnoGregory;thenIshouldhavenobarley—sugarkiss：sohedecidedwithatouchofirritation.Andjustthenthephaetoncomingopportunelytothekitchendoor—forsuchwasourunlordlyfashion—Iwastakenforthelasttimefromthepresenceofmygrandfather.

NowIoftenwonderwhatIhaveinheritedfromthisoldminister.I

mustsuppose，indeed，thathewasfondofpreachingsermons，andsoamI，thoughIneverhearditmaintainedthateitherofuslovedtohearthem.HesoughthealthinhisyouthintheIsleofWight，andIhavesoughtitinbothhemispheres;butwhereashefoundandkeptit，Iamstillonthequest.HewasagreatloverofShakespeare，whomhereadaloud，Ihavebeentold，withtaste;well，IlovemyShakespearealso，andampersuadedIcanreadhimwell，thoughI

ownIneverhavebeentoldso.Hemadeembroidery，designinghisownpatterns;andinthatkindofworkInevermadeanythingbutakettle—holderinBerlinwool，andanoddgarterofknitting，whichwasasblackasthechimneybeforeIhaddonewithit.Helovedport，andnuts，andporter;andsodoI，buttheyagreedbetterwithmygrandfather，whichseemstomeabreachofcontract.Hehadchalk—stonesinhisfingers;andthese，ingoodtime，Imaypossiblyinherit，butIwouldmuchratherhaveinheritedhisnoblepresence.TryasIplease，Icannotjoinmyselfonwiththereverenddoctor;andallthewhile，nodoubt，andevenasIwritethephrase，hemovesinmyblood，andwhisperswordstome，andsitsefficientintheveryknotandcentreofmybeing.Inhisgarden，asIplayedthere，Ilearnedtheloveofmills—orhadI

anancestoramiller？—andakindnessfortheneighbourhoodofgraves，ashomelythingsnotwithouttheirpoetry—orhadIanancestorasexton？Butwhatofthegardenwhereheplayedhimself？

—forthat，too，wasasceneofmyeducation.Somepartofmeplayedthereintheeighteenthcentury，andranracesunderthegreenavenueatPilrig;somepartofmetrudgedupLeithWalk，whichwasstillacountryplace，andsatontheHighSchoolbenches，andwasthrashed，perhaps，byDr.Adam.ThehousewhereI

spentmyyouthwasnotyetthoughtupon;butwemadeholidaypartiesamongthecornfieldsonitssite，andatestrawberriesandcreamnearbyatagardener’s.AllthisIhadforgotten;onlymygrandfatherrememberedandonceremindedme.Ihaveforgotten，too，howwegrewup，andtookorders，andwenttoourfirstAyrshireparish，andfellinlovewithandmarriedadaughterofBurns’sDr.Smith—\"Smithopensouthiscauldharangues.\"Ihaveforgotten，butIwasthereallthesame，andheardstoriesofBurnsatfirsthand.

Andthereisathingstrangerthanallthat;forthisHOMUNCULUSorpart—manofminethatwalkedabouttheeighteenthcenturywithDr.

Balfourinhisyouth，wasinthewayofmeetingotherHOMUNCULOSorpart—men，inthepersonsofmyotherancestors.Thesewereofalowerorder，anddoubtlesswelookeddownuponthemduly.ButasI

wenttocollegewithDr.Balfour，ImayhaveseenthelampandoilmantakingdowntheshuttersfromhisshopbesidetheTron;—wemayhavehadarabbit—hutchorabookshelfmadeforusbyacertaincarpenterinIknownotwhatwyndoftheold，smokycity;or，uponsomeholidayexcursion，wemayhavelookedintothewindowsofacottageinaflower—gardenandseenacertainweaverplyinghisshuttle.Andthesewereallkinsmenofmineupontheotherside;

andfromtheeyesofthelampandoilmanone—halfofmyunbornfather，andone—quarterofmyself，lookedoutuponusaswewentbytocollege.Nothingofallthiswouldcrossthemindoftheyoungstudent，asheposteduptheBridgeswithtrim，stockingedlegs，inthatcityofcockedhatsandgoodScotchstillunadulterated.Itwouldnotcrosshismindthatheshouldhaveadaughter;andthelampandoilman，justthenbeginning，byanotunnaturalmetastasis，tobloomintoalighthouse—engineer，shouldhaveagrandson;andthatthesetwo，inthefulnessoftime，shouldwed;

andsomeportionofthatstudenthimselfshouldsurviveyetayearortwolongerinthepersonoftheirchild.

Butourancestraladventuresarebeyondeventhearithmeticoffancy;anditisthechiefrecommendationoflongpedigrees，thatwecanfollowbackwardthecareersofourHOMUNCULOSandberemindedofourantenatallives.Ourconsciousyearsarebutamomentinthehistoryoftheelementsthatbuildus.Areyouabank—clerk，anddoyouliveatPeckham？Itwasnotalwaysso.Andthoughto—dayIamonlyamanofletters，eithertraditionerrsorIwaspresentwhentherelandedatSt.AndrewsaFrenchbarber—

surgeon，totendthehealthandthebeardofthegreatCardinalBeaton;IhaveshakenaspearintheDebateableLandandshoutedthesloganoftheElliots;Iwaspresentwhenaskipper，plyingfromDundee，smuggledJacobitestoFranceafterthe’15;IwasinaWestIndiamerchant’soffice，perhapsnextdoortoBailieNicolJarvie’s，andmanagedthebusinessofaplantationinSt.Kitt’s;I

waswithmyengineer—grandfather（theson—in—lawofthelampandoilman）whenhesailednorthaboutScotlandonthefamouscruisethatgaveusthePIRATEandtheLORDOFTHEISLES;Iwaswithhim，too，ontheBellRock，inthefog，whentheSMEATONhaddriftedfromhermoorings，andtheAberdeenmen，pickinhand，hadseizedupontheonlyboats，andhemuststoopandlapsea—waterbeforehistonguecouldutteraudiblewords;andoncemorewithhimwhentheBellRockbeacontooka\"thrawe，\"andhisworkmenfledintothetower，thennearlyfinished，andhesatunmovedreadinginhisBible—oraffectingtoread—tilloneafteranotherslunkbackwithconfusionofcountenancetotheirengineer.Yes，partsofmehaveseenlife，andmetadventures，andsometimesmetthemwell.

Andawayinthestillcloudierpast，thethreadsthatmakemeupcanbetracedbyfancyintothebosomsofthousandsandmillionsofascendants：PictswhoralliedroundMacbethandtheold（andhighlypreferable）systemofdescentbyfemales，fleersfrombeforethelegionsofAgricola，marchersinPannonianmorasses，star—gazersonChaldaeanplateaus;and，furthestofall，whatfaceisthisthatfancycanseepeeringthroughthedispartedbranches？Whatsleeperingreentree—tops，whatmuncherofnuts，concludesmypedigree？

Probablyarborealinhishabits

AndIknownotwhichisthemorestrange，thatIshouldcarryaboutwithmesomefibresofmyminister—grandfather;orthatinhim，ashesatinhiscoolstudy，grave，reverend，contentedgentleman，therewasanaboriginalfriskingofthebloodthatwasnothis;

tree—topmemories，likeundevelopednegatives，laydormantinhismind;tree—topinstinctsawokeandweretroddown;andProbablyArboreal（scarcetobedistinguishedfromamonkey）gambolledandchatteredinthebrainoftheolddivine.

CHAPTERVIII.MEMOIRSOFANISLET

THOSEwhotrytobeartistsuse，timeaftertime，thematteroftheirrecollections，settingandresettinglittlecolouredmemoriesofmenandscenes，riggingup（itmaybe）someespecialfriendintheattireofabuccaneer，anddecreeingarmiestomanoeuvre，ormurdertobedone，ontheplaygroundoftheiryouth.Butthememoriesareafairygiftwhichcannotbewornoutinusing.Afteradozenservicesinvarioustales，thelittlesunbrightpicturesofthepaststillshineinthemind’seyewithnotalineamentdefaced，notatintimpaired.GLUCKUNDUNGLUCKWIRDGESANG，ifGoethepleases;yetonlybyendlessavatars，theoriginalre—

embodyingaftereach.Sothatawriter，intime，beginstowonderattheperdurablelifeoftheseimpressions;begins，perhaps，tofancythathewrongsthemwhenheweavestheminwithfiction;andlookingbackonthemwithever—growingkindness，putsthematlast，substantivejewels，inasettingoftheirown.

OneortwoofthesepleasantspectresIthinkIhavelaid.Iusedonebuttheotherday：alittleeyotofdense，freshwatersand，whereIoncewadeddeepinbutterburrs，delightingtohearthesongoftheriveronbothsides，andtotellmyselfthatIwasindeedandatlastuponanisland.Twoofmypuppetslaythereasummer’sday，hearkeningtotheshearersatworkinriversidefieldsandtothedrumsofthegrayoldgarrisonupontheneighbouringhill.Andthiswas，Ithink，donerightly：theplacewasrightlypeopled—

andnowbelongsnottomebuttomypuppets—foratimeatleast.

Intime，perhaps，thepuppetswillgrowfaint;theoriginalmemoryswimupinstantasever;andIshalloncemorelieinbed，andseethelittlesandyisleinAllanWaterasitisinnature，andthechild（thatoncewasme）wadingthereinbutterburrs;andwonderattheinstancyandvirginfreshnessofthatmemory;andbeprickedagain，inseasonandoutofseason，bythedesiretoweaveitintoart.

Thereisanotherisleinmycollection，thememoryofwhichbesiegesme.Iputawholefamilythere，inoneofmytales;andlateron，threwuponitsshores，andcondemnedtoseveraldaysofrainandshellfishonitstumbledboulders，theheroofanother.

Theinkisnotyetfaded;thesoundofthesentencesisstillinmymind’sear;andIamunderaspelltowriteofthatislandagain.

I

ThelittleisleofEarraidliescloseintothesouth—westcorneroftheRossofMull：thesoundofIonaononeside，acrosswhichyoumayseetheisleandchurchofColumba;theopenseatotheother，whereyoushallbeabletomark，onaclear，surfyday，thebreakersrunningwhiteonmanysunkenrocks.Ifirstsawit，orfirstrememberedseeingit，framedintheroundbull’s—eyeofacabinport，thesealyingsmoothalongitsshoreslikethewatersofalake，thecolourlessclearlightoftheearlymorningmakingplainitsheatheryandrockyhummocks.Therestooduponit，inthesedays，asinglerudehouseofuncementedstones，approachedbyapierofwreckwood.Itmusthavebeenveryearly，foritwasthensummer，andinsummer，inthatlatitude，dayscarcelywithdraws;

butevenatthathourthehousewasmakingasweetsmokeofpeatswhichcametomeoverthebay，andthebare—leggeddaughtersofthecotterwerewadingbythepier.Thesamedaywevisitedtheshoresoftheisleintheship’sboats;roweddeepintoFiddler’sHole，soundingaswewent;andhavingtakenstockofallpossibleaccommodation，pitchedonthenortherninletasthesceneofoperations.ForitwasnoaccidentthathadbroughtthelighthousesteamertoanchorintheBayofEarraid.Fifteenmilesawaytoseaward，acertainblackrockstoodenvironedbytheAtlanticrollers，theoutpostoftheTorranreefs.Herewasatowertobebuilt，andastarlighted，fortheconductofseamen.Butastherockwassmall，andhardofaccess，andfarfromland，theworkwouldbeoneofyears;andmyfatherwasnowlookingforashorestation，wherethestonesmightbequarriedanddressed，themenlive，andthetender，withsomedegreeofsafety，lieatanchor.

IsawEarraidnextfromthesternthwartofanIonalugger，SamBoughandIsittingtherecheekbyjowl，withourfeetuponourbaggage，inabeautiful，clear，northernsummereve.Andbehold！

therewasnowapierofstone，therewererowsofsheds，railways，travelling—cranes，astreetofcottages，anironhousefortheresidentengineer，woodenbothiesforthemen，astagewherethecoursesofthetowerwereputtogetherexperimentally，andbehindthesettlementagreatgashinthehillsidewheregranitewasquarried.Inthebay，thesteamerlayathermoorings.Alldaylongtherehungabouttheplacethemusicofchinkingtools;andeveninthedeadofnight，thewatchmancarriedhislanterntoandfrointhedarksettlementandcouldlightthepipeofanymidnightmuser.Itwas，aboveall，strangetoseeEarraidontheSunday，whenthesoundofthetoolsceasedandtherefellacrystalquiet.

AllaboutthegreencompoundmenwouldbesaunteringintheirSunday’sbest，walkingwiththoselaxjointsofthereposingtoiler，thoughtfullysmoking，talkingsmall，asifinhonourofthestillness，orhearkeningtothewailingofthegulls.AnditwasstrangetoseeourSabbathservices，held，astheywere，inoneofthebothies，withMr.Brebnerreadingatatable，andthecongregationperchedaboutinthedoubletierofsleepingbunks;

andtohearthesingingofthepsalms，\"thechapters，\"theinevitableSpurgeon’ssermon，andtheold，eloquentlighthouseprayer.

Infineweather，whenbythespy—glassonthehilltheseawasobservedtorunlowuponthereef，therewouldbeasoundofpreparationintheveryearlymorning;andbeforethesunhadrisenfrombehindBenMore，thetenderwouldsteamoutofthebay.Overfifteensea—milesofthegreatblueAtlanticrollerssheploughedherway，trailingathertailabraceofwallowingstone—lighters.

Theopenoceanwideneduponeitherboard，andthehillsofthemainlandbegantogodownonthehorizon，beforeshecametoherunhomelydestination，andlay—toatlastwheretherockclappeditsblackheadabovetheswell，withthetallironbarrackonitsspiderlegs，andthetruncatedtower，andthecraneswavingtheirarms，andthesmokeoftheengine—firerisinginthemid—sea.AnuglyreefisthisoftheDhuHeartach;nopleasantassemblageofshelves，andpools，andcreeks，aboutwhichachildmightplayforawholesummerwithoutweariness，liketheBellRockortheSkerryvore，butoneovalnoduleofblack—trap，sparselybedabbledwithaninconspicuousfucus，andaliveineverycrevicewithadingyinsectbetweenaslaterandabug.Nootherlifewastherebutthatofsea—birds，andoftheseaitself，thathereranlikeamill—race，andgrowledabouttheouterreefforever，andeverandagain，inthecalmestweather，roaredandspoutedontherockitself.TimesweredifferentuponDhu—Heartachwhenitblew，andthenightfelldark，andtheneighbourlightsofSkerryvoreandRhu—valwerequenchedinfog，andthemensatprisonedhighupintheirirondrum，thatthenresoundedwiththelashingofthesprays.Fearsatwiththemintheirsea—beleaguereddwelling;andthecolourchangedinanxiousfaceswhensomegreaterbillowstruckthebarrack，anditspillarsquiveredandsprangundertheblow.

Itwasthenthattheforemanbuilder，Mr.Goodwillie，whomIseebeforemestillinhisrock—habitofundecipherablerags，wouldgethisfiddledownandstrikeuphumanminstrelsyamidthemusicofthestorm.ButitwasinsunshineonlythatIsawDhu—Heartach;

anditwasinsunshine，ortheyetloveliersummerafterglow，thatthesteamerwouldreturntoEarraid，ploughinganenchantedsea;

theobedientlighters，relievedoftheirdeckcargo，ridinginherwakemorequietly;andthesteersmanuponeach，assheroseonthelongswell，standingtallanddarkagainsttheshiningwest.

ButitwasinEarraiditselfthatIdelightedchiefly.Thelighthousesettlementscarceencroachedbeyonditsfences;overthetopofthefirstbraethegroundwasallvirgin，theworldallshutout，thefaceofthingsunchangedbyanyofman’sdoings.Herewasnolivingpresence，saveforthelimpetsontherocks，forsomeold，gray，rain—beatenramthatImightrouseoutofafernydenbetwixttwoboulders，orforthehauntingandthepipingofthegulls.Itwasolderthanman;itwasfoundsobyincomingCelts，andseafaringNorsemen，andColumba’spriests.Theearthysavourofthebog—plants，therudedisorderoftheboulders，theinimitableseasidebrightnessoftheair，thebrineandtheiodine，thelapofthebillowsamongtheweedyreefs，thesuddenspringingupofagreatrunofdashingsurfalongthesea—frontoftheisle，allthatIsawandfeltmypredecessorsmusthaveseenandfeltwithscarceadifference.Isteepedmyselfinopenairandinpastages.

\"DelightfulwoulditbetometobeinUCHDAILIUN

Onthepinnacleofarock，ThatImightoftenseeThefaceoftheocean;

ThatImighthearthesongofthewonderfulbirds，Sourceofhappiness;

ThatImighthearthethunderofthecrowdingwavesUpontherocks：

Attimesatworkwithoutcompulsion—

Thiswouldbedelightful;

AttimespluckingdulsefromtherocksAttimesatfishing.\"

So，aboutthenextislandofIona，sangColumbahimselftwelvehundredyearsbefore.AndsomightIhavesungofEarraid.

AndallthewhileIwasawarethatthislifeofsea—bathingandsun—burningwasformebutaholiday.InthatyearcannonwereroaringfordaystogetheronFrenchbattlefields;andIwouldsitinmyisle（Icallitmine，aftertheuseoflovers）andthinkuponthewar，andtheloudnessofthesefar—awaybattles，andthepainofthemen’swounds，andthewearinessoftheirmarching.AndI

wouldthinktooofthatotherwarwhichisasoldasmankind，andisindeedthelifeofman：theunsparingwar，thegrindingslaveryofcompetition;thetoilofseventyyears，dear—boughtbread，precarioushonour，theperilsandpitfalls，andthepoorrewards.

Itwasalonglookforward;thefuturesummonedmeaswithtrumpetcalls，itwarnedmebackaswithavoiceofweepingandbeseeching;

andIthrilledandtrembledonthebrinkoflife，likeachildishbatheronthebeach.

TherewasanotheryoungmanonEarraidinthesedays，andweweremuchtogether，bathing，clamberingontheboulders，tryingtosailaboatandspinningroundinsteadintheoilywhirlpoolsoftheroost.Butthemostpartofthetimewespokeofthegreatuncharteddesertofourfutures;wonderingtogetherwhatshouldtherebefallus;hearingwithsurprisethesoundofourownvoicesintheemptyvestibuleofyouth.Asfar，andashard，asitseemedthentolookforwardtothegrave，sofaritseemsnowtolookbackwardupontheseemotions;sohardtorecalljustlythatloathsubmission，asofthesacrificialbull，withwhichwestoopedournecksundertheyokeofdestiny.Imetmyoldcompanionbuttheotherday;Icannottellofcoursewhathewasthinking;but，uponmypart，Iwaswonderingtoseeusbothsomuchathome，andsocomposedandsedentaryintheworld;andhowmuchwehadgained，andhowmuchwehadlost，toattaintothatcomposure;andwhichhadbeenuponthewholeourbestestate：whenwesattherepratingsensiblylikemenofsomeexperience，orwhenwesharedourtimorousandhopefulcounselsinawesternislet.

CHAPTERIX.THOMASSTEVENSON—CIVILENGINEER

THEdeathofThomasStevensonwillmeannotverymuchtothegeneralreader.Hisservicetomankindtookonformsofwhichthepublicknowslittleandunderstandsless.HecameseldomtoLondon，andthenonlyasatask，remainingalwaysastrangerandaconvincedprovincial;puttingupforyearsatthesamehotelwherehisfatherhadgonebeforehim;faithfulforlongtothesamerestaurant，thesamechurch，andthesametheatre，chosensimplyforpropinquity;steadfastlyrefusingtodineout.Hehadacircleofhisown，indeed，athome;fewmenweremorebelovedinEdinburgh，wherehebreathedanairthatpleasedhim;andwhereverhewent，inrailwaycarriagesorhotelsmoking—rooms，hisstrange，humorousveinoftalk，andhistransparenthonesty，raisedhimupfriendsandadmirers.ButtothegeneralpublicandtheworldofLondon，exceptabouttheparliamentarycommittee—rooms，heremainedunknown.Allthetime，hislightswereineverypartoftheworld，guidingthemariner;hisfirmwereconsultingengineerstotheIndian，theNewZealand，andtheJapaneseLighthouseBoards，sothatEdinburghwasaworldcentreforthatbranchofappliedscience;inGermany，hehadbeencalled\"theNestoroflighthouseillumination\";eveninFrance，wherehisclaimswerelongdenied，hewasatlast，ontheoccasionofthelateExposition，recognisedandmedalled.Andtoshowbyoneinstancetheinvertednatureofhisreputation，comparativelysmallathome，yetfillingtheworld，afriendofminewasthiswinteronavisittotheSpanishmain，andwasaskedbyaPeruvianifhe\"knewMr.Stevensontheauthor，becausehisworksweremuchesteemedinPeru？\"Myfriendsupposedthereferencewastothewriteroftales;butthePeruvianhadneverheardofDR.JEKYLL;whathehadinhiseye，whatwasesteemedinPeru，wherethevolumesoftheengineer.

ThomasStevensonwasbornatEdinburghintheyear1818，thegrandsonofThomasSmith，firstengineertotheBoardofNorthernLights，sonofRobertStevenson，brotherofAlanandDavid;sothathisnephew，DavidAlanStevenson，joinedwithhimatthetimeofhisdeathintheengineership，isthesixthofthefamilywhohasheld，successivelyorconjointly，thatoffice.TheBellRock，hisfather’sgreattriumph，wasfinishedbeforehewasborn;butheservedunderhisbrotherAlaninthebuildingofSkerryvore，thenoblestofallextantdeep—sealights;and，inconjunctionwithhisbrotherDavid，headdedtwo—theChickensandDhuHeartach—tothatsmallnumberofman’sextremeoutpostsintheocean.Ofshorelights，thetwobrotherslastnamederectednofewerthantwenty—

seven;ofbeacons，（4）abouttwenty—five.Manyharboursweresuccessfullycarriedout：one，theharbourofWick，thechiefdisasterofmyfather’slife，wasafailure;theseaprovedtoostrongforman’sarts;andafterexpedientshithertounthoughtof，andonascalehyper—cyclopean，theworkmustbedeserted，andnowstandsaruininthatbleak，God—forsakenbay，tenmilesfromJohn—

o’—Groat’s.IntheimprovementofriversthebrotherswerelikewiseinalargewayofpracticeoverbothEnglandandScotland，norhadanyBritishengineeranythingapproachingtheirexperience.

Itwasaboutthisnucleusofhisprofessionallaboursthatallmyfather’sscientificinquiriesandinventionscentred;theseproceededfrom，andactedbackupon，hisdailybusiness.Thusitwasasaharbourengineerthathebecameinterestedinthepropagationandreductionofwaves;adifficultsubjectinregardtowhichhehasleftbehindhimmuchsuggestivematterandsomevaluableapproximateresults.Stormswerehisswornadversaries，anditwasthroughthestudyofstormsthatheapproachedthatofmeteorologyatlarge.Manywhoknewhimnototherwise，knew—

perhapshaveintheirgardens—hislouvre—boardedscreenforinstruments.Butthegreatachievementofhislifewas，ofcourse，inopticsasappliedtolighthouseillumination.Fresnelhaddonemuch;Fresnelhadsettledthefixedlightapparatusonaprinciplethatstillseemsunimprovable;andwhenThomasStevensonsteppedinandbroughttoacomparableperfectiontherevolvinglight，anotunnaturaljealousyandmuchpainfulcontroversyroseinFrance.Ithaditshour;and，asIhavetoldalready，eveninFranceithasblownby.Haditnot，itwouldhavematteredtheless，sinceallthroughhislifemyfathercontinuedtojustifyhisclaimbyfreshadvances.Newapparatusforlightsinnewsituationswascontinuallybeingdesignedwiththesameunweariedsearchafterperfection，thesameniceingenuityofmeans;andthoughtheholophotalrevolvinglightperhapsstillremainshismostelegantcontrivance，itisdifficulttogiveitthepalmoverthemuchlatercondensingsystem，withitsthousandpossiblemodifications.

Thenumberandthevalueoftheseimprovementsentitletheirauthortothenameofoneofmankind’sbenefactors.Inallpartsoftheworldasaferlandfallawaitsthemariner.Twothingsmustbesaid：and，first，thatThomasStevensonwasnomathematician.

Naturalshrewdness，asentimentofopticallaws，andagreatintensityofconsiderationledhimtojustconclusions;buttocalculatethenecessaryformulaefortheinstrumentshehadconceivedwasoftenbeyondhim，andhemustfallbackonthehelpofothers，notablyonthatofhiscousinandlifelongintimatefriend，EMERITUSProfessorSwan，ofSt.Andrews，andhislaterfriend，ProfessorP.G.Tait.Itisacuriousenoughcircumstance，andagreatencouragementtoothers，thatamansoillequippedshouldhavesucceededinoneofthemostabstractandarduouswalksofappliedscience.Thesecondremarkisonethatappliestothewholefamily，andonlyparticularlytoThomasStevensonfromthegreatnumberandimportanceofhisinventions：holdingastheStevensonsdidaGovernmentappointmenttheyregardedtheiroriginalworkassomethingduealreadytothenation，andnoneofthemhasevertakenoutapatent.Itisanothercauseofthecomparativeobscurityofthename：forapatentnotonlybringsinmoney，itinfalliblyspreadsreputation;andmyfather’sinstrumentsenteranonymouslyintoahundredlight—rooms，andarepassedanonymouslyoverinahundredreports，wheretheleastconsiderablepatentwouldstandoutandtellitsauthor’sstory.

Butthelife—workofThomasStevensonremains;whatwehavelost，whatwenowrathertrytorecall，isthefriendandcompanion.Hewasamanofasomewhatantiquestrain：withablendedsternnessandsoftnessthatwaswhollyScottishandatfirstsomewhatbewildering;withaprofoundessentialmelancholyofdispositionand（whatoftenaccompaniesit）themosthumorousgenialityincompany;shrewdandchildish;passionatelyattached，passionatelyprejudiced;amanofmanyextremes，manyfaultsoftemper，andnoverystablefootholdforhimselfamonglife’stroubles.Yethewasawiseadviser;manymen，andthesenotinconsiderable，tookcounselwithhimhabitually.\"Isatathisfeet，\"writesoneofthese，\"whenIaskedhisadvice，andwhenthebroadbrowwassetinthoughtandthefirmmouthsaidhissay，Ialwaysknewthatnomancouldaddtotheworthoftheconclusion.\"Hehadexcellenttaste，thoughwhimsicalandpartial;collectedoldfurnitureanddelightedspeciallyinsunflowerslongbeforethedaysofMr.Wilde;tookalastingpleasureinprintsandpictures;wasadevoutadmirerofThomsonofDuddingstonatatimewhenfewsharedthetaste;andthoughhereadlittle，wasconstanttohisfavouritebooks.HehadneveranyGreek;Latinhehappilyre—taughthimselfafterhehadleftschool，wherehewasamereconsistentidler：happily，Isay，forLactantius，Vossius，andCardinalBonawerehischiefauthors.

Thefirsthemusthavereadfortwentyyearsuninterruptedly，keepingitnearhiminhisstudy，andcarryingitinhisbagonjourneys.Anotheroldtheologian，BrownofWamphray，wasofteninhishands.Whenhewasindisposed，hehadtwobooks，GUYMANNERING

andTHEPARENT’SASSISTANT，ofwhichheneverwearied.HewasastrongConservative，or，ashepreferredtocallhimself，aTory;

exceptinsofarashisviewsweremodifiedbyahot—headedchivalroussentimentforwomen.Hewasactuallyinfavourofamarriagelawunderwhichanywomanmighthaveadivorcefortheasking，andnomanonanygroundwhatever;andthesamesentimentfoundanotherexpressioninaMagdalenMissioninEdinburgh，foundedandlargelysupportedbyhimself.Thiswasbutoneofthemanychannelsofhispublicgenerosity;hisprivatewasequallyunstrained.TheChurchofScotland，ofwhichheheldthedoctrines（thoughinasenseofhisown）andtowhichheboreaclansman’sloyalty，profitedoftenbyhistimeandmoney;andthough，fromamorbidsenseofhisownunworthiness，hewouldneverconsenttobeanoffice—bearer，hisadvicewasoftensought，andheservedtheChurchonmanycommittees.WhatheperhapsvaluedhighestinhisworkwerehiscontributionstothedefenceofChristianity;oneofwhich，inparticular，waspraisedbyHutchinsonStirlingandreprintedattherequestofProfessorCrawford.

HissenseofhisownunworthinessIhavecalledmorbid;morbid，too，werehissenseofthefleetingnessoflifeandhisconcernfordeath.Hehadneveracceptedtheconditionsofman’slifeorhisowncharacter;andhisinmostthoughtswereevertingedwiththeCelticmelancholy.Casesofconscienceweresometimesgrievoustohim，andthatdelicateemploymentofascientificwitnesscosthimmanyqualms.Buthefoundrespitefromthesetroublesomehumoursinhiswork，inhislifelongstudyofnaturalscience，inthesocietyofthoseheloved，andinhisdailywalks，whichnowwouldcarryhimfarintothecountrywithsomecongenialfriend，andnowkeephimdanglingaboutthetownfromoneoldbook—shoptoanother，andscrapingromanticacquaintancewitheverydogthatpassed.Histalk，compoundedofsomuchsterlingsenseandsomuchfreakishhumour，andclothedinlanguagesoapt，droll，andemphatic，wasaperpetualdelighttoallwhoknewhimbeforethecloudsbegantosettleonhismind.Hisuseoflanguagewasbothjustandpicturesque;andwhenatthebeginningofhisillnesshebegantofeeltheebbingofthispower，itwasstrangeandpainfultohearhimrejectonewordafteranotherasinadequate，andatlengthdesistfromthesearchandleavehisphraseunfinishedratherthanfinishitwithoutpropriety.ItwasperhapsanotherCeltictraitthathisaffectionsandemotions，passionateasthesewere，andliabletopassionateupsanddowns，foundthemosteloquentexpressionbothinwordsandgestures.Love，anger，andindignationshonethroughhimandbrokeforthinimagery，likewhatwereadofSouthernraces.Foralltheseemotionalextremes，andinspiteofthemelancholygroundofhischaracter，hehaduponthewholeahappylife;norwashelessfortunateinhisdeath，whichatthelastcametohimunaware.

CHAPTERX.TALKANDTALKERS

Sir，wehadagoodtalk.—JOHNSON.

Aswemustaccountforeveryidleword，sowemustforeveryidlesilence.—FRANKLIN.

THEREcanbenofairerambitionthantoexcelintalk;tobeaffable，gay，ready，clearandwelcome;tohaveafact，athought，oranillustration，pattoeverysubject;andnotonlytocheertheflightoftimeamongourintimates，butbearourpartinthatgreatinternationalcongress，alwayssitting，wherepublicwrongsarefirstdeclared，publicerrorsfirstcorrected，andthecourseofpublicopinionshaped，daybyday，alittlenearertotheright.

NomeasurecomesbeforeParliamentbutithasbeenlongagopreparedbythegrandjuryofthetalkers;nobookiswrittenthathasnotbeenlargelycomposedbytheirassistance.Literatureinmanyofitsbranchesisnootherthantheshadowofgoodtalk;buttheimitationfallsfarshortoftheoriginalinlife，freedomandeffect.Therearealwaystwotoatalk，givingandtaking，comparingexperienceandaccordingconclusions.Talkisfluid，tentative，continually\"infurthersearchandprogress\";whilewrittenwordsremainfixed，becomeidolseventothewriter，foundwoodendogmatisms，andpreservefliesofobviouserrorintheamberofthetruth.Lastandchief，whileliterature，gaggedwithlinsey—woolsey，canonlydealwithafractionofthelifeofman，talkgoesfancyfreeandmaycallaspadeaspade.Talkhasnoneofthefreezingimmunitiesofthepulpit.Itcannot，evenifitwould，becomemerelyaestheticormerelyclassicallikeliterature.

Ajestintervenes，thesolemnhumbugisdissolvedinlaughter，andspeechrunsforthoutofthecontemporarygrooveintotheopenfieldsofnature，cheeryandcheering，likeschoolboysoutofschool.Anditisintalkalonethatwecanlearnourperiodandourselves.Inshort，thefirstdutyofamanistospeak;thatishischiefbusinessinthisworld;andtalk，whichistheharmoniousspeechoftwoormore，isbyfarthemostaccessibleofpleasures.

Itcostsnothinginmoney;itisallprofit;itcompletesoureducation，foundsandfostersourfriendships，andcanbeenjoyedatanyageandinalmostanystateofhealth.

Thespiceoflifeisbattle;thefriendliestrelationsarestillakindofcontest;andifwewouldnotforegoallthatisvaluableinourlot，wemustcontinuallyfacesomeotherperson，eyetoeye，andwrestleafallwhetherinloveorenmity.Itisstillbyforceofbody，orpowerofcharacterorintellect，thatweattaintoworthypleasures.Menandwomencontendforeachotherinthelistsoflove，likerivalmesmerists;theactiveandadroitdecidetheirchallengesinthesportsofthebody;andthesedentarysitdowntochessorconversation.Allsluggishandpacificpleasuresare，tothesamedegree，solitaryandselfish;andeverydurablebandbetweenhumanbeingsisfoundedinorheightenedbysomeelementofcompetition.Now，therelationthathastheleastrootinmatterisundoubtedlythatairyoneoffriendship;andhence，I

suppose，itisthatgoodtalkmostcommonlyarisesamongfriends.

Talkis，indeed，boththesceneandinstrumentoffriendship.Itisintalkalonethatthefriendscanmeasurestrength，andenjoythatamicablecounter—assertionofpersonalitywhichisthegaugeofrelationsandthesportoflife.

Agoodtalkisnottobehadfortheasking.Humoursmustfirstbeaccordedinakindofovertureorprologue;hour，companyandcircumstancebesuited;andthen，atafitjuncture，thesubject，thequarryoftwoheatedminds，springuplikeadeeroutofthewood.Notthatthetalkerhasanyofthehunter’spride，thoughhehasallandmorethanallhisardour.Thegenuineartistfollowsthestreamofconversationasananglerfollowsthewindingsofabrook，notdallyingwherehefailsto\"kill.\"Hetrustsimplicitlytohazard;andheisrewardedbycontinualvariety，continualpleasure，andthosechangingprospectsofthetruththatarethebestofeducation.Thereisnothinginasubject，socalled，thatweshouldregarditasanidol，orfollowitbeyondthepromptingsofdesire.Indeed，therearefewsubjects;andsofarastheyaretrulytalkable，morethanthehalfofthemmaybereducedtothree：

thatIamI，thatyouareyou，andthatthereareotherpeopledimlyunderstoodtobenotquitethesameaseither.Wherevertalkmayrange，itstillrunshalfthetimeontheseeternallines.Thethemebeingset，eachplaysonhimselfasonaninstrument;assertsandjustifieshimself;ransackshisbrainforinstancesandopinions，andbringsthemforthnew—minted，tohisownsurpriseandtheadmirationofhisadversary.Allnaturaltalkisafestivalofostentation;andbythelawsofthegameeachacceptsandfansthevanityoftheother.Itisfromthatreasonthatweventuretolayourselvessoopen，thatwedaretobesowarmlyeloquent，andthatweswellineachother’seyestosuchavastproportion.Fortalkers，oncelaunched，begintooverflowthelimitsoftheirordinaryselves，toweruptotheheightoftheirsecretpretensions，andgivethemselvesoutfortheheroes，brave，pious，musicalandwise，thatintheirmostshiningmomentstheyaspiretobe.Sotheyweaveforthemselveswithwordsandforawhileinhabitapalaceofdelights，templeatonceandtheatre，wheretheyfilltheroundoftheworld’sdignities，andfeastwiththegods，exultinginKudos.Andwhenthetalkisover，eachgoeshisway，stillflushedwithvanityandadmiration，stilltrailingcloudsofglory;eachdeclinesfromtheheightofhisidealorgie，notinamoment，butbyslowdeclension.Iremember，intheENTR’ACTEofanafternoonperformance，comingforthintothesunshine，inabeautifulgreen，gardenedcornerofaromanticcity;

andasIsatandsmoked，themusicmovinginmyblood，IseemedtositthereandevaporateTHEFLYINGDUTCHMAN（foritwasthatIhadbeenhearing）withawonderfulsenseoflife，warmth，well—beingandpride;andthenoisesofthecity，voices，bellsandmarchingfeet，felltogetherinmyearslikeasymphoniousorchestra.Inthesameway，theexcitementofagoodtalklivesforalongwhileafterintheblood，theheartstillhotwithinyou，thebrainstillsimmering，andthephysicalearthswimmingaroundyouwiththecoloursofthesunset.

Naturaltalk，likeploughing，shouldturnupalargesurfaceoflife，ratherthandigminesintogeologicalstrata.Massesofexperience，anecdote，incident，cross—lights，quotation，historicalinstances，thewholeflotsamandjetsamoftwomindsforcedinandinuponthematterinhandfromeverypointofthecompass，andfromeverydegreeofmentalelevationandabasement—thesearethematerialwithwhichtalkisfortified，thefoodonwhichthetalkersthrive.Suchargumentasispropertotheexerciseshouldstillbebriefandseizing.Talkshouldproceedbyinstances;bytheapposite，nottheexpository.Itshouldkeepclosealongthelinesofhumanity，nearthebosomsandbusinessesofmen，atthelevelwherehistory，fictionandexperienceintersectandilluminateeachother.IamI，andYouareYou，withallmyheart;

butconceivehowtheseleanpropositionschangeandbrightenwhen，insteadofwords，theactualyouandIsitcheekbyjowl，thespirithousedinthelivebody，andtheveryclothesutteringvoicestocorroboratethestoryintheface.Notlesssurprisingisthechangewhenweleaveofftospeakofgeneralities—thebad，thegood，themiser，andallthecharactersofTheophrastus—andcallupothermen，byanecdoteorinstance，intheirverytrickandfeature;ortradingonacommonknowledge，tosseachotherfamousnames，stillglowingwiththehuesoflife.Communicationisnolongerbywords，butbytheinstancingofwholebiographies，epics，systemsofphilosophy，andepochsofhistory，inbulk.Thatwhichisunderstoodexcelsthatwhichisspokeninquantityandqualityalike;ideasthusfiguredandpersonified，changehands，aswemaysay，likecoin;andthespeakersimplywithouteffortthemostobscureandintricatethoughts.Strangerswhohavealargecommongroundofreadingwill，forthisreason，comethesoonertothegrappleofgenuineconverse.IftheyknowOthelloandNapoleon，ConsueloandClarissaHarlowe，VautrinandSteenieSteenson，theycanleavegeneralitiesandbeginatoncetospeakbyfigures.

Conductandartarethetwosubjectsthatarisemostfrequentlyandthatembracethewidestrangeoffacts.Afewpleasuresbeardiscussionfortheirownsake，butonlythosewhicharemostsocialormostradicallyhuman;andeventhesecanonlybediscussedamongtheirdevotees.Atechnicalityisalwayswelcometotheexpert，whetherinathletics，artorlaw;Ihaveheardthebestkindoftalkontechnicalitiesfromsuchrareandhappypersonsasbothknowandlovetheirbusiness.Nohumanbeingeverspokeofsceneryforabovetwominutesatatime，whichmakesmesuspectweheartoomuchofitinliterature.Theweatherisregardedastheverynadirandscoffofconversationaltopics.Andyettheweather，thedramaticelementinscenery，isfarmoretractableinlanguage，andfarmorehumanbothinimportandsuggestionthanthestablefeaturesofthelandscape.Sailorsandshepherds，andthepeoplegenerallyofcoastandmountain，talkwellofit;anditisoftenexcitinglypresentedinliterature.Butthetendencyofalllivingtalkdrawsitbackandbackintothecommonfocusofhumanity.

Talkisacreatureofthestreetandmarket—place，feedingongossip;anditslastresortisstillinadiscussiononmorals.

Thatistheheroicformofgossip;heroicinvirtueofitshighpretensions;butstillgossip，becauseitturnsonpersonalities.

Youcankeepnomenlong，norScotchmenatall，offmoralortheologicaldiscussion.Thesearetoalltheworldwhatlawistolawyers;theyareeverybody’stechnicalities;themediumthroughwhichallconsiderlife，andthedialectinwhichtheyexpresstheirjudgments.Iknewthreeyoungmenwhowalkedtogetherdailyforsometwomonthsinasolemnandbeautifulforestandincloudlesssummerweather;dailytheytalkedwithunabatedzest，andyetscarcewanderedthatwholetimebeyondtwosubjects—theologyandlove.Andperhapsneitheracourtoflovenoranassemblyofdivineswouldhavegrantedtheirpremissesorwelcomedtheirconclusions.

Conclusions，indeed，arenotoftenreachedbytalkanymorethanbyprivatethinking.Thatisnottheprofit.Theprofitisintheexercise，andaboveallintheexperience;forwhenwereasonatlargeonanysubject，wereviewourstateandhistoryinlife.

Fromtimetotime，however，andspecially，Ithink，intalkingart，talkbecomeselective，conqueringlikewar，wideningtheboundariesofknowledgelikeanexploration.Apointarises;thequestiontakesaproblematical，abaffling，yetalikelyair;thetalkersbegintofeellivelypresentimentsofsomeconclusionnearathand;

towardsthistheystrivewithemulousardour，eachbyhisownpath，andstrugglingforfirstutterance;andthenoneleapsuponthesummitofthatmatterwithashout，andalmostatthesamemomenttheotherisbesidehim;andbeholdtheyareagreed.Likeenough，theprogressisillusory，amerecat’scradlehavingbeenwoundandunwoundoutofwords.Butthesenseofjointdiscoveryisnonethelessgiddyandinspiriting.Andinthelifeofthetalkersuchtriumphs，thoughimaginary，areneitherfewnorfarapart;theyareattainedwithspeedandpleasure，inthehourofmirth;andbythenatureoftheprocess，theyarealwaysworthilyshared.

Thereisacertainattitude，combativeatonceanddeferential，eagertofightyetmostaversetoquarrel，whichmarksoutatoncethetalkableman.Itisnoteloquence，notfairness，notobstinacy，butacertainproportionofallofthesethatIlovetoencounterinmyamicableadversaries.Theymustnotbepontiffsholdingdoctrine，buthuntsmenquestingafterelementsoftruth.

Neithermusttheybeboystobeinstructed，butfellow—teacherswithwhomImaywrangleandagreeonequalterms.Wemustreachsomesolution，someshadowofconsent;forwithoutthat，eagertalkbecomesatorture.Butwedonotwishtoreachitcheaply，orquickly，orwithoutthetussleandeffortwhereinpleasurelies.

Theverybesttalker，withme，isonewhomIshallcallSpring—

Heel’dJack.Isayso，becauseIneverknewanyonewhomingledsolargelythepossibleingredientsofconverse.IntheSpanishproverb，thefourthmannecessarytocompoundasalad，isamadmantomixit：Jackisthatmadman.Iknownotwhichismoreremarkable;theinsanelucidityofhisconclusionsthehumorouseloquenceofhislanguage，orhispowerofmethod，bringingthewholeoflifeintothefocusofthesubjecttreated，mixingtheconversationalsaladlikeadrunkengod.Hedoublesliketheserpent，changesandflashesliketheshakenkaleidoscope，transmigratesbodilyintotheviewsofothers，andso，inthetwinklingofaneyeandwithaheadyrapture，turnsquestionsinsideoutandflingsthememptybeforeyouontheground，likeatriumphantconjuror.Itismycommonpracticewhenapieceofconductpuzzlesme，toattackitinthepresenceofJackwithsuchgrossness，suchpartialityandsuchwearingiteration，asatlengthshallspurhimupinitsdefence.Inamomenthetransmigrates，donstherequiredcharacter，andwithmoonstruckphilosophyjustifiestheactinquestion.IcanfancynothingtocomparewiththeVIMoftheseimpersonations，thestrangescaleoflanguage，flyingfromShakespearetoKant，andfromKanttoMajorDyngwell—

\"AsfastasamusicianscatterssoundsOutofaninstrument\"