xv HOME LIFE AND TRAVELS 367 



I have always held that the lot of a professor is 

 a very happy one. If he is worth his salt, his love for 

 his subject is a constant and abiding pleasure. It is, 

 or ought to be, a delight to him to teach the young 

 idea how to shoot, and especially to hit the mark 

 of original investigation. I, certainly, fully enjoyed 

 my work. For thirty years I left my house at half- 

 past eight, or even before, summer and winter, and 

 having looked over my lecture table to see that all 

 my experiments were arranged there, I began my 

 lecture every morning in the week, except Saturday, 

 at nine or half-past. Then came the superintendence 

 of the laboratory students and all that it entails, 

 together with the College and University business, 

 committees without number, examinations galore, in- 

 terviews with inquiring parents, chemical works to 

 be visited, lectures outside the College, in London 

 and elsewhere, to say nothing of one's own literary 

 and research work. The day was never long enough 

 for all that I had to do. I usually got my lunch with 

 my colleagues at the College refectory, seldom had 

 time to come home, but sometimes met some choice 

 spirits at a little luncheon club in Manchester which we 

 founded, called Prince's. On Mondays I not only had 

 a full day's work, but also evening classes. On those 

 evenings I always walked home from the College in 

 Quay Street, often through rain and storm, with my 

 old friend the Reverend William Gaskell, the husband 

 of the great novelist, himself a remarkable and charm- 

 ing character. He lectured to our evening students 

 on English literature, of which his knowledge was 

 profound. He was an excellent conversationalist, 

 sparkling with wit and humour, whilst his knowledge 

 of Lancashire folk-lore was unsurpassed. 



Among his stories I remember the following. A 



