22 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. 



Dychmont Hill, on foot or with our ponies. Whatever he did was 

 done with all his soul, whether in boy's play or in those studies ap- 

 pointed him by my uncle, Professor Jardine. His beaming coun- 

 tenance and eager manner showed his deep interest in all he did. 



"I recollect suifering from his purchase of a violin. My room 

 was under his, and during the night and early morning hours he de- 

 voted himself to bringing out the most discordant sounds ; for as 

 he would not have a master, the difficulties to be overcome only 

 proved an additional charm. The final result of his musical taste I 

 do not remember. Poetry probably succeeded, for even at that 

 early age he wrote little poems (long before the ' Isle of Palms'), 

 some of which I hope were preserved." 



From his journal it is to be seen he purchased other instruments 

 besides a violin : — 



"February 9th. — Got a flute and music-book to learn. 



" 10th. — Began to learn the flute by myself. 



" March 1 1 th. — Patterson came to-day. Liked Patterson pretty 

 well ; agreed with him for sixteen lessons. Terms, a guinea. 

 Bought and paid a German flute. 



" V2th— Played a duet with Perkins." 



There is no further mention in Diary or elsewhere of this musical 

 taste being carried out, although his playing on the flute at Elleray, 

 long years after, is a circumstance which inclines one to believe that 

 he continued some practice on this instrument after leaving College. 

 He was, however, a devoted lover of music, both vocal and instru- 

 mental, though always preferring the former. His singing was 

 charming, uncultivated as it was by study ; no one could listen to it 

 without admiration or a touched heart. His voice was exquisitely 

 sweet,* which, combined with the pathos he infused into every note, 

 and expressed in each word, made the pleasure of hearing him a 

 thing to be remembered forever. His manner of singing "Auld 

 Lang Syne" may be described as a tribute of love to the memory of 

 the poet, whose words appeared to inspire him with something be- 



* "North. — Do you like my voice, James? I hope you do." 



"Shepherd. — I wad ha'e kent it, Mr. North, on the Tower o' Babel, on the day o' the great hub- 

 bub. I think Socrates maun ha'e had just sic a voice. Ye canna weel ca't saft. for even in its 

 laigh notes there is a sort o' birr; a sort o' dirl that betokens power. Ve canna ca't hairsh, for 

 angry as ye may be at times, its 1 aye in tune, frae the fineness o' your ear for music. Ye canna 

 ca't sherp, for it's aye sae nat'ral ; and flett it could never be, gin you were even gi'en ower by the 

 doctors. It's maist the only voice I ever heard that you can say is at aince persuasive and com- 

 manding — you micht fear 't, but you maun love 't." — Nodes. 



