386 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. 



Roslin, and Jessie willingly availed herself of my father's kindness, 

 and came to his house ; but the change was of little service ; con- 

 sumption had taken firm hold, and soon the poor invalid was con- 

 fined to bed never more to rise. That she was considerately at- 

 tended and soothed during those long watches — the sad accompani- 

 ment of this lingering disease — was only what was to have been 

 expected, but it was no unfrequent sight to see my father, as early 

 dawn streaked the sky, sitting by the bedside of the dying woman, 

 arranging with gentle but awkward hand the jnllow beneath her 

 head, or cheering her with encouraging words, and reading, when 

 she desired it, those portions of the Bible most suitable to her need. 

 When she died, her master laid her head in the grave in Lasswade 

 churchyard. 



This whole season was burdened with one feeling which tinged all 

 he wrote, and never quite left him.* In October, he returned to 

 Edinburgh and resumed his college duties, how, we have already 

 seen in Mr. Smith's reminiscences. About this time circumstances 

 occurred that in a measure removed the gloom which had settled 

 upon his mind. Two of his daughters were married, f and the pleas- 

 ant interchange of social civilities, which generally takes place on 

 these occasions, led him into a wider circle of friends than formerly. 



* " There is another incident of that period which brings out the profound emotion in a way too 

 characteristically singular to be repeated, were it not known beyond the private circle: — how two 

 pet dogs, special favorites of Mrs. Wilson's, having got astray within the preserve-grounds of an 

 estate near which their owner was then staying in the country, were shot by the son of the pro- 

 prietor, while engaged in field-sports with other gentlemen, and were afterwards ascertained, to 

 their extreme regret, to belong to Professor Wilson, to whom they sent an immediate explana- 

 tion, hastening to follow it up afterwards by apologies in person. His indignation, however, it is 

 said, was uncontrollable, and we can conceive that leonine aspect in its prime — dilating, flaming, 

 flushed with the sudden distraction of a grief that became rage, seeing nothing before it but the 

 embodiment, as it were, of the great destroyer. The occasion, it was gravely argued by a me- 

 diator, was one for the display of magnanimity. ' Magnanimity I 1 was the emphatic reply,— 

 ' Why, sir, I showed the utmost magnanimity this morning when one of the murderers was in 

 this very room, and I did not pitch him out of the window !' As murder he accordingly persisted 

 in regarding it, with a sullen obstinate desire for justice, which required no small degree of man- 

 agement on the part of friends, and of propitiation from the culprits, to prevent his making it a 

 public matter. Untrained to calamity, like Lear, when all at once — 

 " ' The king is mad ! how stiff is our vile sense 



That we stand up, and have ingenious feeling 



Of our huge sorrows ! Better we were distract: 



So should our thoughts be severed from our griefs; 



And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose 



The knowledge of themselves. 1 " 



—From Mr. Cupple's graceful "3Iemorial and Estimate of Professor Wilson, by a Student." 

 4to. Edinburgh. 



t The eldest, Margaret Anne, to her cousin, Mr. J. F. Ferrier, now Professor of Moral Philos- 

 ophy, St. Andrews; the second, Mary, to Mr. J. T. Gordon, now Sheriff of Midlothian. 



