362 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 



metropolis of the North. There Carlyle was lodged in 

 the house of his gentle and devoted friend, Erskine of 

 Linlathen. He was placed as far from the noises of 

 the street, in other words as near the roof, as possible. 

 I saw him occasionally in his skyey dormitory, where, 

 though his sleep did not reach the perfection once 

 attained at Frey stone, it was never wholly bad. There 

 was considerable excitement in Edinburgh at the time 

 copious talking and hospitable feasting. The evening 

 before the eventful day I dined at Kinellan with my 

 well-beloved friends, Sir James and Lady Coxe, whose 

 permanent guest I was at the time. Sir David and 

 Lady Brewster were there, and Russell of the Scots- 

 man. The good Sir David looked forward with fear 

 and trembling to what he was persuaded must prove a 

 fiasco. ' Why,' he said to me, ' Carlyle has not written 

 a word of his Address ; and no Rector of this University 

 ever appeared before his audience without this needful 

 preparation.' In regard to the writing I did not share 

 Sir David's fear, being well aware of Carlyle's marvellous 

 powers of utterance when he had fair play. There, 

 however, was the rub. Would he have fair play? 

 Would he come to his task fresh and strong, or with 

 the pliancy of his brain destroyed by sleeplessness? 

 This surely is the tragic side of insomnia, and of the 

 dyspepsia which frequently generates it. 'It takes 

 all heart out of me, so that I cannot speak to my people 

 as I ought.' Such were the words of a worthy Welsh 

 clergyman whom I met in 1854 among his native hills, 

 and whose unrest at night was similar to that of 

 Carlyle. Time would soon deliver its verdict. 



The eventful day came, and we assembled in the ante- 

 room of the hall in which the address was to be delivered 

 Carlyle in his rector's robe, Huxley, Ramsay, Erskirie, 

 and myself in more sober gowns. We were all four to- 



