308 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. VII. 



" I shall never forget the first sight of the sea of faces at the 

 introductory lecture at the School of Arts, rising tier above tier, 

 piled to the very ceiling. I cast my eye around for a familiar 

 face, and lighted on uncle's white head, like the foam on the 

 crest of a billow. A dragoon soldier likewise attracted me with 

 his red coat and his mustaches, and I now look instinctively for 

 him. He is a Scots Grey, a fine tall fellow, and must have stuff 

 in him to come there all the way from Jock's Lodge. He takes 

 notes, and is very attentive; I take quite an interest in the 

 worthy soldier. This class is rapidly increasing under my care 

 over its former numbers, and is my favourite class. My great 

 pleasure in it is lecturing to the working people, to whom I may 

 do intellectual and moral service." 



" Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily," was evidently more than 

 ever George Wilson's motto. He could not give a lecture with- 

 out taking much more trouble than was necessary in preparing 

 for its illustration, and in the School of Arts this was most 

 evident. His lectures were usually delivered from notes, and a 

 few of those written for this audience, and used for no other, 

 remain as evidence that some of the finest specimens of his 

 powers as a speaker were elicited by this favourite class. The 

 enthusiasm with which they responded was abundantly proved 

 by the band of chemists which then began to form, many of 

 whom have forsaken all else to prosecute this branch of science, 

 both in its scientific and its practical departments; while it 

 would be vain to attempt a calculation of those whose minds 

 were elevated by its study, pursued after days of toil. At one 

 of the introductory lectures, he requested the crowd outside to 

 permit him to pass in. But they, looking round and seeing only 

 a little man in pea-coat and cap, indignantly declined, to his 

 great amusement. A laughing assurance that in that case they 

 should have no lecture, soon cleared a passage for him. A 

 grateful expression of the pleasure received, was left each evening 

 (the lectures were once a week), by one pupil, a gardener, in the 

 shape of a bouquet of the most choice greenhouse flowers. This 

 gardener emigrating, he left an injunction with a friend, also a 

 pupil, to continue the offering. It would have gratified them 

 to see the intense pleasure with which, on his return, jaded, 



