1859. FOUR DAYS AT BEIDGE OF ALLAN. 463 



lias lain heavily upon me. I ran away to the Bridge of Allan 

 to mend this, carrying with me Jessie, a Bible, the Life of 

 Milton, the Life of Douglas Jerrold, Miss Adelaide Procter's 

 Lyrics, four or five volumes on chemistry, and paper,, pens, and 

 ink. I studied some six hours, meditating and simmering over 

 the metals on which I am to give four special lectures, and 

 wishing a dozen times that you and other chemical friends were 

 within call. I read Jerrold, a bit of Milton, and lots of Miss 

 Procter, wrote out nearly a whole lecture, moralized and chatted 

 with Jessie, visited the magnificent neighbourhood, dined early, 

 went to bed early, and came back decidedly the better of my 

 journey. 



" I have done little this winter. You will receive one of 

 these days a new edition of the Electric Telegraph, also a lec- 

 ture on it. I raised a little money for a school by a lecture on 

 balloons, and helped at a very pleasant meeting to raise money 

 for the Special Indian Missionary Fund, and took a hearty part 

 at another assemblage intended to establish a Medical Mission- 

 ary Dispensary, where the young men will be trained as medi- 

 cal practitioners and evangelists at the same time. It is a step 

 in the right direction, and I hope will prosper. 



" When I heard of your lighthouse appointment, I said they 

 have selected John Gladstone not to look after the lights, as I 

 daresay he imagines, but to look after the b(u)oys, whom he has 

 done so much for at the Bloomsbury Branch. Here I will not 

 touch upon secularities. About coloured lights, etc., I will 

 trouble you with a week-day letter, containing some chemico- 

 physical speculations. This is a Sabbatic one. 



" I rejoice to hear of your success with the young men. God 

 bless you in your work ! It is worth all other work, and far 

 beyond all Greek and Roman fame, all literary or scientific tri- 

 umphs. And yet it is quite compatible with both. Douglas 

 Jerrold's life is most sad to read. In many respects it gave me 

 a far higher estimate of him morally than I had had before. 

 Indeed, I did not pretend to know nor to judge him, but I fan- 

 cied him to have been a less lovable, domestic person than he 

 was. But what a pagan look-out ! What an ethnic view of 

 this world and the next ! He might as well have been born in 



