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changing coats and waistcoats with Furnival-"I shall get the place now for a sovereign, if your friend wont go in first."

"I'll give you the preference, Mr. Wilson-I am not reduced to the last shift, or the last coat at present; and my money will last a month or two longer."

"You are two most respectable fellows," said the gentleman in my friend's clothes; "I shall owe you a debt of gratitude never to be repaid. This is the house-will you wait while I go in?"

"Yes," we replied, and in ten minutes he returned. "In luck's way this time, gentlemen-I've got the situation. Thirty pounds a year and no mistake."

"Well, Mr. Wilson," said I, "perhaps you can tell me which of these places is most eligible for the next application. Since you are successful this morning, I see no reason why I should not be -what do you think of Mr. Davis in

Place?"

"I had a turn there myself once, and got turned away. It's excessively genteel, but the salary is low. The footman's wages amount to about five-and-twenty guineas a year, and the assistant's salary amounts to twenty-five pounds! A slight difference in favour of the wages-to say nothing of the livery, and the castoff clothes, and the pilferings, and the perquisites that swell the advantages of the footman over the assistant-such is the state of the case."

"I'll go and see what the old fellow is like," said I. the jarvey to drive to stop with him."

place. If I don't like him, I shall not

Mr. Davis lived in a better house than I had hitherto entered in London, therefore I felt inclined to close with his proposals at once, if he appeared willing to engage with me. Everything about the place was in an elegant, gentlemanly style. The livery was plain, and the chariot which stood at the door was in the best style, and furnished with a pair of well-groomed and well-fed horses. Mr. Davis was very like his equipage-if not a perfect gentleman-very like one when he was in the humour to be plea

He had that qualification so requisite for a greedy medical man, or a Methodist parson, the art of rendering himself attractive to all ladies past the summer of their days, at that interesting period of their lives, when if they have property in their possession, they for the most part can and will dispose of it as they choose, in spite of needy relations and their starving children.

LIFE AND CHARACTERISTICS OF THE LATE
PROFESSOR WILSON.

BY A FORMER STUDENT OF HIS CLASS.

JOHN WILSON was the son of a respectable merchant in Paisley, and was born in the year 1788. As a child he early exhibited symptoms of intelligence; and, as he grew up, he received from his father an excellent education. After leaving school he entered, at the early age of thirteen, one of the junior classes at the Glasgow University; and he afterwards went to England, and entered Magdalen College, Oxford. Here it was that he first began to manifest a poetic tendency; testifying, as this increased, a growing distaste for lectures, for reading, and for early attendance at Chapel. This ended, as might be expected, in his leaving the University, and setting off on his return to Scotland. In passing through Cumberland, where Wordsworth and Southey and De Quincy then formed a little clique of genius, Wilson took it into his head to join, if possible, the illustrious trio of poets: so he purchased a small house and garden called Elleray, beautifully situated on the banks of Windermere; and, as his literary reputation had begun to spread, and the fact of his having gained the prize-poem at Oxford told in his favour, Wilson was received into the coterie. Amongst these illustrious individuals, there no doubt passed much converse on high and mystic subjects, each man according to his idiosyncrasy: and certainly four idiosyncrasies more utterly different and opposed, the one to the other, had never in this world met together. Wilson long continued his acquaintance with the three. He retained his house of Elleray for many years, and was ultimately created "Admiral of the Lake;" in which capacity he guided the operations of a grand regatta given on Windermere in honour both of Mr. Bolton and Mr. Canning, who was then paying a visit to the celebrated engineer, at his splendid seat on Windermere. Scott gives a brilliant account of the festival-cavalcades through the woods by day-moonlight excursions on the lake, and everywhere "high discourse," Mr. Canning's "courtly wit" flashing as brightly as in his younger days. The regatta was the most brilliant display of the kind which had ever been witnessed on Windermere. No less than fifty barges followed the Professor's bark; and all along the line, flags, streamers, music and merriment made up a scene unrivalled in its way.

Í must, however, go back to the days of taking Elleray. After some months of residence there, Wilson went to Scotland, probably to re-visit Paisley, but I believe that he penetrated into the Highlands. He then returned to Edinburgh, where he commenced studying for the bar. But the Pandects of Justinian and the learned works of Erskine were as little to his taste as his Oxford VOL. XXXV.

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studies; so for a time he betook himself to strolling about the country, attending every fair and every merriment he could hear of; and for a time, no inconsiderable one, lived amongst the gypsies, wandered about with them, slept in their tents, and partook of the contents of their pot; probably without troubling himself as to how the savoury mess was procured. This wandering life and the continued athletic exercises, such as jumping, leaping, swimming, and playing at single-stick, in which he was unrivalled, and which he was constantly practising, no doubt added materially to the already great strength of his large and finely-developed limbs. Returning to a more civilised life, he commenced his Isle of Palms, and managed to get introduced to Sir Walter Scott and several other literary characters, who were struck with the imaginative conversation of Wilson; although it must be confessed that much of it "was but wild and whirling words," still it was evident there was much of genius in his occasional outbursts. Mr. Wilson, as appears from a passage in a letter from Sir Walter Scott to Lockhart, touching his appointment to the Professorship of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, which luckily for him was vacant, and alluding to the roystering style of life which he was then leading, gives an insight into the character of a man who found it difficult even to assume a grave decorum when canvassing for such a situation as a Professor of Moral Philosophy.

Sir Walter, however, took up his case warmly, and influenced his numerous friends in his behalf. Two extracts of the letter throw light upon the characters of both men.

"There needed no apology for mentioning anything in which I could be of service to Wilson; and so far as good words and good wishes here can do, I think he will be successful; but the battle must be fought in Edinburgh. You are aware that the only point of exception to Wilson may be, that with the fire of genius he has possessed some of its eccentricities; but did he ever approach to those of Henry Brougham, who is the god of Whiggish idolatry? If the high and rare qualities with which he is invested are to be thrown aside as useless, because they may be clouded by a few grains of dust, which he can blow aside at pleasure, it is less a punishment on Mr. Wilson than on the country. You must, of course, recommend to Wilson great temper in his canvass, for wrath will do no good. After all, he must leave off sack; purge and live cleanly as a gentleman ought to do, otherwise people will compare his present ambition to that of Sir Terry O'Fag, when he wished to become a judge. Our pleasant follies are the whips to scourge us,' as Lear says; for otherwise, what could possibly stand in the way of his nomination? I trust it will take place, and give him consistence and steadiness, which are all he wants to make him the first man of the age. I have little doubt he would consider success in this weighty matter as a pledge for binding down his acute and powerful mind to more regular labour than circumstances have hitherto required of him; for, indeed, without doing so, the appointment could in no point of view answer his purpose. He must stretch to the oar for his own credit, as well as

that of his friends; and if he does so, there can be no doubt that his efforts will be doubly blessed, in reference both to himself and the public utility."

It was entirely, indeed, to Scott's influence, and Lockhart's active exertions with Scott's friends and the magistrates of Edinburgh, who most absurdly hold the appointment of Professors of the University, that Wilson owed his preferment.

The appearance of Professor Wilson has been often and ably sketched; but it may be permitted to a student in his class, to describe impressions as vivid in his mind as they were when he sat before him in the class-room, or saw his manly bearing and dignified port as he strode with great strides along the terraces of the college, or paced the South Bridge, conveying the idea of a man who would naturally, and, as a matter of course, carry all before him, while his projecting chest and his back-thrown head furthered the impression.

But it was in his features that the great majesty of Professor Wilson lay. The magnificent forehead, amplified by a characteristic development of the frontal bones; the peculiar expression of the light blue eyes, pure and lustrous, yet as keen as a hawk's, and from which, when excited, in declaiming upon some great man or some great deed, the light which flashed, illuminating what was really, in these moments, a magnificent face, in which the fire of genius alternated with the play of fancy and the fervour of imagination. Some who speak of things they do not know, have compared the Professor's hair to a lion's mane: it bore no resemblance to the hue of that appendage, but was of the bright yellow which we know distinguishes all the northern races, and particularly the Goths. The Professor's complexion was also peculiar: there was a delicate ruddiness in it, betokening high health and purity of blood.

Such then is a general sketch of Professor Wilson's appearance. I now turn to him as he appeared in the class-room-into which he strode with such speed as to make the ragged tails of his academic gown fly behind him like so many streamers-and carrying a bundle of tattered papers-backs of letters-and all sorts of miscellaneous papers which afforded an inch of writing room for a memorandum. The main mass of papers, however, were so venerably dingy, and so jagged about the edges, that they betokened long and hard service, many of them, probably, dating from the era at which the Professor had drawn up the notes of the lectures for his first session. This bunch of papers-after bowing to his class, a courtesy always returned-the Professor placed upon his desk, and spread them out before him, as if searching for an idea, amid the scores of scraps and memorandums-and occasionally referring to the documents of yore. During this scrutiny his class, who adored him, would maintain the most respectful silence, not a cough or the scrape of a shoe breaking the stillness. If baffled for a few minutes he would get fidgetty, and his fingers wander fitfully amongst the papers-then suddenly appearing to remember something, he would dive both his hands into his trousers

pockets, as if searching for something, almost always muttering, but in accents perfectly audible to the furthest end of the room"Gentlemen, gentlemen-really this is too bad-I am really ashamed of having been so long trespassing upon your patience." A volley of "ruffing," (Anglice, stamping with the feet in token of approbation) would immediately go forth-upon which the Professor would go on, "Gentlemen, I am really deeply grateful-—I thought I had arranged these plaguy papers last night in perfect order for the lecture, but really somehow or other they have got out of or-." A sudden flash of the bright blue eye, a sudden upstanding of the stately figure, and a putting away of the puzzling papers, assured the class that he had caught the clue-that an idea had fired that great brain, and out came a spontaneous rush of notebooks, and in a second of time, at least two hundred pencils had been sharpened. After such an indication a burst of poetic eloquence was always expected, and the students were seldom disappointed. The Professor would draw himself up, pass his hand over his forehead, and then fold his arms-a moment of silence, and then that voice, sonorous and modulated so as to suit every changing sentiment, would begin in soft and sweet tones to eliminate the subject; and then, as he gradually warmed up, his language would become fluent, brightly decked with fanciful illustrations and apt quotations, the eloquence growing with every sentence into a still more exalted tone,-the flashes of his genius taking with every passage a still brighter hue, until, having at length reached the climax of his subject, his voice, ringing as it was, would be lost in the cheering and acclamations of the students, whose notebooks had long since fallen under their desks; while overcome, and no wonder, with his great intellectual exertion, the Professor would sink back in his chair and wipe the perspiration from his brow.

A most affecting incident occurred during the session in which I attended the Professor's class. According to his custom he had given out various subjects for essays, but between that day and the day appointed for adjudication Mrs. Wilson died. The students, of course, were not aware when the Professor would return, but they were apprised by circular that he would meet them on the appointed day. Of course not a student was absent. At the appointed hour the Professor appeared. He walked slowly along the class-room, carrying the bundle of essays, and slowly mounted to his desk. There was a great change-his countenance was haggard, and his cheeks sunk. He had evidently received a heavy blow. John Wilson's heart was one of the kindest and most affectionate that had ever beat in a man's bosom, and this was, of course, proportionally developed in his family circle.

After a few moments' pause in which he appeared to be summoning composure to speak, he rose and said in a firm voicethe firmness, however, as was evident, being only retained by a great effort-he said,-"Gentlemen-I cannot adjudicate upon your essays to-day, for I could not see to read in the darkness of the shadow of the Valley of Death." The tears ran down his

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