us_! The occasion
was the Duke of Edinburgh's wedding, in 1874, and, yellow and faded, the
_Epic_ still graces my _Every Day Book_, and, as one reads its
inspiriting lines, one sees again those bygone days in which the slim
figure and eager face of Louis Stevenson are always so conspicuous in
every memory of the old, grey city of his birth.

The following lines from the clever skit give a really excellent picture
of the college life in his day.

... 'A deputation we
Sent hither by the students to demand
That they--that is the students--in a band
May march, illumed by torches flaring bright,
Along the leading streets on Friday night.
Brave was the Provost, yet towards his heart
The glowing life blood thrilled with sudden start;
Well might he tremble at the name he heard,
The Students! Kings might tremble at the word!
He thought of all the terrors of the past,
Of that fell row in Blackie's, April last--
Of Simpson wight, and Stirling-Maxwell too,
Of Miss Jex-Blake and all her lovely crew--
He thought, "If thus these desperadoes dare
To act with ladies, learned, young and fair,
Old women, like the Councillors and me,
To direr torments still reserved may be.
The better part of valour is discretion,
I'll try to soften them by prompt concession."
Then coughing thrice, impression due to make
And clear his throat, in accents mild he spake,
"Ye have my leave, 'V.R.,' I mean 'D.V.'"
The students bowed, retired, and he was free.'

The High Sheriff and the Chief of Police, when they heard of the
Provost's weakness, were filled with wrath and dismay, and very promptly
insisted on his lordship taking back the concession, so that this
historic procession was as much 'forbidden fruit' as its predecessors,
and the students probably enjoyed it the more that they had as usual to
dare all those in authority to carry it out.

Another old-time enjoyment of that date was a snowball fight. Whether
snow is less plentiful, or students are too cultured and too refined for
these rough pastimes it is impossible to say, but certain it is that a
really _great_ snowball fight is also a thing of the past. In those days
they were Homeric combats, and a source of keen enjoyment to Robert
Louis Stevenson, a very funny account of whom, on one of these
occasions, was given me at the time by his cousin, Lewis Balf