of the livery of a
waiter and the mourning of an undertaker. At dances, he propped himself
against a wall, in a doorway or in some coign of vantage about the
staircase, looking limp and miserable, but keenly observant all the
time. When he found a congenial soul, whether man or woman, to talk to,
he brightened, the limpness vanished, and his quick flow of wit and
fancy streamed on in a delightful river of talk which touched on grave
and gay with equal ease, and was exactly what a poet describes, as--

'His talk was like a stream that runs
With rapid change from rocks to roses,
It skipped from politics to puns,
It passed from Mahomet to Moses.
Beginning with the laws that keep
The planets in their rapid courses,
And ending with a precept deep
For stewing eels or shoeing horses.'

Although he looked so unhappy at dances or 'at homes,' at dinners, if
the guests were fitly chosen, he was thoroughly at his ease and
exceedingly amusing. With his few intimate friends too he was seen at
his best; but in general society he was usually as bored as he looked.

The Edinburgh of that day was very pleasant socially. Its world seemed
somewhat smaller than it is now, less ostentatiously rich, more
seriously cultured; or so at least it appeared to the young folk who
belonged to the old-fashioned law and professional set in which the
Stevensons largely had their acquaintance. People in that set still
lived, more than they do to-day, eastwards or northwards of Heriot Row,
in the large old houses which were so homelike and so comfortable. The
centre of things was in those grand grey houses from Heriot Row upwards
to Charlotte Square, westwards to Randolph Cliff and a little way over
the Dean Bridge. Drumsheugh Gardens was an innovation. The terraces,
Royal, Regent, and Carlton, that 'west end of the east,' were still
fashionable, and few people had, as yet, migrated southwards to

'That proud part of Morningside,
Where houses girt with gardens
Do stretch down far and wide.'

It was not a very large world, but it was a very agreeable one, and one
which had its notabilities. Lord Neaves with his delightful songs, and
the other old-time judges were still with us. Sir David Brewster was not
so very long dead; Sir James Y. Simpson was yet a very recent memory.
Professor Blackie was in the zenith of his fame. Sir Daniel Macnee told
his wonderful stories; Professor, n