distinctions and generalisations,
contrasting the dramatic art and national character of England, Germany,
Italy, and France. If he were dull he would write stories and poems. "I
have written," he says at thirteen, "a very long story in heroic
measure, 300 lines, and another Scotch story and innumerable bits of
poetry"; and at the same age he had not only a keen feeling for scenery,
but could do something with his pen to call it up. I feel I do always
less than justice to the delightful memory of Captain Jenkin; but with a
lad of this character, cutting the teeth of his intelligence, he was
sure to fall into the background.

The family removed in 1847 to Paris, where Fleeming was put to school
under one Deluc. There he learned French, and (if the Captain is right)
first began to show a taste for mathematics. But a far more important
teacher than Deluc was at hand; the year 1848, so momentous for Europe,
was momentous also for Fleeming's character. The family politics were
Liberal; Mrs. Jenkin, generous before all things, was sure to be upon the
side of exiles; and in the house of a Paris friend of hers, Mrs.
Turner--already known to fame as Shelley's Cornelia de Boinville--Fleeming
saw and heard such men as Manin, Gioberti, and the Ruffinis. He was thus
prepared to sympathise with revolution; and when the hour came, and he
found himself in the midst of stirring and influential events, the lad's
whole character was moved. He corresponded at that time with a young
Edinburgh friend, one Frank Scott; and I am here going to draw somewhat
largely on this boyish correspondence. It gives us at once a picture of
the Revolution and a portrait of Jenkin at fifteen; not so different (his
friends will think) from the Jenkin of the end--boyish, simple,
opinionated, delighting in action, delighting before all things in any
generous sentiment.

_"February 23, 1848._

"When at 7 o'clock to-day I went out, I met a large band going round
the streets, calling on the inhabitants to illuminate their houses,
and bearing torches. This was all very good fun, and everybody was
delighted; but as they stopped rather long and were rather turbulent
in the Place de la Madeleine, near where we live" [in the Rue
Caumartin] "a squadron of dragoons came up, formed, and charged at a
hand-gallop. This was a very pretty sight; the crowd was not too
thick, so they easily got away; and the dragoons only gave blows with
the back of t