llads, and also, in more recent times, is at
home with Burns' and Scott's prose and poetry, he has little room and
less desire, and still less need, for inferior heroes. So the dead
languages and their semi-supernatural, quarrelsome, self-seeking heroes
passed in review without gaining admittance to the soul of Watt. But the
spare that fired him came at last--Mathematics. "Happy is the man who
has found his work," says Carlyle. Watt found his when yet a boy at
school. Thereafter never a doubt existed as to the field of his labors.
The choice of an occupation is a serious matter with most young men.
There was never room for any question of choice with young Watt. The
occupation had chosen him, as is the case with genius. "Talent does what
it can, genius what it must." When the goddess lays her hand upon a
mortal dedicated to her shrine, concentration is the inevitable result;
there is no room for anything which does not contribute to her service,
or rather all things are made contributory to it, and nothing that the
devotee sees or reads, hears or feels, but some way or other is made to
yield sustenance for the one great, overmastering task. "The gods send
thread for a web begun," because the web absorbs everything that comes
within reach. So it proved with Watt.

At fifteen, he had twice carefully read "The Elements of Philosophy"
(Gravesend), and had made numerous chemical experiments, repeating them
again and again, until satisfied of their accuracy. A small electrical
machine was one of his productions with which he startled his
companions. Visits to his uncle Muirhead at Glasgow were frequent, and
here he formed acquaintance with several educated young men, who
appreciated his abilities and kindly nature; but the visits to the same
kind uncle "on the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond," where the
summer months were spent, gave the youth his happiest days.
Indefatigable in habits of observation and research, and devoted to the
lonely hills, he extended his knowledge by long excursions, adding to
his botanical and mineral treasures. Freely entering the cottages of the
people, he spent hours learning their traditions, superstitions,
ballads, and all the Celtic lore. He loved nature in her wildest moods,
and was a true child of the mist, brimful of poetry and romance, which
he was ever ready to shower upon his friends. An omniverous reader, in
after life he vindicated his practice of reading every book he found,
allegi