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But he got in behindand oh；
The difference to us！
He was never a golfer； one of his best light pieces； published later
in the Saturday Review； dealt in kindly ridicule of The City of
Golf。
‘Would you like to see a city given over；
Soul and body； to a tyrannising game？
If you would； there's little need to be a rover；
For St。 Andrews is the abject city's name。'
He was fond； too fond； of long midnight walks； for in these he
overtasked his strength； and he had all a young man's contempt for
maxims about not sitting in wet clothes and wet boots。 Early in his
letters he speaks of bad colds； and it is matter of tradition that
he despised flannel。 Most of us have been like him； and have found
pleasure in wading Tweed； for example； when chill with snaw…bree。
In brief； while reading about Murray's youth most men must feel that
they are reading； with slight differences； about their own。 He
writes thus of his long darkling tramps； in a rhymed epistle to his
friend C。 C。 C。
‘And I fear we never again shall go；
The cold and weariness scorning；
For a ten mile walk through the frozen snow
At one o'clock in the morning：
Out by Cameron； in by the Grange；
And to bed as the moon descended 。 。 。
To you and to me there has come a change；
And the days of our youth are ended。'
One fancies him roaming solitary； after midnight； in the dark
deserted streets。 He passes the deep porch of the College Church；
and the spot where Patrick Hamilton was burned。 He goes down to the
Castle by the sea； where； some say； the murdered Cardinal may now
and again be seen； in his red hat。 In South Street he hears the
roll and rattle of the viewless carriage which sounds in that
thoroughfare。 He loiters under the haunted tower on Hepburn's
precinct wall； the tower where the lady of the bright locks lies；
with white gloves on her hands。 Might he not share； in the desolate
Cathedral； La Messe des Morts； when all the lost souls of true
lovers are allowed to meet once a year。 Here be they who were too
fond when Culdees ruled； or who loved young monks of the Priory；
here be ladies of Queen Mary's Court； and the fair inscrutable Queen
herself； with Chastelard； that died at St。 Andrews for desire of
her； and poor lassies and lads who were over gay for Andrew Melville
and Mr。 Blair； and Miss Pett； who tended young Montrose； and may
have had a tenderness for his love…locks。 They are a triste good
company； tender and true； as the lovers of whom M。 Anatole France
has written （La Messe des Morts）。 Above the witches' lake come
shadows of the women who suffered under Knox and the Bastard of
Scotland； poor creatures burned to ashes with none to help or pity。
The shades of Dominicans flit by the Black Friars wallverily the
place is haunted； and among Murray's pleasures was this of pacing
alone； by night； in that airy press and throng of those who lived
and loved and suffered so long ago …
‘The mist hangs round the College tower；
The ghostly street
Is silent at this midnight hour；
Save for my feet。
With none to see； with none to hear；
Downward I go
To where； beside the rugged pier；
The sea sings low。
It sings a tune well loved and known
In days gone by；
When often here； and not alone；
I watched the sky。'
But he was not always； nor often； lonely。 He was fond of making his
speech at the Debating Societies； and his speeches are remembered as
good。 If he declined the whisky and water； he did not flee the
weed。 I borrow from College Echoes …
A TENNYSONIAN FRAGMENT
So in the village inn the poet dwelt。
His honey…dew was gone； only the pouch；
His cousin's work； her empty labour； left。
But still he sniffed it； still a fragrance clung
And lingered all about the broidered flowers。
Then came his landlord； saying in broad Scotch；
‘Smoke plug； mon；' whom he looked at doubtfully。
Then came the grocer saying； ‘Hae some twist
At tippence；' whom he answered with a qualm。
But when they left him to himself again；
Twist； like a fiend's breath from a distant room
Diffusing through the passage； crept； the smell
Deepening had power upon him； and he mixt
His fancies with the billow…lifted bay
Of Biscay； and the rollings of a ship。
And on that night he made a little song；
And called his song ‘The Song of Twist and Plug；'
And sang it； scarcely could he make or sing。
‘Rank is black plug； though smoked in wind and rain；
And rank is twist； which gives no end of pain；
I know not which is ranker； no； not I。
‘Plug； art thou rank？ then milder twist must be；
Plug； thou art milder： rank is twist to me。
O twist； if plug be milder； let me buy。
‘Rank twist； that seems to make me fade away；
Rank plug； that navvies smoke in loveless clay；
I know not which is ranker； no； not I。
‘I fain would purchase flake； if that could be；
I needs must purchase plug； ah； woe is me！
Plug and a cutty； a cutty； let me buy。
His was the best good thing of the night's talk； and the thing that
was remembered。 He excited himself a good deal over Rectorial
Elections。 The duties of the Lord Rector and the mode of his
election have varied frequently in near five hundred years。 In
Murray's day； as in my own； the students elected their own Rector；
and before Lord Bute's energetic reign； the Rector had little to do；
but to make a speech； and give a prize。 I vaguely remember
proposing the author of Tom Brown long ago： he was not； however； in
the running。
Politics often inspire the electors； occasionally （I have heard）
grave seniors use their influence； mainly for reasons of academic
policy。
In December 1887 Murray writes about an election in which Mr。 Lowell
was a candidate。 ‘A pitiful protest was entered by an' （epithets
followed by a proper name） ‘against Lowell； on the score of his
being an alien。 Mallock； as you learn； was withdrawn； for which I
am truly thankful。' Unlucky Mr。 Mallock！ ‘Lowell polled 100 and
Gibson 92 。 。 。 The intrigues and corruption appear to be almost
worthy of an American Presidential election。' Mr。 Lowell could not
accept a compliment which pleased him； because of his official
position； and the misfortune of his birth！
Murray was already doing a very little ‘miniature journalism；' in
the form of University Notes for a local paper。 He complains of the
ultra Caledonian frankness with which men told him that they were
very bad。 A needless； if friendly； outspokenness was a feature in
Scottish character which he did not easily endure。 He wrote a good
deal of verse in the little University paper； now called College
Echoes。
If Murray ever had any definite idea of being ordained for the
ministry in any ‘denomination；' he abandoned it。 His ‘bursaries'
（scholarships or exhibitions）； on which he had been passing rich；
expired； and he had to earn a livelihood。 It seems plain to myself
that he might easily have done so with his pen。 A young friend of
my own （who will excuse me for thinking that his bright verses are
not BETTER than Murray's） promptly made； by these alone； an income
which to Murray would have been affluence。 But this could not be
done at St。 Andrews。 Again； Murray was not in contact with people
in the centre of newspapers and magazines。 He went very little into
general society； even at St。 Andrews； and thus failed； perhaps； to
make acquaintances who might have been ‘useful。' He would have
scorned the idea of making useful acquaintances。 But without
seeking them； why should we reject any friendliness when it offers
itself？ We are all members one of another。 Murray speaks of his
experience of human beings； as rich in examples of kindness and
good…will。 His shyness； his reserve； his extreme unselfishness；
carried to the point of diffidence；made him rather shun than seek
older people who were dangerously likely to be serviceable。 His
manner； when once he could be induced to meet strangers； was
extremely frank and pleasant； but from meeting strangers he shrunk；
in his inveterate modesty。
In 1886 Murray had the misfortune to lose is father； and it became；
perhaps； more prominently needful that he should find a profession。
He now assisted Professor Meiklejohn of St。 Andrews in various kinds
of literary and academic work； and in him found a friend； with whom
he remained in close intercourse to the last。 He began the weary
path； which all literary beginners must tread； of sending
contributions to magazines。 He seldom read magazine articles。 ‘I
do not greatly care for 〃Problems〃 and 〃vexed questions。〃 I am so
much of a problem and a vexed question that I have quite enough to
do in searching for a solution of my own personality。' He tried a
story； based on ‘a midnight experience' of his own； unluckily he
does not tell us what that experience was。 Had he encountered one
of the local ghosts？
‘My bloo