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courage； that he should thus have died at his employment； and
doubtless ambition spoke loudly in his ear； and doubtless love
also； for it seems there was a marriage in his view had he
succeeded。 But he died； and his paper died after him； and of all
this grace； and tact； and courage； it must seem to our blind eyes
as if there had come literally nothing。
These three students sat； as I was saying； in the corridor； under
the mural tablet that records the virtues of Macbean； the former
secretary。 We would often smile at that ineloquent memorial and
thought it a poor thing to come into the world at all and have no
more behind one than Macbean。 And yet of these three； two are gone
and have left less； and this book； perhaps； when it is old and
foxy； and some one picks it up in a corner of a book…shop； and
glances through it； smiling at the old； graceless turns of speech；
and perhaps for the love of ALMA MATER （which may be still extant
and flourishing） buys it； not without haggling； for some pence …
this book may alone preserve a memory of James Walter Ferrier and
Robert Glasgow Brown。
Their thoughts ran very differently on that December morning； they
were all on fire with ambition； and when they had called me in to
them； and made me a sharer in their design； I too became drunken
with pride and hope。 We were to found a University magazine。 A
pair of little； active brothers … Livingstone by name； great
skippers on the foot； great rubbers of the hands； who kept a book…
shop over against the University building … had been debauched to
play the part of publishers。 We four were to be conjunct editors
and； what was the main point of the concern； to print our own
works； while； by every rule of arithmetic … that flatterer of
credulity … the adventure must succeed and bring great profit。
Well； well： it was a bright vision。 I went home that morning
walking upon air。 To have been chosen by these three distinguished
students was to me the most unspeakable advance； it was my first
draught of consideration； it reconciled me to myself and to my
fellow…men； and as I steered round the railings at the Tron； I
could not withhold my lips from smiling publicly。 Yet； in the
bottom of my heart； I knew that magazine would be a grim fiasco； I
knew it would not be worth reading； I knew； even if it were； that
nobody would read it； and I kept wondering how I should be able；
upon my compact income of twelve pounds per annum； payable monthly；
to meet my share in the expense。 It was a comfortable thought to
me that I had a father。
The magazine appeared； in a yellow cover； which was the best part
of it； for at least it was unassuming； it ran four months in
undisturbed obscurity； and died without a gasp。 The first number
was edited by all four of us with prodigious bustle； the second
fell principally into the hands of Ferrier and me； the third I
edited alone； and it has long been a solemn question who it was
that edited the fourth。 It would perhaps be still more difficult
to say who read it。 Poor yellow sheet； that looked so hopefully
Livingtones' window！ Poor； harmless paper； that might have gone to
print a SHAKESPEARE on； and was instead so clumsily defaced with
nonsense； And； shall I say； Poor Editors？ I cannot pity myself； to
whom it was all pure gain。 It was no news to me； but only the
wholesome confirmation of my judgment； when the magazine struggled
into half…birth； and instantly sickened and subsided into night。 I
had sent a copy to the lady with whom my heart was at that time
somewhat engaged； and who did all that in her lay to break it； and
she； with some tact； passed over the gift and my cherished
contributions in silence。 I will not say that I was pleased at
this； but I will tell her now； if by any chance she takes up the
work of her former servant； that I thought the better of her taste。
I cleared the decks after this lost engagement； had the necessary
interview with my father； which passed off not amiss； paid over my
share of the expense to the two little； active brothers； who rubbed
their hands as much； but methought skipped rather less than
formerly； having perhaps； these two also； embarked upon the
enterprise with some graceful illusions； and then； reviewing the
whole episode； I told myself that the time was not yet ripe； nor
the man ready； and to work I went again with my penny version…
books； having fallen back in one day from the printed author to the
manuscript student。
III
From this defunct periodical I am going to reprint one of my own
papers。 The poor little piece is all tail…foremost。 I have done
my best to straighten its array； I have pruned it fearlessly； and
it remains invertebrate and wordy。 No self…respecting magazine
would print the thing； and here you behold it in a bound volume；
not for any worth of its own； but for the sake of the man whom it
purports dimly to represent and some of whose sayings it preserves；
so that in this volume of Memories and Portraits； Robert Young； the
Swanston gardener； may stand alongside of John Todd； the Swanston
shepherd。 Not that John and Robert drew very close together in
their lives； for John was rough； he smelt of the windy brae； and
Robert was gentle； and smacked of the garden in the hollow。
Perhaps it is to my shame that I liked John the better of the two；
he had grit and dash； and that salt of the Old Adam that pleases
men with any savage inheritance of blood； and he was a way…farer
besides； and took my gipsy fancy。 But however that may be； and
however Robert's profile may be blurred in the boyish sketch that
follows； he was a man of a most quaint and beautiful nature； whom；
if it were possible to recast a piece of work so old； I should like
well to draw again with a maturer touch。 And as I think of him and
of John； I wonder in what other country two such men would be found
dwelling together； in a hamlet of some twenty cottages； in the
woody fold of a green hill。
CHAPTER V。 AN OLD SCOTCH GARDENER
I THINK I might almost have said the last： somewhere； indeed； in
the uttermost glens of the Lammermuir or among the southwestern
hills there may yet linger a decrepid representative of this bygone
good fellowship； but as far as actual experience goes； I have only
met one man in my life who might fitly be quoted in the same breath
with Andrew Fairservice； … though without his vices。 He was a man
whose very presence could impart a savour of quaint antiquity to
the baldest and most modern flower…plots。 There was a dignity
about his tall stooping form； and an earnestness in his wrinkled
face that recalled Don Quixote； but a Don Quixote who had come
through the training of the Covenant； and been nourished in his
youth on WALKER'S LIVES and THE HIND LET LOOSE。
Now； as I could not bear to let such a man pass away with no sketch
preserved of his old…fashioned virtues； I hope the reader will take
this as an excuse for the present paper； and judge as kindly as he
can the infirmities of my description。 To me； who find it so
difficult to tell the little that I know； he stands essentially as
a GENIUS LOCI。 It is impossible to separate his spare form and old
straw hat from the garden in the lap of the hill； with its rocks
overgrown with clematis； its shadowy walks； and the splendid
breadth of champaign that one saw from the north…west corner。 The
garden and gardener seem part and parcel of each other。 When I
take him from his right surroundings and try to make him appear for
me on paper； he looks unreal and phantasmal： the best that I can
say may convey some notion to those that never saw him； but to me
it will be ever impotent。
The first time that I saw him； I fancy Robert was pretty old
already： he had certainly begun to use his years as a stalking
horse。 Latterly he was beyond all the impudencies of logic；
considering a reference to the parish register worth all the
reasons in the world； 〃I AM OLD AND WELL STRICKEN IN YEARS；〃 he was
wont to say； and I never found any one bold enough to answer the
argument。 Apart from this vantage that he kept over all who were
not yet octogenarian； he had some other drawbacks as a gardener。
He shrank the very place he cultivated。 The dignity and reduced
gentility of his appearance made the small garden cut a sorry
figure。 He was full of tales of greater situations in his younger
days。 He spoke of castles and parks with a humbling familiarity。
He told of places where under…gardeners had trembled at his looks；
where there were meres and swanneries； labyrinths of walk and
wildernesses of sad shrubbery in his control； till you could not
help feeling that it was condescension on his part to dress your
humbler garden plots。 You were thrown at once into an invidious