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The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

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Willie Gillies.<br />

an an intruder, and so I resigned my pretensions and<br />

retired permanently from the ecclesiastical field. I could<br />

try my fortune again, but the emptiness <strong>of</strong> religious pr<strong>of</strong>essions<br />

which I had witnessed improperly disgusted me<br />

with the calling <strong>of</strong> a minister. In addition to this feeling<br />

<strong>of</strong> repugnance, I had lost my legitimate ambition <strong>of</strong> dis-<br />

tinction—and what can be a greater loss to a young man ?<br />

But this loss was rather the result <strong>of</strong> failing health than <strong>of</strong><br />

a trivial disappointment. <strong>The</strong>re is nothing more sad than<br />

the exhaustion <strong>of</strong> energy which follows too much study. I<br />

went to college an ill-trained lad, with fair abilities, and<br />

grasped at learning with too much avidity. <strong>The</strong> plethora<br />

<strong>of</strong> undigested mental food brought me to the brink<br />

<strong>of</strong> the tomb, and made me a confirmed valetudinarian.<br />

I lived with my elder brother, who succeeded my<br />

father in the farm. My brother and sister-in-law never com-<br />

plained <strong>of</strong> me as a burden, but, when somewhat recovered,<br />

I felt it a duty to try and do something, however little, to<br />

repay them for their kindness. I was naturally <strong>of</strong> a<br />

literary turn, and by and bye, having established a connection<br />

with two or three magazines,<br />

a limited but competent remuneration.<br />

my pen brought me<br />

A literary work, which it is not necessary to parti-<br />

cularise, brought me to Edinburgh about ten years ago.<br />

My time was short, and why should I not say it ? my purse<br />

was light, and, for economising both time and money, I<br />

was induced during my two months' stay in town to leave<br />

the penetralia <strong>of</strong> a publishing firm in Princes Street<br />

regularly when the clock " chappet " one, and adjourn for<br />

dinner— invariably a plate <strong>of</strong> roast beef, potatoes, and a<br />

glass <strong>of</strong> ale—to an eating-house on the other side<br />

<strong>of</strong> the street. It was a low affair, insomuch that<br />

the front <strong>of</strong> it was below the level <strong>of</strong> the street, and the<br />

entrance was reached by a stair descending from the pavement.<br />

As the house stood on the brink <strong>of</strong> the Nor Loch<br />

ravine, the back windows, however, overlooked the railway,<br />

and rose high above many humbler buildings. <strong>The</strong> rear

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