I routed him promptly from his perch, stuck his hat on, put his
instrument in his pocket, and set off with him for Edinburgh.

His limbs were of paper, his mind quite in abeyance; I must uphold
and guide him, prevent his frantic dives, and set him continually
on his legs again.  At first he sang wildly, with occasional
outbursts of causeless laughter.  Gradually an inarticulate
melancholy succeeded; he wept gently at times; would stop in the
middle of the road, say firmly 'No, no, no,' and then fall on his
back:  or else address me solemnly as 'M'lord' and fall on his face
by way of variety.  I am afraid I was not always so gentle with the
little pig as I might have been, but really the position was
unbearable.  We made no headway at all, and I suppose we were
scarce gotten a mile away from Cramond, when the whole Senatus
Academicus was heard hailing, and doubling the pace to overtake
its.

Some of them were fairly presentable; and they were all Christian
martyrs compared to Rowley; but they were in a frolicsome and
rollicking humour that promised danger as we approached the town.
They sang songs, they ran races, they fenced with their walking-
sticks and umbrellas; and, in spite of this violent exercise, the
fun grew only the more extravagant with the miles they traversed.
Their drunkenness was deep-seated and permanent, like fire in a
peat; or rather--to be quite just to them--it was not so much to be
called drunkenness at all, as the effect of youth and high spirits-
-a fine night, and the night young, a good road under foot, and the
world before you!

I had left them once somewhat unceremoniously; I could not attempt
it a second time; and, burthened as I was with Mr. Rowley, I was
really glad of assistance.  But I saw the lamps of Edinburgh draw
near on their hill-top with a good deal of uneasiness, which
increased, after we had entered the lighted streets, to positive
alarm.  All the passers-by were addressed, some of them by name.  A
worthy man was stopped by Forbes.  'Sir,' said he, 'in the name of
the Senatus of the University of Cramond, I confer upon you the
degree of LL.D.,' and with the words he bonneted him.  Conceive the
predicament of St. Ives, committed to the society of these
outrageous youths, in a town where the police and his cousin were
both looking for him!  So far, we had pursued our way unmolested,
although raising a clamour fit to wake the dead; but at last, in
Abercromby Place, I believe--at least it was a crescent of highly
respectable houses fronting on a garden--Byfield and I, having
fallen somewhat in the rear with Rowley, came to a simultaneous
halt.  Our ruffians were beginning to wrench off bells and door-
plates!

'Oh, I say!' says Byfield, 'this is too much of a good thing!
Confound it, I'm a respectable man--a public character, by George!
I can't afford to get taken up by the police.'

'My own case exactly,' said I.

'Here, let's bilk them,' said he.

And we turned back and took our way down hill again.

It was none too soon:  voices and alarm bells sounded; watchmen
here and there began to spring their rattles; it was plain the
University of Cramond would soon be at blows with the police of
Edinburgh!  Byfield and I, running the semi-inanimate Rowley before
us, made good despatch, and did not stop till we were several
streets away, and the hubbub was already softened by distance.

'Well, sir,' said he, 'we are well out of that!  Did ever any one
see such a pack of young barbarians?'

'We are properly punished, Mr. Byfield; we had no business there,'
I replied.

'No, indeed, sir, you may well say that!  Outrageous!  And my
ascension announced for Friday, you know!' cried the aeronaut.  'A
pretty scandal!  Byfield the aeronaut at the police-court!  Tut-
tut!  Will you be able to get your rascal home, sir?  Allow me to
offer you my card.  I am staying at Walker and Poole's Hotel, sir,
where I should be pleased to see you.'

'The pleasure would be mutual, sir,' said I, but I must say my
heart was not in my words, and as I watched Mr. Byfield departing I
desired nothing less than to pursue the acquaintance

One more ordeal remained for me to pass.  I carried my senseless
load upstairs to our lodging, and was admitted by the landlady in a
tall white nightcap and with an expression singularly grim.  She
lighted us into the sitting-room; where, when I had seated Rowley
in a chair, she dropped me a cast-iron courtesy.  I smelt gunpowder
on the woman.  Her voice, tottered with emotion.

'I give ye nottice, Mr. Ducie,' said she.  'Dacent folks' houses .
. .'

And at that apparently temper cut off her utterance, and she took
herself off without more words.

I looked about me at the room, the goggling Rowley, the
extinguished fire; my mind reviewed the laughable incidents of the
day and night; and I laughed out loud to myself--lonely and
cheerless laughter!.......


[As this point the Author's manuscript breaks off]