He fell back into his old ways at Aberdeen, only with a boundless sphere
to work in, and with the hope of finding his father to hearten him. He
haunted the streets at night, went into all places of entertainment,
often to the disgust of senses and soul, and made his way into the
lowest forms of life without introduction or protection.

There was a certain stately air of the hills about him which was often
mistaken for country inexperience, and men thought in consequence to
make gain or game of him. But such found their mistake, and if not soon,
then the more completely. Far from provoking or even meeting hostility,
he soon satisfied those that persisted, that it was dangerous. In two
years he became well known to the poor of a large district, especially
on both sides of Shoreditch, for whose sake he made the exercise of his
profession though not an object yet a ready accident.

He lived in lodgings in John Street--the same in which I found him when
I came to know him. He made few acquaintances, and they were chiefly the
house-surgeons of hospitals--to which he paid frequent visits.

He always carried a book in his pocket, but did not read much. On
Sundays he generally went to some one of the many lonely heaths or
commons of Surrey with his New Testament. When weary in London, he would
go to the reading-room of the British Museum for an hour or two. He kept
up a regular correspondence with Dr. Anderson.

At length he received a letter from him, which occasioned his immediate
departure for Aberdeen. Until now, his friend, who was entirely
satisfied with his mode of life, and supplied him freely with money, had
not even expressed a wish to recall him, though he had often spoken of
visiting him in London. It now appeared that, unwilling to cause him
any needless anxiety, he had abstained from mentioning the fact that
his health had been declining. He had got suddenly worse, and Falconer
hastened to obey the summons he had sent him in consequence.

With a heavy heart he walked up to the hospitable door, recalling as he
ascended the steps how he had stood there a helpless youth, in want of a
few pounds to save his hopes, when this friend received him and bid
him God-speed on the path he desired to follow. In a moment more he
was shown into the study, and was passing through it to go to the
cottage-room, when Johnston laid his hand on his arm.

'The maister's no up yet, sir,' he said, with a very solemn look. 'He's
been d