d was
very timid; he didn't like to appear in print; thought his grammar and
style wouldn't be good enough; fought shy of the proposal altogether.
But at last Edward made up his mind to contribute a few notes to the
Banffshire Journal, and from that he went on slowly to other papers,
until at last he came to be one of the most valued occasional writers
for several of the leading scientific periodicals in England.
Unfortunately, science doesn't pay. All this work was done for love
only; and Edward's only reward was the pleasure he himself derived from
thus jotting down the facts he had observed about the beautiful
creatures he loved so well.

Soon Mr. Smith induced the indefatigable shoemaker to send a few papers
on the birds and beasts to the Zoologist. Readers began to perceive
that these contributions were sent by a man of the right sort--a man
who didn't merely read what other men had said about the creatures in
books, but who watched their ways on his own account, and knew all
about their habits and manners in their own homes. Other friends now
began to interest themselves in him; and Edward obtained at last, what
to a man of his tastes must have been almost as much as money or
position--the society of people who could appreciate him, and could
sympathize in all that interested him. Mr. Smith in particular always
treated him, says Dr. Smiles, "as one intelligent man treats another."
The paltry distinctions of artificial rank were all forgotten between
them, and the two naturalists talked together with endless interest
about all those lovely creatures that surround us every one on every
side, but that so very few people comparatively have ever eyes to see
or hearts to understand. It was a very great loss to Edward when Mr.
Smith died, in 1854.

In the year 1858 the untiring shoemaker had gathered his third and last
collection, the finest and best of all. By this time he had become an
expert stuffer of birds, and a good preserver of fish and flowers. But
his health was now beginning to fail. He was forty-four, and he had
used his constitution very severely, going out at nights in cold and
wet, and cheating himself of sleep during the natural hours of rest and
recuperation. Happily, during all these years, he had resisted the
advice of his Scotch labouring friends, to take out whisky with him on
his nightly excursions. He never took a drop of it, at home or abroad.
If he had done so, he himself believed, he