take space. I trundle down to the station in advance with
the luggage, and leave G. and her maid to follow, and thus miss the
tearful parting with domestics in our marble halls.... Good-bye Auld
Reekie, good-bye. Parting with you is not all sorrow; yet before we
cross the Old Town I begin to wonder why I leave you to paint abroad;
for I am positive your streets are just as picturesque and as dirty and
as paintable as any to be found in the world. Perhaps the very fact of
our going away intensifies last impressions.... There is a street corner
I passed often last year; two girls are gazing up at the glory of colour
of dresses and ribbons and laces in electric light, and a workman reads
his evening paper beside the window--it is a subject for a
Velasquez--all the same I will have a shot at it, and work it up on
board ship; it will make an initial letter for this first page of my
journal.

Across the Old Town we meet the North Sea mist blowing up The Bridges,
fighting high up with the tall arc lights. What variety of colour there
is and movement; the lights of the shops flood the lower part of the
street and buildings with a warm orange, there are emerald, ruby, and
yellow lights in the apothecary's windows, primary colours and
complementary, direct and reflected from the wet pavements; the clothes
of passing people run from blue-black to brown and dull red against the
glow, and there's a girl's scarlet hat and an emerald green
signboard--choice of tints and no mistake--we will take the lot for a
first illustration, and in London perhaps, we will get another street
scene or two, and so on; as we go south and east we will pick up
pictures along the road--from Edinburgh to Mandalay with coloured
pictures all the way, notes of the outside of things only, no inner
meanings guaranteed--the reflections on the shop windows as it
were--anyone can see the things inside.

[Illustration: A Glimpse of the North Sea]

An old friend met us at the station; he had just heard of our exodus and
came to wish us good-bye as we used to do in school-days, when we
considered a journey to England was rather an event. He spoke of
"Tigers;" India and tigers are bracketed in his mind, and I am certain
he would get tiger-shooting somehow or other if he were to go East; he
looked a little surprised and sad when I affirmed that I went rather to
paint and see things than to shoot. Shooting and other sports we can
have at home, and after all, is not