him to attend the lectures, and assist in preparing the demonstrations.  Thus Dickson spent many winters, at once attendant and pupil, returning to the country in summer in his old capacity.  By degrees, he completed his medical education, obtaining gratis-tickets from the professors—­a favour sometimes extended to deserving students, and of which he was well worthy.  Dr Barclay once gave a good lesson to those who apply for such gratuitous favours for others.  He was asked by a certain bookseller to give a perpetual gratis-ticket for his class to a student then standing in the shop, who could ill afford to pay the four-guinea fee.  ‘Most certainly,’ said the doctor; ’I can never refuse in such a case.  By the by, Mr ——­, I want a few books; will you look them out for me now?’ and the doctor enumerated several standard medical works, which were produced with great alacrity.  He then selected four guineas’ worth from among them, and handed them over to the astonished student, along with a lecture-ticket, saying:  ’Of course, Mr ——­ intended giving you the same value in books which I do in this ticket!’ The bookseller, although a notoriously parsimonious character, had not a word to say.  Dr Barclay took great pride in collecting a library, and invented the following device as a mark for his books:  His initials were engraved in the centre of an oval, at the top was the sun, with the motto—­’I weary not;’ below, was a mountain, with ‘I am firm;’ and surrounding all, ‘Excel if you can.’

These graphic mottos became the guiding-stars of John Dickson’s career:  he wearied not, nor wavered in whatever pursuit he engaged; and it was to this indomitable industry that he owed his success in life.  His perseverance was displayed even in his amusements; he was fond of music, but had not a sufficiently correct ear to play the violin well, yet he would not abandon it, but scraped away year after year, in hopes of ultimate success, although in this instance without attaining his object.  In more important pursuits, his industry was amply rewarded; and having taken his degree, we must now call the heretofore denizen of the Pit, Dr Dickson, and record, that the students of the university, on his leaving Edinburgh, presented him with a testimonial, to signify their appreciation of his valuable demonstrations in the class of Practical Anatomy.  Some of his preparations may still be seen in the Museum of the College of Surgeons.

An appointment as assistant-surgeon in the navy was now procured for him; medical officers being then in greater request than they are in these piping times of peace.  With affectionate regret, and not unmanly tears, he left the home that had sheltered him for so many and such important years of his life, and towards which he ever evinced the warmest attachment.  His gratitude was not long in shewing itself practically.  In a few years, he returned from abroad; and on landing in Britain, heard that the son of his former benefactor,