The remembrance of them lights up my recollection of the happiest
period of a generally happy life. Could I have been able to set forth
the brightness and cheerfulness of these happy evenings at my father's
house, I am fain to think that my description might have been well
worth reading. But all the record of them that remains is a most
cherished recollection of their genial tone and harmony, which makes me
think that, although in these days of rapid transit over earth and
ocean, and surrounded as we are with the results of applied scientific
knowledge, we are not a bit more happy than when all the vaunted
triumphs of science and so-called education were in embryo.

The supper usually followed, for my father would not allow his visitors
to go away supperless. The meal did not amount to much. Rizard or
Finnan harddies, or a dish of oysters, with a glass of Edinburgh ale,
and a rummer of toddy, concluded these friendly evenings. The cry of
"Caller Aou" was constantly heard in the streets below of an evening.
When the letter r was in the name of the month, the supply of oysters
was abundant. The freshest oysters, of the most glorious quality, were
to be had at 2s. 6d. the hundred! And what could be more refreshing
food for my father's guests? These unostentatious and inexpensive
gatherings of friends were a most delightful social institution among
the best middle-class people of Edinburgh some sixty or seventy years
ago. What they are now I cannot tell. But I fear they have
disappeared in the more showy and costly tastes that have sprung up in
the progress of what is called "modern society."

No part of my father's character was more admirable than his utter
unselfishness. He denied himself many things, that he might give the
greater pleasure to his wife and children. He would scarcely take part
in any enjoyment, unless they could have their fair share of it. In all