had　been　a　Celt　now；　I　should　have　said　I　had　a　touch　of　the　second
  sight。　　But　I　am；　as　far　as　I　know；　pure　Northman。'
  'What　did　you　see？'　asked　Robert；　with　a　strange　feeling　that　miles
  of　the　spirit　world；　if　one　may　be　allowed　such　a　contradiction　in
  words；　lay　between　him　and　his　friend。
  Ericson　returned　no　answer。　　Robert　feared　he　was　going　to　have　a
  relapse；　but　in　a　moment　more　he　lifted　himself　up　and　bent　again　to
  the　brae。
  They　got　on　pretty　well　till　they　were　about　the　middle　of　the
  Gallowgate。
  'I　can't；'　said　Ericson　feebly；　and　half　leaned；　half　fell　against
  the　wall　of　a　house。
  'Come　into　this　shop；'　said　Robert。　'I　ken　the　man。　　He'll　lat　ye
  sit　doon。'
  He　managed　to　get　him　in。　　He　was　as　pale　as　death。　　The　bookseller
  got　a　chair；　and　he　sank　into　it。　　Robert　was　almost　at　his　wit's
  end。　　There　was　no　such　thing　as　a　cab　in　Aberdeen　for　years　and
  years　after　the　date　of　my　story。　　He　was　holding　a　glass　of　water
  to　Ericson's　lips；when　he　heard　his　name；　in　a　low　earnest
  whisper；　from　the　door。　　There；　round　the　door…cheek；　peered　the
  white　face　and　red　head　of　Shargar。
  'Robert！　　Robert！'　said　Shargar。
  'I　hear　ye；'　returned　Robert　coolly：　he　was　too　anxious　to　be
  surprised　at　anything。　'Haud　yer　tongue。　　I'll　come　to　ye　in　a
  minute。'
  Ericson　recovered　a　little；　refused　the　whisky　offered　by　the
  bookseller；　rose；　and　staggered　out。
  'If　I　were　only　home！'　he　said。　'But　where　is　home？'
  'We'll　try　to　mak　ane；'　returned　Robert。　'Tak　a　haud　o'　me。　　Lay　yer
  weicht　upo'　me。Gin　it　warna　for　yer　len'th；　I　cud　cairry　ye　weel
  eneuch。　　Whaur's　that　Shargar？'　he　muttered　to　himself；　looking　up
  and　down　the　gloomy　street。
  But　no　Shargar　was　to　be　seen。　　Robert　peered　in　vain　into　every
  dark　court　they　crept　past；　till　at　length　he　all　but　came　to　the
  conclusion　that　Shargar　was　only　'fantastical。'
  When　they　had　reached　the　hollow；　and　were　crossing　then
  canal…bridge　by　Mount　Hooly；　Ericson's　strength　again　failed　him；
  and　again　he　leaned　upon　the　bridge。　　Nor　had　he　leaned　long　before
  Robert　found　that　he　had　fainted。　　In　desperation　he　began　to　hoist
  the　tall　form　upon　his　back；　when　he　heard　the　quick　step　of　a
  runner　behind　him　and　the　words
  'Gie　'im　to　me；　Robert；　gie　'im　to　me。　　I　can　carry　'im　fine。'
  'Haud　awa'　wi'　ye；'　returned　Robert；　and　again　Shargar　fell　behind。
  For　a　few　hundred　yards　he　trudged　along　manfully；　but　his　strength；
  more　from　the　nature　of　his　burden　than　its　weight；　soon　gave　way。
  He　stood　still　to　recover。　　The　same　moment　Shargar　was　by　his　side
  again。
  'Noo；　Robert；'　he　said；　pleadingly。
  Robert　yielded；　and　the　burden　was　shifted　to　Shargar's　back。
  How　they　managed　it　they　hardly　knew　themselves；　but　after　many
  changes　they　at　last　got　Ericson　home；　and　up　to　his　own　room。　　He
  had　revived　several　times；　but　gone　off　again。　　In　one　of　his
  faints；　Robert　undressed　him　and　got　him　into　bed。　　He　had　so　little
  to　cover　him；　that　Robert　could　not　help　crying　with　misery。　　He
  himself　was　well　provided；　and　would　gladly　have　shared　with
  Ericson；　but　that　was　hopeless。　　He　could；　however；　make　him　warm　in
  bed。　　Then　leaving　Shargar　in　charge；　he　sped　back　to　the　new　town
  to　Dr。　Anderson。　　The　doctor　had　his　carriage　out　at　once；　wrapped
  Robert　in　a　plaid　and　brought　him　home　with　him。
  Ericson　came　to　himself；　and　seeing　Shargar　by　his　bedside；　tried　to
  sit　up；　asking　feebly；
  'Where　am　I？'
  'In　yer　ain　bed；　Mr。　Ericson；'　answered　Shargar。
  'And　who　are　you？'　asked　Ericson　again；　bewildered。
  Shargar's　pale　face　no　doubt　looked　strange　under　his　crown　of　red
  hair。
  'Ow！　　I'm　naebody。'
  'You　must　be　somebody；　or　else　my　brain's　in　a　bad　state；'　returned
  Ericson。
  'Na；　na；　I'm　naebody。　　Naething　ava　（at　all）。　　Robert　'll　be　hame　in
  ae　meenit。I'm　Robert's　tyke　（dog）；'　concluded　Shargar；　with　a
  sudden　inspiration。
  This　answer　seemed　to　satisfy　Ericson；　for　he　closed　his　eyes　and
  lay　still；　nor　did　he　speak　again　till　Robert　arrived　with　the
  doctor。
  Poor　food；　scanty　clothing；　undue　exertion　in　travelling　to　and　from
  the　university；　hard　mental　effort　against　weakness；　disquietude　of
  mind；　all　borne　with　an　endurance　unconscious　of　itself；　had　reduced
  Eric　Ericson　to　his　present　condition。　　Strength　had　given　way　at
  last；　and　he　was　now　lying　in　the　low　border　wash　of　a　dead　sea　of
  fever。
  The　last　of　an　ancient　race　of　poor　men；　he　had　no　relative　but　a
  second　cousin；　and　no　means　except　the　little　he　advanced　him；
  chiefly　in　kind；　to　be　paid　for　when　Eric　had　a　profession。　　This
  cousin　was　in　the　herring　trade；　and　the　chief　assistance　he　gave
  him　was　to　send　him　by　sea；　from　Wick　to　Aberdeen；　a　small　barrel　of
  his　fish　every　session。　　One　herring；　with　two　or　three　potatoes；
  formed　his　dinner　as　long　as　the　barrel　lasted。　　But　at　Aberdeen　or
  elsewhere　no　one　carried　his　head　more　erect　than　Eric　Ericsonnot
  from　pride；　but　from　simplicity　and　inborn　dignity；　and　there　was
  not　a　man　during　his　curriculum　more　respected　than　he。　　An
  excellent　classical　scholaras　scholarship　went　in　those　dayshe
  was　almost　the　only　man　in　the　university　who　made　his　knowledge　of
  Latin　serve　towards　an　acquaintance　with　the　Romance　languages。　　He
  had　gained　a　small　bursary；　and　gave　lessons　when　he　could。
  But　having　no　level　channel　for　the　outgoing　of　the　waters　of　one　of
  the　tenderest　hearts　that　ever　lived；　those　waters　had　sought　to
  break　a　passage　upwards。　　Herein　his　experience　corresponded　in　a
  considerable　degree　to　that　of　Robert；　only　Eric's　more　fastidious
  and　more　instructed　nature　bred　a　thousand　difficulties　which　he
  would　meet　one　by　one；　whereas　Robert；　less　delicate　and　more
  robust；　would　break　through　all　the　oppositions　of　theological
  science　falsely　so　called；　and　take　the　kingdom　of　heaven　by　force。
  But　indeed　the　ruins　of　the　ever　falling　temple　of　theology　had
  accumulated　far　more　heavily　over　Robert's　well　of　life；　than　over
  that　of　Ericson：　the　obstructions　to　his　faith　were　those　that
  rolled　from　the　disintegrating　mountains　of　humanity；　rather　than
  the　rubbish　heaped　upon　it　by　the　careless　masons　who　take　the
  quarry　whence　they　hew　the　stones　for　the　templebuilt　without
  hands　eternal　in　the　heavens。
  When　Dr。　Anderson　entered；　Ericson　opened　his　eyes　wide。　　The　doctor
  approached；　and　taking　his　hand　began　to　feel　his　pulse。　　Then　first
  Ericson　comprehended　his　visit。
  'I　can't；'　he　said；　withdrawing　his　hand。　'I　am　not　so　ill　as　to
  need　a　doctor。'
  'My　dear　sir；'　said　Dr。　Anderson；　courteously；　'there　will　be　no
  occasion　to　put　you　to　any　pain。'
  'Sir；'　said　Eric；　'I　have　no　money。'
  The　doctor　laughed。
  'And　I　have　more　than　I　know　how　to　make　a　good　use　of。'
  'I　would　rather　be　left　alone；'　persisted　Ericson；　turning　his　face
  away。
  'Now；　my　dear　sir；'　said　the　doctor；　with　gentle　decision；　'that　is
  very　wrong。　　With　what　face　can　you　offer　a　kindness　when　your　turn
  comes；　if　you　won't　accept　one　yourself？'
  Ericson　held　out　his　wrist。　　Dr。　Anderson　questioned；　prescribed；
  and；　having　given　directions；　went　home；　to　call　again　in　the
  morning。
  And　now　Robert　was　somewhat　in　the　position　of　the　old　woman　who
  'had　so　many　children　she　didn't　know　what　to　do。'　　Dr。　Anderson
  ordered　nourishment　for　Ericson；　and　here　was　Shargar　upon　his　hands
  as　well！　　Shargar　and　he　could　share；　to　be　sure；　and　exist：　but　for
  Ericson？
  Not　a　word　did　Robert　exchange　with　Shargar　till　he　had　gone　to　the
  druggist's　and　got　the　medicine　for　Ericson；　who；　after　taking　it；
  fell　into　a　troubled　sleep。　　Then；　leaving　the　two　doors　open；
  Robert　joined　Shargar　in　his　own　room。　　There　he　made　up　a　good
  fire；　and　they　sat　and　dried　themselves。
  'Noo；　Shargar；'　said　Robert　at　length；　'hoo　cam　ye　here？'
  His　question　was　too　like　one　of　his　grandmother's　to　be　pleasant　to
  Shargar。
  'Dinna　speyk　to　me　that　gait；　Robert；　or　I'll　cut　my　throat'　he
  returned。
  'Hoots！　　I　maun　ken　a'　aboot　it；'　insisted　Robert；　but　with　much
  modified　and　partly　convicted　tone。
  'Weel；　I　never　said　I　wadna　tell　ye　a'　aboot　it。　　The　fac'　's
  thisan'　I'm　no'　up　to　the　leein'　as　I　used　to　be；　Robert：　I　hae
  tried　it　ower　an'　ower；　but　a　lee　comes　rouch　throw　my　thrapple
  （windpipe）　noo。　　Faith！　　I　cud　hae　leed　ance　wi'　onybody；　barrin'
  the　de'il。　　I　winna　lee。　　I'm　nae　leein'。　　The　fac's　jist　this：　I
  cudna　bide　ahin'　ye　ony　langer。'
  'But　what；　the　muckle　lang…tailed　deevil！　am　I　to　do　wi'　ye？'
  returned　Robert；　in　real　perplexity；　though　only　pretended
  displeasure。
  'Gie　me　something　to　ate；　an'　I'll　tell　ye　what　to　do　wi'　me；'
  answered　Shargar。　'I　dinna　care　a　scart　（scratch）　what　it　is。'
  Robert　rang　the　bell　and　ordered　some　porridge；　and　while　it　was
  preparing；　Shargar　told　his　storyhow　having　heard　a　rumour　of
  apprenticeship　to　a　ta