Edward accordingly postponed the sale for some days. He had great faith in his correspondent, who was himself a member of the society in question. The gentleman had considerable influence in the district, and would doubtless do what he could to raise the requisite money to purchase the collection. But, alas! how futile are promises. Words! mere words! Days passed, and no further communications arrived. Edward was now pressed for his debts, and he could no longer postpone the sale of the collection. The spark of hope that had been kindled in his breast, died out. All hope of salvation from any quarter had fled. He must meet his difficulties as he best could. It was now the middle of the sixth week, and his expenses were increasing daily. Accordingly, he accepted the offer of £20:10s. for the whole of his collection!
THE COLLECTION DESTROYED.
It was a bitter pang to part with it; but the thing must be done. Howling was of no use. Edward was even glad to get that paltry sum, in order to be at last set free. The gentleman (Mr. Grant) who bought the collection, wished it for his boy, who had a taste for natural history. The specimens were removed to his house at Ferryhill. They were afterwards packed up and sent to his place in St. Nicholas Street, where they were stored up in some damp and unsuitable room; and, being otherwise neglected, it is believed that the whole collection eventually went to ruin.
Perhaps Edward might have got more money for his collection if he had broken it up, and offered it in lots. Professor Dickie was willing to buy a number of his specimens, and to pay a good price for them; but this would have involved a considerable loss of time, and also a considerable increase of expense. He was therefore under the necessity of disposing of the whole at once.
EDWARD’S APOLOGY.
“Whatever,” says Edward, “may have been the real cause of my ruin and want of success, I must say that, although I was not supported and encouraged, I had no real claim upon the inhabitants of Aberdeen. I certainly do owe many of them—particularly those of the upper and middle classes of society—a deep debt of gratitude for their courteous attention and their offered hospitality. Although circumstances did not allow me to avail myself of their kindness, I have never forgotten the unfeigned favours which they proffered me. I know that some of them were deeply offended at my refusing their invitations; but, had they known of my deplorable position at the time, I feel certain that their feeling of offence would have given place to the deeper and softer feeling of pity for the unfortunate.”
THE SHORE AT ABERDEEN