"I first learnt to read when the masons were at work in your house. I approached them one day, and observed that the architect used a rule and compass, and that he made calculations. I inquired what might be the meaning and use of these things, and I was informed that there was a science called Arithmetic. I purchased a book of arithmetic, and I learned it. I was told there was another science called Geometry; I bought the necessary books, and I learned Geometry. By reading, I found there were good books in these two sciences in Latin; I bought a dictionary, and I learned Latin. I understood, also, that there were good books of the same kind in French; I bought a dictionary, and I learned French. It seems to me that one does not need to know anything more than the twenty-four letters to learn everything else that one wishes."—Edmund Stone to the Duke of Argyll. ('Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties.')
"The British Census proper reckons twenty-seven and a half million in the home countries. What makes this census important is the quality of the units that compose it. They are free forcible men, in a country where life is safe, and has reached the greatest value. They give the bias to the current age; and that not by chance or by mass, but by their character, and by the number of individuals among them of personal ability."—Emerson: English Traits.
From Belfast to the Highlands of Scotland is an easy route by steamers and railways. While at Birnam, near Dunkeld, I was reminded of some remarkable characters in the neighbourhood. After the publication of the 'Scotch Naturalist' and 'Robert Dick,' I received numerous letters informing me of many self-taught botanists and students of nature, quite as interesting as the subjects of my memoirs. Among others, there was John Duncan, the botanist weaver of Aberdeen, whose interesting life has since been done justice to by Mr. Jolly; and John Sim of Perth, first a shepherd boy, then a soldier, and towards the close of his life a poet and a botanist, whose life, I was told, was "as interesting as a romance."
There was also Alexander Croall, Custodian of the Smith Institute at Stirling, an admirable naturalist and botanist. He was originally a hard-working parish schoolmaster, near Montrose. During his holiday wanderings he collected plants for his extensive herbarium. His accomplishments having come under the notice of the late Sir William Hooker, he was selected by that gentleman to prepare sets of the Plants of Braemar for the Queen and Prince Albert, which he did to their entire satisfaction. He gave up his school-mastership for an ill-paid but more congenial occupation, that of Librarian to the Derby Museum and Herbarium. Some years ago, he was appointed to his present position of Custodian to the Smith Institute—perhaps the best provincial museum and art gallery in Scotland.
I could not, however, enter into the history of these remarkable persons; though I understand there is a probability of Mr. Croall giving his scientific recollections to the world. He has already brought out a beautiful work, in four volumes, 'British Seaweeds, Nature-printed;' and anything connected with his biography will be looked forward to with interest.
Among the other persons brought to my notice, years ago, were Astronomers in humble life. For instance, I received a letter from John Grierson, keeper of the Girdleness Lighthouse, near Aberdeen, mentioning one of these persons as "an extraordinary character." "William Ballingall," he said, "is a weaver in the town of Lower Largo, Fifeshire; and from his early days he has made astronomy the subject of passionate study. I used to spend my school vacation at Largo, and have frequently heard him expound upon his favourite subject. I believe that very high opinions have been expressed by scientific gentlemen regarding Ballingall's attainments. They were no doubt surprised that an individual with but a very limited amount of education, and whose hours of labour were from five in the morning until ten or eleven at night, should be able to acquire so much knowledge on so profound a subject. Had he possessed a fair amount of education, and an assortment of scientific instruments and books, the world would have heard more about him. Should you ever find yourself," my correspondent concludes, "in his neighbourhood, and have a few hours to spare, you would have no reason to regret the time spent in his company." I could not, however, arrange to pay the proposed visit to Largo; but I found that I could, without inconvenience, visit another astronomer in the neighbourhood of Dunkeld.
In January 1879 I received a letter from Sheriff Barclay, of Perth, to the following effect: "Knowing the deep interest you take in genius and merit in humble ranks, I beg to state to you an extraordinary case. John Robertson is a railway porter at Coupar Angus station. From early youth he has made the heavens his study. Night after night he looks above, and from his small earnings he has provided himself with a telescope which cost him about 30L. He sends notices of his observations to the scientific journals, under the modest initials of 'J.R.' He is a great favourite with the public; and it is said that he has made some observations in celestial phenomena not before noticed. It does occur to me that he should have a wider field for his favourite study. In connection with an observatory, his services would be invaluable."
Nearly five years had elapsed since the receipt of this letter, and I had done nothing to put myself in communication with the Coupar Angus astronomer. Strange to say, his existence was again recalled to my notice by Professor Grainger Stewart, of Edinburgh. He said that if I was in the neighbourhood I ought to call upon him, and that he would receive me kindly. His duty, he said, was to act as porter at the station, and to shout the name of the place as the trains passed. I wrote to John Robertson accordingly, and received a reply stating that he would be glad to see me, and inclosing a photograph, in which I recognised a good, honest, sensible face, with his person inclosed in the usual station porter's garb, "C.R. 1446."
I started from Dunkeld, and reached Coupar Angus in due time. As I approached the station, I heard the porter calling out, "Coupar Angus! change here for Blairgowrie!"[1] It was the voice of John Robertson.
I descended from the train, and addressed him at once: after the photograph there could be no mistaking him. An arrangement for a meeting was made, and he called upon me in the evening. I invited him to such hospitality as the inn afforded; but he would have nothing. "I am much obliged to you," he said; "but it always does me harm." I knew at once what the "it" meant. Then he invited me to his house in Causewayend Street. I found his cottage clean and comfortable, presided over by an evidently clever wife. He took me into his sitting-room, where I inspected his drawings of the sun-spots, made in colour on a large scale. In all his statements he was perfectly modest and unpretending. The following is his story, so far as I can recollect, in his own words:—