[1046]. The following is one of the many stories told of “old Donald McFarlane” the faithful assistant of Sir William Thomson.
The father of a new student when bringing him to the University, after calling to see the Professor [Thomson] drew his assistant to one side and besought him to tell him what his son must do that he might stand well with the Professor. “You want your son to stand weel with the Profeessorr?” asked McFarlane. “Yes.” “Weel, then, he must just have a guid bellyful o’ mathematics!“—Thompson, S. P.
Life of Lord Kelvin (London, 1910), p. 420.
[1047]. The following story (here a little softened from the vernacular) was narrated by Lord Kelvin himself when dining at Trinity Hall:—
A certain rough Highland lad at the university had done exceedingly well, and at the close of the session gained prizes both in mathematics and in metaphysics. His old father came up from the farm to see his son receive the prizes, and visited the College. Thomson was deputed to show him round the place. “Weel, Mr. Thomson,” asked the old man, “and what may these mathematics be, for which my son has getten a prize?” “I told him,” replied Thomson, “that mathematics meant reckoning with figures, and calculating.” “Oo ay,” said the old man, “he’ll ha’ getten that fra’ me: I were ever a braw hand at the countin’.” After a pause he resumed: “And what, Mr. Thomson, might these metapheesics be?” “I endeavoured,” replied Thomson, “to explain how metaphysics was the attempt to express in language the indefinite.” The old Highlander stood still and scratched his head. “Oo ay: may be he’ll ha’ getten that fra’ his mither. She were aye a bletherin’ body”—Thompson, S. P.
Life of Lord Kelvin (London, 1910), p. 1124.
[1048]. Lord Kelvin, unable to meet his classes one day, posted the following notice on the door of his lecture room,—
“Professor Thomson will not meet his classes today.”
The disappointed class decided to play a joke on the professor. Erasing the “c” they left the legend to read,—