suffices to make quite clear to me the power which he wielded over his students and the popularity which he enjoyed among them. I doubt if the very best that was in him really made itself felt upon the lecture-platform. It was in the give-and-take of life--in his Saturday geological tramps and other more informal relations with his students, if I may hazard a guess--that the man really stood revealed. He could impart life and glow to his subject, as perhaps few can. But he did so best, if I may pretend to judge, when he was talking rather than lecturing. I had evidence of this later. On parting after our two or three hours’ talk at Cornhill, we had exchanged cards, and when I heard that, in order to be near Mrs Geikie’s relations, he was renting Kalemouth on Teviot, four or five miles from my house, during one summer vacation, I hastened to renew acquaintance with him. Since our former meeting ten or twelve years had passed, and though it had remained delightfully memorable to me, I did not presume to suppose that he would remember it, nor was any allusion made to it. Being such near neighbours throughout that summer we met often, and it was then that I really got to know the character and qualities which had been merely suggested at Cornhill. From the geological point of view, Prof. Geikie knew the Borderland as no one else knew it; but he had also a remarkable knowledge, not only of its scenery, history, and tradition, but also of its people, collectively and individually; and this gave us a strong interest in common. Some other moorland experiences were of a more humorous nature. Thus one Sunday night he was walking back from Crailing Hall to his lodgings at Morebattle, and came in the dusk past the hamlet of Cessford. He was carrying a small handbag, and as he passed the cottages a woman ran out and called out in a loud whisper:--“Man, man, can ye gie me half a pound o’ tea?” She had mistaken him for a pedlar, perhaps not unwilling to earn an ungodly penny. The situation appealed strongly to his sense of humour, and he rated the woman severely for tempting an honest man on the “Sawbath” day, and told her to go home and make porridge. For him the jest was doubtless seasoned by the fact that rigid “Sabbath-keeping” did not appeal to his tastes, and that he was an inveterate tea-drinker--making up for enforced abstinence while out on the hills by copious draughts at night. Thus to bring down, as it were, two birds with one stone--the rigid Sabbatarians, and those who trace the degeneracy of the Scottish people to the substitution of tea for the ancestral porridge--must have been a real joy to him. The occasion perhaps permits of the comment that though a Scotsman, he was a Scotsman with a difference, and had wandered too far, alike in mind and in body, to have any intense attachment to the pattern of the parish pump.