Here all was damp and dismal. Coal-dust covered the ground; water, thick with coaldust and mud, dripped from the eaves of the huge open sheds; a smell of tar filled all the air. To Alec, however, nothing was dismal, nothing was depressing. All was new, strange, and interesting. A few vessels of light burden lay moored at the opposite side of the narrow river; a river steamer, her day’s work ended, was blowing off steam at the Broomielaw. ‘You will hardly believe it, Cameron,’ said Alec, gazing with all his eyes at these commonplace sights, ‘but I never saw a ship or a steamer before.’ ‘Hoots, man,’ replied his companion; ‘I’ve been on the salt water ever since I can remember; but then, till I came here three years sin’, I had never seen a railway train--I used to spend hours at one of the stations watching them--and, what is more, I had never seen a tree.’ ‘Never seen a tree!’ ‘No; they won’t grow in some of the islands, you know, at least not above five or six feet high. But there’s the _Dunolly Castle_.’ There lay the good vessel which had so lately ploughed the waters of the Outer Hebrides, a captive now, bound fast by stem and stern. Cameron jumped on board, and soon reappeared dragging a full sack behind him, while a seaman followed with a heavy wooden box on his shoulder, and a big earthenware jar in his left hand. Several porters with big two-wheeled barrows now proffered their services. Cameron selected one, and having loaded the barrow with a sack of oatmeal, a small barrel of salt herrings, two great jars which Alec rightly conjectured to contain whisky, and the wooden box, he proceeded to pilot the porter to Hanover Street. ‘Tak’ care o’ the jaurs!’ he cried out in some alarm, as the porter knocked his barrow against a corner. ‘They’re just the maist precious bit o’ the haill cargo; and if ye preak ane o’ them, she’ll preak your heid, as I’m a leefin’ man!’ ‘Why do you bring your provisions instead of buying them here? Is it any cheaper?’ asked Alec. ‘Cheaper! Fat the teil do I care for the cheapness? I prefer my own whisky, and my own oatmeal, I tell you; it is better than any you can buy here,’ answered the proud and irate Highlandman. But when Alec and he were better acquainted, he acknowledged that the oatmeal and whisky were presented to him by relatives, as aids to the difficult task of living for six months on twenty pounds. Next morning Alec woke to a blinding, acrid, yellow fog, which the gaslight faintly illumined. It was still dark when he emerged into the street and took his way to the College, with a copy of one of Cicero’s orations and a note-book under his arm. As he reached his destination the clock struck eight, and immediately a bell began to tinkle in quick, sharp, imperative tones.