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.
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