But he did survive;
and during his convalescence he was appointed to an important
public office--that of Director of the Scottish Industrial
Museum, which involved a great amount of labour, as well as
lecturing, in his capacity of Professor of Technology, which he
held in connection with the office.
From this time forward, his "dear museum," as he called it,
absorbed all his surplus energies. While busily occupied in
collecting models and specimens for the museum, he filled up his
odds-and-ends of time in lecturing to Ragged Schools, Ragged
Kirks, and Medical Missionary Societies. He gave himself no rest,
either of mind or body; and "to die working" was the fate he
envied. His mind would not give in, but his poor body was forced
to yield, and a severe attack of haemorrhage--bleeding from both
lungs and stomach (14)--compelled him to relax in his labours.
"For a month, or some forty days," he wrote--"a dreadful Lent
--the mind has blown geographically from 'Araby the blest,' but
thermometrically from Iceland the accursed. I have been made a
prisoner of war, hit by an icicle in the lungs, and have shivered
and burned alternately for a large portion of the last month, and
spat blood till I grew pale with coughing. Now I am better, and
to-morrow I give my concluding lecture (on Technology), thankful
that I have contrived, notwithstanding all my troubles, to carry
on without missing a lecture to the last day of the Faculty of
Arts, to which I belong.
Pages:
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281