of them in my mind's eye brought relief, and I impulsively exclaimed,
"That will be good, because we will not have to wear pants," meaning, of
course, the kilts. He had a sense of humor and was a tease. He pretended
to take me literally, and raised a laugh as he said, "Why, Murdock!"

One bitterly cold night we went to Fitchburg, five miles away, to
describe the various pictures given at a magic-lantern exhibition. My
share was a few lines on a poor view of Scarborough Castle. At this
distance it seems like a poor investment of energy.

I wonder if modern education has not made some progress in a generation.
Here was a boy of fourteen who had never studied history or physics or
physiology and was assigned nothing but Latin, algebra and grammar. I
left at fourteen and a half to come to California, knowing little but
what I had picked up accidentally.

A diary of my voyage, dating from June 4, 1855, vividly illustrates the
character of the English inculcated by the school of the period. It
refers to the "crowd assembled to witness our departure." It recounts
all we saw, beginning with Washacum Pond, which we passed on our way to
Worcester: "of considerable magnitude, ... and the small islands which
dot its surface render it very beautiful." The buildings of New York
impressed the little prig greatly. Trinity Church he pronounces "one of
the most splendid edifices which I ever saw," and he waxes into
"Opalian" eloquence over Barnum's American Museum, which was
"illuminated from basement to attic."

We sailed on the "George Law," arriving at Aspinwall, the eastern
terminal of the Panama Railroad, in ten days. Crossing the isthmus,
with its wonders of tropical foliage and varied monkeys, gave a glimpse