parlour, which attracted many young people of literary and artistic
leanings, recalled the _Salons_ of France of a century ago. She
entertained charmingly with tea and cakes and delightful talk. Of
strong, firm, decided character, she might, perhaps, have been thought a
little deficient in womanly gentleness had not genuine kindness of heart,
motherly feeling, and a happy humour lent a softness to her features and
imparted to them a particular charm. She exercised an authority over her
household which inspired respect and contrasted strikingly with the easy-
going parental ways of to-day. There were other sons and there were
daughters also, all more or less gifted, but _Cynicus_ was the genius of
the family--its bright particular star.

The various lodgings of my bachelor days was never quite of the
conventional sort. The Cambuslang quarters certainly were not. The
house was large and old-fashioned. Originally it had been two smallish
houses: the two front doors still remained side by side, but only one was
used. The rooms on the ground floor were small, the original building
composed of one storey only, but another had been added of quite spacious
dimensions. We had two excellent, large well-furnished rooms upstairs.
The landlady was an interesting character and so was her husband. She
was Irish, he Scotch; she about seventy years of age, he under fifty; she
ruddy, healthy, hearty, good-looking; he, pale, nervous, shy, retiring.
But on the last Thursday of each month he was quite another man. On that
day he went to Glasgow to collect the rents of some small houses he
owned; and generally came home rather "fou" and hilarious, when the old
lady would take him in hand, and put him to bed.

They had an only child, a son, a grown up man, an uncouth ill-looking
ungainly fellow, who did no work, smoked and loafed about, but was the
idol of his mother. He resembled neither parent in the least, and,