“The proceedings of the day were fixed to commence at two P.M., and the half-hour of waiting was filled up by the students in throwing occasional volleys of peas, whistling en masse various lively tunes, and in clambering, like small escalading parties, on to and over the platform to take advantage of the seats in the organ gallery behind.  For Edinburgh students, however, let me say that these proceedings were singularly decorous.  They did indulge in a little fun when nothing else was doing, but they did not come for that alone.  Any student who wanted fun could have sold his ticket at a handsome profit, for which better fun could be had elsewhere.  I heard among the crowd that some students had got so high a price as a guinea each for their tickets, and I heard of others who had been offered no less but had refused it.  And I must say further, that they listened to Mr. Carlyle’s address with as much attention and reverence as they could have bestowed on a prophet—­only I daresay most prophets would have elicited less applause and laughter.

“Shortly before two, the city magistrates and a few other personages mounted the platform, and, with as much quietness as the fancy of the students directed, took the seats which had been marked out for them by large red pasteboard tickets.  At two precisely the students in the organ gallery started to the tops of the seats and began to cheer vociferously, and almost instantly all the audience followed their example.  The procession was on its way through the hall, and in half a minute Lord Provost Chambers, in his official robes, mounted the platform stair; then Principal Sir David Brewster and Lord Rector Carlyle, both in their gold-laced robes of office; then the Rev. Dr. Lee, and the other professors, in their gowns; also the LL.D.’s to be, in black gowns.  Lord Neaves and Dr. Guthrie were there in an LL.D.’s black gown and blue ribbons; Mr. Harvey, the President of the Royal Academy, and Sir D. Baxter, Bart.—­men conspicuous in their plain clothes.

“Dr. Lee offered up a prayer of a minute and a half, at the ‘Amen’ of which I could see Mr. Carlyle bow very low.  Then the business of the occasion commenced.  Mr. Gibson—­a tall, thin, pale-faced, beardless, acute, composed-looking young gentleman, in an M.A.’s gown—­introduced Mr. Carlyle, ‘the most distinguished son of the University,’ to the Principal, Sir David Brewster, as the Lord Rector elected by the students.  Sir David saluted him as such, thinking, perhaps, of the time when, an unknown young man, Thomas Carlyle wrote articles for Brewster’s ‘Cyclopaedia,’ and got Brewster’s name to introduce to public notice his translation of Legendre’s ‘Geometry.’  Next Professor Muirhead, for the time being the Dean of the Faculty of Laws in the University, introduced various gentlemen to the Principal in order, as persons whom the senate had thought worthy of the degree of LL.D., giving a dignified, but not always very happy,