waving up toward the regions of the lakes. Like a gallant soldier, wounded in battle, his head crowned with laurels, his limbs shattered, lay this beautiful and wonderful city before me; for part of it is fresh and new, and the rest ruined and withered by time and the elements. I could linger in description, forgetful of my story, but I did not undertake to describe the outward characteristics of Scotch scenery, but to delineate the not uncommon qualities of the people of that country.
My attention was somewhat distracted by the entrance of a man into the room. He threw himself into a chair; and it struck me, though at the moment I was not observing him strictly, that he sighed as he took his seat. I was not so hardened by the usages of the world, or so indifferent to the phenomena of human idiosyncrasy, as to let such a thing escape my reflection, and I turned more fully to observe the stranger. He was, I should think, about sixty years of age, tall and meagre. I felt no farther curiosity to examine his person or his dress, after I had once seen his face. There, stamped indelibly, were marks that time had had nothing to do with. Age has its wrinkles by right; its furrows are made as if it were to let the streams of life have passage to the great ocean of eternal rest. Youth has its furrows too, by wrong; planted there by premature crime, by premature suffering, by unhappy love, or morbid hope. The face before me had doubtless been, in its youth, eminently beautiful; but of that description of beauty to be found in the bust of Brutus the Tribune, and seldom seen on Scotch shoulders. The hair was black, but thickly sprinkled with gray. There was an undying look of valor in the whole expression of the countenance. It was not the look of the bully, or such as we would suppose belonged to the soldier; but it expressed a moral courage, such as martyrs wear when they die for truth, or suffer for the right.
While I was engaged looking at him, he took a letter from his pocket, and, after hastily reading it, he rose and advanced to the window through which I had been looking prior to his entrance. I could well imagine how that earnest soul might be affected by such a scene as met his view. He stood for several minutes at the window, and I could observe, by that intuitive faculty common to all men, but
