They drove first to the house of Mr. W., where Flora had spent many happy days during her sojourn in Leith. Mr. W. had an only son, who held an official situation at the Cape of Good Hope. Lyndsay had been on intimate terms with this gentleman during his residence in the colony; and on his return to Scotland, he was always a welcome visitor at the house of his parents. They loved to talk of Willie to Lyndsay, and treasured up as household words any little anecdotes they could collect of his colonial life. Mrs. W. and her two daughters were highly accomplished, elegant women. They took a deep interest in the fate of the emigrants, and were always devising plans for their future comfort. As to the father of the family, he was a perfect original—shrewd, sarcastic, clever, and _very ugly_. The world called him morose and ill-natured; but the world only judged from his face, and most certainly he should have indicted it for bringing false witness against him. It was a libellous face, which turned the worst aspect to the world; its harsh lines and exaggerated features magnifying mental defects, while they concealed the good qualities of the warm, generous heart that shone like some precious gem within that hard rough case. Mr. W. loved opposition, and courted it. He roused himself up to an argument, as a terrier dog rouses himself to kill rats; and, like the said terrier, when he got the advantage of his opponent, he loved to worry and tease, to hold on till the last, till the vanquished was fain to cry aloud for mercy; and then his main object in quitting the dispute was to lie in wait for a fresh tussel. Flora laughed at all his blunt speeches, and enjoyed his rude wit, and opposed him, and argued with him to his heart’s content, until they became the best friends in the world. Their first meeting was so characteristic, that we must give it here.