Antiquarians -- Fiction; Beggars -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
The young gentleman, who began to grow somewhat impatient, was now
joined by a companion in this petty misery of human life--the person who
had taken out the other place. He who is bent upon a journey is usually
easily to be distinguished from his fellow-citizens. The boots, the
great-coat, the umbrella, the little bundle in his hand, the hat pulled
over his resolved brows, the determined importance of his pace, his
brief answers to the salutations of lounging acquaintances, are all
marks by which the experienced traveller in mail-coach or diligence can
distinguish, at a distance, the companion of his future journey, as he
pushes onward to the place of rendezvous. It is then that, with worldly
wisdom, the first comer hastens to secure the best berth in the coach
for himself, and to make the most convenient arrangement for his baggage
before the arrival of his competitors. Our youth, who was gifted with
little prudence, of any sort, and who was, moreover, by the absence of
the coach, deprived of the power of availing himself of his priority of
choice, amused himself, instead, by speculating upon the occupation and
character of the personage who was now come to the coach office.
He was a good-looking man of the age of sixty, perhaps older,--but his
hale complexion and firm step announced that years had not impaired
his strength or health. His countenance was of the true Scottish
cast, strongly marked, and rather harsh in features, with a shrewd
and penetrating eye, and a countenance in which habitual gravity was
enlivened by a cast of ironical humour. His dress was uniform, and of a
colour becoming his age and gravity; a wig, well dressed and powdered,
surmounted by a slouched hat, had something of a professional air. He
might be a clergyman, yet his appearance was more that of a man of
the world than usually belongs to the kirk of Scotland, and his first
ejaculation put the matter beyond question.
He arrived with a hurried pace, and, casting an alarmed glance towards
the dial-plate of the church, then looking at the place where the coach
should have been, exclaimed, “Deil’s in it--I am too late after all!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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