144 LIFE OF GEORGE WILSON. 



concerning Johnnie, but she preserves the profoundest 

 silence, and looks indignant ; so that what Johnnie Ritchie's 

 name is I see no hope of discovering. 



"Yesterday, had I had any Samaritan to carry me out 

 on his back, I might have seen something out of the way. 

 It appears that an unchristian man and woman, instead of 

 going to church and hearing sermon, made a pilgrimage 

 out to the Black Rocks, and seated themselves thereon, 

 whether to meditate or gather mussels I do not know. The 

 tide, however, came in, and surrounded them, and for a 

 while there were great hopes that they would be drowned, 

 which would have been highly satisfactory to the lookers- 

 on, who had waited a while in expectation, and would have 

 liked to see something after standing so long. The couple 

 sat on the rocks, like two crows or sea gulls, apparently 

 resigned to their fate, till, on the church's dismission, and 

 their situation being discovered, a boat was launched, and 

 in addition, three stout men stripped and swam off to save 

 the Sabbath-breakers. 



"Instead of sitting still till assistance came, they pro- 

 ceeded now to try if they could not wade in. The first 

 step took them over the shoulders ; but nothing daunted 

 they pushed on, and fortunately found it no deeper, though, 

 as the wind was up, the waves came over their heads at 

 every surge. On the whole, however, the last occurrence 

 might be beneficial, for their heads could not be kept too 

 cool in such a predicament. They finally found their way 

 to shore without help of boat or swimming-men, looking/ 

 however, literally and metaphorically, a little blue. 



" Such are the contents of my Seafield journal, barren 

 enough ; but I promised I would write, and you must 

 forgive its emptiness. Your ever affectionate 



GEORGE WILSON." 



