126 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. 



the shepherd's wife thought not well of them, perhaps startled by 

 the height and breadth of the shoulders of him who stood at the 

 door, for her husband was a little man. She said at once, ' Go on 

 to the farm-house, we cannot take in gangrels here.' The note put 

 all right, and the shepherd with his wife, both dead now, often told 

 the circumstance to enforce hospitality to strangers, as by so doing 

 one might entertain angels unawares." 



This kind of reception was at last no novelty to them. A gentle- 

 man now residing near Inverness remembers their arriving at Foy- 

 ers, with a letter of introduction to the late proprietor of that pic- 

 turesque estate, from their friend Mrs. Grant. Wilson was dressed 

 in sailor fashion, and his wife's attire was such as suited a pedes- 

 trian in the mountains. The Highland lassie who received them 

 at the door had not been in the habit of seeing gentlefolks so ar- 

 rayed, and naturally taking them for "gangrel bodies" from the 

 South, ushered them into the kitchen. 



On their returning route they passed through a village where 

 Wilson, on a subsequent expedition, met with adventures to be 

 afterwards recorded. Their appearance is described by the writer 

 of a collection of Highland Sketches,* from whose narrative I bor- 

 row the substance of the following account: — 



On a fine summer evening, the eyes of a primitive northern vil- 

 lagef were attracted by the appearance of two travellers, appa- 

 rently man and wife, coming into the village, dressed like cairds or 

 gipsies. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and of stalwart pro- 

 portions ; his fair hair floated redundant over neck and shoulders, 

 and his red beard and whiskers were of portentous size. He bore 

 himself with the assured and careless air of a strong man rejoicing 

 in his strength. On his back was a capacious knapsack, and his 

 slouched hat, garnished with fishing-hooks and tackle, showed he 

 was as much addicted to fishing as to making spoons : — 



"A stalwart tinkler wight seemed he, 

 That weel could rnend a pot or pan ; 

 And deftly he could thraw the flee, 

 Or neatly weave the willow wan'." 



The appearance of his companion contrasted strikingly with that 



* Mr. William Stewart. 



t Mr. Stewart calls it Tomintoul, but that must be a mistake, as at a subsequent date my father 

 speaks of it as a place visited for the first time. 



