128 MEMOIK OF JOHN WILSON. 



the same time so much simplicity. His wanderings, etc., etc., made 

 some people in this quarter — no matter who — think him quite mad, 

 and they will not be persuaded to the contrary. The eccentricities 

 of a poet certainly do bear some resemblance to this at times, and 

 to say truth, Mr. Wilson has his good share of these. I was quite 

 tantalized the day he passed in the house that I was not able to 

 appear, and avail myself of so good an opportunity to become ac- 

 quainted with him. I saw more of Mrs. Wilson, and was much 

 pleased with her. She made out her loalks you see, and after this 

 you must allow woman to jjossess resolution and perseverance. I 

 greatly admired the patience and good-humor with which she bore 

 all the privations and fatigues of her journey. She might make 

 some of your southern beaux blush for their effeminacy." 



My mother during this tour walked one day twenty-five miles. 

 The travellers had been overtaken by a mist falling suddenly over 

 them when in Rannoch. They missed the beaten track of road, 

 and getting among dreary moors, were long before they discovered 

 footing that could lead them to a habitation. My father made his 

 wife sit down among the moss, and taking off his coat, wrapped 

 her in it, saying he would try and find the road, assuring her, at 

 the same time, that he would not go beyond the reach of her voice. 

 They could not see a foot before them, so dense and heavy was the 

 dreary mist that lay all around. Kissing his wife, and telling her 

 not to fear, he sprang up from where she sat, and bounded off 

 Not many seconds of time elapsed, ere he called her to come to 

 him — the sound guiding her to where he stood. He was upon the 

 road ; his foot had suddenly gained the right path, for light there 

 was none. He told her he had never felt so grateful for any thing 

 in his life, as for that unexpected discovery of the beaten track. 

 He knew well the dangers of those wild wastes when mists fall, 

 and the disasters they not unfrequently cause. A weary walk it 

 was that brought them to " King's House," the only inn at that 

 time for travellers among these Highland fastnesses. 



On their return from this wonderful tour, they were quite the 

 lions of Edinburgh. It was fully expected by the anxious commu- 

 nity of the fairer sex, that Mrs. Wilson would return weather- 

 beaten and robbed of her beautiful complexion, sunburnt and 

 freckled. But such expectations were agreeably disappointed. 

 One lady Avho called upon her directly after her return, old Mrs. 



