LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LD7E. 401 



the night mail on Monday, and arrived here on Tuesday forenoon. 

 Dr. Hay and my daughter Mary followed in the afternoon, in con- 

 sequence of the illness of Mrs. Gordon, senior, who, I fear, is dying. 

 To-day, Mary ami Gordon had nearly met a fatal accident, having 

 been upset in a car, over a considerable depth among rocks on the 

 shore-road, along with their friend Mr. Irvine, and his son. All 

 were for a while insensible except Mary, and all have been a good 

 deal hurt. Mary was brought home in Mrs. T. Douglas's carriage, 

 and is going on well. In a day or two she will be quite well; and 

 Gordon is little the worse. It was near being a fatal accident, and 

 had a frightful look. I was not of the party. Mrs. Gordon's con- 

 dition and Mary's accident will keep me here a day or two, so my 

 plans are changed for the present, and I shall not be at Easter Hill 

 till next week. Be under no anxiety about Mary, for she has re- 

 covered considerably, and will soon again be on her feet. My hand 

 is not so well to-day, and I fear you will hardly be able to read this 

 scrawl. Yours affectionately, John Wilson." 



At no time did my father ever appear so free from care as when 

 communing with nature. With him it was indeed communion. He 

 did not, as many do when living in the presence of fine scenery, 

 show any impatience to leave one scene in order to seek another ; 

 no restless desire to be on the top of a mountain, or away into some 

 distant valley ; but he would linger in aud about the place his heart 

 had fixed to visit. . All he desired was there before him ; it was 

 almost a lesson to look at his countenance at such moments. There 

 was an expression, as it were, of melancholy, awe, and gratitude, a 

 fervent inward emotion pictured outwardly. His fine blue eye 

 seemed as if, in and beyond nature, it saw some vision that beatified 

 the sight of earth, and sent his spirit to the gates of heaven. 



I remember walking a whole day with him, rambling about the 

 neighborhood of Cladich ; scarcely a word was uttered. Now and 

 then he would point out a spot, which sudden sun-gleams made for 

 a moment what he called a " sight of divine beauty ;" and then 

 again, perhaps when some more extended and lengthened duration 

 of light overspread the whole landscape, making it a scene of match- 

 less loveliness, gently touching my arm, he signified, by a motion 

 of his hand, that I too must take in and admire what he did not ex- 

 press by words ; silence at such moments was the key to more in- 

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