424 MEMOIB OF JOHN WILSON. 



unmistakable to the very character of the hands, broad and beauti- 

 ful in form. The hair, not so fine, is rather lost in the hazy shadows 

 of the photograph, but all else is good and true. Why, some one 

 may ask, are those " weepers"* on his sleeves ?f This was a mark 

 of respect he paid to the memory of his wife, and which he con- 

 tinued to wear as long as he lived, renewing these simple outward 

 memorials with tender regularity. The solicitude he showed about 

 his weepers was very touching. Many a time I have sewed them 

 on while he stood by till the work was finished, never satisfied 

 unless he saw it done himself. 



A street scene was described to me by a lady who saw it take 

 place : — 



One summer afternoon, as she was about to sit down to dinner, 

 her servant requested her to look out of the window, to see a man 

 cruelly beating his horse. The sight not being a very gratifying 

 one, she declined, and proceeded to take her seat at table. It was 

 quite evident that the servant had discovered something more than 

 the ill-usage of the horse to divert his attention, for he kept his eyes 

 fixed on the window ; again suggesting to his mistress that she 

 ought to look out. Her interest was at length excited, and she rose 

 to see what was going on. In front of her house (Moray Place) 

 stood a cart of coals, which the poor victim of the carter was un- 

 able to drag along. He had been beating the beast most unmerciful- 

 ly, when at that moment Professor Wilson, walking past, had seen the 

 outrage and immediately interfered. The lady said, that from the 

 expression of his face, and vehemence of his manner, the man was 

 evidently " getting it," though she was unable to hear what was 

 said. The carter, exasperated at this interference, took up his whip 

 in a threatening way, as if with intent to strike the Professor. In 

 an instant that well-nerved hand twisted it from the coarse fist of 

 the man, as if it had been a straw, and walking quietly up to the 

 cart he unfastened its trams, and hurled the whole weight of coals 

 into the street. The rapidity with which this was done left the 

 driver of the cart speechless. Meanwhile, poor Rosinante, freed 

 from his burden, crept slowly away, and the Professor, still clutch- 

 ing the whip in one hand, and leading the horse in the other, pro- 



* " Weepers" are " stripes of muslin or cambric stitched on the extremities of the sleeves of a 

 black coat or gown, as a badge of mourning." — Jamieson. 



t They do not appear in the engraving, as the page is too small to contain the whole pho- 

 ts ^raph. 



