152 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. III. 



have lately got acquainted with a new face in the street, a very 

 interesting one ; I would give a great deal to know its possessor. 

 I am sure she has come lately to town ; she is young, florid, with 

 regular, good-tempered, but dignified features, and something very 

 pleasing in her appearance. I cannot get out of my head that I 

 have seen her before ; at any rate she is very like a particular 

 friend of mine. I am determined to find out who she is, and I 

 am likely to succeed, for I found out a lady's name, etc., lately, 

 after a three months' search, at the time I told you of having met 

 her at the Exhibition of Pictures. I had, however, seen her 

 often going to school before, admired her eyes and forehead, and 

 was tormented about her. However, in spite of these annoyances, 

 and to the great amazement of my friends, I made a point of 

 asking at every house I was in the practice of visiting, about the 

 lady, whom I described to the best of my ability, from the contour 

 of her form to the material of her gown. The ladies of the 

 families where I inquired kindly assisted me ; three families in 

 the south side who have a very wide circle of acquaintance, lent 

 me their aid. One gossiping widow, whose room commands one 

 of the most famous streets for belles in Edinburgh, went over 

 the inhabitants of every house, commenting on the ages, sizes, 

 accomplishments, and the like, of all the female intellects, and 

 opinion was divided between a great tobacconist's and a jewel- 

 ler's daughter. However, I would not believe she was either ; 

 and in spite of the assurances of a friend, a young Secession 

 student and a great beau, that she was the daughter of a gentle- 

 man in Leith, I persevered in my scepticism, and at last learned 

 who she was but you don't deserve to know, and I'll not tell 

 you any more. However, I'll immediately set an inquiry afoot 

 about this other lady, who is a far nicer one than the former. 



" I have a goodly set of duties, like those you voluntarily im- 

 pose on yourself, in the visiting of patients, having the famous 

 or infamous district of the West Port for my share of the town. 

 I see queer sights and queer things, and am amused, and grieved, 

 and made indignant, and rejoiced, and wearied by turns. I 

 shall be glad, however, when the work is over. With visiting 

 and chemicalizing all day is spent, and evening brings a recur- 

 rence of either or both duties, while new ones are added. The 



