The coach having stopped at the village of Corstorphine, for the purpose of taking up an inside passenger, the guard, observing that the young gentleman carried his portmanteau in his hand, asked leave to put it into the boot, to which he immediately assented. 'Put it fairly in the centre, guard,' said one of the dandies. 'Why so, Tom?' inquired his companion. 'It may capsize the coach,' rejoined the first,—a sally at which both indulged in a burst of laughter, but of which the owner of the portmanteau, though the blood mounted slightly into his cheek, took no notice whatever.

The morning being fine at our first setting out, the ride was peculiarly pleasant. The dandies talked of horses and dogs, and fowling-pieces and percussion-caps, every now and then mentioning the names of Lord John and Sir Harry, as if their acquaintance lay among the great ones of the land. Once or twice I thought I saw an expression of contempt in the countenance of the young gentleman in the surtout, but in this I might be mistaken. His attention was evidently most directed to the mourner beside him, with whom he appeared anxious to get into conversation, but to lack for a time a favourable opportunity.

While we were changing horses at the little village of Uphall, an aged beggar approached, and held out his hat for alms. The dandies looked at him with scorn. I gave him a few halfpence; and the young widow, poor as she seemed, was about to do the same, when the young gentleman in the surtout laid his hand gently on her arm, and dropping a half-crown into the beggar's hat, made a sign for him to depart. The dandies looked at each other. 'Showing off, Jack,' said the one. 'Ay, ay, successful at our last benefit, you know,' rejoined the other; and both again burst into a horse laugh. At this allusion to his supposed profession, the blood again mounted into the young gentleman's cheek; but it was only for a moment, and he continued silent.

We had not left Uphall many miles behind us, when the wind began to rise, and the gathering clouds indicated an approaching shower. The dandies began to prepare their umbrellas; and the young gentleman in the surtout, surveying the dress of the widow, and perceiving that she was but indifferently provided against a change of weather, inquired of the guard if the coach was full inside. Being answered in the affirmative, he addressed the mourner in a tone of sympathy, told her that there was every appearance of a smart shower, expressed his regret that she could not be taken into the coach, and concluded by offering her the use of his cloak. 'It will protect you so far,' said he, 'and, at all events, it will protect the baby.' The widow thanked him in a modest and respectful manner, and said that for the sake of her infant she should be glad to have the cloak, if he would not suffer from the want of it himself. He assured her that he should not, being accustomed to all kinds of weather. 'His surtout won't spoil,' said one of the dandies, in a voice of affected tenderness; 'and besides, my dear, the cloak will hold you both.' The widow blushed; and the young gentleman, turning quickly round, addressed the speaker in a tone of dignity which I shall never forget. 'I am not naturally quarrelsome, sir, but yet it is quite possible you may provoke me too far.' Both the exquisites immediately turned as pale as death, shrank in spite of themselves into their natural insignificance, and scarcely opened their lips, even to each other, during the remainder of the journey.

In the meantime the young gentleman, with the same politeness and delicacy as if he had been assisting a lady of quality with her shawl, proceeded to wrap the widow and her baby in his cloak. He had hardly accomplished this when a smart shower of rain, mingled with hail, commenced. Being myself provided with a cloak, the cape of which was sufficiently large to envelope and protect my head, I offered the young gentleman my umbrella, which he readily accepted, but held it, as I remarked, in a manner better calculated to defend the widow than himself.

When we reached West Craigs Inn, the second stage from Edinburgh, the rain had ceased; and the young gentleman, politely returning me my umbrella, began to relieve the widow of his now dripping cloak, which he shook over the side of the coach, and afterwards hung on the rail to dry. Then turning to the widow, he inquired if she would take any refreshment; and upon her answering in the negative, he proceeded to enter into conversation with her, as follows:—

'Do you travel far on this road, ma'am?'

'About sixteen miles farther, sir. I leave the coach six miles on the other side of Airdrie.'

'Do your friends dwell thereabouts?'

'Yes, sir, they do. Indeed, I am on the way home to my father's house.'

'In affliction, I fear?'

'Yes, sir,' said the poor young woman, raising her handkerchief to her eyes, and sobbing audibly; 'I am returning to him a disconsolate widow, after a short absence of two years.'

'Is your father in good circumstances?'

'He will never suffer me or my baby to want, sir, while he has strength to labour for us; but he is himself in poverty, a day-labourer on the estate of the Earl of Hyndford.'

At the mention of that nobleman's name, the young gentleman coloured a little, but it was evident that his emotion was not of an unpleasant nature. 'What is your father's name?' said he.

'James Anderson, sir.'

'And his residence?'

'Blinkbonny.'

'Well, I trust that, though desolate as far as this world is concerned, you know something of Him who is the Father of the fatherless and the Judge of the widow. If so, your Maker is your husband, and the Lord of Hosts is His name.'

'Oh, yes, sir; I bless God that, through a pious parent's care, I know something of the power of divine grace and the consolations of the gospel. My husband, too, though but a tradesman, was a man who feared God above many.'

'The remembrance of that must tend much to alleviate your sorrow.'

'It does indeed, sir, at times; but at other times I am ready to sink. My father's poverty and advancing age, my baby's helplessness, and my own delicate health, are frequently too much for my feeble faith.'

'Trust in God, and He will provide for you; be assured He will.'

By this time the coach was again in motion, and though the conversation continued for some time, the noise of the wheels prevented me from hearing it distinctly. I could see the dandies, however, exchange expressive looks with one another; and at one time the more forward of the two whispered something to his companion, in which the words 'Methodist parson' alone were audible.

At Airdrie nothing particular occurred; but when we had got about half-way between that town and Glasgow, we arrived at a cross-road, where the widow expressed a wish to be set down. The young gentleman therefore desired the driver to stop, and, springing himself from the coach, took the infant from her arms, and then, along with the guard, assisted her to descend. 'May God reward you,' said she, as he returned the baby to her, 'for your kindness to the widow and the fatherless this day!'

'And may He bless you,' replied he, 'with all spiritual consolation in Christ Jesus!'

So saying, he slipped something into her hand. The widow opened it instinctively; I saw two sovereigns glitter on her palm. She dropped a tear upon the money, and turned round to thank her benefactor, but he had already resumed his seat upon the coach. She cast towards him an eloquent and grateful look, pressed her infant convulsively to her bosom, and walked hurriedly away.

No other passenger wishing to alight at the same place, we were soon again in rapid motion towards the great emporium of the West of Scotland. Not a word was spoken. The young gentleman sat with his arms crossed upon his breast, and, if I might judge by the expression of his fine countenance, was evidently revolving some scheme of benevolence in his mind. The dandies regarded him with blank amazement. They also had seen the gold in the poor widow's hand, and seemed to think that there was more under that shabby surtout than their 'puppy brains' were able to conjecture. That in this they were right was speedily made manifest.

When we had entered Glasgow, and were approaching the Buck's Head—the inn at which our conveyance was to stop—an open travelling-carriage, drawn by four beautiful grey horses, drove up in an opposite direction. The elegance of this equipage made the dandies spring to their feet. 'What beautiful greys!' cried the one; 'I wonder who they can belong to?' 'He is a happy fellow, anyhow,' replied the other; 'I would give half Yorkshire to call them mine.' The stage-coach and travelling-carriage stopped at the Buck's Head at the same moment; and a footman in laced livery, springing down from behind the latter, looked first inside and then at the top of the former, when he lifted his hat with a smile of respectful recognition.

'Are all well at the castle, Robert?' inquired the young gentleman in the surtout.

'All well, my lord,' replied the footman.

At the sound of that monosyllable the faces of the exquisites became visibly elongated; but without taking the smallest notice of them or their confusion, the nobleman politely wished me good morning, and, descending from the coach, caused the footman to place his cloak and despised portmanteau in the carriage. He then stepped into it himself, and the footman getting up behind, the coachman touched the leaders very slightly with his whip, and the equipage and its noble owner were soon out of sight.

'Pray, what nobleman is that?' said one of the dandies to the landlord, as we entered the inn.

'The Earl of Hyndford, sir,' replied the landlord; 'one of the best men, as well as one of the richest, in Scotland.'

'The Earl of Hyndford!' repeated the dandy, turning to his companion. 'What asses we have been! There's an end to all chance of being allowed to shoot on his estate.'

'Oh, yes, we may burn our letters of introduction when we please!' rejoined his companion; and, silent and crestfallen, both walked upstairs to their apartments.

'The Earl of Hyndford!' repeated I, with somewhat less painful feelings. 'Does he often travel unattended?'

'Very often, sir,' replied the landlord, 'especially when he has any public or charitable object in view; he thinks he gets at the truth more easily as a private gentleman than as a wealthy nobleman.'

'I have no doubt of it,' said I; and having given orders for dinner, I sat down to muse on the occurrences of the day.

This, however, was not the last time that I was destined to hear of that amiable young nobleman, too early lost to his country and mankind. I had scarcely returned home from my tour in the Highlands, when I was waited upon by a friend, a teacher of languages in Edinburgh, who told me that he had been appointed Rector of the Academy at Bothwell.

'Indeed!' said I; 'how have you been so fortunate?'

'I cannot tell,' replied he, 'unless it be connected with the circumstance which I am going to relate.'

He then stated that, about a month before, he was teaching his classes as usual, when a young gentleman, dressed in a surtout that was not over new, came into his school, and politely asked leave to see his method of instruction. Imagining his visitor to be a schoolmaster from the country, who wished to learn something of the Edinburgh modes of tuition, my friend acceded to his request. The stranger remained two hours, and paid particular attention to every department. When my friend was about to dismiss the school, the stranger inquired whether he was not in the habit of commending his pupils to God in prayer before they parted for the day. My friend replied that he was; upon which the stranger begged that he would not depart from his usual practice on his account. My friend accordingly prayed with the boys, and dismissed them; after which the stranger thanked him for his politeness, and also withdrew. Nothing more occurred; but, four or five days afterwards, my friend received a letter from the Earl of Hyndford, in which that nobleman, after stating that he had satisfied himself as to his piety and ability as a teacher, made him an offer of the Rectorship of the Academy at Bothwell.

'Was your visitor fair-haired,' said I, 'and his surtout of a claret colour?'

'They were,' replied my friend; 'but what of that?'

'It was the Earl of Hyndford himself,' said I; 'there can be no doubt of it.' And I gave him the history of my journey to Glasgow.

'Well, he took the best method, certainly, to test my qualifications,' rejoined my friend. 'I wish all patrons would do the same; we should have better teachers in our schools, and better ministers in our churches.'

'All patrons, perhaps, are not equally qualified to judge,' said I; 'at all events, let us rejoice that, though "not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called," still we see one here and one there distinguished by divine grace, to the praise and the glory of God the Saviour.'