gh rock, which formed the opposite bank of the
brook, was seen dimly through the branches, and its pale and splintered
front, garlanded with long streamers of briers and other creeping
plants, seemed a barrier between the quiet path which we trod, and the
toiling and bustling world beyond. The path itself, following the sweep
of the stream, made a very gentle curve; enough, however, served by its
inflection completely to hide the end of the walk until you arrived at
it. A deep and sullen sound, which increased as you proceeded, prepared
you for this termination, which was indeed only a plain root-seat, from
which you looked on a fall of about six or seven feet, where the brook
flung itself over the ledge of natural rock I have already mentioned,
which there crossed its course.

The quiet and twilight seclusion of this walk rendered it a fit scene
for confidential communing; and having nothing more interesting to
say to my fair Quaker, I took the liberty of questioning her about the
laird; for you are, or ought to be, aware, that next to discussing the
affairs of the heart, the fair sex are most interested in those of their
neighbours.

I did not conceal either my curiosity, or the check which it had
received from Joshua, and I saw that my companion answered with
embarrassment. 'I must not speak otherwise than truly,' she said; 'and
therefore I tell thee, that my brother dislikes, and that I fear, the
man of whom thou hast asked me. Perhaps we are both wrong--but he is a
man of violence, and hath great influence over many, who, following
the trade of sailors and fishermen, become as rude as the elements with
which they contend. He hath no certain name among them, which is
not unusual, their rude fashion being to distinguish each other
by nicknames; and they have called him the Laird of the Lakes (not
remembering there should be no one called Lord, save one only) in idle
derision; the pools of salt water left by the tide among the sands being
called the Lakes of Solway.'

'Has he no other revenue than he derives from these sands?' I asked.

'That I cannot answer,' replied Rachel; 'men say that he wants not
money, though he lives like an ordinary fisherman, and that he imparts
freely of his means to the poor around him. They intimate that he is
a man of consequence, once deeply engaged in the unhappy affair of the
rebellion, and even still too much in danger from the government
to assume his own name. He is often absen