as we march forwards. The country is wild, and in its pristine state;
nature everywhere. Now a brook, now a tiny lake, and "the murmuring pines
and the hemlocks." At last we arrive at the house of McGibbet, and
encounter new Scotland in all its original brimstone and oatmeal.

CHAPTER VIII.

A Blue-Nosed Pair of the most Cerulean Hue--Prospects of a Hard
Bargain--Case of Necessity--Romantic Lake with an Unromantic Name--The
Discussion concerning Oatmeal--Danger of the Gasterophili--McGibbet
makes a Proposition--Farewell to the "Balaklava"--A Midnight
Journey--Sydney--Boat Excursion to the Mic Macs--Picton takes off his
Mackintosh.

Some learned philosopher has asserted that when a person has become
accustomed to one peculiar kind of diet, it will be expressed in the
lineaments of his face. How much the constant use of oatmeal could produce
such an effect, was plainly visible in the countenances of McGibbet and
his lady-love. Both had an unmistakable equine cast; McGibbet, wild,
scraggy, and scrubby, with a tuft on his poll that would not have been out
of place between the ears of a plough-horse, stared at us, just as such an
animal would naturally over the top of a fence; while his gentle mate, who
had more of the amiable draught-horse in her aspect, winked at us with
both eyes from under a close-crimped frill, that bore a marvellous
resemblance to a head-stall. The pair had evidently just returned from
kirk. To say nothing of McGibbet's hat, and his wife's shawl, on a chair,
and his best boots on the hearth (for he was walking about in his
stockings), there was a dry _preceese_ air about them, which plainly
betokened they were newly stiffened up with the moral starch of the
conventicle, and were therefore well prepared to drive a hard bargain for
a horse and wagon to Sydney. But what surprised me most of all was the
imperturbable coolness of Picton. Without taking a look scarcely at the
persons he was addressing, the traveller stalked in with an--"I say, we
want a horse and wagon to Sydney; so look sharp, will you, and turn out
the best thing you have here?"

The moral starch of the conventicle stiffened up instantly. Like the
blacksmith of Cairnvreckan, who, as a _professor_, would drive a nail for
no man on the Sabbath or kirk-fast, unless in a case of absolute
necessity, and then always charged an extra saxpence for each shoe; so it
was plain to be seen that McGibbet had a conscience which required to be