; for although that hour was pealed from Saint Giles's
steeple, and repeated by the Tron, no coach appeared upon the appointed stand.
It is true, only two tickets had been taken out, and possibly the lady of the
subterranean mansion might have an understanding with her Automedon, that, in
such cases, a little space was to be allowed for the chance of filling up the
vacant places - or the said Automedon might have been attending a funeral, and
be delayed by the necessity of stripping his vehicle of its lugubrious trappings
- or he might have staid to take a half-mutchkin extraordinary with his crony
the hostler - or - in short, he did not make his appearance.
    The young gentleman, who began to grow somewhat impatient, was now joined by
a companion in this petty misery of human life - the person who had taken out
the other place. He who is bent upon a journey is usually easily to be
distinguished from his fellow-citizens. The boots, the great-coat, the umbrella,
the little bundle in his hand, the hat pulled over his resolved brows, the
determined importance of his pace, his brief answers to the salutations of
lounging acquaintances, are all marks by which the experienced traveller in
mail-coach or diligence can distinguish, at a distance, the companion of his
future journey, as he pushes onward to the place of rendezvous. It is then that,
with worldly wisdom, the first comer hastens to secure the best berth in the
coach for himself, and to make the most convenient arrangement for his baggage
before the arrival of his competitors. Our youth, who was gifted with little
prudence of any sort, and who was, moreover, by the absence of the coach,
deprived of the power of availing himself of his priority of choice, amused
himself, instead, by speculating upon the occupation and character of the
personage who was now come to the coach office.
    He was a good-looking man of the age of sixty, perhaps older, - but his hale
complexion and firm step announced that years had not impaired his strength or
health. His countenance was of the true Scottish cast, strongly marked, and
rather harsh in features, with a shrewd and penetrating eye, and a countenance
in which habitual gravity was enlivened by a cast of ironical humour. His dress
was uniform, and of a colour becoming his age and gravity; a wig, well dressed
and powdered, surmounted by a slouched hat, had something of a professional air.
He might be a clergyman, yet his appearance was more that of a