to the corner of
the left-hand pew nearest to the pulpit, which the Sergeant regularly
occupied on Sundays. There he sat, his blue invalid uniform brushed
with the most scrupulous accuracy. Two medals of merit displayed at his
button-hole, as well as the empty sleeve which should have been occupied
by his right arm, bore evidence of his hard and honourable service.
His weatherbeaten features, his grey hair tied in a thin queue in the
military fashion of former days, and the right side of his head a little
turned up, the better to catch the sound of the clergyman's voice, were
all marks of his profession and infirmities. Beside him sat his sister
Janet, a little neat old woman, with a Highland curch and tartan plaid,
watching the very looks of her brother, to her the greatest man upon
earth, and actively looking out for him, in his silver-clasped Bible,
the texts which the minister quoted or expounded.

I believe it was the respect that was universally paid to this worthy
veteran by all ranks in Gandercleugh which induced him to choose
our village for his residence, for such was by no means his original
intention.

He had risen to the rank of sergeant-major of artillery, by hard service
in various quarters of the world, and was reckoned one of the most tried
and trusty men of the Scotch Train. A ball, which shattered his arm in
a peninsular campaign, at length procured him an honourable discharge.
with an allowance from Chelsea, and a handsome gratuity from the
patriotic fund. Moreover, Sergeant More M'Alpin had been prudent as well
as valiant; and, from prize-money and savings, had become master of a
small sum in the three per cent consols.

He retired with the purpose of enjoying this income in the wild Highland
glen, in which, when a boy, he had herded black cattle and goats, ere
the roll of the drum had made him cock his bonnet an inch higher, and
follow its music for nearly forty years. To his recollection, this
retired spot was unparalleled in beauty by the richest scenes he had
visited in his wanderings. Even the Happy Valley of Rasselas would have
sunk into nothing upon the comparison. He came--he revisited the loved
scene; it was but a sterile glen, surrounded with rude crags, and
traversed by a northern torrent. This was not the worst. The fires had
been quenched upon thirty hearths--of the cottage of his fathers
he could but distinguish a few rude stones--the language was almost
extinguished--the ancient ra