s in thinking of the melancholy scene to
which they were hastening. Words of consolation and comfort he did
from time to time utter; but he felt that his situation was one of
difficulty. To inspire hope where there was probably no hope, might be
only to deepen her affliction; and, on the other hand, to weigh down a
heart already heavy laden by unnecessarily adding one gloomy forboding
to its burthen, was not in his nature. Such comfort as he could give
without bearing too strongly upon either her hopes or her fears he did
give; and we do not think that an apostle, had he been in his place,
could or ought to have done more.

They had now arrived within half a mile of the moor, when they felt
themselves overtaken by a man whose figure was of a very singular and
startling description, being apparently as wild and untamed as the
barren waste on which he made his appearance. He was actually two or
three inches above the common height, but in addition to this fact, and
as if not satisfied with it, he wore three hats, one sheathed a little
into the other, so that they could not readily separate, and the under
one he kept always fastened to his head, in order to prevent the whole
pyramid from falling off. His person seemed to gain still greater height
from the circumstance of his wearing a long surtout that reached to his
heels, and which he kept constantly buttoned closely about him. His feet
were cased in a tight pair of leather buskins, for it was one of his
singularities that he could endure neither boot nor shoe, and he always
wore a glove of some kind on his left hand, but never any on his right.
His features might be termed regular, even handsome; and his eyes were
absolutely brilliant, yet, notwithstanding this, it was impossible to
look for a moment upon his _tout ensemble_ without perceiving that that
spirit which stamps the impress of reason and intellect upon the human
countenance, was not visible in his. Like a new and well-proportioned
house which had never been occupied, everything seemed externally
regular and perfect, whilst it was evident by its still and lonely
character, as contrasted with the busy marks of on-going life in those
around it, that it was void and without an inhabitant.

Like many others of his unhappy class, Poll Doolin's son,
"Raymond-na-hattha," for it was he, and so had he been nick-named,
in consequence of his wearing such a number of hats, had a remarkable
mixture of humor, simplicity, a