people’s business of infinitely greater consequence than their own, full opportunity to remark on his dress and appearance; in which as faithful chroniclers we have not gathered that there was anything remarkable—­save and except the enormous carpet-bag aforesaid, about which its owner seemed as solicitous as the traveller in Rob Roy.  A stranger was, at the period we are describing, a rara avis in terris indeed at Lanport; and it may be conceived that the news of this arrival was discussed round every hearth in the place within half an hour at the utmost.  Mrs. Teague is recorded to have advanced to the door with unwonted rapidity (bearing in mind that she had halted a little since she was on the wrong side of forty, from a rheumatic affection,) to meet such an “iligant-looking guest;” and certain it is that he had not been two hours in the house, before it was evident that both parties were on an excellent footing together.  The old lady was seen to come from the best—­the parlour we mean to say—­of the Mermaid, with very unusual symptoms of good humour on her countenance, considering (as Betsy the “maid of all work” whispered to “Jack Ostler,”) that her visage had generally a “vinegar cruet” association; though we would not take upon ourselves to assert that brandy had not a greater share in its composition.

The strange gentleman continued in close occupation of the parlour during the entire evening.  The mysterious carpet bag was secured in an upper room, and its owner chased away the damps and cold of the season by unusually liberal potations; in short, Mrs. Judith declared to the numerous party of customers who had assembled from chance or curiosity on her hearth, that he was the most liberal gentleman that had ever crossed her threshold in the way of business, since Julius O’Brien (commonly called the tippling exciseman,) had unexpectedly departed this life by mistaking the steep staircase of the Mermaid for a single step, one night when his brain was more than usually beclouded.  The arrival of the stranger, however, had nearly caused a schism between the hostess and her leading customers; for the former had whilst he honoured the Mermaid with his presence, engaged the parlour for his exclusive accommodation—­an arrangement contrary to all the rules of Lanport etiquette; and he might have experienced rather a rude reception had not Mrs. Judy given up her sanctum sanctorum for the temporary use of the “elect.”

Next day, the morning had passed away, nay, the sun was fast careering towards the western horizon, and yet the stranger exhibited no inclination to explore the locality of Lanport.  Night at last set in, but still he remained in close quarters as before.

This appeared the more strange, as the situation of Lanport was singularly wild and interesting.  The prospect from the wooded and rocky heights of the coast was of great and commanding beauty; and the inland view presented many scenes and objects highly calculated to invite the attention of the lover of nature or the curious traveller.  It was evident that the stranger was deficient in both these points.