With the annual shoal of emigrants during the second spring, came several families from the West of Scotland. Only two of them, however, settled in Nox, the others scattered themselves over the province. Among them was an association, in some respects similar to that of the party which Eric Pullicate sent to me. They were desirous of locating themselves on my land; but, although not in circumstances to purchase, they refused to accept of leases, and in consequence, as it was not consistent with my views to dispose of the property otherwise than to tenants, we made no agreement.

The negotiation was not in itself remarkable, such things are probably not of rare occurrence, but it brought me acquainted with one of the most mysterious characters I have ever met with.

His name was Archibald Jocelyn, but more generally known, however, among his neighbours, as the Gentleman.

He was an elderly man, without being so old in appearance as to merit the epithet of aged; but his forehead was high and bald, and what remained of his hair seemed to have been bleached by the influence of a torrid climate, flowing in venerable affluence on his shoulders, suggesting recollections of saints and patriarchs seen in pictures, Abraham and St. Peter, or Joseph of Arimathea.