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dolphins within a fathom of the shore, and calves of the legs and the heels. The modern sucking in the red heckle among your very system of turning out the toes, and sticking feet. Not an insect in the air, yet then the fly out the legs as if they were cork or timber, is was all the rage. This is a mystery, for you at once dangerous and ridiculous; hence in could do nothing with the worm. Oh! that our cavalry the men got unhursed in every we had then known the science of the spin- charge. On pony-back we used to make the ning minnow! But we were then but an ap- soles of our feet smack together below the prentice--who are now Emeritus Grand Mas- belly, for quadruped and biped were both un

Yet at this distance of time--half a shod, and hoof needed no iron on that stonecentury and more--it is impious to repine. less sward. But the biggest fun of all was to Gut was not always to be got; and on such “grup the auld mare," and ride her sextuple, days a three-haired snood did the business--the tallest boy sitting on the neck, and the for they were bold as lions, and rashly rushed shortest on the rump with his face to the tail, on death. The gleam of the yellow-worsted and holding on by that fundamental feature by body with star-y-pointed tail maddened them which the urchin tooled her along as by a with desire--no dallying with the gay-deceiver tiller. How the silly foal whinnied, as with --they licked him in--they gorged him and light-gathered steps he accompanied in circles while satiating their passion got involved in his populous parent, and seemed almost to inextricable fate. You have seen a single doubt her identity, till one by one we slipped strong horse ploughing up hill. How he sets off over her hurdies, and let him take a suck! his brisket to it--and snuves along-as the But what comet is yon in the sky---“with fear furrows fall in beautiful regularity from the of change perplexing mallards ?" A Flying gliding share. So snuved along the Monarch Dragon. Of many degrees is his tail, with a of the Mere-or the heir-apparent–or heir- tuft like that of Taurus terrified by the sudden presumptivem-or some other branch of the entrance of the Sun into his sign. Up goes royal family-while our line kept steadily cut- Sandy Donald's rusty and rimless beaver as a ting the waves, and our rod enclosing some messenger to the Celestial. He obeys, and new segment of the sky.

stooping his head, descends with many diverse But many another pastime we pursued upon divings, and buries his beak in the earth. The those pastoral hills, for even angling has its due feathered kite quails and is cowed by him of measure, and unless that be preserved, the pas- paper, and there is a scampering of cattle on a sion wastes itself into lassitude, or waxes into hundred hills. disease. “I would not angle alway,” thinks the The Brother Loch saw annually another wise boy-“off to some other game we alto- sight, when on the Green-Brae was pitched a gether flew." Never were there such hills for Tent-a snow-white Pyramid, gathering to itself hare and hounds. There couched many a all the sunshine. There lords and ladies, and pussey—and there Bob Howie's famous Tick- knights and squires, celebrated Old May-day,and ler--the Grew of all Grews-first stained his half the parish flocked to the Festival. The Earl flues in the blood of the Fur. But there is no of Eglintoun, and Sir Michael Shaw Stewart, and coursing between April and October--and old Sir John of Polloc, and Pollock of that Ilk, during the intervening months we used to and other heads of illustrious houses, with their have many a hunt on foot, without dogs, after wives and daughters, a beautiful show, did not the leverets. We all belonged to the High disdain them of low degree, but kept open table School indeed, and here was its playground. in the moor; and would you believe it, highCricket we had then never heard of; but there born youths and maidens ministered at the was ample room and verge enough for foot- board to cottage lads and lasses, whose sunball. Our prime delight, however, was the burnt faces hardly dared to smile, under awe chase. We were all in perpetual training, of that courtsey---yet whenever they looked up and in such wind that there were no bellows there was happiness in their eyes. The young to mend after a flight of miles. We circled ladies were all arrayed in green; and after the Lochs. Plashing through the marishes the feast, they took bows and arrows in their we strained winding up the hillsides, till on lily hands, and shot at a target in a style that the cairn called a beacon that crowned the would have gladdened the heart of Maid Marian loftiest summit of the range, we stood and --nay, of Robin himself;--and one surpassing waved defiance to our pursuers scattered bright--the Star of Ayr-she held a hawk on wide and far below, for 'twas a Deer hunt. her wrist-a tercel gentle-after the fashion Then we became cavaliers. We caught the of the olden time; and ever as she moved her long-maned and long-tảiled colts, and mount- arm you heard the chiming of silver bells. ing bare-backed, with rush helmets and segg And her brother-gay and gallant as Sir Trissabres charged the nowte till the stirks were trem-he blew his tasseled bugle-so sweet, scattered, and the lowing lord of herds him- so pure, so wild the music, that when he ceased self taken captive, as he stood pawing in a to breathe, the far-off repeated echoes, faint and nook with his nose to the ground and eyes dim, you thought died away in heaven, like an of fire. That was the riding-school in which angel's voice. we learned to witch the world with noble Was it not a Paragon of a Parish? But we horsemanship. We thus got confirmed in have not told you one half of its charms. There that fine, easy, unconstrained, natural seat, was a charm in every nook-and Youth was which we carried with us into the saddle the master of the spell

. Small magicians were when we were required to handle the bridle we in size, but we were great in might. We instead of the mane. "Tis right to hold on by had but to open our eyes in the morning, and ihe knees, but equally so to hold on by the at one look all nature was beautiful. We have said nothing about the Burns. The chief was being in the bell;" but in imagination's dream the Yearn-endearingly called the Humby, how sweetly do the seasons all slide into one from a farm near the Manse, and belonging to another! After sleep comes play, and see and the minister. Its chief source was, we believe, hear now how the merry Yearn goes tumbling the Brother Loch. But it whimpled with such over rocks, nor will rest in any one linn, but an infantine voice from the lucid bay, which impatient of each beautiful prison in which then knew nor sluice nor dam, that for a while one would think he might lie a willing thrall, it was scarcely even a rill, and you had to seek hurries on as if he were racing against time, for it among the heather. In doing so, ten to nor casts a look at the human dwellings now one some brooding birdie fluttered off her nest more frequent near his sides. But he will be —but not till your next step would have stopped by and by, whether he will or no; for crushed them all--or perhaps but he had no there, if we be not much mistaķen, there is a nest therema snipe. There it is betrayed by mill. But the wheel is at rest--the sluice on a line of livelier verdure. Erelong it sparkled the lade is down-with the lade he has nothing within banks of its own and “braes of green more to do than to fill it; and with undiminbracken,” and as you footed along, shoals of ished volume he wends round the miller's garminnows, and perhaps a small trout or two, den-you see Dusty Jacket is a florist-and brastled away to the other side of the shallow, now is hidden in a dell; but a dell without any and hid themselves in the shadows. 'Tis a rocks. 'Tis but some hundred yards across pretty rill now_nor any longer mute; and you from bank to brae--and as you angle along on hear it murmur. It has acquired confidence either side, the sheep and lambs are bleating on its course, and has formed itself into its first high overhead; for though the braes are steep, pool--a waterfall, three feet high, with its own they are all intersected with sheep-walks, and tiny rocks, and a single birk-no, it is a rowan ever and anon among the broom and the -too young yet to bear berries---else might a brackens are little platforms of close-nibbled child pluck the highest cluster. Imperceptibly, greensward, yet not bare—and nowhere else is insensibly, it grows just like life. The Burn the pasturage more succulent-nor do the is now in his boyhood; and a bold, bright boy young creatures not care to taste the primroses, he is-dancing and singing—nor heeding though were they to live entirely upon them, which way he goes along the wild, any more they could not keep down the profusion---S0 than that wee rosy-cheeked, flaxen-headed girl thickly studded in places are the constellations seems to heed, who drops you a curtsey, and on among sprinklings of single stars. Here the being asked by you, with your hand on her hill-blackbird builds—and here you know why hair, where she is going, answers wi' a soft Scotland is called the lintie's land. What Scottish accentah! how sweet-"owre the bird lilts like the lintwhite? The lark alone. hill to see my Mither.” Is that a house? No But here there are no larks—a little further a fauld.

For this is the Washing-Pool. down and you will hear one ascending or deLook around you, and you never saw such scending over almost every field of grass or perfectly white sheep. They are Cheviots; of the tender braird. Down the dell before you, for the black-faces are on the higher hills to flitting from stone to stone, on short flight the north of the moor. We see a few rigs of seeks the water-pyet-seemingly a witless flax-and “lint is in the bell”-the steeping creature with its bonnie white breast-to wile whereof will sadly annoy the bit burnie, but you away from the crevice, even within the poor people must spin-and as this is not the waterfall, that holds its young-or with a cock season, we will think of nothing that can pol- of her tail she dips and disappears. There is lute his limpid waters. Symptoms of hus- grace in the glancing sandpiper--nor, though bandry! Potato-shaws luxuriating on lazy somewhat fantastical, is the water-wagtail inbeds, and a small field with alternate rigs of elegant either belle or beau-an outlandish oats and barley. Yes, that is a house—"an bird that makes himself at home wherever he auld clay bigging”-in such Robin Burns was goes, and, vain as he looks, is contented if but born-in such was rocked the cradle of Pol- one admire him in a solitary place—though it lok. We think we hear two separate liquid is true that we have seen them in half dozens voices and we are right-for from the flats on the midden in front of the cottage door. beyond Floak, and away towards Kingswells, The blue slip of sky overhead has been gracomes another yet wilder burnie, and they dually widening, and the dell is done. Is that meet in one at the head of what you would snow? A bleachfield. Lasses can bleach probably call a meadow, but which we call a their own linen on the green near the pool, holm. There seems to be more arable land“ atween twa flowery braes," as Allan has so hereabouts than a stranger could have had any sweetly sung, in his truly Scottish pastoral the idea of; but it is a long time since the plough- Gentle Shepherd. But even they could not share traced those almost obliterated furrows well do without bleachfields on a larger scale, on the hillside; and such cultivation is now else dingy would be their smocks and their wisely confined, you observe, to the lower wedding-sheets. Therefore there is beauty in lands. We fear the Yearn-for that is his a bleachfield, and in none more than in Bell'sname now-heretofore he was anonymous- Meadows. But where is the Burn? They is about to get flat. But we must not grudge have stolen him out of his bed, and, alas! him a slumber or a sleep among the saughs, nothing but stones! Gather up your flies, and lulled by the murmur of millions of humble away down to yonder grove. There he is like bees—we speak within bounds--on their one risen from the dead; and how joyful his honied flowerage. We are confusing the sea- resurrection! All the way from this down to sons, for a few minutes ago we spoke of “lint the Brigg o’Humbie the angling is admirable,

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and the burn has become a stream. You the same; for they are so essentially blended, wade now through longer grass--sometimes that we defy you to show what is biblicaleven up to the knees; and half-forgetting pas- what apocryphal--and what pure romance. toral life, you ejaculate “Speed the plough!" | How we transpose and dislocate while we Whitewashed houses but still thatched-look limn in aerial colours! Where tree never down on you from among trees, that shelter grew we drop it down centuries old—or we them in front; while behind is an encampment tear out the gnarled oak by the roots, and of stacks, and on each side a line of oslices, so steep what was once his shadow in sunshine that they are snug in every wind that blows. -hills sink at a touch, or at a beck mountains The Auld Brigg is gone, which is a pity; for rise ; yet amidst all those fluctuations the spithough the turn was perilous sharp, time had rit of the place remains the same; for in that so coloured it, that in a sunny shower we have spirit has imagination all along been working, mistaken it for a rainbow. That's Humbie and boon nature smiles on her son as he imi. House, God bless it! and though we cannot tates her creations-but “hers are heavenly, here with our bodily sense see the Manse, with his an empty dream." our spiritual eye we can see it anywhere. Where lies Our Parish, and what is its Ay! there is the cock on the Kirk-spire! The name? Seek, and you will find it either in wind we see has shifted to the south; and ere Renfrewshire, or in Utopia, or in the Moon. we reach the Cart, we shall have to stuff our As for its name, men call it the Mearns. pockets. The Cart !ay, the river Cart—not M'Culloch, the great Glasgow painter-and that on which pretty Paisley stands, but the in Scotland he has no superior-will perhaps Black Cart, beloved by us chiefly for sake of accompany you to what once wås the Moor. Cath-Cart Castle, which, when à collegian at All the Four Lochs, we understand, are there Glasgow, we visited every Play-Friday, and still; but the Little Loch transmogrified into deepened the ivy on its walls with our first an auxiliar appartenance to some cursed sombre dreams. The scenery of the Yearn Wark-the Brother Loch much exhausted by becomes even silvan now; and though still daily drains upon him by we know not what sweet it murmurs to our ear, they no longer wretch-the White Loch larched and the sink into our hearts. So let it mingle with the Black Loch of a ghastly blue, cruelly cultiCart, and the Cart with the Clyde, and the vated all close round the brim. From his Clyde widen away in all his majesty, till the moor river becomes a firth, and the firth the sea;- “The parting genius is with sighing sent; but we shut our eyes, and relapse into the but sometimes, on blear-eyed days, he is seen vision that showed us the solitary region dear- disconsolately sitting in some yet mossy spot est to our imagination and our hearts, and among the ruins of his ancient reign. : That opening them on completion of the charm that painter has studied the aspect of the Old Forworks within the spirit when no daylight is lorn, and has shown it more than once on bits there, rejoice to find ourselves again sole-sit- of canvas not a foot long; and such pictures ting on the Green-Brae above the Brother Loch. will survive after the Ghost of the Genius has

Such is an off-hand picture of Our Parish-bade farewell to the ruined solitudes he had pray, give us one of yours, that both may gain haunted ever since the flood, or been laid beby comparison. But is ours a true picture? neath the yet unprofaned Green-Brae, above True as Holy Writ--false as any fiction in the Brother Loch, whence we devoutly trust an Arabian tale. How is this? Perception, he will reissue, though ages may have to memory, imagination, are all modes-states elapse, to see all his quagmires in their priof mind. But mind, as we said before, is one meval glory, and all his hags more hideously substance, and matter another; and mind ne- beautiful, as they yawn back again into their ver deals with matter without metamorphosing former selves, frowning over the burial in it like a mythologist. Thus truth and false their bottoms of all the harvests that had hood, reality and fiction, become all one and I dared to ripen above their heads,

M AY-DAY

Ant thou beautiful, as of old, O wild, moor- | other kirkspire, yet how rich in streams, and land, silvan, and pastoral Parish! the Para- rivulets, and rills, each with its own peculiar dise in which our spirit dwelt beneath the murmur-art Thou with thy bold bleak exglorious dawning of life-can it be, beloved posure, sloping upwards in ever lustrous un. world of boyhood, that thou art indeed beauti- dulations to the portals of the East? How ful as of old? Though round and round thy endless the interchange of woods and meahoundaries in half an hour could fly the flap-dows, glens, dells, and broomy nooks, without ping dove-though the martens, wheeling to number, among thy banks and braes! And and fro that ivied and wall-flowered ruin of a then of human dwellings—how rises the Castle, central in its own domain, seem in smoke, ever and anon, into the sky, all neightheir mors

, distant flight to glance their cres- bouring on each other, so that the cock-crow cent wings over a vale rejoicing apart in an-l is heard from homestead to homestead while as you wander onwards, each roof still rises like it is built, and guarded by some wonderful unexpectedly-and as solitary, as if it had felicity of situation equally against all the been far remote. Fairest of Scotland's thou- winds ? No. Thither as yet have we not sand parishes-neither Highland, nor Lowland courage to direct our footsteps—for that venebut undulating-let us again use the de- rable Man has long been dead-not one of scriptive word-like the sea in sunset after a his ancient household now remains on earth. day of storms--yes, Heaven's blessing be upon There the change, though it was gradual and thee! Thou art indeed beautiful as of old ! unpainful, according to the gentlest laws of

The same heavens! More blue than any nature, has been entire and complete. The colour that tinges the flowers of earth-like “old familiar faces” we can dream of, but nethe violet veins of a virgin's bosom. The ver more shall see and the voices that are stillness of those lofty clouds makes them seem now heard within those walls, what can they whiter than the snow. Return, O lark! to thy ever be to us, when we would fain listen in the grassy nest, in the furrow of the green brairded silence of our spirit to the echoes of departed corn, for thy brooding mate can no longer hear years? It is an appalling trial to approach a thee soaring in the sky. · Methinks there is place where once we have been happier-haplittle or no change on these coppice-woods, pier far than ever we can be on this earth with their full budding branches all impatient again; and a worse evil doth it seem to our for the spring. Yet twice have axe and bill- imagination to return to Paradise, with a hook levelled them with the mossy stones, changed and saddened heart, than at first to be since among the broomy and briary knolls we driven from it into the outer world, if still persought the gray linnet's nest, or wondered to mitted to carry thither something of that spirit spy, among the rustling leaves, the robin red- that had glorified our prime. breast, seemingly forgetful of his winter bene- But yonder, we see, yet towers the Sycamore factor, man. Surely there were trees here in on the crown of the hill—the first great Tree former times, that now are gone-tall, far- in the parish that used to get green; for stony spreading single trees, in whose shade used to as seems the hard glebe, constricted by its bare lie the ruminating cattle, with the small herd- and gnarled roots, they draw sustenance from girl asleep. Gone are they, and dimly remem- afar; and not another knoll on which the sun bered as the uncertain shadows of dreams; so delights to pour his beams. Weeks before yet not more forgotten than some living beings any other Sycamore, and almost as early as with whom our infancy and boyhood held con- the alder or the birch-the GLORY OF MOUNT verse—whose voices, laughter, eyes, forehead PLEASANT, for so we schoolboys called it, un-hands so often grasped_arms linked in ours folded itself like a banner. You could then see as we danced along the braes—have long only the low windows of the dwelling-for ceased to be more than images and echoes, in- eaves, roof, and chimneys all disappeared capable of commanding so much as one single and then, when you stood beneath, was not the

Alas! for the treachery of memory to sound of the bees like the very sound of the all the holiest human affections, when beguiled sea itself, continuous, unabating, all day long by the slow but sure sorcery of time.

unto evening, when, as if the tide of life had It is Mar-Day, and we shall be happy as the ebbed, there was a perfect silence!

What although some sad and solemn MOUNT PLEASANT! well indeed dost thou thoughts come suddenly across us, the day is deserve the name, bestowed on thee perhaps not at nightfall felt to have been the less de- long ago, not by any one of the humble prolightful, because shadows now and then be- prietors, but by the general voice of praise, all dimmed it, and moments almost mournful, of eyes being won by thy cheerful beauty. For an unhymning hush, took possession of field from that shaded platform, what a sweet vision or forest. We are all alone-a solitary pedes- of fields and meadows, knolls, braes, and hills, trian; and obeying the fine impulses of a will, uncertain gleamings of a river, the smoke of whose motives are changeable as the came- many houses, and glittering perhaps in the leon's hues, our feet shall bear us glancingly sunshine, the spire of the House of God! To along to the merry music of streams-or linger have seen Adam Morrison, the Elder, sitting by the silent shores of lochs-or upon the hill- with his solemn, his austere Sabbath face, besummit pause, ourselves the only spectator of neath the pulpit, with his expressive eyes fixed a panorama painted by Spring, for our sole de- on the Preacher, you could not but have light-or plunge into the old wood's magnifi-judged him to be a man of a stern character cent exclusion from sky-where at mid-sum- and austere demeanour. To have seen him mer, day is as night—though not so now, for at labour on the working-days, you might this is the season of buds and blossoms; and almost have thought him the serf of some the cushat's nest is yet visible on the half-leafed tyrant lord, for into all the toils of the field he boughs, and the sunshine streams in upon the carried the force of a mind that would suffer ground-flowers, that in another month will be nothing to be undone that strength and skill cold and pale in the forest gloom, almost as could achieve; but within the humble porch those that bedeck the dead when the vault door of his own house, beside his own board, and is closed and all is silence.

his own fireside, he was a man to be kindly What! shall we linger here within a little esteemed by his guests, by his own family tenmile of the MANSE, wherein and among its derly and reverently beloved. His wife was pleasant bounds our boyish life glided mur- the comeliest matron in the parish, a woman muring away, like a stream that never, till it of active habits and a strong mind, but temleaves its native hills, knows taint or pollution, pering the natural sternness of her husband's and not hasten on to the dell, in which nest- character with that genial and jocund cheer

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fulness, that of all the lesser virtues is the like the crocus, before the young thrushes had most efficient to the happiness of a household. left the nest in the honey-suckled corner of One daughter only had they, and we could the gavel end. Not a single hair in the churn. charm our heart even now, by evoking the va- Then what honey and what jam! The first, nished from oblivion, and imagining her over not heather, for that is too luscious, especially and over again in the light of words; but al. after such cream, but the pure white virgin though all objects, animate and inanimate, honey, like dew shaken from clover, but now seem always tinged with an air of sadness querny after winter keep; and oh! over a when they are past—and as at present we are layer of such butter on such barley-banresolved to be cheerful-obstinately to resist nocks was such honey, on such a day, in such all access of melancholy--an enemy to the pa- company, and to such palates, too divine to thetic-and a scorner of shedders of tears- be described by such a pen as that now wielded therefore let Mary Morrison rest in her grave, by such a writer! The Jam! It was of gooseand let us paint a pleasant picture of a May- berries--the small black hairy ones-gathered Day afternoon, and enjoy it as it was enjoyed to a very minute from the bush, and boiled to of old, beneath that stately Sycamore, with the a very moment in the pan! À bannock studgrandisonant name of The GLORY OF Mount ded with some dozen or two of such grozets PLEASANT

was more beautiful than a corresponding exThere, under the murmuring shadow round panse of heaven adorned with as many stars. and round that noble stem, used on MAY-DAY The question, with the gawsy and generous to be fitted a somewhat fantastic board, all gudewife of Mount Pleasant, was not—"My deftly arrayed in homespun drapery, white as dear laddie, which will ye hae-hinny orjam?" the patches of unmelted snow on the distant but, “ Which will ye hae first ?" The honey, mountain-head; and on various seats--stumps, we well remember, was in two huge brown jugs, stones, stools, creepies, forms, chairs, armless or jars, or crocks; the jam, in half a dozen and with no spine, or high-backed and elbowed, white cans of more moderate dimensions, from and the carving-work thereof most intricate whose mouths a veil of thin transparent paper and allegorical-took their places, after much was withdrawn, while, like a steam of rich formal ceremony of scraping and bowing, distilled perfumes, rose a fruity fragrance, that blushing and curtseying, old, young and middle blended with the vernal balminess of the humaged, of high and low degree, till in one mo- ming Sycamore. There the bees, were all at ment all were hushed by the Minister shutting work for next May-day, happy as ever bees his eyes, and holding up his hand to ask a were on Hybla itself; and gone now though be blessing. And “well worthy of a grace as the age of gold, happy as Arcadians were we, lang's a tether," was the May-day meal spread nor wanted our festal-day or pipe or song; beneath the shadow of the GLORY OF Mount for to the breath of Harry Wilton, the young PLEASANT. But the Minister uttered only a few English boy, the flute gave forth tunes almost fervent sentences, and then we all fell to the as liquid sweet as those that flowed from the curds and cream. What smooth, pure, bright lips of Mary Morrison herself, who alone, of burnished beauty on those horn spoons! How all singers in hut or hall that ever drew tears, apt to the hand the stalk--to the mouth how left nothing for the heart or the imagination to apt the bowl! Each guest drew closer to his desire in any one of Scotland's ancient melobreast the deep broth-plate of delft, rather more dies. than full of curds, many millions times more Never had Mary Morrison heard the old deliciously desirable even than blanc-mange, ballad-airs sung, except during the mid-day and then filled to overflowing with a blessed hour of rest, in the corn or hay field—and rude outpouring of creamy richness that tenaciously singers are they all-whether male or female descended from an enormous jug, the peculiar voices—although sometimes with a touch of expression of whose physiognomy, particu- natural pathos that finds its way to the heart. larly the nose, we will carry with us to the But as the nightingale would sing truly its own grave! The dairy at Mount PLEASANT con- variegated song, although it never were to hear sisted of twenty cows-almost all spring any one of its own kind warbling from among calvers, and of the Ayrshire breed—so you the shrub-roots, and the lark though alone on may guess what cream! The spoon could earth, would sing the hymn well known at the not stand in it-it was not so thick as that gate of heaven, so all untaught but by the nafor that was too thick—but the spoon when ture within her, and inspired by her own deplaced upright in it, retained its perpendicu- lightful genius alone, did Mary Morrison feel larity for a while, and then, when uncertain on all the measures of those ancient melodies, and which side to fall, was grasped by the hand of give them all an expression at once so simple hungry schoolboy, and steered with its fresh and profound. People who said they did not and fragrant freight into a mouth already open care about music, especially Scottish music, it in wonder. Never beneath the sun, moon, and was so monotonous and insipid, laid aside their stars, were such oatmeal-cakes, peas-scones, indifferent looks before three notes of the sim and barley-bannocks, as at Mount PLEASANT. plest air had left Mary Morrison's lips, as she You could have eaten away at them with plea- sat faintly blushing, less in bashfulness than sure, even although not hungry-and yet it in her own emotion, with her little hands playwas impossible of them to eat too much-ing perhaps with flowers, and her eyes fixed Manna that they were!! Seldom indeed is on the ground, or raised, ever and anon, to the butter yellow on May-day. But the butter of roof. "In all common things," would most the gudewife of Mount Pleasant-such, and so people say, “she is but a very oiuinary girl rich was the old lea-pasture-was coloured | but her musical turn is really very singular

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