whimsical-looking stranger, who had the strutting air of self-consequence which seems natural to little men, advanced to say, in the most original style, that he was "unaccustomed to public speaking. He begged, however, to propose the health of the day, their absent landlord, but not," Mr. Gordon announced, "to be absent long, as the young Chief meant to celebrate his coming of age, some weeks hence, among his own people."

Loud and deafening were the acclamations with which this announcement was welcoemd, and joy beamed in every honest face, as the tenantry exchanged smiles of heartfelt congratulation, in the happy prospect that bright days were again dawning for Clanmarina, and the place of Sir Evan about to be in some degree supplied to his clansmen; therefore, with cheers of grateful delight, the assembled crowd waved their tall Highland bonnets in the air, responding with their whole hearts and voices to the three times three, or nine times nine, of the factor, who now considered himself a second Demosthenes.

A pause ensued ;-for Mr. Gordon, looking ambiguously round, seemed greatly at a loss how to continue his diplomatic speeches. At length, however, in another blaze of eloquence, he mentioned the probability of a coming election, and intimated his belief that their young landlord himself might probably offer himself as a candidate,

trusting much to the long-tried attachment of his clansmen and tenantry.

Again the air was rent with enthusiastic hurras, and loud above every voice in the joyful crowd was heard that of old Carre of Daisy bank, exclaiming, in accents of ardent excitement, "Hurra for The McAlpine! hurra for the Protestant Church, and down with Popery, down with the Eaglescairn candidate!"

Every clansman stood up,-his bonnet off, his glass high in the air, his countenance glittering with enthusiasm when Mr. Gordon, slightly stammering, now added in a deprecatory tone, but trying to assume a bold matter-of-course look, "Before I sit down, let me add, that Mr. Carre has made a slight mistake in his toast. The candidate nominated on the Eaglescairn interest is— is-Sir Allan McAlpine."

A silence of several minutes ensued-a very perfect silence; every countenance altered; glances of astonishment and consternation were exchanged; each man looked to his neighbour with an expression of anxious distrust, and old Carre, replacing his glass untasted on the table, and putting his hat on his head, gloomily sat down. The others followed his example; and not another drop of wine was taken, not another word was spoken, till at length, one by one, the tenants slowly rose, and after whispering aside in knots together, dispersed in mournful dismay.

"It is as we feared-as we were told!" observed Robert Carre to his father, in accents of vehement independence; “and dear as the name of Mc Alpine and the memory of Sir Evan are to us all, we have a yet dearer name and a yet higher interest to serve. The choice is a sorrowful one to make; but if Sir Allan has really become a Papist, he has become our enemy-an enemy to God and man, who must be opposed."

"Little did I dream of living to go against Sir Evan's family," observed the old farmer, his voice quivering with agitation; "but if a burning stake were on the hustings for me, I would go there to upport the faith of my fathers, the faith of Holy Scripture."

"Yes," replied Robert, manfully, "we must stand face to face with this trial, and overcome it, or be trampled as we should deserve under the toe of Rome."

At this moment, Bessie Mc Ronald appeared, strolling along the road, accompanied by Father Eustace, and both in such deep conversation that they were close upon the farmer and his son before either became aware of the other's vicinity. Bessie started, as if suffering a shock of electricity, when she first perceived her young lover; and the colour rushed in torrents to her neck and face, while sh endeavoured to speak in her usual tone of careless good-humour, but her eyes could not look up, and

her voice was inaudible. Not so Father Eustace, who advanced to the old farmer with a bland air of most perfect self-possession on his dark, handsome features, saying, "We came here in hopes of meeting you." Bessie started, and looked up with an expression of surprise and perplexity, by no means diminished when the priest politely added, I now gladly resign my charge; but our young friend here seemed afraid to pass your fiercelooking bull, therefore I volunteered my escort."

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"You were not always so timid, Bessie," observed Robert Carre, with a searching look into her agitated countenance. "I am more afraid of a Popish Bull than of all the honest black cattle in our Highland meadows. Take my arm now, Bessie, and when you have taken my hand, I shall be entitled to protect you from all the dangers you do or do not fear."

Robert was surprised to see Bessie hesitate a moment, and cast a furtive glance of apprehension and doubt, before she accepted his arm, towards Father Eustace, who was following with a not-tobe-repulsed air of cordial deference, talking to Mr. Carre. The honest farmer looked as gloomy as November, and remained quite unpropitiated by all the judicious compliments of Father Eustace, who, in a tone of friendly good-fellowship, admired his favourite bullocks fattening for the cattle-show, and prophesied like a Delphic oracle that they

were sure to gain a prize. Still, the worthy agriculturist, wrapped in ill-humour and in a dreadnought great-coat, continued inaccessible, while Father Eustace, a first-rate comedian, persevered in looking most provokingly pleased, as if old Carre had given him precisely the reception he wished, and exactly such as might be expected and desired; while, with never-wearying assiduity, the persevering priest, though his efforts at conciliation were a signal failure, talked of overgrown pigs and gigantic turnips, discussed Lord Iona's pack of fox-hounds, and described many of their recent marvellous exploits, with the hair-breadth escapes by hedge and ditch, of the riders who followed them, but without any success in smoothing the ruffled feathers of Mr. Carre's temper.

On arriving at Daisy bank, Father Eustace complained of such extreme fatigue, that old Carre, a perfect despot in his own home, after a short but sharp struggle between his natural hospitality and his natural horror of a Popish priest, length with surly civility, asked him to enter, and ordered up his home-made cheese and beer to refresh the weary guest. The good farmer's favourite Newfoundland dog made a strong demonstration against this Popish aggression, by various short, sharp barks, followed by a prolonged and very ominous growl, as if preparatory to a more furious onset. This his master prevented by calling him off, when