great thing she expressed herself with most concern about was, that they might become virtuous and religious men.' That they were not insensible to the beauty of their grandmother's character is manifest from the fact that, when the troubles in Scotland cut off for a time the transmission of her usual supplies, she was sometimes reduced to severe straits, such as must have vividly recalled to mind her old Utrecht days; one of her grandsons hearing this, and possessing a horse of which he was exceedingly fond, sold it unknown to any one for £18, and carried her the money.

It was at this period, when no money was coming, and no certainty whether it ever would again, that she summoned her tradespeople-butcher, baker, grocer, etc.-to her presence, and told them plainly of her present destitute condition, and that she was unable to pay her bills, and perhaps never might be able to pay them. After making this pretty clear, she added she thought it no more than just that they should know this, so that they might choose whether they would continue to serve her. They one and all desired her to be under no anxiety, but to take from them whatever she needed, because they were sure that if ever she was able to pay them, she would; and if she was not, well, they were content to remain losers.

She survived her husband seven years. The Rebellion of 1745 disturbed her last years, and affected her very deeply. In the unhappy affair of 1715, her husband had been very active in relieving the unfortunate sufferers; and now, unaided by him, she did all she could for those of the present. And even so late as the week before her death she sent her servant with assistance to a gentleman in Newgate, with whose name alone she was acquainted.

Her last illness was but of brief duration: she caught an epidemic cold and was confined to her bed for a week. She retained her senses to the last. Two days before her death she desired the last chapter of Proverbs to be read to her, in allusion to the wish for her grandson's happy marriage, and which to the last lay near to her heart. Those standing round the bed, listening with her to the words being read, could not but think the picture given was that of herself. The following day she gave many calm and thoughtful directions to her daughter about her funeral, and then saying, 'I have now no more to say or do,' tenderly kissed her daughter, and laid her head down upon the pillow and spoke little after. She was laid by the side of her husband at Mellerstain, according to her own wish.

And so closed the life of the noble, brave, unselfish, and devoted Lady Grizell Baillie. Eighty-one years she had lived in the world, and during the greater portion of that time had sacrificed herself to the service of others; unmindful of self, she had performed in a brave, loving manner what she considered her duty to those round about her. To her, surely, we may apply the words of the wise man, and say: 'Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.

AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF

GRIZEL COCHRANE.

HEN the tyranny and bigotry of the last James drove his subjects to take up arms against him,

one of the most formidable enemies to his dangerous usurpations was Sir John Cochrane, ancestor of the present Earl of Dundonald. He was one of the most prominent actors in Argyle's rebellion; and for ages a destructive doom seemed to hang over the house of Campbell, enveloping in a common ruin all who united their fortunes to the cause of its chieftains. The same doom encompassed Sir John Cochrane. He was surrounded by the King's troops; long, deadly, and desperate was his resistance, but at length, overpowered by numbers, he was taken prisoner, tried, and condemned to die upon the scaffold. He had but a few days to live, and his gaoler waited but the arrival of his death-warrant to lead him forth to execution. His family and his friends had visited him in prison, and exchanged with him the last, the long, the heart-yearning farewell.

But there was one who came not with the rest to receive his blessing,-one who was the pride of his eyes and of his house,-even Grizel, the daughter of his love. Twilight was casting a deeper gloom over the gratings of his prison-house;

he was mourning for a last look of his favourite child, and his head was pressed against the cold, damp walls of his cell, to cool the feverish pulsations that shot through it like stings of fire, when the door of his apartment turned slowly on its unwilling hinges, and his keeper entered, followed by a young and beautiful lady. Her person was tall and commanding, her eyes dark, bright, and tearless; but their very brightness spoke of sorrow-of sorrow too deep to be swept away; and her raven tresses were parted over an open brow, clear and pure as the polished marble. The unhappy captive raised his head as they entered.

6 My child! my own Grizel!' he exclaimed, and she fell upon his bosom.

'My father! my dear father!' sobbed the miserable maiden, and she dashed away the tear that accompanied the words.

'Your interview must be short, very short,' said the gaoler as he turned and left them for a few minutes together.

'God help and comfort thee, my daughter!' added the unhappy father as he held her to his breast and printed a kiss upon her brow. I had feared that I should die without bestowing my blessing on the head of my own child, and that stung me more than death. But thou art come, my love! thou art come! and the last blessing of thy wretched father'—

'Nay; forbear! forbear!' she exclaimed; not thy last blessing! not thy last! My father shall not die!'

'Be calm, be calm, my child!' returned he. 'Would to heaven that I could comfort thee!—my own! my own! But there is no hope: within three days, and thou and all my little ones will be

Fatherless, he would have said; but the words died on his tongue.

'Three days!' repeated she, raising her head from his breast, but eagerly pressing his hand; 'three days! Then there is hope-my father shall live! Is not my grandfather the friend of Father Petre, the confessor and the master of the King? From him he shall beg the life of his son, and my father shall not die.'

'Nay, nay, my Grizel,' returned he, 'be not deceived. There is no hope! Already my doom is sealed, already the King has signed the order for my execution, and the messenger of death is now on the way.'

'Yet my father shall not, shall not die!' she repeated emphatically, and clasping her hands together. 'Heaven speed a daughter's purpose!' she exclaimed; and turning to her father, said calmly, 'We part now, but we shall meet again.'

'What would my child?' inquired he eagerly, gazing anxiously on her face.

'Ask not now,' she replied.

My father, ask not now; but

pray for me and bless me—but not with thy last blessing.'

He again pressed her to his heart, and wept upon her neck. In a few moments the gaoler entered, and they were torn from the arms of each other.

On the evening of the second day after the interview we have mentioned, a wayfaring man crossed the drawbridge at Berwick, from the north, and, proceeding down Marygate, sat down to rest upon a bench by the door of a hostelry on the south side of the street, nearly fronting where what was called the 'main guard' then stood. He did not enter the inn, for it was above his apparent condition, being that which Oliver Cromwell had made his headquarters a few years before; and where, at a somewhat earlier period, James vi. had taken up