*

"I canna do't," he answered, with a voice of despair. "It would kill me to do't-how can ye bid me pay back siller, when ye ken how I want it? or dispone Beersheba, when it lies sae weel into my ain plaid-nuik? Nature made Dumbiedikes and Beer sheba to be ae man's land-She did, by Nichil, it wad kill me to part them."

muckle-they ca'd me a papist, but there was never bosom he had so long possessed; and he partiv suc a papist bit about me, minister, Jock, ye'll take | ceeded, as an old tyrant proves often too strong for warning-it's a debt we maun a' pay, and there his insurgent rebels. stands Nichil Novit that will tell ye I was never gude at paying debts in my life.-Mr. Novit, ye'll no forget to draw the annual rent that's due on the yerl's band-if I pay debt to other folk, I think they suld pay it to me that equals aquals.-Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye're sleeping. My father tauld me sae forty years sin', but I ne'er fand time to mind him-Jock, ne'er drink brandy in the morning, it files the stamach sair; gin ye take a morning's draught, let it be aqua mirabilis; Jenny there makes it weel.-Doctor, my breath is growing as scant as a broken-winded piper's, when he has played for four-and-twenty hours at a penny-wedding. -Jenny, pit the cod aneath my head-but it's a need. less!--Mass John, could ye think o' rattling ower some bit short prayer, it wad do me gude maybe, and keep some queer thoughts out o' my head. Say something, man."

"I cannot use a prayer like a rat-rhyme," answered the honest clergyman; "and if you would have your soul redeemed like a prey from the fowler, Laird, you must needs show me your state of mind."

"And shouldna ye ken that without my telling you?" answered the patient. "What have I been paying stipend and tiend parsonage and vicarage for, ever sin' the aughty-nine, and I canna get a spell of a prayer for't, the only time I ever asked for ane in my life-Gang awa wi' your whiggery, if that's a' ye can do; auld Curate Kilstoup wad hae read half the Prayer-book to me by this time-Awa wi' ye!-Doctor, let's see if ye can do ony thing better for me." The doctor, who had obtained some information in the meanwhile from the housekeeper on the state of his complainis, assured him that medical art could not prolong his life many hours.

"Then damn Mass John and you baith!" cried the furious and intractable patient. "Did ye come here for naething but to tell ine that ye canna help me at the pinch? Out wi' them, Jenny-out o' the house! and, Jock, my curse, and the curse of Cromwell, go wi' ye, if ye gie them either fee or bountith, or sae muckle as a black pair o' cheverons!"+

The clergyman and doctor made a speedy retreat out of the apartment, while Dumbiedikes fell into one of those transports of violent and profane language, which had procured him the surname of Damn-me-dikes.-"Bring me the brandy bottle, Jenny, ye b," he cried, with a voice in which passion contended with pain. "I can die as I have lived, without fashing ony o' them. But there's ae thing," he said, sinking, his voice-" there's ae fearful thing hings about my heart, and an anker of brandy winna wash it away.-The Deanses at Woodend!-I sequestrated them in the dear years, and now they are to flit, they'll starve-and that Beersheba, and that auld trooper's wife and her oe, they'll starve they'll starve!-Look out, Jock; what kind o' night is't?"

composure.

They'll perish in the drifts!" said the expiring sinner-"they'll perish wi' cauld!-but I'll be het eneugh, gin a' tales be true."

This last observation was made under breath, and in a tone which made the very attorney shudder. He tried his hand at ghostly advice, probably for the first time in his life, and recommended, as an opiate for the agonized conscience of the Laird, reparation of the injuries he had done to these distressed families, which, he observed by the way, the civil law called restitutio in integrum. But Mammon was struggling with Remorse for retaining his place in a to the Lord Provost; and certainly were guilty of creating considerable riots in 1688-9. The author has been flattered by the assurance, that this naive mode of recommending arboriculture (which was actually delivered in these very words by a Highland laird, while on nis death-bed, to his son) had so much weight with a Scottish earl, to lead to his planting a large tract of country.

* Cheverons-gloves.

But ye maun die whether or no, Laird," said Mr Novit; and maybe ye wad die easier-it's but try ing. I'll scroll the disposition in nae time."

"Dinna speak o't, sir," replied Dumbiedikes," or I'll fling the stoup at your head.-But, Jock, lad, ye see how the warld warstles wi' me on my deathbed be kind to the puir creatures the Deanses and the Butlers-be kind to them, Jock. Dinna let the warld get a grip o' ye, Jock-but keep the gear thegither! and whate'er ye do, dispone Beersheba at no late Let the creatures stay at a moderate mailing, and hae bite and soup; it will maybe be the better wi' your father where he's gaun, lad."

After these contradictory instructions, the Laird felt his mind so much at ease, that he drank three bumpers of brandy continuously, and "soughed awa," as Jenny expressed it, in an attempt to sing "Deil stick the minister."

His death made a revolution in favour of the dis tressed families. John Dumbie, now of Dumbiedikes in his own right, seemed to be close and selfish enough; but wanted the grasping spirit and active mind of his father; and his guardian happened to agree with him in opinion, that his father's dying recommendation should be attended to. The tenants, therefore, were not actually turned out of doors among the snow wreaths, and were allowed wherewith to procure butter-milk and peas-bannocks, which they eat under the full force of the original malediction. The cottage of Deans, called Woodend, was not very distant from that at Beersheba. Formerly there had been little intercourse between the families. Deans was a sturdy Scotchman, with all sort of prejudices against the southern, and the spawn of the southern. Moreover, Deans was, as we have said, a stanch presbyterian, of the most rigid and unbending adherence to what he conceived to be the only possible straight line, as he was wont to express himself, between right-hand heats and extremes, and left-hand defections; and, therefore, he held in high dread and horror all independents, and whomsoever he supposed allied to them.

But, notwithstanding these national prejudices and religious professions, Deans and the widow Butler were placed in such a situation, as naturally and at length created some intimacy between the families. They had shared a common danger and a mutual deliverance. They needed each other's assistance, like a company, who, crossing a mountain stream, are compelled to cling close together, lest the current should be too powerful for any who are not thus supported.

On nearer acquaintance, too, Deans abated some of his prejudices. He found old Mrs. Butler, though not thoroughly grounded in the extent and bearing of the real testimony against the defections of the times, had no opinions in favour of the independent party; neither was she an Englishwoman. Therefore, it was to be hoped, that, though she was the widow of an enthusiastic corporal of Cromwell's dragoons, her grandson might be neither schismatic nor anti-national, two qualities concerning which Goodman Deans had as wholesome a terror as against papists and malignants. Above all, (for Douce Davie Deans had his weak side,) he perceived that widow Butler looked up to him with reverence, listened to his advice, and compounded for an occasional fling at the doctrines of her deceased husband, to which, as we have seen, she was by no means warmly attached, in consideration of the valuable counsels which the presbyterian afforded her for the management of her little farm. These usually concluded with, may do otherwise in England, neighbour Butler, for aught I ken;" or "it may be different in foreign

they

parts;" or, "they wha think differently on the great | as their prerogative to extend to the weaker. But foundation of our covenanted reformation, overturn- when, scated on the benches of the school-house, ing and mishguggling the government and discipline they began to con their lessons together, Reuben, of the kirk, and breaking down the carved work of who was as much superior to Jeanie Deans in acuteour Zion, might be for sawing the craft wi' aits; but ness of intellect, as inferior to her in firmness of conI say pease, pease." And as his advice was shrewd stitution, and in that insensibility to fatigue and and sensible, though conceitedly given, it was receiv-danger which depends on the conformation of the ed with gratitude, and followed with respect. nerves, was able fully to requite the kindness and The intercourse which took place betwixt the fami- countenance with which, in other circumstances, lies at Beersheba and Woodend, became strict and she used to regard him. He was decidedly the best intimate, at a very early period, betwixt Reuben But-scholar at the little parish school; and so gentle was ler, with whom the reader is already in some degree his temper and disposition, that he was rather adacquainted, and Jeanie Deans, the only child of Douce mired than envied by the little mob who occupied the Davie Deans by his first wife, "that singular Chris- noisy mansion, although he was the declared favourtian woman," as he was wont to express himself, ite of the master. Several girls, in particular, (for in "whose name was savoury to all that knew her for a Scotland they are taught with the boys,) longed to desirable professor, Christian Menzies in Hochmagir- be kind to, and comfort the sickly lad, who was so dle." The manner of which intimacy, and the con- much cleverer than his companions. The character sequences thereof, we now proceed to relate. of Reuben Butler was so calculated as to offer scope both for their sympathy and their admiration, the feelings perhaps, through which the female sex (the more deserving part of them at least) is more easily attached.

CHAPTER IX.

Reuben and Rachel, though as fond as doves,
Were yet discreet and cautious in their loves,
Nor would attend to Cupid's wild commands,
Till cool reflection bade them join their hands.
When both were poor, they thought it argued ill
Of hasty love to make them poorer still.

CRABBE'S Parish Register. WHILE Widow Butler and widower Deans struggled with poverty, and the hard and steril soil of those "parts and portions" of the lands of Dumbiedikes which it was their lot to occupy, it became gradually apparent that Deans was to gain the strife, and his ally in the conflict was to lose it. The former was a man, and not much past the prime of life-Mrs. Butler a woman, and declined into the vale of years. This, indeed, ought in time to have been balanced by the circumstance, that Reuben was growing up to assist his grandmother's labours, and that Jeanie Deans, as a girl, could be only supposed to add to her father's burdens. But Douce Davie Deans knew better things, and so schooled and trained the young minion, as he called her, that from the time she could walk, upwards, she was daily employed in some task or other suitable to her age and capacity; a circumstance which, added to her father's daily instructions and lectures, tended to give her mind, even when a child, a grave, serious, firm, and reflecting cast. An uncommonly strong and healthy temperament, free from all nervous affection and every other irregularity, which, attacking the body in its more noble functions, so often influences the mind, tended greatly to establish this fortitude, simplicity, and decision of character.

But Reuben, naturally reserved and distant, improved none of these advantages; and only became more attached to Jeanie Deans, as the enthusiastic approbation of his master assured him of fair prospects in future life, and awakened his ambition. In the meantime, every advance that Reuben made in learning (and, considering his opportunities, they were uncommonly great) rendered him less capable of attending to the domestic duties of his grandmother's farm. While studying the pons asinorum in Euclid, he suffered every cuddie upon the common to trespass upon a large field of pease belonging to the Laird, and nothing but the active exertions of Jeanie Deans, with her little dog Dustiefoot, could have saved great loss and consequent punishment. Similar miscarriages marked his progress in his classical studies. He read Virgil's Georgics till he did not know bear from barley; and had nearly destroyed the crofts of Beersheba, while attempting to cultivate them according to the practice of Columella and Cato the Censor.

These blunders occasioned grief to his grand-dame, and disconcerted the good opinion which her neighbour, Davie Deans, had for some time entertained of Reuben.

"I see naething ye can make of that silly callant, neighbour Butler," said he to the old lady, "unless ye train him to the wark o' the ministry. And ne'er was there mair need of poorfu' preachers than e'en now in these cauld Gallio days, when men's hearts are hardened like the nether-mill-stone, till they come to regard none of these things. It's evident this puin On the other hand, Reuben was weak in constitu- callant of yours will never be able to do an usefu tion, and, though not timid in temper, might be safe- day's wark, unless it be as an ambassador from our ly pronounced anxious, doubtful, and apprehensive. master; and I will make it my business to procure a He partook of the temperament of his mother, who license when he is fit for the same, trusting he will had died of a consumption in early age. He was a be a shaft cleanly polished, and meet to be used in pale, thin, feeble, sickly boy, and somewhat lame, the body of the kirk; and that he shall not turn again, from an accident in early youth. He was, besides, like the sow, to wallow in the mire of heretical ex the child of a doting grandmother, whose too solicit-tremes and defections, but shall have the wings of a ous attention to him soon taught him a sort of diffi- dove, though he hath lain among the pots." dence in himself, with a disposition to overrate his own importance, which is one of the very worst consequences that children deduce from over-indulgence. Still, however, the two children clung to each other's society, not more from habit than from taste. They herded together the handful of sheep, with the two or three cows, which their parents turned out rather to seek food than actually to food upon the unenclosed common of Dumbiedikes. It was there that the two urchins might be seen seated beneath a blooming bush of whin, their little faces laid close together under the shadow of the same plaid drawn over both their heads, while the landscape around was embrowned by an overshadowing cloud, big with the shower which had driven the children to shelter. On other occasions they went together to school, the boy receiving that encouragement and example from his companion, in crossing the little brooks which intersected their path, and encountering cattle, dogs, and other perils, upon their journey, which the male sex in such cases usually consider it Vol. III. C

The poor widow gulped down the affront to her husband's principles, implied in this caution, and hastened to take Butler from the High School, and encourage him in the pursuit of mathematics and di vinity, the only physics and ethics that chanced to be in fashion at the time.

Jeanie Deans was now compelled to part from the companion of her labour, her study, and her pastime, and it was with more than childish feeling that both children regarded the separation. But they were young, and hope was high, and they separated like those who hope to meet again at a more auspicious hour.

While Reuben Butler was acquiring at the Univer sity of St. Andrews the knowledge necessary for a clergyman, and macerating his body with the priva tions which were necessary in seeking food for his mind, his grand-dame became daily less able to strug gle with her little farm, and was at length obliged to throw it up to the new Laird of Dumbiedikes. That great personage was no absolute Jew, and did not

cheat her in making the bargain more than was tolerable. He even gave her permission to tenant the house in which she had lived with her husband, as long as it should be "tenantable;" only he protested against paying for a farthing of repairs, any benevo-good conscience, kind feelings, contented temper, and lence which he possessed being of the passive, but by no means of the active mood.

In the meanwhile, from superior shrewdness, skill, and other circumstances, some of them purely accidental, Davie Deans gained a footing in the world, the possession of some wealth, the reputation of more, and a growing disposition to preserve and increase his store; for which, when he thought upon it seriously, he was inclined to blame himself. From his knowledge in agriculture, as it was then practised, he became a sort of favourite with the Laird, who had no pleasure either in active sports or in society, and was wont to end his daily saunter by calling at the cottage of Woodend.

Being himself a man of slow ideas and confused utterance, Dumbiedikes used to sit or stand for half an hour with an old laced hat of his father's upon his head, and an empty tobacco-pipe in his mouth, with his eyes following Jeanie Deans, or "the lassie," as he called her, through the course of her daily domestic labour; while her father, after exhausting the subject of bestial, of ploughs, and of harrows, often took an opportunity of going full-sail into controversial subjects, to which discussions the dignitary listened with much seeming patience, but without making any reply, or, indeed, as most people thought, without understanding a single word of what the orator was saying. Deans, indeed, denied this stoutly, as an insult at once to his own talents for expounding hidden truths, of which he was a little vain, and to the Laird's capacity of understanding them. He said "Dumbiedikes was nane of these flashy gentles, wi' lace on their skirts and swords at their tails, that were rather for riding on horseback to hell than ganging barefooted to heaven. He wasna like his father-nae profane company-keeper-nae swearernae drinker-nae frequenter of play-house, or musichouse, or dancing-house-nae Sabbath-breaker-nae imposer of aiths, or bonds, or denier of liberty to the flock.-He clave to the warld, and the warld's gear, a wee ower muckle, but then there was some breathing of a gale upon his spirit," &c. &c. All this honest Davie said and believed.

It is not to be supposed, that, by a father and a man of sense and observation, the constant direction of the Laird's eyes towards Jeanie was altogether unnoticed. This circumstance, however, made a much greater impression upon another member of his family, a second helpmate, to wit, whom he had chosen to take to his bosom ten years after the death of his first. Some people were of opinion, that Douce Davie had been rather surprised into this step, for in general, he was no friend to marriages or giving in marriage, and seemed rather to regard that state of society as a necessary evil,-a thing lawful, and to be tolerated in the imperfect state of our nature, but which clipped the wings with which we ought to soar upwards, and tethered the soul to its mansion of clay, and the creature-comforts of wife and bairns. His own practice, however, had in this material point varied from his principles, since, as we have seen, he twice knitted for himself this dangerous and ensnaring entangle

ment.

rather too stoutly made for her size, had gray eyes, light-coloured hair, a round good-humoured face, much tanned with the sun, and her only peculiar charm was an air of inexpressible serenity, which a the regular discharge of all her duties, spread over her features. There was nothing, it may be supposed, very appalling in the form or manners of this rustic heroine; yet, whether from sheepish bashfulness, or from want of decision and imperfect knowledge of his own mind on the subject, the Laird of Dumbiedikes, with his old laced hat and empty tobacco-pipe, came and enjoyed the beatific vision of Jeanie Deans day after day, week after week, year after year, without proposing to accomplish any of the prophecies of the step-mother.

This good lady began to grow doubly impatient on the subject, when, after having been some years married, she herself presented Douce Davie with another daughter, who was named Euphemia, by corruption Effie. It was then that Rebecca began to turn impatient with the slow pace at which the Laird's wooing proceeded, judiciously arguing, that, as Lady Dumbiedikes would have but little occasion for tocher, the principal part of her gudeman's substance would naturally descend to the child by the second marriage. Other step-dames have tried less laudable means for clearing the way to the succession of their own children; but Rebecca, to do her justice, only sought little Effie's advantage through the promotion, or which must have generally been accounted such, of her elder sister. She therefore tried every female art within the compass of her simple skill, to bring the Laird to a point; but had the mortification to perceive that her efforts, like those of an unskilful angler, only scared the trout she meant to catch. Upon one occa sion, in particular, when she joked with the Laird on the propriety of giving a mistress to the house of Dumbiedikes, he was so effectually startled, that neither laced hat, tobacco-pipe, nor the intelligent proprietor of these moveables, visited Woodend for a fortnight. Rebecca was therefore compelled to leave the Laird to proceed at his own snail's pace, convinced, by experience, of the grave-digger's aphorism, that your dull ass will not mend his pace for beating.

Reuben, in the meantime, pursued his studies at the university, supplying his wants by teaching the younger lads the knowledge he himself acquired, and thus at once gaining the means of maintaining himself at the seat of learning, and fixing in his mind the elements of what he had already obtained. In this manner, as is usual among the poorer students of divinity at Scottish universities, he contrived not only to maintain himself according to his simple wants, but even to send considerable assistance to his sole remaining parent, a sacred duty, of which the Scotch are seldom negligent. His progress in knowledge of a general kind, as well as in the studies proper to his profession, was very considerable, but was little remarked, owing to the retired modesty of his disposition, which in no respect qualified him to set off his learning to the best advantage. And thus, had Butler been a man given to make complaints, he had his tale to tell, like others, of unjust preferences, bad luck, and hard usage. On these subjects, how ever, he was habitually silent, perhaps from modesty perhaps from a touch of pride, or perhaps from a con junction of both.

Rebecca, nis spouse, had by no means the same He obtained his license as a preacher of the gospel horror of matrimony, and as she made marriages in with some compliments from the presbytery by whon imagination for every neighbour round, she failed not it was bestowed; but this did not lead to any prefer to indicate a match betwixt Dumbiedikes and her ment, and he found it necessary to make the cottage step-daughter Jeanie. The goodman used regularly at Beersheba his residence for some months, with ne to frown and pshaw whenever this topic was touched other income than was afforded by the precarious oc upon, but usually ended by taking his bonnet and cupation of teaching in one or other of the neighbour walking out of the house to conceal a certain gleaming families. After having greeted his aged grand of satisfaction, which, at such a suggestion, involuntarily diffused itself over ins austere features.

mother, his first visit was to Woodend, where he was received by Jeanie with warm cordiality, arising from The more youthful part of my readers may natu- recollections which had never been dismissed from rally ask, whether Jeanie Deans was deserving of her mind, by Rebecca with good-humoured hos this mute attention of the Laird of Dumbiedikes; pitality, and by old Deans in a mode peculiar to and the historian, with due regard to veracity, com- himself. pelled to answer, that her personal attractions were Highly as Douce Davie honoured the clergy, it was of no uncommon description. She was short, and not upon each individual of the cloth that he be

CHAP. IX.

THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN.

stowed his approbation; and a little jealous, perhaps, at seeing his youthful acquaintance erected into the dignity of a teacher and preacher, he instantly attacked him upon various points of controversy, in order to discover whether he might not have fallen into some of the snares, defections, and desertions of the time. Butler was not only a man of stanch presbyterian principles, but was also willing to avoid giving pain to his old friend by disputing upon points of little importance; and therefore he might have hoped to have come like refined gold out of the furnace of Davie's interrogatories. But the result on the mind of that strict investigator was not altogether so favourable as might have been hoped and anticipated. Old Judith Butler, who had hobbled that evening as far as Woodend, in order to enjoy the congratulations of her neighbours upon Reuben's return, and upon his high attainments, of which she was herself not a little proud, was somewhat mortified to find that her old friend Deans did not enter into the subject with the warmth she expected. At first, indeed, he seemed rather silent than dissatisfied; and it was not till Judith had essayed the subject more than once that it led to the following dialogue. Aweel, neibor Deans, I thought ye wad hae been glad to see Reuben amang us again, poor fallow." "I am glad, Mrs. Butler," was the neighbour's concise answer.

"Since he has lost his grandfather and his father, praised be Him that giveth and taketh!) I ken nae friend he has in the world that's been sae like a father to him as the sell o' ye, neibor Deans."

"God is the only father of the fatherless," said Deans, touching his bonnet and looking upwards. Give honour where it is due, gudewife, and not to an unworthy instrument."

Aweel, that's your way o' turning it, and nae doubt ye ken best; but I hae kend ye, Davie, send a forpit o' meal to Beersheba, when there wasna a bow left in the meal-ark at Woodend; ay, and I hae kend ye"

Gudewife," said Davie, interrupting her, "these are but idle tales to tell me; fit for naething but to puff up our inward man wi' our ain vain acts. I stude beside blessed Alexander Peden, when I heard him call the death and testimony of our happy martyrs out draps of blude and scarts of ink in respect of fitting discharge of our duty; and what suld I think of ony thing the like of me can do?"

"Weel, neibor Deans, ye ken best; but I maun say that, I am sure you are glad to see my bairn again he halt's gane now, unless he has to walk ower mony miles at a stretch; and he has a wee bit colour in his cheek, that glads my auld een to see it; and he has as decent a black coat as the minister; and"

"I am very heartily glad he is weel and thriving," said Mr. Deans, with a gravity that seemed intended to cut short the subject; but a woman who is bent upon a point is not easily pushed aside from it.

And," continued Mrs. Butler, "he can wag his head in a pulpit now, neibor Deans, think but of that -my ain oe and a'body maun sit still and listen to him, as if he were the Paip of Rome."

The what?-the who?-woman?" said Deans, with a sternness far beyond his usual gravity, as soon as these offensive words had struck upon the tympanum of his ear."

On his arrival at the cottage, Jeanie, with her eyes overflowing with tears, pointed to the little orchard, in which," she whispered with broken accents, "my poor father has been since his misfortune." Somewhat alarmed at this account, Butler entered the orchard, and advanced slowly towards his old friend, who, seated in a small rude arbour, appeared to be sunk in the extremity of his affliction. He lifted his eyes somewhat sternly as Butler approached. as if offended at the interruption; but as the young man hesitated whether he ought to retreat or ad

vance, he arose, and came forward to meet him, with | house at Woodend," the Laird stared and said no a self-possessed, and even dignified air.

"Young man," said the sufferer, "lay it not to heart, though the righteous perish and the merciful are removed, seeing, it may well be said, that they are taken away from the evils to come. Wo to me, were I to shed a tear for the wife of my bosom, when I might weep rivers of water for this afflicted Church, cursed as it is with carnal seckers, and with the dead of heart."

"I am happy," said Butler, "that you can forget your private affliction in your regard for public duty." "Forget, Reuben ?" said poor Deans, putting his handkerchief to his eyes,-"She's not to be forgotten on this side of time; but He that gives the wound can send the ointment. I declare there have been times during this night when my meditation has been so wrapt, that I knew not of my heavy loss. It has been with me as with the worthy John Semple, called Carspharn John,* upon a like trial,-I have been this night on the banks of Ulai, plucking an apple here and there."

thing. He made his usual visits at the usual hour
without remark, until the day before the term, when,
observing the bustle of moving furniture already
commenced, the great east-country awmrie dragged
out of its nook, and standing with its shoulder to
the company, like an awkward booby about to leave
the room, the Laird again stared mightily, and was
heard to ejaculate, "Hegh, sirs!" Even after the day
of departure was past and gone, the Laird of Dum
biedikes, at his usual hour, which was that at which
David Deans was wont to "loose the pleugh,'
presented himself before the closed door of the cot-
tage at Woodend, and seemed as much astonished at
finding it shut against his approach as if it was not
exactly what he had to expect. On this occasion he
was heard to ejaculate, "Gude guide us!" which, by
those who knew him, was considered as a very unu
sual mark of emotion. From that moment forward,
Dumbiedikes became an altered man, and the regu
larity of his movements, hitherto so exemplary, was
as totally disconcerted as those of a boy's watch
when he has broken the main-spring. Like the in-
dex of the said watch, did Dumbiedikes spin round
the whole bounds of his little property, which may
wonted velocity. There was not a cottage into which
he did not enter, nor scarce a maiden on whom he
did not stare. But so it was, that although there
were better farm-houses on the land than Woodend,
and certainly much prettier girls than Jeanie Deans
yet it did somehow befall that the blank in the Laird's
time was not so pleasantly filled up as it had been.
There was no seat accommodated him so well as
the "bunker" at Woodend, and no face he loved se
much to gaze on as Jeanie Dean's. So, after spin-
ning round and round his little orbit, and then re
maining stationary for a week, it seems to have oc
curred to him, that he was not pinned down to circu
late on a pivot, like the hands of the watch, but pos
sessed the power of shifting his central point, and
extending his circle if he thought proper. To realize
which privilege of change of place, he bought a pony
from a Highland drover, and with its assistance and
company stepped, or rather stumbled, as far as Saint
Leonard's Crags.

Notwithstanding the assumed fortitude of Deans, which he conceived to, be the discharge of a great Christian duty, he had too good a heart not to suffer deeply under this heavy loss. Woodend became alto-be likened unto the dial of the time-piece, with ungether distasteful to him; and as he had obtained both substance and experience by his management of that little farm, he resolved to employ them as a dairy-farmer, or cow-feeder, as they are called in Scotland. The situation he chose for his new settlement was at a place called St. Leonard's Crags, lying betwixt Edinburgh and the mountain called Arthur's Seat, and adjoining to the extensive sheep pasture still named the King's Park, from its having been formerly dedicated to the preservation of the royal game. Here he rented a small lonely house, about half a mile distant from the nearest point of the city, but the site of which, with all the adjacent ground is now occupied by the buildings which form the south-eastern suburb. An extensive pasture-ground adjoining, which Deans rented from the keeper of the Royal Park, enabled him to feed his milk-cows; and the unceasing industry and activity of Jeanie, his eldest daughter, was exerted in making the most of their produce.

She had now less frequent opportunities of seeing Jeanie Deans, though so much accustomed to the Reuben, who had been obliged, after various disap- Laird's staring that she was sometimes scarce conpointments, to accept the subordinate situation of as-scious of his presence, had nevertheless some occasistant in a parochial school of some eminence, at sional fears lest he should call in the organ of speech three or four miles' distance from the city. Here he to back those expressions of admiration which he bedistinguished himself, and became acquainted with stowed on her through his eyes. Should this happen, several respectable burgesses, who, on account of farewell, she thought, to all chance of a union with health, or other reasons, chose that their children Butler. For her father, however stout-hearted and inshould commence their education in this little village, dependent in civil and religious principles, was not His prospects were thus gradually brightening, and without that respect for the laird of the land, so upon each visit which he paid at Saint Leonard's he deeply imprinted on the Scottish tenantry of the pe had an opportunity of gliding a hint to this purpose riod. Moreover, if he did not positively dislike Butinto Jeanie's ear. These visits were necessarily very ler, yet his fund of carnal learning was often the obrare, on account of the demands which the duties of ject of sarcasms on David's part, which were perhaps the school made upon Butler's time. Nor did he dare founded in jealousy, and which certainly indicated to make them even altogether so frequent as these no partiality for the party against whom they were avocations would permit. Deans received him with launched. And, lastly, the match with Dumbiedikes civility indeed, and even with kindness; but Reuben, would have presented irresistible charms to one who as is usual in such cases, imagined that he read his used to complain that he felt himself apt to take purpose in his eyes, and was afraid too premature an ower grit an armfu' o' the warld." So that, upon explanation on the subject would draw down his the whole, the Laird's diurnal visits were disagreeable positive disapproval. Upon the whole, therefore, he to Jeanie from apprehension of future consequences, judged it prudent to call at Saint Leonard's just so and it served much to console her, upon removing frequently as old acquaintance and neighbourhood from the spot where she was bred and born, that she seerned to authorize, and no oftener. There was an- had seen the last of Dumbiedikes, his laced hat, and other person who was more regular in his visits. tobacco-pipe. The poor girl no more expected he could muster courage to follow her to Saint Leonard's Crags, than that any of her apple-trees or cabbages which she had left rooted in the "yard" at Woodend, would spontaneously, and unaided, have undertaken the same journey. It was, therefore, with much more surprise than pleasure that, on the sixth day after their removal to Saint Leonard's, she beheld Dumbiedikes arrive, laced hat, tobacco-pipe, and all, and, with the self-same greeting of "How's a' wi' ye, Jeanie ?-Whare's the gudeman?" assume as nearly as he could the same position in the cottage at Saint Leonard's which he had so long and so regularly oc

When Davie Deans intimated to the Laird of Dumpiedikes his purpose of "quitting wi' the land and John Semple, called Carspharn John, because minister of the parish in Galloway so called, was a presbyterian clergyman of Bingular piety and great zeal, of whom Patrick Walker records the following passage: "That night after his wife died, he spent the whole ensuing night in prayer and meditation in his urden. The next morning one of his elders coming to see him, and lamenting his greas oss and want of rest, he replied, declare I have not, all night, had one thought of the death of my wife, I have been so taken up in meditating on heavenly ngs. I have been this night on the banks of Ulai, plucking 4 apple here and there."Walker's Remarkable Passages of the Life and Death of Mr John Semple.

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