friends ken, and have a right wedding for them-but no doubt it will save much trouble if it does nothing else."

"It brings things to a point with me, Miss Rechie," said the young man, "I cannot do without some woman person in my house; for you see, I am a man by nature who cannot endure waste, and the shop takes me up often, and prevents me looking after things. It is true, Phemie was no great help, but still she was aye there. Now, to tell the truth, I want a wife, and I want a thrifty, quiet one, that will not be extravagant, but take care of the siller after its made, and spend it with discretion. There's your own niece, Annie Orme, Miss Lexie and Miss Rechie-if you'll assure me of your consent, I'll speak to her. My business is a good business, and a steady man can make it better; but if there's any chance of your making objections, I'll no speak to the young lady, for I never like to raise hopes that are not to be fulfilled; for this reason I thought it best to speak to you first."

For a moment there was perfect silence in the room-you might have heard a feather fall, for I durst not speak, though he was waiting for an answer.

"Does my niece, Miss Annie Orme, ken how much you think of her, Mr. Mouter," said Lexie, in a voice of suppressed anger, which, I suppose, sounded quite quiet to the stranger.

"Well, Miss Lexie, I cannot say," said Mr. Mouter, "I am a prudent man by nature; I never put out my hand farther than I can draw it back, and not being quite sure about myself, not to speak of you, I never said anything to Miss Annic-but she may have guessed."

"Here she is herself, we'll ask her," said Lexie, very quietly.

The poor young man rose up; "No, no," said he, "if she's to be asked, I'll ask her myself;" but before he could say another word, Annie was in the room.

"Mr. Mouter's sister has married Peter Braird, of Windlestrae, Annie, my dear," said Lexie, "and Mr. Mouter, there, thinks you would make a good wife to him. Now, Annie, I'll let you give the answer for your own hand; would you like to marry this young man, my dear."

Poor Annie's cheeks grew like crimson; I never saw such a face, and I thought she would have fallen down; but glancing at Mr. Mouter, and seeing him pull his white gloves through his hands, dirtying them far more than if he had put them on, the dimple formed in her cheek again, and she just said, "No, auntie, I would not," and ran from the room.

"Miss Lexie, you've used me very ill,” said Mr. Mouter, "I can never look over the like of this. You think I'm not good enough for Annie Orme? very well, we'll see; I would have made her Mrs. Mouter if you had given me civil treatment. Now, though I know very well she does not mean to be ruled by what she said just now, yet I'll be held by it, Miss Lexie Sinclair; and I can tell you I think myself as good as your niece any day, or better, if the truth were told. I wish you good evening, Miss Rechie; you need never hope to see me in this house again, grand as you think it; for I can do better than a poor mantua-maker, before I go a dozen steps, and when that girl, Annie, is an old maid like yourselves, you'll repent the way you've used me.” Saying that, he flung open the parlour door and went away. "I am very sorry, Mr. Mouter," said I, "you see Lexie's that proudto be sure she has a good reason—but if you like to speak to Annie herself "—

"That's past, that's past, Miss Rechie," said Mr. Mouter, waving his hand, "if she went down on her knees to me, I could not look over this."

"Which she never will do, be you sure of that,” said I, in haste, "not if you were a king, instead of having a grocery shop; and its a comfort to think she would not have taken you after all."

I said this last low, and he did not hear me ; but, indeed, I came in in a fever at him and Lexic, not knowing which had made me most angry; but then I minded that nobody had so good a right as Lexie to dispose of Annie Orme, and that the young man was not seeking her because he liked her, but because she would make a thrifty wife. Now I had no doubt Annie would make a good wife, if she had a little time to get douce and settled-but a thrifty one-alack a day!

CHAPTER X.

FOR the whole next day, Lexie was much cogitating in her own mind, and scarcely spoke a word to anybody; but in the evening, as she was standing at the door for a mouthful of air, Annie having again gone out (Annie had really turned very fond of being out at nights), young Dr. Jamieson stopped his horse at the door to speak to us, and after asking very kindly for her and me, how we were, made particular inquiry for Annie Orme. When he rode away, I saw the face of Lexie was full of meaning, and so waited till she should speak.

"Rechie," said my sister, at last, "Annie Orme now will have a tocher."

"And not a bad one, Lexie," said I, "for the like of us."

It was just dusk, and there was a kind of grey, quiet light coming down out of the sky, where the clouds lay motionless, like far-off lands sleeping by the sea. Some of them had just touches upon them of the sun here and there, and some of them were dark and round, as if they projected out of the blue, and some of them were white and soft like masses of down; in among them was a star or two. It looked to myself, being pondering, as if it was the golden streets of Jerusalem, with the evening lamps lighted here and there, and that we in this world could only get this one glance at them before the deep night came over us, and gave us our lawful sleep. And then my thoughts went away from me, up to what they were doing, who went about the streets of Jerusalem where the lights were lighted yonder; and I thought of what the prophet says of grey-headed men leaning upon their staffs, and bairns playing in that city, and the voice of the bridegroom, and the voice of the bride; and then I marvelled if the folk yonder might ever win to the walls or to the gates, to look down on the old country far below, and what they thought of it now. And from that my mind wandered to little Annie, and the way she used to cry our names from our old threshold stone; and I looked away over the water, to the side of the brae that glimmered up among the clouds, and I almost thought that if I had been on the road, I could have seen Annie at the door, with her arm round the neck of our dog, Warlock, and him giving aye his little bark when she cried, "Lexie, Rechie," and my mother busy in the room, and now and then passing by the door. I gave a long sigh as my heart returned to me, and my sister must have been thinking the same, for she sighed too. "Its like one of the old nights langsyne, Rechie," said my sister to

me.

And then we both gave another sigh; and then, for my part, the tears came to my eyes, and I bade Lexie come in, and we would get a light and take our seams again.

Being returned, Lexie began to speak again about what she was saying before.

"Rechie," she said, "my mind is not changed, though neither you nor me judged discreetly about the proper person-but we'll no controvert that any more. There's that young man that was speaking to us this moment, Rechie-that's a fine lad, and a good son, and a person that nobody could make any objections to-I would be content with him for Annie."

"Dr. Jamieson? but he'll be looking for higher than our Annie, Lexie," said I.

"I would like to ken how he could look higher, or in what respect?" said my sister. "If it were for good looks, Annie Orme is what I call bonnie; and she'll have as much as furnish a good house, and she's come of most creditable people. So, I say, Rechie, we must be civil to the doctor, and ask him to call and see us, for I see nobody in Lasswade that would be as suitable for Annie Orme."

At this moment, Annie herself came into the room.

"You have been long out, Annie Orme," said I, "where have you been? you should take your walks through the day, and no at night." "I have been just at the waterside again, aunt Rechie," said Annie Orme.

Something in the tone of her voice made both Lexie and me look up. I never saw so happy a face; one smile was coming close on the step of another, and there was a wavering colour upon her cheeks, which rose and fell, and her eyes were giving shy, sudden glances here and there, from under the cast down eyelids, and her breath came a little fast and short, so that you saw her heart was beating quick.

"Dear me, Annie," said I, "was there any body with you by the waterside ?"

The next moment I repented having said that, for Lexie saw what I meant, and her face grew red, and she stopped her work and looked at Annie with a knitted brow. Annie never noticed this; she gave a low laugh, twisted the strings of her bonnet, and said to me, "I met Helen Lyon, auntie," and then went quick away to her own room.

I dared not look at Lexie; for to tell the truth, I felt almost sure, within myself, that Annie Orme had been holding a meeting with Robbie, from the Butterbraes.

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Rechie," said my sister, solemnly, "you'll see if I do not speak true. She's dealing unfaithfully with us; see if that hind lad does not come to us, to dishonour our house with his mean proposals. I am as sure as if I had seen them, that Annie met him this night, and the first word of such a thing that's minted to me, I'll take my staff in my hand, and this misguided thing by the arm, and journey away to some strange place-for I'll no bear it. To see Annie Orme serving strangers, and filling measures, and taking pennies and sixpences, from the meanest passer by-it would kill me, Rechie Sinclair!"

Well, if it would have killed Lexie, it maybe was even greater pain to me; for you see, I

stood between the two, and had sympathy with both, and sorrowed with both in my own spirit, feeling that I could not bear this any more than Lexie, and yet in my heart yearning with pity over the ill-advised bairn. You may believe, too, what a start I was thrown into, when the candle being put out, and me laid down, Annie Orme crept into my arms, and whispered to me, "He's got his license, Auntie Rechie."

"Oh, bairn, bairn!" said I, "do you tell me that;" and I thought I would have broken my heart.

CHAPTER XI.

Now whether it was a natural perverseness of circumstances, such as I have sometimes seen, or whether it was really a sudden liking, I cannot tell, but of this I am certain, Dr. Jamieson called upon us within two days of the time I have mentioned, of his own accord, and told us that our father's cousin, Ninian, was also a far-away cousin of a friend of his, to whom some of the old man's money had likewise come. The doctor was a very pleasant lad, good at conversation, and of a cheerful nature; and I could not help thinking that Lexie would have done better if she had made as discreet a choice the first time, instead of setting her heart upon Peter Braird; but I saw at once, that it would be nonsense ever dreaming about it; for, seeing he was received among some of the gentry and the rich gentlemen farmers, and had money and an inheritance himself, was it ever to be supposed that he would come courting to Annie Orme?

However, I had to keep my thoughts to myself, for Lexic was greatly exalted about Dr. Jamieson, and pressed him to come back again, which he said he would do. And ever after that, Lexie was both anxious and angry if she saw so much as a smile on the face of Annie Orme, and would have done some ill to Robbic, I believe, if he had been so rash as to come to our door.

But the week passed, and we heard no word of him. And who do you think was cried in Lasswade kirk upon the Sabbath-day? who but young Mr. Mouter and Miss Christina Thomson! I could not believe but the precentor was out of his senses when he said the names.

Upon the next Friday, according to our arrangement, having put up a supply of things in the little black trunk, and all our best bonnets in a big box, and tea and sugar for a week in a little basket, we took the coach, and

went into Edinburgh. The place we were to lodge at was Miss Clephane's, where Lexie had learned the milinery. It was up a long stair, near the end of the Cannongate, and close to the palace, and we could see the sentries at the gate from our windows, and Arthur's Seat beyond. Miss Clephane was then an old woman, and had given up the business, and lived on her money, just letting a room now and then, and like us she had a niece living with her; but Miss Rosie Clephane was nearly as old as me, and very tall, and as thin as Lexie, so there could not possibly be any comparison made between her and Annie Orme.

They were speaking much at this time about some students who had lodged with them, who were done with their time at college, and now were preachers, ready for kirks, and waiting on them. One of the first things Annie said, when we got to Edinburgh, was, that she wanted to go to one particular church, and no other, a thing which surprised me, seeing that Annie did not commonly express so very clear a will of her own; but as the minister there was a great man, and well worth hearing, neither Lexie nor me made any ob jection. On speaking about it to Miss Rosie, we discovered that she went there too, so we made up our minds to go altogether, to Annie's great good pleasure; though what special interest she had in it, I could not, with all my skill, make out or perceive.

On the Saturday, we took Annie to see the palace and the castle, and let her out by herself at night-on her promising not to stay long to go up as far as St. Anthony's chapel. She came in as blooming and happy-like as could be, and I never was prouder of herthough it did not become me on a Sabbath!— than when I fastened her white gown the next morning, and watched her put on her new bonnet with the white and lilac ribbon, which I choose for her myself. You never saw a fresher, bonnier face in Edinburgh or out of it; and she looked as like a lady, I am bound to say, as any one we met, though we passed through some of the grandest streets in the town, on our way to the kirk that day.

CHAPTER XII.

I LIKE to see folk coming into a church. If we are there a quarter of an hour too soon, Lexie always reads her Bible without ever lifting her head, and makes Annie Orme do the same; but, for my part, I like to notice everybody that comes in, and to see who of a

family is at the kirk and who is not, and just to take a kindly look of them all. So it happened, being busy looking at all the strange folk, I never glanced up at the pulpit at all, till the psalm was given out, and then I had to hurry to find the place in a very small-printed Psalm-book; besides, I was particularly taken up with Annie Orme, who let fall her Bible a dozen times, I am sure, if she did it once, and grew red and white, and put up her handkerchief to her face, till I grew very anxious, and thought she was ill; I asked her, and said, I would go home with her, if she liked; but Annie answered, "No, no," and let fall her book again. So immediately it came into my head, that may-be she had seen Robbie in the church, and I looked round and round, and lost my own place, and missed the psalm-singing, hunting through the kirk for him; but I could see him nowhere.

What blind inconsiderate mortals we are after all; I was within half-an-hour of what made my heart stir with thanksgiving, and I knew it not.

All through the prayer I was concerned about Annie; I scarcely could attend to it for my trouble about her, which was a great sin in me. So we sat down again, and I was looking into Annie's face once more, and asking if she were unwell, when I heard the click of Lexie's glasses-Lexie is very short-sighted -as she put them on to look up at the minister, and wait for the text. But before there was a word of the text-you may think how I started, both my heart and me, when Lexie suddenly threw up her arms, and gave a cry, which made me think she had fainted. I started from Annie, and turned to my sister, who was on my other side. "Are you ill, Lexie?" whispered I, and there was great drops hanging on my brow with fear.

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"Rechie Sinclair, I'm a fuil," said my sister, and she panted for her breath. Look up yonder-up yonder, ye foolish person, I tell ye-its Robbie, from the Butterbracs!"

I looked up; what did I see? past the long pulpit stairs, past the precentor's desk—there, with his minister's gown upon him, and his fine blacks and white neckcloth, bending his head over the big Bible, in the very pulpit itself, was the same Robbie that took off his hat to me on Lasswade-bridge, and that we did not think good enough for Annie Orme!

I sat there with my mouth open and my eyes-I could not believe my very sight-and at the same time I was half distracted with the constant click of Lexie's glasses, as she put them on and took them off, and did not rest

VOL. I. N. S.

still for a single moment. Also, Annie Orme had hidden her face low down in her hands, and I could feel by the motion of her, being close to my side, that she was crying with all her might. But I could not say a word—I could not do a single thing, but sit with my eyes staring wide open upon Robbie Scott.

Bless me, to think of that--to think of that! But bye and bye I noticed that his voice was shaking, and I steadied myself as well as I could, that the poor lad might not lose his fortitude by looking upon us; I have no doubt it was a grand sermon-not the least doubt-but what it was about at this moment I am not prepared to say.

"Do you ken the minister, Miss Sinclair," said Miss Rosie Clephane, bending over to my sister, when the blessing was said; "did he no do grand? That's our student lad I was telling you about-for the Presbytery only licensed him last week."

I looked at Lexic, and Lexie looked at menever one of us said a word; but at last Lexie gave a bit short laugh, and rose up and went right away; I saw she thought shame.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE minister came after us immediately from the church, Sabbath-day as it was.

"Annie Orme," said my sister, "your aunt Rechie and me are two old fools. I make no hesitation in saying that—but I am not a dour person-nobody can blame me with such a spirit; so if your aunt Rechie does not object, Annie, we'll ask this young man to stay to his dinner."

"Me, Lexie!" said I.

As if they did not both know that I would never oppose! So we put the minister opposite Annie at the table, and I took the head, and Lexie took the foot, and thus we had our Sabbath-day's dinner in Edinburgh. If any body had told me, three hours before, that Robbie would dine with us that day, I should have laughed it to scorn; yet, here he was, and no one in the room more taken with him than Lexie Sinclair, her very self.

So he told us all his story. It was true his father was a very poor man, with a poor small moorland-farm in the south country, no better than an East Lothian hind; but Lexie never seemed to heed that, though Mr. Robert told us plain. The poor lad said, too, that he lived for his first session on little more than five pounds; that his second he got some teaching; and that ever since he had been keeping himself in the hardest way, though principally by

P

teaching, till the last summer, when his father was in want himself, owing to an ailment among his cattle, and he was driven to great straits, and had to hire with Mr. Lait, of Butterbraes.

"A little vulgar pride stood in my way, no doubt," said Mr. Robert, with a smile, "but it was necessity, and I did it. There is no time of my life I shall regret less, Miss Lexie; for when I drove the Butterbraes cart, I had liberty sometimes to walk by the Esk waterand you will let me carry, not the remembrance only, but the companion of these walks with me all my life-will you, Miss Lexie?"

And Lexie said afterwards to me, "how could I, if I had been ever so inclined, have said 'No,' to a minister?"

So he is to get our Annie; and I am sure I am very glad and very well pleased, and proud of him, for a fine looking young man, not to say a minister. There is already some chance of him getting a kirk very soon, and whenever he is placed they are to be married; but though I am very glad of so suitable a man for Annie, and that she will not need to sew all her life, like us, but will be well taken care of and provided for, and have a higher place in this world than the like of us

Still-but I would have been disappointed if she had not been married-still I am very loth to let her go away; and I think, may-be, the best plan of all would have been to let well alone, and keep her beside us, and have her aye Annie Orme.

It is too late for that now, for she is sitting at the window with Lexie making her wedding gown, which my sister and me bought out of Annie's knowledge, in Edinburgh, last Monday. And Lexie herself can almost come the length of laughing now about the license, and is as proud of the young man as can be. And only yesterday, when we went up to Windlestrae to see Mrs. Braird, who, poor woman, is anything but pleased with Phemie Mouter for a daughter-in-law, I smiled within myself at the change in Lexie-for whereas, a short time ago, she would have been overcome with shame at the very mention of Robert Scott as a match for Annie Orme; now she began of her own accord to tell Windlestrac and his wife the whole story, and all about "the grand sermon (I am sure she never heard a word of it any more than myself) which Mr. Robert preached in Edinburgh to Rechie, and Annie Orme, and me!"

THE BULFINCHI.

(Loxia Pyrrhula.)

"His head of glossy jet I spy,

His downy breast of softest red."

I DIVIDE this subject into two parts-the educated and the untaught bird. The imperative necessity for adhering to the treatment pursued by the German instructors of these docile creatures would alarm an amateur, satisfied to have a bulfinch in its natural and uneducated state. I am fully convinced that, were our artizans to give the same meed of care as the patient professor of "Cher-Hessen," "Fulda," and the "Vogelsburg," our native birds would equal, if not rival, those of the Faderland," our melodies being more simple and familiar; the natural notes are pleasing only as being illustrative of a cheerful, loving temperament-their huskiness conveying an idea of an effort to do better.

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Naturalists have a variety of opinions as to the migration of these birds: I am inclined to

* Continued from page 99.

believe that if, with us, it is a permanent resi dent, it, nevertheless, is more gregarious than is comprehended by a small family party, and that they change their quarters. It is only in the south that the bulfinch is pronounced to be a bird of passage, and I have reason to believe that it is a mere supposition, the result of finding these birds in every European state and abounding in Russia and Sweden. This confirms my opinion, that the delicacy of the German birds is the effect of man's treatment, I doubt that the "black bulfinch" is aught but a victim to bad feeding; the "white bulfinch" I should not pronounce to be so problematical, if the specimens said to be in the "Leverian Museum" had been bred in the house, as these birds pair with canaries; and the bird called "the London mule" (the produce of goldfinch and canary) is nearly white; besides, I have seen a bird called "the white blackbird”—(the term rather paradoxical!) The food for bulfinches caught in a wild state (id. est. the dunces) should be the same as I have laid down for the first and second class feeders, also apple blossom fruit: insects they seek when on the