with the flowers around our feet. Ha! thou art up and singing, thou human fairy! Start not at the figure sitting beside the well-'tis he who read the chapter-and knelt along with thee and them at the evening prayer.

Set down thy pitcher, my child, and let us have a look at thy happiness-for though thou mayst wonder at our words, and think us a strange old man, coming and going, once and for ever, to thee and thine a shadow and no more, yet lean thy head towards us that we may lay our hands on it and bless it—and promise, as thou art growing up here, sometimes to think of the voice that spake to thee by the Birk-tree-well. Love, fear, and serve » God as the Bible teaches-and whatever happens thee, quake not, but put thy trust in Heaven.

Nay-weep not, though we know that thy father is dead, and that thou hast neither sister nor brother. Smile-laugh-sing-as thou wert doing a minute ago— as thou hast done for many a morning—and shall do for many a morning more on thy way to the well-in the woods-on the braes-in the house-often all by thyself when the old people are out of doors not far off or when sometimes they have for a whole day been from home out of the glen. Forget not our words-and no evil can befall thee that may not, weak as thou art, be borne-and nothing wicked that is allowed to walk the earth, will ever be able to hurt a hair on thy head.

My stars! what a lovely little animal! A tame fawn, by all that is wild-kneeling down-to drink-no-noat its lady's feet. The colley catched it, thou sayest, on the edge of the auld wood-and by the time its wounds were cured, it seemed to have forgot its mother, and soon learnt to follow thee about to far-off places quite out of sight of this-and to play gamesome tricks like a creature born among human dwellings. What! it dances like a kid-does it-and sometimes you put a garland of wild flowers round its neck-and pursue it like a huntress, as it pretends to be making its escape into the forest!

Look, child, here is a pretty green purse for you, that opens and shuts with a spring-so-and in it there is a gold coin, called a sovereign, and a crooked sixpence. Don't blush-that was a grateful curtsey. Keep the

crooked sixpence for good luck, and you never will want. With the yellow fellow buy a Sunday gown and a pair of Sunday shoes, and what else you like; and now-you two lead the way--try a race to the door--and old Christopher North will carry the pitcher--balancing it on his head-thus--ha! The fawn has it, and, by a neck, has beat Camilla.

We shall breakfast ere we go--and breakfast well too, --for this is a poor man's, not a pauper's hut, and Heaven still grants his prayer—“ give us this day our daily bread." Sweeter--richer bannocks o' barley-meal never met the mouth of mortal man--nor more delicious butter. "We salt it, sir, for a friend in Glasgow-but now and then we take a bite of the fresh--let me put another spoonful of sugar into your tea, sir--do oblige us a', sir, by eatin' as many eggs as you have a mind to, for our hens are gran' layers--you'll maybe find the mutton ham no that bad, though I've kent it fatter--and, as you ha'e a long walk afore you, excuse me, sir, for being sae bauld as to suggest a glass o' speerit in your neist cup. The gudeman is temperate, and he's been sae a' his life—but we keep it for a cordial-and that bottle-to be sure it's a gae big ane-and would thole replenishing-has lasted us syne the New Year."

So presseth us to take care of number one the gudewife, while the gudeman, busy as ourselves, eyes her with a well-pleased face, but saith nothing, and the bonnie wee bit lassie sits on her stool at the window wi' her coggie, ready to do any service at a look, and supping little or nothing, out of bashfulness in presence of Christopher North, who she believes is a good, and thinks may, perhaps, be some great man. Our third bannock has had the gooseberry jam laid on it thick by "the gudewife's ain haun',"-and we suspect at that last wide bite we have smeared the corners of our mouth-but it will only be making matters worse to attempt licking it off with our tongue. Pussie! thou hast a cunning look-purring on our knee-and though those glass een 'o thine are blinking at the cream on the saucer-with which thou jalousest we intend to let thee wet thy whiskers,-we fear thou mak'st no bones of the poor birdies in the brake, and

that many an unlucky leveret has lost its wits at the spring of such a tiger. Cats are queer creatures, and have an instinctive liking to warlocks.

And these two old people have survived all their children-sons and daughters! Last night they told us the story of their life-and they told it as calmly as if they had been telling of the trials of some other pair. Perhaps, in our sympathy, though we said but little, they felt a strength that was not always theirs-perhaps it was a relief from silent sorrow to speak to one who was a stranger to them, and yet, as they might think, a brother in affliction-but the evening prayer assured us that there is in this hut a Christian composure, far beyond the need of our pity, and sent from a region far beyond the stars.

There cannot be a cleaner cottage. Tidiness, it is pleasant to know, has for a good many years past been establishing itself in Scotland among the minor domestic virtues. Once established it will never decay, for it must be felt to brighten more than could be imagined by our fathers, the whole aspect of life. No need for any other household fairy to sweep this floor. An orderly creature

we have seen she is, from all her movements out and in doors-though the guest of but a night. They told us that they had known what are called better days-and were once in a thriving way of business in a town. But they were born and bred in the country; and their manners, not rustic but rural, breathe of its serene and simple spirit at once Lowland and Highland-to us a pleasant union, not without a certain charm of grace.

What loose leaves are these lying on the Bible? A few odd numbers of the SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD. We shall take care, our friends, that all the numbers for 1836 and 1837, bound in two large volumes, shall, ere many weeks elapse, be lying for you at the Manse. The excellent editor is a friend of ours-and henceforth you shall be subscribers to the work. Well entitled is he to say"Literature, science, subjects of general interest, philanthropic and benevolent schemes, all viewed under a purely religious aspect, and mingled with discussions upon the evidences, and doctrines, and duties of our most holy faith, have imparted to our pages a rich and varied interest

which has gained access for this little work to many a Christian home, and we have reason to believe, to many a Christian heart."

The circulation of this cheap Christian periodical-sixteen double-columned beautifully printed royal octavo pages, for three-halfpence is very great-some tens of thousands-and it has often made us happy to see it in solitary places. It is adapted for perusal on week-days as well as Sabbath-for there is a permitted difference in the rest that the labourer enjoys after work from that which ought to pervade all the hours of the seventh day. The names of upwards of a hundred contributors are found among our clergy-the sermons and discourses would fill several volumes printed in the usual form-so would original papers on subjects belonging to the moral or social nature of man; and the extracts, which occupy but a limited portion of its pages, are selected with judgment from a wide range of knowledge. Let us read aloud to you, our worthy friends, a small sacred poem, which we have by heart. Christian, keep your eye on the page, and if we go wrong do not fear to set us right. Have you many psalms and hymns by heart? But we need not ask-for

"Piety is sweet to infant minds,"

what they love they remember-and then how easyhow happy to get things by heart! Happiest of allthe things held holy on earth as in heaven-because appertaining here to eternal life.

TO THE SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD. BY THE REV. DUNCAN GRANT, A. M., MINISTER OF FORRES.

"Beauteous on our heath-clad mountains,
May our HERALD's feet appear;

Sweet, by silver lakes and fountains,
May his voice be to our ear.

Let the tenants of our rocks,

Shepherds watching o'er their flocks,
Village swain and peasant boy,
Thee salute with songs of joy!

"CHRISTIAN HERALD! spread the story Of Redemption's wond'rous plan; "Tis Jehovah's brightest glory, "Tis his highest gift to man; Angels on their harps of gold, Love its glories to unfold; Heralds who its influence wield, Make the waste a fruitful field.

"To the fount of mercy soaring,
On the wings of faith and love;
And the depths of grace exploring,
By the light shed from above;
Show us whence life's waters flow,
And where trees of blessing grow,
Bearing fruit of heavenly bloom,
Breathing Eden's rich perfume.

"Love to God and man expressing,
In thy course of mercy speed;
Lead to springs of joy and blessing,
And with heavenly manna feed
Scotland's children high and low,
Till the Lord they truly know,
As to us our fathers told,
He was known by them of old.

"To the young, in season vernal, Jesus in his grace disclose;

As the tree of life eternal,

'Neath whose shade they may repose,
Shielded from the noontide ray,
And from ev'ning's tribes of prey;
And refresh'd with fruits of love,
And with music from above.

"CHRISTIAN HERALD! may the blessing
Of the Highest thee attend,
That, this chiefest boon possessing,

Thou may'st prove thy country's friend:
Tend to make our land assume

Something of its former bloom,

When the dews of heaven were seen
Sparkling on its pastures green.