man's folly; and she bowed her head, trying to feel that there surely must be a need for something to cross our heart's hopes as long as we sojourn here.

Well was it for Mrs. Harvey that from that time she read the Word of God with an earnest, teachable spirit, though on Sundays she still attended the parish church, nor would she once have dreamt of seeking the old meeting house with its more evangelical teaching.

There was a wide line of demarcation drawn in these days between Churchmen and Dissenters, which was all the more sad that, in general, evangelical religion in the Church established in the land was at a discount; over a great part of the country a cold, half-infidel moderatism reigned; error was rampant in the high places, while truth only made itself heard in weak and half-muffled accents, which presented but a feeble front to the triumphant tide of indifference sweeping all before it. There was a good deal of nominal orthodoxy, but little strong, fervent, or high-toned piety. Of course, here and there in the Church were a few noble exceptions of men, with holy zeal, who were burning and shining lights amidst the surrounding darkness, but these were the exceptions-rare exceptions-therefore the more spiritual among the people sought food to their taste amongst the Dissenters, where the lamp

in the sanctuary still burned, and the shekinah had its abode in the holy place.

The smith and his friends, on the other hand, frequented the meeting house where the aroma of freshly-gathered flowers ascended with the incense of prayer and praise. There was nothing common or disagreeable in this aroma; doubtless to the longaccustomed nostrils it was the atmosphere of the Sabbath-day, and, it might be, helped even the devotions of those simple unlettered people-a people whose only lore was the learning of the Bible, and who loved above all things a faithful, rousing discourse.

CHAPTER V.

"He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again."

-SHAKESPEARE.

T was spring when Mrs. Harvey visited the smith at Grey Craigs; and now it has

passed away with its lengthening days and opening flowers, and its nests in the Den full of blue eggs which afterwards burst into small song birds. Summer, too, has passed very noiselessly, its footsteps scarcely heard as they glided on, leaving no print behind; every morning rising purple in the east, and every evening sinking golden into the west, casting long dewy shadows upon the grass. Long ago the blossoms have disappeared from the orchard trees; long ago the white lily has faded on its stem, it was part of summer, and it could not survive its loss. And now autumn has come, and is fleeting fast away-autumn, when the shadows of morn and eve almost mingle together and tint the declining year with something akin to gloom. Then the deep verdure of the hedgerows and the massive foliage of

the trees contrast vividly with corn-fields either bending their golden load under the hook of the reaper, or partly studded with regular piles of heavy sheaves. The clear air too is rife with bees and butterflies, and filled with pleasant sounds, mirthful voices softened by distance, and robins twittering among ripening hazel nuts.

At the farmhouse of Glen the bustle of the day was past; and the labourers having finished their work had left for their various homes, while Mysie, the faithful housekeeper, was busy preparing the simple supper of sowens for her master. John Gordon, or as he was commonly called Uncle John, sat by his door in that calm evening and read the last week's paper, which only the day before reached the town, and only a few minutes ago had arrived at the Glen. The paper and print were neither of them of the best description, and Uncle John's eyes were not so good as they once had been, but by the help of the horn spectacles astride on his nose he could read as well as ever he did. Overhanging the seat on which he sat was a rose-bush even yet boasting a few flowers, though the slight frosts at night had somewhat blighted their bloom; while in the small slip of a garden at his side were some plants-thyme, balm, and apple-ringie (southernwood), sending forth a fragrant smell in the dewy evening. The burn which flowed past the other side of the knoll,