deck looking on the restless unmeasured sea with a strange yearning in his heart for his friends at Grey Craigs; but at the same time with a resolution to go on, and find his own place among the restless activities of the world. A CHAPTER VI. "Ah! well for us all, some sweet hope lies Roll the stone from its grave away." -J. G. WHITTIER. S Gordon sat by the door, sometimes reading, sometimes thinking, the latch of the little white gate was lifted, and the smith, dressed in his Sunday coat, approached him with the salutation "Gude e'en to you, Glen (the name by which Uncle John was known in the neighbourhood), how's a' wi' ye the night?" "I canna complane," was the answer, “how are ye yoursel?" "No so bad," replied the smith, taking a seat on the bench beside his friend. "Hae ye heard ony thing o' Davie since he left?" asked his visitor. "Naething, naething," replied Uncle John sadly, "I expected to hae gotten word or this time. Oh! he's a sair miss to us here; but ye see we couldna keep him frae that weary sea. I believe he drank in his love for it wi' his mother's milk,-she was a fisherman's wife,-puir Alie; it's ill gane against the inclination, smith; ye may mak it bend for a while, but sooner or later it will gang back like a bow to its auld bent. I canna blame him either, for I hae little but the land to leave him, so he must look after himsel in the world. are ye doing, though, without him?” How "Better than I expected," was the answer; "Tam is doing well enough, but somehow Davie had a sair grip o' my heart; an' Effie takes mony a greet about him." Mysie, who had been passing at the time and overheard the conversation, here said, "Tuts, dinna ye baith sit an' vex yoursels about the laddie, he'll come hame a braw man some day, an' marry your wee Effie, smith." "Hear to her," remarked her master with contempt, "a real woman's speech, no man would hae thought on the like; women are aye thinkin' about marriage-either for themselves or other folk." I "Weel, weel, thae things maun be," answered Mysie tartly, "an' though I'm an auld maid mysel, say where a marriage is a happy ane, it's the best thing-for it's what God intended for baith man and woman. Did He no say, 'It was not good for man to be alone?' and did He not make them at the beginning male and female, to help and comfort ane another? so I say again if a marriage is a happy ane it's the best way." "Aye, a happy ane! ye may weel put in an if, woman; show me a happy ane," said Gordon. But Mysie had said her say, and muttering that she hadna time to stand palavering there, went again within doors, leaving her master to finish his tirade against matrimony to the smith. "She's away," he said, adding, "we canna agree on that subject. Happy marriage, forsooth! There's Jenny Geddes that married Templeton the mason last year, she came to me a while since, begging me to speak to her man, as he was wasting a' their means; an' I, like a great simpleton that I was, tried to interfere, an' got naething frae him but impudence, no that she was na grateful hersel, puir thing. An' then there's Meg Tod that lost her laddie: when I gaed an' tried to say a word to comfort her, and began enumerating her mercies, among them her husband, still spared to her, she answered, 'No doubt, Glen, for if I had lost him, I would hae lost his pension (he had been an auld soldier), which would hae been a heavy loss.' But they're a set o' hypocrites that wad tell you they would ever compare the loss o' a man to that o' a bairn." "There's surely another side o' the story," answered the smith, smiling sadly, as visions of his own gentle wife rose up before him, and the happiness he had enjoyed with her, which was as much as had ever fallen to the lot of any man on earth; but his friend would not be diverted off the theme, so he answered 'I'm no so sure o' that; an' who can it weel be otherwise? Ye see, wi' the women, it's just wha will gie them the best down-sitting, or the finest claes, they canna think or care for ony thing else; an' wi’ men it's little better,-they want a wife wi' siller, or somebody to keep their house; love, if ever there was such a thing, is out of the question now!" then adding, "Do ye mind o' Nettleflat, smith?" 'Aye, that I do! he was a rough auld carle, though sterling honest; he aye got his horses shod at my smithy, an' no easy pleased he was. What about him, though?" "Do ye mind o' his wife?" asked Gordon; "it's lang since she died, but the way the twa quarrelled was sad; ye might hear o't." "I might at the time," answered the simple smith, "but I seldom take much heed to what is said. 'Deed, to tell you the truth, I never let gossip about folk be spoken among the young men that gather at the smiddy." 'Weel, it's like yesterday, when I was a bit laddie," continued Gordon, "I met Nettleflat mounted on a cart-horse, dressed. in his Sunday's best. I |