would otherwise have happened to his grave, is also, we think, beyond reasonable doubt. There is something very lovely in his melancholy career. Of gentlest sensibilities, and with the magic and music of beauty thrilling through his veins, he came into the world, and found it one of jungles, and rude glens, and pitfalls, inhabited by satyra who never wept. We shall liken him to his own much-loved cowslip, made to be hung on by dewdrops, and kissed by the morning, yet trodden ruthlessly into the cold ground. NATURAL HISTORY. These emmets, how little they are in our eyes! Yet wise as we are, if sent to their school, Some lessons of wisdom may learn.'-Dr Walls. ALTHOUGH we should be sorry, indeed, to imagine for a moment that either sluggards or fools were to be found amongst the number of our readers, we are disposed to think that there are none, however wise and industrious they may be, who could not derive profit as well as pleasure from learning something of the wisdom and forethought, as well as the readiness to assist each other, which has been implanted in those tiny insects by the Almighty Creator of all things. We shall, therefore, proceed forthwith to furnish a true and simple account of their little community. Ants belong to that class of insects denominated Hymenoptera; that is, insects having four membraneous, unequal wings, the two pair of which are hooked together. Our readers, however, will bear in mind, that ants are divided into three classes-male, female, and neuter. The two former of these are alone furnished with wings; and, as they form but a small proportion of the entire community, they will not be surprised if those with which they are best acquainted are wingless. Besides this, when the females become queens, or mothers of new establishments, they invariably divest themselves of their wings, and pass the remainder of their time at home, never wandering from the nest. Is not this a hint to mothers on their duty of staying at home, and not delegating their maternal authority to others. There are a great variety of ants known to the naturalist. Sometimes they are distinguished by their size and colour, but more generally by the manner in which they construct their nests. Thus, we hear of black ants, white ants, and brown ants, and, again, of mason ants, carpenter ants, wood ants, &c. The queen ant, like the queen bee, lays all the eggs. These are at first so small as to be scarcely perceptible with the naked eye. Each one, as soon as laid, is taken charge of by a worker, or neuter ant, and carried to the place prepared for it, where it is constantly turned, until it assumes the pupa state. In cold weather, the eggs are taken to the interior of the nest; while in fine warm weather they are laid outside it for a few hours in the day. In the pupa state, they look exceedingly like grains of corn, for which, indeed, they were constantly mistaken by early entomologists, who even went so far as to say that the workers nibbled off the ends of the corn, to prevent it sprouting! A more careful examination would have shown that this was merely the workers assisting the pupa to break the integuments by which they had been surrounded. This is generally done at the end of a few weeks, after which they make their appearance as larvæ. We have spoken of the queen ant. It would, perhaps, have been more correct to have designated her as the mother, her power being far more limited than that of the queen bee. Indeed, strictly speaking, ant-hives are republics each individual having their own special office, and each performing it with assiduous diligence. Between those ants which are indigenous to Europe, and their foreign relatives, there are many and important differences, the principal of which are, that European ants hypernate, or sleep, during the winter months, and, consequently, never lay by a store of food, all that they are seen carry ing to their nests being intended for immediate consump tion. Foreign ants, on the contrary, are active all the year round; and, food being scarce in the autumn and winter, they are obliged to lay by a store, in order to provide for its exigencies. Our readers will not fail to remember this very important distinction. We now purpose giving an account of some of the most remarkable of both descriptions. We shall commence with the common brown ant, one of the most generally known of the home species. The common brown ants are little more than the twelfth of an inch in length. Their nests are constructed in storeys nearly half an inch high. They vary in height, consisting sometimes of no less than twenty storeys. These storeys are not horizontal, but follow the slope of the ant-hill, lying one over another, to the ground-floor, which communicates with the subterranean apartments, which, being much cooler than the upper regions, are generally used as nurseries during the very hot season, while, in rainy weather, the young ones are conveyed to the upper parts. Each storey consists of a number of small rooms and halls, as well as of long narrow galleries, or corridors, which are used as a medium of general communication. All the working ants are employed in constructing the nests, which, as the number of young ones increase, is proportionably enlarged, so that they have not an idle life. Unlike bees, ants do not work in concert, neither do they always appear to follow any particular plan; which often causes them additional trouble, as one worker constantly finds himself interfering with the operations of another. Such a circumstance, however, does not ruffle their temper; the last comer speedily undoes his previous labour, and cheerfully joins the other. When a nest has to be formed, each ant carries between its teeth a little ball of earth, previously collected with its mandible from the bottom of its abode. When these are carried to the right spot, the ants press hard against them, in order to fill up the integuments of the wall. After tracing out the plan of their dwelling, by laying here and there the foundation of pillars, walls, &c., they gradually raise them higher and higher. When about half an inch high, they close them in with a vaulted ceiling. They then mount up, and commence another storey, until the nest is sufficiently large. These ants do not make use of any kind of animal secretion to cement the earth of which their nests are formed. They cannot, therefore, proceed with their work except in damp or rainy weather, as in dry weather the earth is too crumbly, and would not adhere sufficiently well together. Sometimes, when weary of waiting for rain, the patient little creatures will excavate the ground, until they arrive at earth sufficiently damp for their purpose; and, indeed, they appear to be quite as skilful in the formation of their subterranean abodes as in those raised above ground. Sometimes these ants appear to commence their labours according to some preconceived idea. For instance, should one of them discover a particularly favourable spot for commencing operations, it will distribute little parcels of earth in various directions, working away until the plan is sufficiently developed to be understood by its companions. When this is the case, they all join in the labour with right good will. Another very curious kind of ants are those called indiscriminately pismires, hill ants, and wood ants; by the latter of these names we shall designate them. They are very common in the neighbourhood of London, and may be easily distinguished from others of the species by the dusky black colour of the head and the lower parts of the body, and the darkish brown of the middle. The exterior of their nest is formed of every kind of material which they can find within a short distance of the intended sitestraw, grass leaves, twigs of trees, and even grains of corn. Their first business is to excavate a cavity in the earth; some of them then bring materials, and cover in the entrance; while another detachment mixes up the earth (that had previously been thrown up when the foundation was being made) with leaves-thus rendering it more suitable for building. Here and there open spaces are left, which, after the shell or skeleton of the building is completed, are converted into galleries, which lead to the different apartments, and which all meet in a large chamber in the centre of the nest, which is the favourite residence of the ants. The roof is composed of straw, and is of a conical form, in order that the rain may pour freely off. These ants work principally by day, and are so fearless, that it is by no means difficult to watch their proceedings. Towards night, the avenues which, during the day, admit of their free ingress and egress, are gradually lessened, and at length perfectly closed. This is accomplished by placing little bits of wood at the entrances, and then filling up the interstices with leaves or straw-in fact, actually blockading them. Before the last is thus secured, they all retire inside, to repose for the night; three or four, however, remain out, apparently to perform the duty of sentinels. Early every morning the avenues are again opened, and the ants resume their usual avocations. In rainy weather, they remain closed the entire day, and at any time that rain commences they are forthwith barricaded. The sagacity of these ants is, indeed, truly wonderful. A gentleman once observed one of them trying to drag along a little bit of wood much larger than its own body. After getting on pretty well for a time, the poor little fellow came to an ascent, and found, to his utter dismay, that it was too heavy, and that he really could not get on. Some of his friends, however, who happened to be passing by, came to his assistance, and, by their united efforts, the piece of wood was soon placed on the summit. They then left our hero to work by himself, fearing that, if they gave him unnecessary assistance, they might make him lazy. So on he went, but, alas, a fresh difficulty soon presented itself! His load was thicker at one end than at the other, and, while dragging it along, he incautiously drew it between two pieces of wood, where it remained firmly fixed. He pushed and pushed, but in vain: there it stayed. At length he went to the other end, dragged it out, took it a short way round, and soon arrived at his destination. Could man, with all his boasted reason, have devised a better expedient? We think not. The next species which we shall describe, is that called the jet ant, or emmet, and gometimes the carpenter ant. These ants are smaller than the wood ants, and may be distinguished from them by their glossy black colour. They are not very common, but may occasionally be found in the trunks of old oak or willow trees. They always form their habitations in the interior of those trees, but are so timid, that it is quite impossible to watch them while at their work. When, however, the nest is completed, it may be examined. And then on one side may be seen a series of horizontal galleries, which follow the circular direction of the layers of wood; on the other side, again, are galleries constructed parallel to each other, and sepa rated by exceedingly thin partitions, in which are small oval apertures, answering, we suppose, the purpose of doors. These nests are chiefly remarkable for their lightness, and the elegant finish of the pillars or columns which support the several storeys of the edifice. The chambers are always from eight to ten inches in length, and proportionably high, and yet the wood supporting them is as thin as paper. All these chambers communicate with each other by means of arcades, and thus the ants have free communication with every part of their habitation. It is a curious circumstance, that the wood in which the jet ant works invariably assumes a blackish tinge, just as if it had been smoked. The reason of this still remains a mystery. Some entomologists have imagined that it was caused by the layer of wood being acted on by some kind of juice emanating from the insects themselves. This, however, has not been proved, and is, we think, very un likely, as the tint is never found in the excavations of any other ant, though many of them build in trees. The manner in which ants are able to communicate their wants, wishes, and intentions to each other, it is, we are sorry to say, out of our power to describe. Wonderful, however, as it may appear, the fact itself is indisputable; and, for the entertainment of our readers, we shall relate one or two remarkable instances of it. A celebrated naturalist was in the habit of keeping the legs of one of his artificial formicaries immersed in pans of water, to prevent the escape of the ants, who are unable to swim. The ants are very thirsty little creatures, and used to lap up the water like dogs. One day, when great numbers of them were thus engaged, he stirred the water, hoping to frighten them, that he might see what they would do. He succeeded in his endeavour, and most of them retreated to the nest at full speed. A few, however, either more thirsty or more brave, remained, and went on drinking just as if nothing had happened. They were not, however, left without a warning of their danger, for one of the fugitives soon returned, evidently anxious to persuade his friends of the necessity of retiring to a place of safety. One he pushed with his jaw, another he knocked on the breast, and at length all, except one, obeyed the summons. This one remained, utterly regardless of all his kind friend's hints; and once that he got a rather too hard knock, he turned angrily round, and looked as if he would almost like to have eaten him, and then began to drink again. But his friend was not thus to be baffled, and, finding that all his admonitions were vain, he scized him in his jaws, and carried him off to the nest in triumph! We will now relate a striking proof of the unselfishness of ants, as well as their power of communicating with each other. A gentleman once placed a jar of treacle in a closet, into which a great number of ants found their way, and speedily began to devour the treacle, of which they are very fond. He then shook them all out except one, who feasted away for some time. When quite satisfied, it wished to get out, but for a long time could not succeed, as the gentleman had tied the jar by a string to a nail in the ceiling. At length it clambered up the jar, reached the string, mounted it to the top, ran along the ceiling, then down the wall, and finally disappeared altogether. What was the gentleman's amazement, in about half an hour, to see a whole swarm of ants climbing up the wall, and then down the string to the jar, where they ate up the treacle in an incredibly short space of time. When one set of them had satisfied their hunger, they descended, and another set took their place, and so on. Now, we think from this, that it is very evident that the first ant must not only in some way or other have communicated the fact of his having partaken of the treacle, but also the manner in which the jar could be reached, as certainly they could not have discovered that it was attached by a string until they had reached the middle of the ceiling-a very unlikely thing for them to attempt without some good reason for so doing. THE BIBLE AND THE WORKING-CLASSES.* 'BLESSED is he that wisely doth the poor man's case consider.' This was written of old time; but with what an overpowering emphasis does it come home to our modern hearts! And does not the history of the world, as it has been rolling on for the last century or two, teach us, with stern and plain monition, to extend the application of the saying not only to individuals, but to nations. With a necessity which knows no compromise, and an urgency which ever points to a shorter delay, nations are called on -perhaps most of all the British nation is called uponto consider the case of the poor man; and, sending a momentary glance of the mind's eye to the first and last French Revolutions, and to the vast magazine of sleeping but unextinguished fire which Europe is at this moment, let our readers decide for themselves whether or no it is ford, Yorkshire, and now published in a volume, at the request of A series of lectures delivered to the working-classes of Brad those for whose benefit the lectures were delivered. By the Rev. ALEXANDER WALLACE. Edinburgh: W. Oliphant & Sons. of stupendous importance, that nations consider the poor man's case wisely. Mr Wallace wishes to bring living religion into the heart and home of the poor man; and we believe he here smites into the heart of the matter. For six thousand years now the world has been vainly struggling, trying all remedies but one, and ending in what we see around us; and surely six thousand years of teaching might have impressed the lesson upon the soul of humanity, that no earthborn light will ever irradiate the gloom of this vale of tears; that men must look upwards for light from heaven. Mr Wallace devotes the work we are now noticing to the endeavour to create a love in the bosom of the work ing-man for the Bible. Even by the general admission of those who do not literally accept the Bible as inspired, it is the most veritable enunciation of divine truth yet revealed to mankind; and, when we consider how the infinitude of its theology and of its morality overarches all philosophies and systems, as Canopus overarches the small shrubs of an Arabian desert, we must, whether we measure ourselves by the square of strict orthodoxy or not, acknowledge, with profoundest reverence, that it is in very truth a stream of light from the Holy of holies. It is almost unnecessary to say, that we sympathise with Mr Wallace's efforts; and we must congratulate him on the manner in which he has conducted them. We call the following a remarkably good piece of writing:- Our world is a sphere or a globe. Are you not ready to say, how can it be so? The gigantic mountains upon its surface must destroy its rotundity. No! These affect its roundness just as much as a grain of sand would affect the roundness of a small artificial globe. Our world, seen by any inhabitant of a distant planet, must appear as round as the moon does to us. Could we gaze upon our world, moving in the ethereal expanse, notwithstanding all its mountains and caverns, and the inequalities of its surface, it would appear a glorious full orb of light and beauty. And so will it be when we come to look at the glorious truths of the Bible from a higher point of vision than the present. Those things which we are apt to regard as destructive of unity, will be merged in the general law of harmony, which will be found to pervade the book of revelation as much as it does the book of nature. Those apparent little disharmonies, which many regard as insurpassable mountains, have just as little effect, after all, in impairing the essential unity and harmony of the Bible, as the mountains have in affecting the rotundity of our earth as a globe. They affect the value or the harmony of the Bible, just as little as a grain of sand impairs the roundness of a small artificial globe, or as the small and almost imperceptible flaw in the casket diminishes the preciousness or the brilliancy of the spark- | ling gem that is contained within.' The volume is enhanced by very appropriate poetical quotations, and we select from these the following lines by the late Lady Flora Hastings, which breathe the gentlest and profoundest pathos: "Oh, let the kindred circle, far in our northern land, From heart to heart draw closer affection's strength'ning hand; Peace to each heart that troubled my course of happy years; Whenever had affliction bow'd down mine ear to truth. With strength and succour laden, to bear the weight of pain. A LITTLE inquiry will satisfy us that the desire of acquiring wealth or property is, with some modified exceptions, a sentiment peculiar to man. This sentiment, like every other with which man is endowed, if kept within certain bounds, is essentially conducive to his happiness; but these limits exceeded to any great extent, it becomes a passion the strongest and most enduring which the human mind is capable of entertaining. Anger may be appeased, revenge glutted, love gratified, but the cravings of avarice are insatiable. In our third 'Sketch of Scenes and Characters in Scotland in Auld Langsyne,' we shall endeavour, as briefly as possible, to give our readers an example of the workings of this powerful passion (so far as they came under our own observation), as it existed in the mind and influenced the conduct of a distant relative of our own, one of the oddest, most unaccountable, strangest, most well-remembered characters that we have met with in the course of our earthly pilgrimage. We shall at once introduce our friend to the readers of the INSTRUCTOR, and, for this purpose, may give a sort of hand-sketch of his person, character, and pursuits. Some fifty years ago, or thereby, there lived in a village in Lanarkshire a man of the name of William Watson. The individual of whom we speak might have seen at this time 'seventy suns,' or so. He had been, and even then was, a man of great bodily strength. Upwards of six feet in height, with a chest and shoulders that would not have disgraced the bust of Wallace, and a pair of legs that might have supported the frame of Hercules, he was yet so proportioned as to possess agility combined with strength. His face was somewhat long and coarse-covered, moreover, with hair nearly up to the very eyes, and but seldom subjected to the operation of shaving; for that involved some expense in soap and razors, and was not therefore to be thought of. Nevertheless, his beard was kept within due bounds as to longitude, being clipped duly every fortnight or three weeks. The features, homely as they were, were partly redeemed by a pair of large, black, and, at times, intelligent eyes, which, when talking on his darling subject, money matters, shone with considerable animation and expression. The habiliments of this son of Anak' would, at the present day, be looked upon as a kind of curiosity. His best suit was made of coarse, stout cloth, that had originally been black, but had long since faded into a dark, dingy, brown colour. The cut was simple; but in the make there had been some attempts at ornament, according to the fashion of the times. The coat was without a collar, ample every way in the skirts, and pretty well garnished with large black horn buttons, and also ornamented, on the cuffs and elsewhere, with what our then tailors, if we err not, called 'cuff and callye,' and 'blind button-holes.' The vest (waistcoat) was exactly like a modern pea-jacket, only it wanted the coliar-sat close to the body-was scallopped away at the bottom, from the centre outwards-and had a slit up each side, like a shirt. The breeches reached no farther than the haunches, nor farther down than the knap of the knee, and had a row of buttons on each side, reaching upwards to mid-thigh. Braces he had none. His legs were cased in a pair of stout, homespun, fur and rig' stockings. These, with a pair of strong, tacketty shoes, and a hat, battered by time and stress of weather into a shape that it is impossible to describe, formed the outward man of William Watson, the Miser. Although the mind of this man was not in proportion (so to speak) to his body, yet it was naturally endowed with several good qualities. It is true that the practice of what is called the active virtues-such as generosity, benevolence, &c.—was totally out of the question with him. His master passion was the acquisition of wealth; and, as this appeared to him to be the sole end and aim of his existence, he made all the powers of his mind subservient to it; and beyond this, he had no idea of exertion-no idea that beyond this the mind could or ought to be cultivated. In all his dealings, he was shrewd, sensible, and sagacious; and, though no man could drive a harder bargain, yet he was punctual and honest in the highest degree. Neither had he any of the surly snappishness usually ascribed to usurious people; on the contrary, his broad, hearty Ho, ho, ho!' of a laugh, convinced even a stranger of his goodnature. His language was purely Scottish, but somewhat obsolete, and so was his pronunciation. For instance, the word thou he pronounced thoo,' and sometimes 'tu;' and thy he pronounced thae,' to which we request the attention of our readers in the sequel. As he was the greatest gossipmonger in the parish, and retailed it in his own antiquated dialect, seasoned with a considerable spice of wit, in which he was by no means deficient, his conversation was for a time rather entertaining than other wise. Like all men that will give nothing else, he was very free in giving advice, whether it was asked or not. With the gaieties, or frivolities of youth he had no sympathy. Any little extravagance of conduct or dress was sure to call forth some of his caustic, cutting remarks; and of these we had our share. Oftener than once have we writhed under the lash of his bitter, biting sarcasm, which some thoughtless folly on our part had exposed us to; but, as he was accustomed to close it with, it was a' for my gude.' Being only a younger son, his 'bairn's part o' gear' amounted only to some hundred acres or so of muirland, then of no great value, but otherwise since. He began business as a farmer, but, being naturally lazy and inactive, in so far as manual labour was concerned, he soon gave it up, and betook himself to pursuits far more congenial to his tastes, namely, that of borrowing money from one, and lending it to another. To such an extent did he practise this, that, a little before the time we have mentioned, it was believed that all the loose money, not only in his own, but also in some neighbouring parishes, was in his keeping; and such was the simplicity of the times, and such the confidence in his integrity, that we have heard it averred, that he never granted a stamped bill or receipt in his life: an acknowledgment on simple paper was all that was asked or given, and sometimes not even that. Of his mode of doing business, we may give a single instance. A relative of ours had a trifle of portion,' which was placed in his hands-the interest on which fell due sometime about the month of June. On the same day of the month, and almost on the same hour of the day, as the year wore round, would he be seen, dressed, as we have described, but barefooted and barelegged; his shoes thrust into his stockings; these tied by the head and thrown over the shoulder, and tied again by the feet under the arm, on the opposite side of the body. Thus accoutred, and with a long staff, that he called his 'kent,' in his hand, was he to be seen wending his way from his house to ours, a distance of fully ten miles. As he neared the house, in sailor's phrase, he sat down at a burn, which crossed the road, washed his feet, and put on his stockings and shoes. On these occasions, the head of the house' was sure to be at home, and the gudewife had some eat ables in readiness. After the usual salutations were over, and he had rested a little, our relative would say, 'Come, noo, Mr Watson, sit in by, an' tak' a bite o' denner;' to which the invariable reply was- Weel, weel, Jenny, I'se e'en dae sae, for I fin' mysel' a thocht yaupish eftir comin' sae far.' Now, had he seen any other person devouring, as he did, one thing after another, he would have said they were not only yaupish' (a little hungry), but glamsheuch' (ravenously hungry). How one thing after another disappeared on those occasions! But there was one comfort: he was not nice; provided there was plenty, he found no fault with the quality. The repast over, business commenced. If the interest was wished, there it was, to the last farthing; if not, it was added to the stock, and a new acknowledgment given. This having been attended to, a torrent of clishmaclaver' was poured out, until the next meal-time, and so on. After breakfast, on the following day, he again took the road, and would pass that day and night also in the house of some other person that he was acquainted with, or had business with. The visits of a reputed rich man are seldom taken amiss, so that everywhere our friend was made welcome. Those who had money borrowed from him were served exactly in the same way. It will not be difficult for our readers to perceive that, by this mode of going to work, he very easily contrived to pick up a living, and a good one too, from the public, for a considerable portion of the year. About forty years ago, he made his round of calls for the last time, paid up stock and interest to every one, and in a great measure retired from business. Both the gudeman and the gudewife, our relatives, were favourites with this singular character. The latter, especially, he used to say, heartily, was a thrifty body, an' ane o' his ain kin, besides.' He would sometimes say to her in his wheedling way--Noo, Jenny, sud onything cum owre Jeanock (his daughter), somebody shanna be the waur o' me i' the en' (end).' We do not think that she trusted much to what he said, yet she would allow none of us to disoblige him. As for ourself, we were looked upon as a kind of scant-o'-grace, who had as yet shown no symptoms o' weel-doin',' but not entirely (thanks to the good offices of our mother) past 'a' redemption.' This was sufficient, however, to procure us an annual lecture on temperance, frugality, and so forth, always ending in this way-Noo, Aelic (Alexander), mind what I've tald thae: ance get sillar, an' then tu can get beuks, an' guns, an' braw claes; but beuks, an' guns, an' braw claes, winna pit siilar in thae pooch; mind that, sae dinna forget what I've said tae thae.' We should have mentioned that his family consisted of a wife and only daughter, Jean, or Jeanock,' as he called her. Of course, she was looked upon from her childhood as a prize worth contending for by the muirland lairds, and others. One more fortunate, as he thought, than the rest, made a runaway marriage with her before she was sixteen years of age. This was decidedly a case of abduction, and the old fellow would have made him tramp' for it; but the emergency had been foreseen and provided for, for it appeared, on evidence, that Jeanock had run off with him, and not the converse. Baffled in his revenge, the old man would not permit either of them to enter his door; no entreaties, no submissions, would propitiate him. Disappointed in his object, his affairs embarrassed, and not caring a fig for his wife or child, the son-in-law fled, and never has been heard of from that day to this. Even now Jeanock's father would not be mollified, nor would he permit her even to speak to him. Sometime afterwards, her child was drowned in a deep pool in a burn: this so far softened him, that he brought her home, and was reconciled to her; and finally got her husband divorced, which, with the previous law plea (as he called it) cost upwards of two hundred pounds. The last time that we were in the house of this strange being was in April, 18——. We were returning from Glasgow with a friend, and had some occasion to call upon him. contrary to our expectation, he received us civilly, if not kindly. We got up a story about Mr Sleek--his brother's client-Mr Sleek not at Heath-hill-case pressing, very pressing-apologised for intrusion, &c. To our agreeable astonishment, he told us frankly, and at once, what was to be done, ordered us something to eat, and then left us. Well do we remember that (white lies, or grey lies rather, as our representations might be) we felt not a little ashamed of our conduct, and did not regain peace of mind until we had left the manse a couple of miles behind us. About half a mile from home, we met old Hunks, wandering about like a troubled ghost. His first salutation was, Aelic, tu has set doon thae feet; I trow the grass hasna grown at thae heels. An' saw tu the minister, Aelie; and what said he tae tu?' To describe his dwelling, is totally out of our power: suffice it to say, that a more damp, dingy, dismal hovel we never had a foot in. When we arrived, we were famishing with hunger, and our friend was not much better. On the day previous, the old man had dug up some potatoes from his garden, which he had been prevented from doing on the previous year, because of the early setting in of winter. It may readily be conceived that they could not be wholesome food, either for man or beast; but he thought them by far too good to be thrown away, so he had ordered them to be made up into a kind of soup for dinner, on the day on which we unluckily happened to call upon him. As we made our appearance much about dinner-time, of course it was placed upon the table before us. Hungry as we were, we looked despondingly upon the dish, for the very smell had nearly turned our stomach. Well, a blessing having been asked-and it was an original one -we could yet give every word-we were desired to fall to. The first spoonful that entered our lips was enough: we could not swallow it, so we sputtered it out on the floor, but had tact enough to cry out our mouth was burned, which, in truth, it was. A jug of water was handed us, with which we pretended to cool our mouth; and, with a sorrowful heart, we returned once more to the charge. But, being now on our guard, we took care to lift as little and to spill as much as we decently could. This, and ply-stop, Aelic, lad; this day's wark manna be forgotten, sae ing the cutty in slow, common time, enabled us to go through the form of supping, until we could, with some sort of decency, throw down our spoon. How the rest got on, we do not know, for we durst not look up for fear we should meet the eye of our friend; but we kept a sharp look-out on old Skin-theflea, who kept gulping away most amazingly. But he was compelled to give in at last; so, laying down his spoon with reluctance, he quietly observed, Tae tell the truth, they werena verra toothsome; but had there been a curn o' pepper in the hoose to ha'e putten in amang them, an' a wee thocht o' mair saut, they micht ha'e gustit a hungry body's gab fu' weel.' A piece of skim-milk cheese, as hard and tenacious as 'bend-leather,' finished the repast; but oh! how it relished in our burned, stinking mouth, compared with the witch-broth which had preceded it. Now he was a man, at that moment, supposed to be worth eight thousand pounds, and yet he was living, or rather 'keeping soul and body together,' on food that a consumptive pig would have refused. Could parsimony have been carried beyond this? In the course of some three or four years after this, he came our way unexpectedly; what his errand was, we could not conjecture, but out it came at last. At the commencement of his law-plea, he had employed a Mr Sleek of Heath-hill, in the same parish, as his law-agent. This gentleman was for a time much amused with his humour and shrewd remarks; and, as he usually passed a month or two during summer on his estate, our hero was sure of paying him not infrequent visits on these oc casions. Hereupon we entered on a true and faithful account of our mission, in all its details and results. After we had done, he rubbed his hands with very glee-' Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! My certie, Aelic, but tu has managed thaesel', na, tu has really played thae pairt weel; an' he tauld thae it was lucky he was at hame!-Ho, ho, ho! Aelic, man, if tu wad only but tak' thaesel' up, aiblins tu micht be a man yet, for a' that's come and gane. When tu likes thaesel', man, tu has a bit slee pawky way o' thae ain that wad wyle the egg frae the craw. But 6 here is something for thae pains' (how our heart panted), and he put something into the palm of our hand, and pressed our fingers firmly down on it: a guinea, thought we-a real, gold guinea! Tak' that, Aelic, for my sake, an' this day's wark 'ill no be forgotten-that tu may lippen to. If tu behaves thaesel'-and hears tu, Aelic? -sae lang as tu keeps that in thae purse, tu'lt ne'er want a pouch-penny.' We held the coin firm in our hand, and our hand in our pocket, dreading it might make its escape back to his purse again. As we drew near the house, we had a wish to gratify our sense of sight, as well as of touch; so we drew our hand slowly and cautiously up, and took a sly, downward glance-but oh! cruel, cruel disappointment, it was only a-sixpence ! In the house, every one was overjoyed-le at the suc cess of his scheme, and our friends and relatives that we had at last found favour in the eyes of old Willie. But, alas! for us, there was no consolation. We had travelled that day fully eighteen miles, and told, as we have remarked, a dozen white lees' into the bargain, and all for-but we will not name it. Even our very success boded us a lecture of twice the ordinary length, so we left the house, and did not return until bedtime; then we were up again in the morning betimes, and did not set a foot within the door until the old curmudgeon was out of it. The next time we met was in September, 18-. It was at the funeral of his youngest brother's son-a young man of our own age, who had died of a fever. On the road to the burying-ground, but little passed betwixt us, except a proposal made by him, that, as we had a long road to reFor some time Mr Sleek made him welcome; but he turn home, and as he was unable to walk fast, we should got tired of him at last, for he was always stealing an ad- leave the company as soon as the corpse was lowered into vice about something or other. So 'not at home' was the grave. This proposal we did not relish, but had no the answer he got when he called; but he was resolved feasible pretext to offer against it; so that, as soon as not to be put off so easily. Mr Sleek had a brother adust was returned to dust,' he made a sign to go, and neighbouring parish minister, who (it was reported) knew fully as much of law as of divinity, and accordingly sometimes gave advice to his brother's country clients. Now, his errand was to get us to go to the minister, and try to suck an opinion out of him about some point of law or other.' We did not at all wish to be sent any such 'gowk's errant,' so that we hesitated a little; but a look from our relatives settled the matter, and off we were to trudge next morning. If our mission had failed, we are sure it should not have been from lack of instructions, all of which we faithfully promised to obey, but with an internal reservation to manage matters in our own way for all that. So we set out, earnestly desiring that the minister might be from home: but, contrary to our wish, he was at home, and, we followed. For a good while we talked on indifferent subjects, and we were flattering ourselves for one escape from his questions and lectures; but we were wofully mistaken. We had got a suit of new clothes a little before the present occasion, and had them on our back, so that they could not escape his observation. He pulled out his 'specks,' as he called them (by the way, they had but one eye), and put them on his nose. He made us stand still, examined us from head to foot, turned us round, and looked at us again. The quality of the cloth, the price, the cuteverything came in for a share of his remarks. 'It's a bit bonnie, sleekit, glossy claith,' he said, lifting the skirts of my coat as he spoke, but it's a bit thin, raw, shilpit rag, for a' that. It has nae bane in't, man-it has |