fellows of the sky? Who, then, shall de- the clouds of trees - down to the square termine how far Rationality be depend-white houses of the paper-mill people on ent on Bulk; and how we ought to look the other side, and here and there rough upon those moving atoms beneath our red tiles of a cottage of earlier date - the feet, who have actually realized all, and more than all, the triumphs of Co-operation, Patriotism, and Friendship, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, which ancient or modern Communists and Utopists - Lycurgus, Plato, More, Fourrier, or Owen ever hoped for in their dreams? From Blackwood's Magazine. THE STORY OF VALENTINE; AND HIS CHAPTER X. river was the link which held them all together. The usual geographical indications on Eskside were not by the points of the compass, as is so common in Scotland, but by the stream "up the water" or "down the water." The Hewan was a long way up the water from Lasswade, yet not so far but that many a visitor would climb the brae to "get their tea" with old Mrs. Moffatt, who was the mother of the proprietor,-living in charge of the house, and not too proud to superintend the domestic arrangeIments of small families who hired it for the summer. She had a little room with THE Hewan was not a cottage of gen- a "box-bed," that mystery of discomfort tility. It was too small, too homely, too and frowsiness, but which was neither much like a growth of the soil, to belong frowsy nor uncomfortable in the hands to any class that could be described as of the brisk little old woman - which her ornée. The roof indeed was not thatched, son had built on to the back of the house but it was of red tiles, so overgrown with for her, and in which she continued sumlichens as almost to resemble a thatch, mer and winter, retiring herself there in except in the rich colour, which, to tell dignified privacy when "a family" was the truth, very few people appreciated. in full possession. Mrs. Moffatt's little Its present owner was a shopkeeper in room, which had been made on purpose Lasswade, in whose heart there were many for her, had no communication with the searchings about the vulgarity of its ap- cottage. She considered it a very digpearance, which he felt sure was the rea-nified retirement for her old age. son why it was not more easily let for John Moffatt, her son, was a shoethe summer; and this good man had al-maker in Lasswade; and when the most made up his mind to the expense savings of his cobbling enabled him required for a good slate roof, when Mr. to buy the Hewan, and establish his Pringle fortunately appeared and en- mother there, no noble matron in a stately gaged it "as it was." A sort of earthen jointure-house was ever half so proud. embankment, low and thick, encircled Such a feeling indeed as pride, or even the little platform on which it stood. satisfaction, rarely moves the mind of the There was nothing behind it but sky, dethroned queen who has to move out of with a light embroidery of trees; for it the house she has swayed for years, and occupied the highest "brae head" in the descend into obscurity when the humilianeighbourhood, and in a more level coun- tion of widowhood befalls her. Mrs. try would have been described as situat- Moffatt, good old soul, had no such past ed on the top of a hill. Before it lay the to look back upon. She had been long whole course of the Esk, not all visible a widow, knocking about the world, doing indeed, narrowing here and there be- whatever homely job she could find, tween high banks, now and then hiding struggling to bring up her children; and itself under the foliage, or capriciously the Hewan and the little back room repreturning a corner out of sight,-but al-sented a kind of earthly paradise to the ways lending to the landscape that charm cobbler's mother. The summer lodgers of life which water more than anything who paid her for cooking and keeping in imparts to the inanimate world around. order their little rooms, gave the frugal Cliffs and trees, and bits of bold brown old soul enough to live on during the bank, and soft stretches of greens ward, winter; and when by chance a family all took a certain significance and ex- came which had no need of her, good plained their raison d'être by the river. John, out of the abundance of the rent, The houses, too, from the dignified roofs allowed his mother the few weekly shilof Rosscraig lower down the stream, lings she required. She had a little showing the turrets, which little Violet kitchen garden to the back, surrounding supposed to be made of gold, between her nest, as she called it, and kept a pig, which was her pride and joy, and a few company." She had some brass candlechickens. If she could but have had a sticks and a glorious tea-caddy on the cow, the old woman would have been per-mantelpiece, and such a tea-tray set up fectly happy; but as it is not, I suppose against the wall as would have made all or at least so people say good for us other ornamentations pale. "The worst to be perfectly happy, the cow was with- o't is, ye maun be awfu' solitary, espeheld from her list of mercies granted. cially in the winter time, when there's Good little soul, her mouth watered some- naebody ben the house, and few on the times when she thought of the butter she road that can help it," her friends would could make, and of the cheeriness of hav- say. "Me solitary!" said old Jean. “I'm ing "a neebor's lassie" coming in with thankful to my Maker I never was ane her pitcher for the milk, or even the lux- that was lanesome. I'm fond o' company, ury of a "wee drap real cream" in her real fond o' company - but for a while cup of tea. But to mourn for unattain- now and then it's no' that ill to have your able things had never been in her way; ain thoughts. And then there's the hens, and when she went "doon the toun poor things, aye canty and neighbourwith a basketful of eggs for her daughter-like, troubling their heads about their in-law, she was as proud and happy in sma' families, just as I used to do mysel' her homely gift as if it had been gold or- and Grumphy yonder's just a great didiamonds. She was a friendly body every- version; and when it's a cauld night, and body testified, and known up the water and down the water as always serviceable and always cheery. When there was any gossip going on of an interesting nature, some one in Lasswade or the neighbourhood always found opportunity of taking a walk up to the Hewan and a cup of tea with old Jean, who was every one's friend. On such occasions Mrs. Moffatt carefully skimmed everything that looked like cream from the milk which had been standing in a bowl for this purpose since the morning, and put on her little kettle, and took out her best china, and even prepared some "toasted breed" over and above the oat-cakes, which were her usual fare. The window of the old woman's nest looked out upon a dark wilderness of trees, which descended down a steep bank to the upper Esk, and shut out any view. Her door was generally open, as well as the window, so that the rustling of the trees and the singing of the kettle kept pleasant company. Her boarded floor was as clean as soap and water could make it, and her hearth well swept and bright; a huge rug, made by her own hands (for she was a capable old wife) out of strips of cloth of all colours, looked cosy before the fire. Her bed, like a berth in a ship, appeared behind, with a very bright bit of chintz for curtains, and covered with a gay patchwork quilt. She had some brilliantlycoloured pictures on the walls a wonderful little boy with big eyes and a curly dog, and a little girl with long curls and a doll, not more staring and open-eyed than herself. The old lady thought they were like "our wee Johnny and Phemie down the town," and found them "grand I shut to the door, there's the fire aye stirring and birring, and the wee nest as warm as can be, and the auld clock, tick, tick, aye doing its duty, poor thing, though it might be tired this hunder year or twa it's been at it; and there's a hantle reading in the Courant,' though maybe the Scotsman''s bigger, and I'm on the Leeberal side mysel'. Toots! solitary! there's naebody less solitary than me." A cheerful soul is always a social centre, however humble it may be. Jean's friends accordingly went to see her, not out of pity, as to cheer a poor solitary old woman, but for their own amusement, which in this kind of social duty is by far the strongest motive. She was about the best-informed woman on all Eskside. Every kind of gossip made its way to her; and I doubt whether the people in Rosscraig House themselves, knew so well all that had happened and all that everybody said on the night of little Valentine's arrival. She heard a great deal even from Mrs. Harding herself, the housekeeper, who could not resist the temptation of confiding a few details, not generally known, to her old friend's keeping. For Jean was known to be a person in whom it was possible to repose confidence, not one that would betray the trust placed in her. However, the tables had been turned in Mrs. Moffatt's favour, since it became known in Rosscraig that Mr. Pringle had taken the Hewan for the season. Lady Eskside herself got out of her carriage one day as she passed, and went to pay the old woman a visit. She went into the cottage, and complimented old Jean on the excellent order in which she kept it. "I hear it has been taken by a relation of ours Mr. Pringle,' she said. "He comes very seldom to see us," said Lady Eskside. "In fact, before my grandson was born he considered himself the heir after my son, you know; and he has been dreadfully disappointed, poor man, since. Val, don't go too near the dyke!" "And this is the heir, nae doubt, my lady?—eh, what a bonnie bairn! Nane that see him need ever ask the rank he's born to. He has the look of a bit little prince. And I wouldna say but he was fond of his own way whiles "More than whiles, more than whiles," said the old lady, graciously; "he is just a handful. But Mr. Pringle has a large family, if it's him. He will never find room for his bairns in this little bit of a place." "It's chiefly for the wee miss he had with him, my lady. She's delicate, they say; and if ever a man was wrapt up in a bairn - and her so delicate "Dear me, I am sorry to hear it!" said Lady Eskside, whose sympathy was instantly aroused; "will it be anything the matter with the chest? I am always most afraid for the chest in children. Mr. Pringle is a most excellent man. He has been a little disappointed and soured perhaps but he is an excellent person. The air is sharp up here, Jean- too sharp for a delicate child. If she should want anything, cream or fresh milk in the morning, be sure you let me know. Cream is excellent for the lungs. I like it better than that oil that doctors give now -nasty-smelling stuff. But if there is anything the poor child should want, be sure you send to me." Lady Eskside was an acute woman, but she was foolish is this particular. She caught her own healthy blooming grandchild on the edge of the low embankment, where he was hazarding his life in warm enjoyment of the risk, and gave him a kiss though he deserved a whipping, and said, "Poor Sandy Pringle!" with the most genuine feeling. She went into Lord Eskside's library when her drive was over, full of this information. "You need not alarm yourself about Sandy Pringle, poor man," she said; "he has taken the Hewan on account of his poor little girl who is delicate her chest, I am afraid. If you remember, his mother died of consumption quite young. It's a terrible scourge when it's in a family. My heart is sore for him, poor man. When the child comes we must have her here, and see if anything can be done. Perhaps if they were to take it in time, and send her to Madeira or some of these mild places; there is always hope with a bairn." "My word, my lady, but you go fast," said the old lord, with his little grey eyes twinkling under his shaggy eyebrows. But he did not convince her any more than she convinced him. And indeed, when the Pringle family began to appear about the woods, every member of the household at Rosscraig, down to my lady's young footman, felt that curiosity of opposition in respect to them which is almost as eager as the curiosity of partisanship. Mrs. Harding the housekeeper had for her part taken up Lord Eskside's view of the subject, and when she too made a visit to Jean Moffatt one evening of the early summer, her purpose was of a more sternly investigating order than that of Lady Eskside. "How do you like the folk ben the house?" she said, as she sat at tea; the cake she had brought "in a present " was placed on the table in the place of honour, and the tea was "masking" before the fire. It was a soft evening in May. The door was open, but the fire was not disagreeable, and the sound of the Esk far down below the brae, and the rustling of the leaves close round the house, were softened by the air of spring into a pleasant murmur. The family "ben the house" being separated by a good Scotch stone wall from old Mrs. Moffatt's nest, gave no sound of their neighbourhood, and nothing but that wild but soft cadence of the waters and the trees interrupted the homely domestic harmonies more closely at hand-the cheery little stir and pétillement of the fire, the singing of the kettle, the purring of the cat, the ticking of the old clock. Mrs. Harding combined an earnest desire for information with a very pleasant sense of the immediate comfort and ease which she was enjoying. My lord and my lady were "out to their dinner," and Harding himself had promised to daunder up to the Hewan in the gloaming and fetch his wife home. Being "out to her tea" was an unusual event in the housekeeper's responsible life, and the enjoyment it gave her was great. "Eh, how quiet and pleasant it is!" she added, almost with enthusiasm; "this is one of the days you can hear the grass growin' and to get away from a' the stew and bustle o' the on Eetaly and thae places. You might dinner, the hot fire, and the smell o' the as well sell your soul to Satan, and meat, and thae taupies that let one thing better too, for you would aye get burn, and another boil over. If I were something by the bargain—and there's to envy onybody in the world, I think, Jean Moffatt, it would be you." "Hoots," said the old woman, with a pleasant consciousness that her lot was enviable; "when you and your man make up your mind to retire, my certy, ye'll be a hantle better off than the like o' me." "And when will that be?" said Mrs. Harding, with a sigh; "no as lang as They live, for they couldna do without my man an' me. But I was saying, how do you like the folk ben the house?" "You shouldna let yourself be keepit in bondage," said Jean, with a touch of sarcasm; "when folk maun do without ye, they can do without ye-I've aye seen that. Oh, I like them real well. They come and they gang, and now it's a breakfast, and now the bairns' dinnernothing more and aye a maid to serve them; so it suits me fine. The lads are stirring boys, and Missie's a darling. She makes me think upon one I lost, that was the sweetest o' a' my flock. Eh! if you could but keep a girlie like that aye the same, what a pleasure it would be in a house! But the bit things grow up and marry, and have weans of their own, and get to be just as careworn and wrinkled as yourself. I think whiles my Margret, with ten of a family, and a man no better than he should be, is aulder than me." "It's the course of nature," said Mrs. Harding "we maunna grumble; but I'm sure when I see a' that folk have to go through with their families, I'm thankful I have nane of my ain. Ye ken your Mr. Pringle sets up to be our heir! It's real ridiculous if it wasna provoking. I could laugh when I think o't. He must have been terrible cast down when Mr. Richard brought hame his boy." "But I thought it was a randy wife, not Mr. Richard "Whisht!" said the housekeeper; "we'll say no more about that. It's no' a story I pretend to understand, but I'm rather thinking it was some Italian or other that Mr. Richard sent with the bairn. Foreigners are strange cattle. And whether it was man or woman I wouldna say, for nobody saw them but my man, and he's confused about the story. But this is clear, it was Mr. Richard sent the bairn hame; and reason guid. You should have heard his man no' even that comfort out there. Ye canna but wonder at Providence that lets a' that play-acting and fiddling and breaking o' the Sabbath gang on, and takes nae mair heed than if a' thae reprobates were sober, decent, kirk-going folk like ourselves. But I'm thinking their time will come." "Poor bodies! I daur to say they ken nae better," said Jean. "It'll be by the mother's side that the Pringles and the Rosses count kin?" "Na; how could that be, when he thinks himsel' the heir? When ye've ance lived in a high family, ye learn a heap of things. Titles never gang the way o' the spinning-wheel, nor land that's entailed, as they call it. It's lad comes after lad, and the lasses never counted. I canna say it's according to justice, but it's law, and there's nae mair to be said. This is the way of it, for my lady told me hersel': A Ross married a Pringle that was an heiress two or three hunder years ago, and took his wife's name, which was a poor exchange, though I'm saying nothing against the name of Pringle; my first place was with the Pringles of Whytfield, a real fine family. And now that a' the Rosses have died down to the present family, the Pringles have come uppermost. My lady herself was six or seven years married before Mr. Richard was born. So ye see they've had the cup to their lips, as you may say, more than once. That's a thing I could not bide. I would rather be my man's wife, knowing I could be no better all my days, than expect to be my lady, and never win further ben." "It's much the same in a' ranks o' life," said Jean. "There's my Marg❜ret; it's been her desire a' her days to get the house at the Loanhead, with a nice bit land, that would gang far to feed her family. She's had the promise o't for ten years back. Old John Thomson was to flit afore he died, but that fell through; and when he died, they couldna refuse to let his son come in; and then it was reported through a' the parish that young John was to emigrate "I've heard that," said Mrs. Harding; "and I aye give my advice against it: for nae man will ever succeed if he doesna work hard; and if he'll work hard, he'll do very well at hame." Young John was to emigrate," con man. And yonder's where I would keep the coo-if I had ane,” she added with a sigh, pointing to a little paddock. The cow was to old Jean what the barony of Eskside was to Mr. Pringle, and the house at the Loanhead to her daughter Marg'ret: but the old woman's lot was the easiest, in that the object of her desire was not almost within her longing grasp. tinued Mrs. Moffatt; "and it was a' his mistress's heart. "I'll no' kill him till settled about his roup, and Margret was after harvest, and I'll warrant you there'll sure of getting in by the term; when be no better meat between this and what does he do but change his mind! Edinburgh. Poor beast!" she said, I thought the poor lass would have with a mixture of the practical and sentibroken her heart; and oh, the fecht she mental, "he's a fine creature, and has a has with a' thae bairns and a weirdless fine disposition; but it's what we a' must Then he had that awfu' illness, and come to. it was reported he was dying. My poor Margret came to me the day he was prayed for in the kirk, with red een. I'm doing naething but pray for him,' she said; for oh, if I didna pray for him to mend, I would wish him dead, mother; and what comfort could I ever have in onything that came to me after that?' The man got weel," said the old woman, with a sigh; "he's as weel as you or me, and a hantle younger, and he canna make up his mind if he'll go or bide. It's awfu' tantalizing; and it happens in a' classes of life. I'm real sorry for the poor gentleman, and I hope he doesna take it to heart like my Marg'ret, poor lass!" "Ye mean well," said Mrs. Harding, half affronted; "but to pity the next heir is like grudging the Almighty's mercies to us. Folk should learn to be content. I'm no saying for your Marg'ret; but Mr. Pringle is as weel off as he has ony right to be, and why should he come spying upon my lord and my lady? Folk should learn to be content." "It's awfu' easy when it's no' your ain case," said Jean; “an' I suppose we've a' as much or mair than we deserve; but that does not satisfy your wame when you're hungry, nor your back when you're cauld. The maister has never been out here since the first time. The leddy came once, a fine sensible woman, that looks weel after her family; but it's Missie that's the queen o' the Hewan. As it's such a fine night, and nane but bairns in the house, if you'll come ben we'll maybe see them. I'll have to think o' some supper for them, for thae lang laddies are just wolves for their supper. Or maybe you'll first take another cup o' tea?" Mrs. Harding declined this hospitable offer, and rose, taking her shawl and bonnet with her, for it was nearly the time, she remarked, when she "must be going." The two lingered outside to look at the hens, and especially that careful but premature mother who had begun to "sit," though the weather was still but moderately adapted for the fledglings; and then they made a momentary divergence to see "Grumphy," who was the pride of CHAPTER XI. LORD and Lady Eskside, as the reader has seen, were not quite in accord about their grandson, or at least they took different views of the circumstances which attended his arrival. They took (perhaps) each the view which came naturally to man and woman in such a position of affairs. The old lord, although himself at length absolutely convinced that the boy was his son's child and his own heir, was deeply oppressed by the consciousness that though there was moral certainly of this fact, there was no legal proof. "Moral certainty's a grand thing," said Willie Maitland, the factor, a man who knew the Eskside affairs to the very depths, and from whom there were no secrets possible; but he spoke so doubtfully as to inflame the mind of my lady, who sat by listening to their talk with an impatience beyond words. "A grand thing!" cried Lady Eskside; "it is simply everything: what would you have more? And who can judge in such a question but ourselves? my son, who must know best, and my old lord and myself, who are next nearest ? What do the men mean by their dubious looks? What can you have more than certainty? Mr. Maitland, with your knowledge of the law, I would like you to answer me that." “Well, madam, as my lord says," said Willie Maitland, who was old-fashioned in his manners, "there is legal proof wanted. It may be just a deficiency on our part and indeed, according to the Scriptures themselves, law is a sign of moral deficiency - but everything has to be summered and wintered before the Lords of Session." "And what have the Lords of Session to do with our boy?" said my lady indig |