Tod is the ane. He is a gayan honest, downright carle, the Tod."

"It is hardly the nature o' a tod to be sae; an' there's no ae bit o' your description that I gang in wi'! It is a fine, douse family.

But O the Snaw-fleck! The bonny bonny Snaw-fleck! She is the bird for me, O !'" "If love wad make you a poeter, Wat, I wad say it had wrought miracles. Ony mair about the bonny Snawfleck, eh? I wonder how you can make glowin' love-sangs stan'in' at a cauld window-No the way that, man. Tell me plainly, did ye ever get a word o' the bonny lass ava?"

"Hey how me!-I can hardly say that I did; an' yet I hae been three times there sin' I saw you."

"An' gat your travel for your pains a' the times?"

"No sae bad as that, neither. I had the pleasure o' seeing her, bonny, braw, innocent, an' happy, busy working her mother's wark. I saw her smile at her brother's crabbit words, and I saw the approving glances beam frae the twa auld focks' een. When her father made family-worship, she took her Bible, and followed devoutly wi' her ee the words o' holy writ, as the old man read them; and her voice in singing the psalm was as mellow an' as sweet as the flute playing afar off. Ye may believe me, Jock, when I saw her lift up her lovely face in sweet devotion, I stood on the outside o' the window, an' grat like a bairn. It was mair than my heart could thole; an' gin it warna for shame, I wad gang every night to enjoy the same heavenly vision.'

"As I'm a Christian man, Wat, I believe love has made a poeter of you. Ye winna believe me, man, that very woman is acting her part. Do you think she didna ken that ye saw her, an' was makin' a' thae fine murgeons to throw glamour in your een, an' gar you trow she was an angel? I managed otherwise; but it is best to tell a' plain out, like friends, ye ken. Weel, down I goes to Lowrie's Lodge, an', like you, keeks in at the window, and the first thing I saw was the auld Tod toving out tobacco-reek like a moorburn. The hale biggin was sae choke fu'' the vapour, it was like a dark mist, an' I could see naething through it but his ain braid bonnet moving up and down like the tap o' the

smith's bellows, at every poogh he gave. At length he handit by the pipe to the auld wife, and the reek soon turned mair moderate. I could then see the lasses a dressed out like dolls, and several young boobies o' hinds, threshers, an' thrum-cutters, sitting gashin' and glowrin' amang them. I shall soon set your backs to the wa', thinks I, if I could get ony possible means o' introduction. It wasna lang till ane offered; out comes a lass wi' a cog o^ warm water, an' she gars it a' clash on me. Thanks t'ye for your kindness, my woman,' says I. Ye canna say I hae gi'en ye a cauld reception,' says she. But wha the widdy are ye standin' like a thief i' the mirk for?'

Maybe kenn'd fo'k, gin it war daylight,' quo' I. Ye had better come in by, an' see gin candle-light winna beet the mister," says she.Thanks t'ye,' says I; but I wad rather hae you to come out by, an' try gin stern-light winna do! Catch me doing that,' cried she, and bounced into the house again.

"I then laid my lug close to the window, an' heard ane askin' wha that was she was speakin' to? 'I dinna ken him,' quo' she; but I trow I hae gi'en him a mark to ken him by; I hae gi'en him a balsam o' boiling wa

ter.'

"I wish ye may bae peeled a' the hide aff his shins,' quo' the Foumart, an' he mudged and leugh; ' haste ye, dame, rin awa out an' lay a plaister o' lime and linseed-oil to the lad's trams,' continued he.

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"I can tell ye wha it is,' said ane o' the hamlet wooers; it will be Jock the Jewel comed down frae the moors, for I saw him waiting about the chop an' the smiddy till the darkness came on. If ye hae disabled him, lady seabird, the wind will blaw nae mair out o' the west.'

"I durstna trust them wi' my character and me in hearing; sae, without mair ado, I gangs bauldly ben.'Gude e'en to ye, kimmers a' in a ring,' says I.

"Gude-e'en t'ye, honest lad,' quo' the Eagle. How does your cauld constitution an' our potatoe-broo sort?"

"Thanks t'ye, bonny lass,' says I. I hae gotten a right sair skelloch; but I wish I warna woundit nae deeper somewhere else than i' the shinbanes, I might shoot a flyin' erne for a' that's come an' gane yet.'

"That's weel answered, lad,' quo' the Tod. Keep her down, for she's unco glib o' the gab, especially to strangers.'

"You will never touch a feather o' her wing, lad,' quo' she. But if ye could I'll say nae mair.'

"Na, na, Mistress Eagle, ye soar o'er high for me,' says I. I'll bring down nae sky-cleaving harpies to pick the e'en out o' my sheep, an' my ain into the bargain, maybe. I see a bit bonny norlan' bird in the nook here, that I would rather woo to my little hamely nest. The Eagle maun to her eiry; or, as the auld ballant says—

Gasp and speel to her yermit riven, Amid the mists an' the rains of heaven.' It is the innocent, thrifty, little Snawfleck that will suit me, wi' the white wings an' the blue body. She's pleased wi' the hardest and hameliest fare; a pickin o' the seeds o' the pipe bent is a feast to her.'"

"Now, by the faith o' my body, Jewel, that wasna fair. Was that preparing the way for your friend's suecess ?"

"Naething but sheer banter, man; like friends, ye ken. But ye sall hear. The Snaw-fleck's a braw beast,' said I, but the Eagle's a waster and a destroyer.'

"She's true to her mate, though,' said the dame; but the tither is a bird o' passage, and mate to the hale flock.'

"I was a wee startled at this observe, when I thought of the number of wooers that were rinning after the bonny Snaw-fleck. However, I didna like to yield to the jocular and haughty Eagle; and I added, that I wad take my chance o' the wee Snaw-bird, for though she war ane of a flock, that flock was an honest ane. This pleased them a'; and the auld slee Tod, he spak up an' said, he hadna the plea sure o' being acquaint wi' me, but he hoped he shouldna hae it in his power to say sae again. Only there was ae thing he beggit to remind me o❜, before I went any farther, and that was, that the law of Padanaram was established in his family, an' he could by no means give a younger daughter in marriage before one that was elder.

"I think you will maybe keep them for a gay while, then,' said the Foumart. But if the Sea-gull wad stay at haine, I carena if the rest were at

Bamph. She's the only usefu' body I see about the house.'

"Haud the tongue o' thee, thou illfa'red, cat's-witted serf,' said the auld wife. I'm sure ony o' them's worth a faggald o' thee. An' that lad, gin I dinna forecast aglee, wad do credit to ony kin.'

"He's rather ower weel giftit o' gab,' quo' the menseless thing. That remark threw a damp on my spirits a' the night after, an' I rather lost ground than gained ony mair. The ill-hued weazel-blawn thing of a brother, never missed an opportunity of gieing me a yerk wi' his ill-scrapit tongue, an' the Eagle was aye gieing hints about the virtues o' potatoe-broo-how it improved the voice for singin', an' gae ane a chance o' some advancement in the dominions o' the Grand Turk. I didna ken what she meant, but some o' the rest did, for they leugh as they had been kittled; and the mirth and humour turned outrageous, aye seemingly at my expense. The auld Tod chewed tobacco an' threw his mouth, lookit whiles at ane and whiles at another, an' seemed to enjoy the joke as muckle as ony o' them. As for the bonny Snaw-bird, she never leugh aboon her breath, but sat as mim an' as sleek as a moudie. There were some very pretty smiles an' dimples guwn, but nae gaffawing. She is really a fine lass."

"There it goes now! I tauld you how it wad be! I tell you, Jewel, the deil a bit o' this is fair play."

"Ane may tell what he thinkslike a friend, ye ken. Weel—to make a lang tale short-I couldna help seeing a' the forenight that she had an ee to me. I couldna help that, ye ken. Gat mony a sweet blink an' smile thrawn o'er the fire to me-couldna help that either, ye ken-never lost that a friend gets. At length a' the douce wooers drew off ane by anesaw it was needless to dispute the point wi' me that night. Ane had to gang hame to supper his horses, another to fodder the kye, and another had to be hame afore his master took the book, else he had to gang supperless to bed. I sat still-needless to lose a good boon for lack o' asking. The potatoes were poured an' champit-naebody bade me bide supper, but I sat still; an' the auld wife she slippit away to the awmrie, an'

brought a knoll o' butter like ane's nieve, an' slippit that into the potatoe pot hidling ways, but the fine flavour that filled the house soon outed the secret. I drew in my seat wi' the rest, resolved to hae my share o' the cheap, healthfu', and delightfu' meal, an' I maun say that I never enjoyed ane a' my life wi' mair satisfaction. I saw that I had a hearty welcome frae them a' but the Foumart, an' I loot him girn an' snivel as muckle as he liket. Weel, I saw it was turning late, and there was a necessity for proceeding to business, else the books an' the prayers wad be on. Sae I draws to my plaid an' staff, an' I looks round to the lasses; but in the meantime I dropt half a wink to the Snaw-fleck, an' I says, 'Weel, wha o' you bonny lasses sets me the length o' the townhead yett the night?'

"The feint a ane o' them,' quo' the Foumart wi' a girn.

"The townhead yett the night, honest lad?' quo' the wife. Be my certy, thou's no gaun nae siccan a gate. Dis thou think thou can gang to the muirs the night? Nay, nay, thou shalt take share of a bed wi' our son till it be day, for the night's dark an' the road's eiry."

"He needna stay unless he likes,' quo' the Foumart. Let the chap tak his wull, an' gang his gates.'

"Haud thy ill-faur'd tongue,' said the wife. I sat down again, an' we grew a' unco silent. At length the Eagle rose an' flew to the door. It wadna do-I wądna follow; sat aye still, and threw another straight wink to the bonny Snaw-fleck, but the shy shirling sat snug in her corner, an' wadna move. At length the Eagle comes gliding in, an' in a moment, or ever I kend what I was doing, claps down a wee table at my left hand, an' the big Bible an' psalm-book on't. I never gat sic astound, an' really thought I wad drap down through the floor; an' when I saw the lasses shading their faces wi' their hands, I grew

refuse that, we dinną countenance him ony mair.'

"That was a yerker! I now fand I was fairly in the mire. For the saul o' me I durstna take the book; for though I had a good deal o' good words, an' blads o' scripture, an' religious rhames, a' by heart, I didna ken how I might gar them compluther. An' as I took this to be a sort o' test to try a wooer's abilities, I could easily see that my hough was fairly i' the sheep crook, an' that what wi' sticking the psalm, bungling the prayer, potatoe-broo an' a' thegither, I was like to come badly off. Sae I says, 'Goodwife, I'm obliged t'ye for the honour ye hae offered me; an' sae far frae being ashamed o' my Maker's service, I rejoice in it; but I hae mony reasons for declining the honour. In the first place, war I to take the task out o' the goodman's hand, it wad be like the youngest scholar o' the school pretending to teach his master; an' war I to stay here a' night, it wad be principally for the purpose of enjoying his family worship frae his ain lips. But the truth is, an' that's my great reason, I can not stay a' night. I want just ae single word o' this bonny lass, an' then I maun take the road, for I'm far o'er late already.'

"I bide by my text, young man,' says the Tod; the law of Padanaram is the law of this house.'

"An', by the troth-o' me, thou❜lt find it nae bad law for thee, honest lad,' said the wife; our eldest will mak the best wife for thee-tak thou my word for that.'

"I am thinkin' I wad,' said the Eagle; an' I dinna ken but I might hae taen him too, if it hadna beenan accident,' Here she brak aff, an' a' the house set up a giggle of a laugh, an' the goodman turned his quid anʼ joined in it. I forced on a good face, an' added, Ah! the Eagle! the Eagle's a deil's bird-she's no for me. I want just a single word wi' this dink chicken; but it isna on my ain account-it is a word frae a friend, an' I'm bound in honour to deliver it.'

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"That is spoken sae like an honest man, an' a disinterested ane,' quo' the Tod, that I winna refuse the boon. Gae your ways ben to our little benend, an' say what ye hac to say, for I dinna suffer my bairns to gang out i' the dark wi' strangers.'

"Come away, then, hinny,' says I. She rose wi' slow an' ill will, for I saw she wad rather I had been to speak for mysel'; an' as I perceived this, as soon as I got her ben the house, an' the door fairly steekit, I says till her, says I,Now, bonny lassie, I never saw your face afore but ance, an' that day I gaed mony fit to see't. I came here the night ance errand to speak a word for a friend, but really'-Here she interrupted me as soon as she heard but really. "Could your friend no speak his word himself?' said she.

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As you say,' says I; that is good sense-I ca' that good, sound common sense; for a man does always his own turn best; an' therefore I maun tell you, that I am fairly fa'en in love wi' you mysel', an' am determined to hae ye for my ain, cost what it will.'"

At this part of the story, Wat sprung to his feet-" Did you say sae, sirrah?" said he. "If ye did, ye are a fause loun, an' a villain, an' I am determined to hae pennyworths o' you, cost what it will."

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Hout, fych fie, Wat, man! dinna be a fool. Sit down, an' let us listen to reason, like friends, ye ken. Ye sall hear, man-ye sall hear."

"I winna hear another word, Jewel. Up to your feet; either single-stick or dry nieves, ony o' them ye like. Ye gat the lass ben the house on the credit o' my name, an' that was the use ye made o't! Ye dinna ken how near iny heart, an' how near my life, ye war edging then, an' I'll break every bane in your bouk for it; only ye shall hae fair play, to smash mine, gin ye can. Up, I say; for yon was a deed I winna brook."

"Perhaps I was wrang, but I'll tell the truth. Sit down an' ye shall hear -an' then, gin we maun fight, there's time enough for it after. If I had thought I acted wrang, I wadna hae tauld it sae plain out; but when twa folks think the saam gate, it isna a good sign. I'm in love wi' you, an' am determined to hae you,' says I.

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"I winna hear a single word frae ane that's betraying his friend,' said she; not one word, after your avowal to my father. If he hae ony private word, say it-an' if no, good night.”

"Did she say that, the dear soul? Heaven bless her bonny face!"

"There again!" cried Wat, who had begun to hold out his hand"There again! I'm distracted, but you are a reasonable being!"

"Not a word of yourself,' said she. Who is this friend of yours? And has he any more to say by you? Not one word more of yourself-at least not to-night.'

"At least not to-night!" repeated Wat again and again" Did she say that? I dinna like the addition ava."

"That was what she said; an' naething could be plainer than that she was inviting me back; but as I was tied down, I was obliged to say something about you. 'Ye ken Window Wat?' says I. He is o'er sight and judgment in love wi' you, an' he comes here ance or twice every week, just for the pleasure o' seeing you through the window. He's a gay queer compost→→→→ for though he is a' soul, yet he wants spirit.'

"Did ye ca' me a compost? That was rather a queer term for a wooer, begging your pardon," says Wat.

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I hae seen the lad sometimes,' says she. If he came here to see me, he certainly need not be sae muckle ashamed of his errand as not to shew his face. I think him a main saft ane.'

"Ye're quite i' the wrang, lass, says I. Wat's a great dab. He's an arithmeticker, a stronomer, a historian, and a grand poeter, an' has made braw sangs about yoursel'. What think ye o' being made a wife to sic a hero as him? Od help ye, it will raise ye as high as the moon.'

"I'll tell ye what it is, Jock the Jewel. The neist time ye gang to court, court for yoursel', for a' that ye hae said about me is downright mockery, an' it strikes me that you are baith a selfish knave and a gommeril. Sae good e'en t'ye for the present. I owe you a good turn for your kind offices down bye. I'll speak for mysel in future, and do ye the same-like friends, ye ken-that's a' I say."

"If I speak for mysel', I ken wha will hae but a poor chance," cried Jock after him.

The next time our two shepherds met, where was it but in the identical smithy adjoining to Lowrie's Lodge, and that at six o'clock on a December evening. The smith smelt a rat, looked exceedingly wise, and when he heard the two swains begin to cut and sneer at one another, it was delicate food for Vulcan. He puffed and blew at the bellows, and thumped at the stithy, and always between put in a disjointed word or two. Mae hunters! mae hunters for the Tod's bairns hem, phoogh, phoogh-will be worried now!-phoogh"-thump, thump "will be run down now-hem!" "Are ye gaun far this way the night, Jewel, an ane may spier ?"

"Far enough for you, Wat, I'm thinkin'. How has the praying been coming on this while bygane?'

"What d'ye mean, Mr Jewel? If ye will speak, let it no be in riddles. Rather speak nonsense, as ye used to do."

"I'm speakin' in nae riddles, lad. I wat weel a' the country side kens that ye hae been gaun learnin' prayers aff Hervey's Meditations, an' crooning them o'er to yoursel' in every cleuch o' the glen, a' to tame a young shefox wi'."

"An' that ye hae been lying under the hands o' the moor doctor for a month, an' submitting to an operation, frae the effects o' somebody's potatoe-broo-isna that as weel kent?" "Till't, lads, till't!" cried the smith "that's the right way o' ganging to wark-phoogh!"-clink, clink-"pepper away!"-clink, clink-" soon be baith as het as nailstrings-phoogh!" The potatoe-broo rather settled Jock's sarcasm, for he had suffered some inconvenience from the effects of it, and the circumstance had turned the laugh against him among his companions in a very particular manner. After all, his right ankle only was blistered a little by the burning; but, according to the country gossips, matters were bad enough, and it proved a sore thorn

in Jock's side. It was not long after this till he glided from the smithy like a thing that had vanished, and after that Wat sat in the fidgets for fear his rival had effected a previous engagement with the Snow-fleck. The smith perceiving it, seized him in good humour, and turned him out at the door. "Nae time to stay now, lad

nae time to wait here now. The hunt will be up, and the young Tod holed, if ye dinna make a' the better speed." Then, as Wat vanished down the way, the smith imitated the sound of the fox-hounds and the cries of the huntsmen." Will be run down now, thae young Tods-heavy metal laid on now-we'll have a scalding heat some night, an the track keep warm, ' said the smith, as he fell to the big bellows with both hands.

When Wat arrived at Lowrie's Lodge, he first came in contact with one wooer, and then another, hanging about the corners of the house; but finding that none of them was his neighbour and avowed rival, he hasted to his old quiet station at the back window, not the window where the Jewel stood when he met with his mischance, but one right opposite to it. There he saw the three bonniest birds of the air surrounded with admirers, and the Jewel sitting cheek by cheek with the lovely Snow-bird. The unbidden tears sprung to Wat's eyes, but it was not for jealousy, but from the most tender affection, as well as intense admiration, that they had their source. The other wooers that were lingering without, joined him at the window; and Wat feeling this an incumbrance, and eager to mar his rival's success, actually plucked up courage, and strode in amongst them all. This was a great effort indeed, and it was the first time he had ever dared such a piece of desperate temerity. But the efforts of that eventful night, and the consequences that followed, must needs be reserved for another Number.