been fulfilled.  She had prepared with her own hands a moorfowl pie and potted nowt’s head, besides a profusion of what she termed “trifles, just for Mary, poor thing, to divert herself with upon the road.”  But alas! in the anguish of separation, the covered basket had been forgot, and the labour of Miss Nicky’s hands fell to be consumed by the family, though Miss Grizzy protested, with tears in her eyes, “that it went to her heart like a knife to eat poor Mary’s puffs and snaps.”

[1] Sheep that have died a natural death and been salted.

Change of air and variety of scene failed not to produce the happiest effects upon Mary’s languid frame and drooping spirits.  Her cheek, already glowed with health, and was sometimes dimpled with smiles.  She still wept, indeed, as she thought of those she had left; but often, while the tear trembled in her eye, its course was arrested by wonder, or admiration, or delight; for every object had its charms for her.  Her cultivated taste and unsophisticated mind could descry beauty in the form of a hill, and grandeur in the foam of the wave, and elegance in the weeping birch, as it dipped its now almost leafless boughs in the mountain stream.  These simple pleasures, unknown alike to the sordid mind and vitiated taste, are ever exquisitely enjoyed by the refined yet unsophisticated child of nature.

CHAPTER XXXII

    “Her native sense improved by reading,
     Her native sweetness by good breeding.”

DURING their progress through the Highlands the travellers were hospitably entertained at the mansions of the country gentlemen, where old-fashioned courtesy and modern comfort combined to cheer the stranger guest.  But upon coming out, as it is significantly expressed by the natives of these mountain regions, viz. entering the low country, they found they had only made a change of difficulties.  In the highlands they were always sure that wherever there was a house that house would be to them a home; but on a fairday in the little town of G----- they found themselves in the midst of houses, and surrounded by people, yet unable to procure rest or shelter.

At the only inn the place afforded they were informed “the horses were baith oot, an’ the ludgin’ a’ tane up, an’ mair tu;” while the driver asserted, what indeed was apparent, “that his beasts war nae fit to gang the length o’ their tae farrer—­no for the king himsel’.”

At this moment a stout, florid, good-humoured-looking man passed, whistling “Roy’s Wife” with all his heart and just as Mr. Douglas was stepping out of the carriage to try what could be done, the same person, evidently attracted by curiosity, repassed, changing his tune to “There’s cauld kail in Aberdeen.”

He started at sight of Mr. Douglas; then eagerly grasping his hand, “Ah!  Archie Douglas, is this you?” exclaimed he with a loud laugh and hearty shake. “’What! you haven’t forgot your old schoolfellow Bob Gawffaw?”