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spite of her momentary pause, forgets the And bursting from Agnes' terrified hold, usual warning of her coming, and, bursting the mother flew out into the open street, in suddenly to the quiet room, rouses Kirstin where she had caught, with her roused at from her reading with a violent start. tention, a glimpse of a passing face which
When she is within it, the hopeless, for- was like Patie's which was Patie's ; lorn solitude of the once cheerful kitchen neither a ghost nor a delusion, but a living strikes Agnes as it never struck her before ; man. and, without saying a word to
Agnes, left alone thus, and very well consuddenly burst into an uncontrollable fit of tent to have discharged her errand so far, sat tears.
down on the wooden stool by the empty arm“Somebody 's vexed ye, my lamb,” said chair, and relieved herself by concluding her Kirstin, tenderly. Agnes Raeburn had in- interrupted fit of crying. A considerable sensibly won her way into the widow's forlorn time elapsed before she again heard these heart.
steps approaching, and now they were not “ Naebody 's vexed me; it's just to see alone. you here your lane,” said Agnes through her “Gang in, my man, ye 'll be wearied after tears.
your travel,” said Kirstin Beatoun, thrusting “ Is 't very desolate to look at?" said Kirs- her son in before her through the open door. tin, glancing round with a faint grieved " Ye 've been a lang time gane, Patie, and curiosity. "I could put up the shutter, hut nae doubt ye 'er sair worn-out, and glad to I think naebody cares to look in and spy upon come ashore; and I wouldna say but ye a puir lone woman now.”
thought whiles, like me, that ye were never * It's no for that; and I'm no vexed," to see your ould mother again ; but we 'll said Agnes, breathlessly, for a familiar foot. say naething about the past; it's an awfu’ step seemed to her excited fancy to be draw- time. You're hame first, Patie ; and when ing near steadily, and with a purpose, to the did ye say he was to come himsel? Bairns, I widow's door. "I'm no vexed; I'm just as dinna want to make ye proud, but we 'll hao thankful and glad as onybody could be : the haill toun out the morn, to see the sloop tere 's ane come to the town this night with come up to Elie harbor, and him come news to make us a'out of our wits with joy.'
“ Poor bairn!” said Kirstin. " But I mind Poor desolate heart! Joy had done what when I was as glad mysel at any great news grief could not do ; and for the moment, with from the wars — that was for the men pressed these wild smiles quivering on her face, and out of the Elie, to think there might be a her restless hands wandering about her son chance of peace, and of them coming hame ; as she seated him in a chair, Kirstin Beatoun but I've turned awfu' cauld-hearted this year was crazed. past, Nancy. I think I canna be glad of ong- “ Mother, mother," said Patie sadly," he's thing now.
hame in another place; he'll never plant a “ But ye 'll be glad of this,” said Agnes. foot on Elie shore again. Mother, I'm my “Oh, if I durst tell without any mair words ! | lane; ye 'll have to be content with me.' - but I'm feared for the joy."
“ Content?”' repeated Kirstin, with a low Kirstin grasped the slender wrist of her laugh - "content? — ay, my bonnie man, visitor, and drew her to the centre of the far mair than content. But I wouldna say room, into the full lamp-light. Agnes Rae- but Nancy Raeburn would be wanting a share burn's eyes looking out of tears, her face of ye for a handsel ; and I 'll no deny her 80 covered with wavering rosy Aushes, her far as I have ony say, for she 's a fine lassie ; mouth all full of smiles, yet ready to melt but you ’ve never tellt me yet when he is cominto the lines of weeping, brought a strange ing hame himsel.” disturbance to the dead calm of Kirstin's Agnes and Paite exchanged sorrowful, beface.
wildered glances; they did not know how to “I can be glad of naething but the dead deal with this. coming back out of their graves — out of the Mother, there were nane saved but me,” sea -- or of my ain call to depart,” she said, said Patie, hurriedly. “My father gaed in a hurried tone of excitement. " Wha 's down in the sloop, yesterday was a year. that on my door-stane? Wha 's that hover. It's best for ye to ken; he never can come ing about my house at this hour of the night? hame, for he's been dead and gane this Pity me, pity me, my judgment 's gane at the twelve-month. Do ye understand me, mother? last! I'm no asking if it's a man or a spirit There's little to be joyful for after a'; them it 's my son's fit, and my son's een. I've that were best worth perished, and there 's had my wits lang enough, and my heart 's naebody saved but me. broken. Let me gang, 1 say — for his face Patie's eyes fill, for he too had felt very is out there someplace — out there in the deeply his father's death. dark — and wha 's living to heed me if I Kirstin stood by him a moment in silence ; en mud the morn 's morn?"
then she sat down in her foriner seat, and, folding her arms upon the table, laid down sister-in-law's little sitting-room, leaving her head upon them. They could only bear Patie at the door. - they could not see - the prolonged and Mrs. Plenderleath, too, was preparing for unresisted weeping which came upon her; rest, and sat before the fire, the great family but when she rose, her face was calm, full of Bible still lying open upon the table, herself gravity, yet full of sober light.
placed with some state in her arn-chair, her “God be thanked that has brought you hands crossed in her lap, her foot upon a foothame again, Patie, my son, and that has stool ; solitary, too, as Kirstin Beatoun had preserved in to see this day,” said Kirstin, been an hour ago ; but with a look of use solemnly. “ He has sent sorrow, and he and wont in her solitude, and
little has sent joy. He has baith given and taken comforts adapted to it lying about her, which, away; but them that's gane is safe in His in some degree, took away its impression of ain kingdom, Patie, and He has made the painfulness. heart of the widow this night to sing for “ There 's word of them,” said Ailie, rising joy."
stifily from her seat, and glancing round with After this there was room for nothing the unsteady, excited eyes which had never but rejoicing the danger was past.
lost their look of wild eagerness since the “ But I 've little to set before iny stranger,” day of the wreck. And Ailie grasped tightly said Kirstin, looking with a half smile at her with her trembling hands the edge of the neglected cup of tea. "You 'll no be heeding table and the edge of the mantel-shelf, unmuckle about the like of that, Patie ; and willing to reveal the strong anxiety and I 'm no that weel provided for a family again. agitation which shook her like a sudden It 's late at night noo: if you 'll rin east to wind. my guiddaughter, Nancy my woman, she 'll “ There 's word of ane of them," said Kirsbe my merchant for ae night; and ye 'll tin. “ Ailie, I'm a widow woman a' my hae to gang yoursel, Patie, and see John.” days, and you have nae brother ; but my son
“I'll rin east and see that Euphie puts my son - I've gotten back my darlin' half a dozen haddies to the fire,” said Agnes ; laddie - the comfort of his auld age and “ and ye 'll come yoursel, Patie and you. I mine!” ran a' the way from the braes the night to let And Ailie Rintoul, catching a glimpse, as you ken the guid news, and you 're no to con- Kirstin had done, of the young face looking tradict me.
in at the door, advanced to hiin with steps Na, I mustna do that, at no hand,” said of slow, deliberate dignity, holding out both Kirstin, with a smile ; " but there's your her hands. Other sign of emotion she would Auntie Ailie has had near as sair a heart as show none, but Patie never forgot the iron me.
We 'll have to gang there first, Patie, grasp in which she caught his hands. and then, Nancy my woman, I'll bring my For Ailie's soul was shaken as by a great son to see Euphie and John.”
tempest ; — bitter disappointment, satisfacAgnes had not run so much or so lightly tion, thankfulness, joy, she scarcely could for many a day; and now she set off upon tell which was strongest; and her impulse another race, full of the blithest and most was to lift up her voice and weep, as she unselfish exhilaration ; and it was not until welcomed the dead who was alive aguin. she had almost reached Euphie's door, that a Some strange piece of pride, or fear of comdread remembrance of her gray beaver-hat, mitting herself out of her usual gravity before with its nodding feather, and the new “ the laddie," prevented this indulgence, and, camel’s-hair shawl, and what her mother by a great effort, very stifly and slowly Ailie would think of her wearing them to-night, went back to her chair. It was only when came in to disturb her happy mind. Ah, she had reached it again, that she could comculprit Agnes ! and all the great pieces of mand her voice sufficiently to speak. thinking left undone, though the decision 6. It 's the Lord's ain wise way - it's His does seem something more certain than when ain righteous pleasure. It 's nae news to onyyou left home so gravely to seek the little body that your man, Kirstin Beatoun, my cove among the braes ; but in spite of these brother that's departed, was a man of God sobering considerations, Agnes carries in such for mony a year; and nae doubt he was ready a beaming face to the fireside of her sister, for his call, and it came just at the best time; that the very sight of it is preparation enough whereas it has aye lain heavy at my heart to John and Euphie for hearing all manner that the laddie was but a laddie after a', and
heedless, and had thought but little upon
his latter end. Patie, the Lord's sent ye haine
to gie ye anither season to make ready. See
that ye dinna tempt him, and gang to the sea “ Ailie, I 've come to tell you I've gotten a unregenerated again." great deliverance," said Kirstin Beatoun, In a very short time after, the mother and with solemn com posure, as she entered her son left Ailie ; for not even the excitement of
I was gone.
I got my
this great event could make such a break in high sea, and our boat was nothing to brag of her habits as to tempt her out with them to for a good seagoing boat, though she was the family meeting in her nephew's house. clever of her heels, like most ill-doers; but When they left her, Ailie Rintoul sat for a the skipper took a panic, put on every stitch long time silent by the fire, now and then on her that she could stand, and run right 'wiping away secret tears. Then, without out to sea. The man had an ill conscience, missing one habitual action, she went quietly and saw the cutters chasing in the clouds, Í to her rest. Heart and mind might be dis- think ; for he wouldna be persuaded to hover turbed and shaken to their foundations, but a wee and turn again, but inaintained he had nothing disturbed the strong iron lines of a right to change the port and gang where he custom and outward habitude — the daily likit, being part owner as well. So we scarce regulations of her life.
ever slackened sail till we came into Kingston * Ye may think what kind of a time it was to barbor, in Jamaica, where the firm that owned me,” said Patie Rintoul, and every eye around the brig had an office. I took heart of grace, him was wet with tears " the sloop drift- having learnt mair pf the tongue, and took ing away helpless into the black night, and upon me to speak to baith skipper and agent me clinging with baith my hands to a bit of to crave my discharge. I wasna asking wages slippery rock, and the water dashing over me nor ony thing, but just mony thanks to thein every wave. The next gleam of moonlight I and a passage home. The skipper was fey, Baw her again. I saw she was settling down poor body. It was his ain wilfu' will brought deeper and deeper into the sea, and the auld him out to Kingston, where he met with the man at the helm looking out for me, thinking yellow fever, and got his death in three or
I gied a great cry, as loud as I four days ; but it was just before he took it, could yell, to let him ken I was living, and and he was awfu' kind to me. just wi' that the sloop gied a prance forward leave, and got a possio of silver dollars besides, like a horse, and then wavered a moment, no to be lookit down on, mother; and a week and then gaed down, and I mind anither after that there was a schooner (the "Justitia" dreadful cry – whether it was mysel that of Dundee), to sail out of Kingston hame. made it, or anither drowning man like me, I We came in last night, and I came through to canna tell
- and then the rock slipped out of St. Andrews as soon as I could get cleared my hands, and I kent naething mair till I came out of my berth this morning, and, walking to mysel aboard the Dutch brig, where there hame from St. Andrews, I came down off the wasna a man kent mair language than just to braes to the very shore, no wanting to see sell an anker of brandy or a chest of tea. I anybody till I saw my mother; when lo! I canna tell how lang I had lain there before I came upon Nancy sitting by the little cove, kent where I was, but when I came to my rea- and then we twa came hame." son again my head was shaved, and the cut on We twa! Agnes is in her corner again, my brow near healed — ye can scarce see the deep in the shadow of the mantel-shelf, and mark o't now, mother - but ane of the men no one sees the blush which comes up warmly that had some skill in fevers let me ken after, on her half-hidden cheek. No one observes when I had come to some understanding of her at all, fortunately – for Euphie has been their speech, that it was striking against the sitting with the breath half suspended on her rock, as I slipped off my grip, that touched red lip, and the tear glistening on her eyelash my brain and gave me my illness. I've nae John covers his face, and leans upon the thing to say against the Dutchmen. They table Kirstin Beatoun, with her hand perwere very kind to me in their way, and would petually lifted to wipe away the quiet tears aye give me a word in the bygaun, or a joke from her cheek, sees nothing but the face of to keep up my spirit. Nae doubt it was in her son — and even Mrs. Raeburn, forgetful Dutch, and I didna ken a syllable, but there of her offence at Patie for the loss of the sloop, was the kindly meaning u' the same. Weel, gives him her full, undivided attention, and I found out by and by that the brig was a enters with all her heart into his mother's smuggler running voyages out of Rotterdam, thanksgiving. So Agnes in her corner has and thereaway, to mair ports than ane on the time to soothe the fluttering heart which will east coast. They were short of hands, and not be still and sober, and, in the pauses of feared for me forby, thinking I might lay in- her breathless listening, chides it like an unformation ; so, whenever we came near a har- ruly child. Here is but a scene of home-like bor, whether it was Dutch or English, I had joy, of tearful thanksgiving — the danger and a man mount guard on me like a sentry, and toil and pain and separation lie all in the behoved to be content to bide with them, for past. Ghosts and spectres are dead and gone ; a' it was sair against my will. We had gane life, young and warm and sweet, is in the on this way as far as the month of August, very air: hearts, that would do naught but when ae day, down by the mouth of the Chan- dream to-day, when there was serious work in nel, a cutter got wit of us, and got up her can-hand, now, content with all this unexpected vass to chase. It was a brisk wind and a gladness, learn to be suber - for one little
hour ; but Agħes only hears a mutter of de- pily forgot all evil motives very speedily, in a fiance as she repeats again and again the un- fortunate transfer of his affections to a wife heeded command.
much more suitable for him than Agnes RaeSecretly, by Euphie's connivance, the Sab- burn. Meanwhile Patie Rintoul, a lion and bath shawl and Sabbath hat have been con- great man in the Elie, came and went thrifty veyed home, while the house-mother was not of his silver dollars, and whistled till the air was there to see ; but they lie heavy still on the weary of hearing it, and every little boy on conscience of Agnes ; and heavy too lies poor Elie shore had caught the refrain — a tune Colin Hunter, whom now no elaborate piece which was very sweet music to one heart in of thought will avail, for, looking up, she finds Samuel Raeburn's house Patie Rintoul's eye dwelling on her – dwel
I'll tak my plaid and out I'll steal, ling on her with a smile ; and the blush deep
And owre the hills to Nannie 0. ens into burning crimson as Agnes remembers the secret she told to Patie, and to the grave They could put up the shutter on the window, rocks and curious brambles, by the little fairy and hide froin him her very shadow ; but they cove among the Elie braes.
could not keep his simple serenade froin the charmed ear which received it with such shy
joy. " And this is to be the end o't a' - a' the Patie went away another voyage in the pains I've ta’en wi’ye and a'the care ? Eh, “ Justitia” of Dundee ; Patie came home Nancy Raeburn! weel may your faither say mate, with a heavier purse and a face more I 've spuilt ye baith wi' owre muckle concern bronzed than ever; and Mrs. Raeburn had
To think you should set your face to long ago forgotten her little skirmish with this, and Euphie there, that might ken better, Euphie, and her angry injunction to Agnes, uphauding, ye in a' your folly? Wha’s the never to cross Euphie's door when ane of Rintouls, I would like to ken, that I should the Rintouls was there." It was a very useware a' my bairns upon them?- A fisher's less caution this, so long as the Elie itself resons, bred up to the sea, with neither siller mained so little and so quiet, and the braes nor guid connections. I'm sick of hearing were so pleasant for the summer walks from the very name !"
which Agnes could not be quite debarred. "I think ye might have keeped that till I By and by, too, father and mother began to wasna here, mother,” said Euphie indignantly. be a little piqued that no one else did honor “ I'm no denying the Rintouls were fishers; to the good looks of Agnes; and so, gradually, but I would like to ken wha would even a bit by bit, there came about a change. fisher to a tailor, or the like of thae landward When another year was out, Samuel Raetrades ; and I ken ane of the name that 's as burn solemnly assisted at the induction of guid a man as ye 'll find in a' Fife; and Captain Plenderleath - now returned a comPatie's a fine lad, if he 's no sae rich as Colin petent and comfortable man, to spend his Hunter, and no so discreet as our John. For evening tiine at home, a magnate in his namy part, I wonder onybody has the heart to tive town - as one of the redoubtable munidiscourage the puir laddie, after a' he's come cipality of the Elie ; and as the new bailie's through.'
nephew disinterestedly offered to the old bailie “He came through naething at our hand,” his escort hume, Samuel Raeburn saith with said Mrs. Raeburn ; " and weel I wot he has much solemnity little cause to look for comfort from us, and “ Patie Rintoul! I hae twa daughters, as him airt and pairt in the loss o’ the sloop wi'ye ken, and a matter of eight hundred pounds
Just you dry your cheeks, and to divide between them when I dee — onygang back to your wark, Nancy; and let me way, I had that muckle afore your faither and see nae mair red een in my house ; for if you lost the sloop. Now the wife tells me you 'll no take Colin Hunter, ye maun just and I have an ee in my ain head worth twa make up your mind to be your faither's daugh- of the wife's, that you 're looking after our ter a' your days, for Samuel Raeburn will Nannie. Be it sae. I conclude that 's setnever give his consent to marry ye to Patie tled, and that 's the premises. Now I maun Rintoul."
say it was real unhandsome usage on your “I'm no asking his consent - I'm no pairt and your faither's to encourage John wanting Patie Rintoul,” cried poor Agnes, in Rintoul, Euphie's man, to stay at hame for a passion of injured pride and maideoliness. the sake of her havers, and then to let the “I'm wanting naebody, mother, if folk would sloop gang down that hadna had time in our only let me alane.'
aught to do mair than half pay her ain price ; And it turned out, in the most conclusive sae I consider — canna ye gang straight, manner possible, that Agnes certainly did not man! that I 've paid ye down every penny want Colin Hunter; and Colin Hunter, stung of Nannie's tocher, and that ye 're to look for by kindred pride and disappointment, took naething mair frae me; and that being alimmediate steps to revenge himself, but hap- I lowed and concluded on, ye can settle a' the
rest with the wife, and let the haill afhir be a bit of dark sea-worn wood, carved with the nae mair bother to me."
name of Elder John : the sun shines on it, Having said this loftily, Samuel Raeburn brightly tracing out the uncouth characters, went home with placid dignity, and left his with a tender, renovating hand; and your house-door open behind him for the uphesi- heart blesses the gracious sunshine as it takes tating entrance of Patie Rintoul.
this gentle office, cherishing the name of God's Euphie was angry; Captain Plenderleath undistinguished servant as tenderly as if it indignant; Ailie Rintoul lofty and proud; were inscribed upon a martyr's grave. No but the others, most deeply concerned, received martyr, though his Master chose for him very gladly the tocherless bride, to whom her another than the peaceful way of going home mother did not refuse a magnificent "pro- which an aged man himself might choose. viding,” richer in its snowy, glistening stores, In the deep heart of his widow's unspoken its damask_table-cloths and mighty sheets, love, a canonized saint — to the profound rethan ever Euphie's had been ; for by this gard of his only sister, a prophet high and time Mrs. Raeburn had remembered her old honored – to the universal knowledge, a godly friendship for Kirstin Beatoun, and forgotten man; and the earth, which has no grave for that she was sick of the very name of Rin- him, and the sunshine which plays upon the toul.
great mantle with which the sea encloses his And a humble monumental stone, marking remains, are tender of his name – all that is a memory, but no grave, was seen soon among left of him on the kindly soil of his own land. the other grave-stones by the eyes which once Gowans and tender grass slowly encroachlooked up reverently to the stately patriarch ing on its base, verdant mosses softly stealing fisher, the first John Rintoul. Within sight along its thick stone edge — the sea within of the place where he used to stand in his sight, whereon he lived and died, and the antique blue coat and thick white muslin humble roof where he had his home; and cravat, lifting his lofty head, grizzled with many a kindly and friendly eye pauses, with late snows, over the plate where the entering reverent comment, to read the Lost at Sen” people laid their offerings, stands now a frame- which puts its solemn conclusion to the life work of stone, somewhat rudely cut, enclosing of John Rintoul.
From "The Transactions of the Entomological Society." The inhabitants herd their cattle at a safe dis
MR. SPENCE exhibited specimens of the tance from its haunts ; and if in changing their fly called “ Tsétsé,” which he found were cattle-post they should be obliged to pass through identical with the Glossina mossitans of West- the country in which it exists, they choose a wood. He also communicated some observations moonlight winter's night, as during the cold thereon, founded on a note forwarded to Dr. weather it does not bite. It seems to differ in Quain, by W. Oswell, Esq., who has travelled several particulars from the account given by extensively in Africa, and on one occasion lost Bruce of the fly called “ Zimb,” which was only forty-nine out of fifty-seven oxen, of which his found on plains of “ black, fat earth,” whereas teams consisted, by the attacks of this fly, the this was an inhabitant of jungles and country animals dying in a period of from three to twelve not open.
Mr. Oswell, who was present as a weeks after being bitten. It appears that three visitor, gave a more detailed account of his exor four flies are sufficient to kill a full-grown ox; perience with this African pest. and the following appearances were observable in numerous examples which were examined. On raising the skin, a glairy condition of the muscles WILLIAM HOBSON PALMER was indicted for the and flesh, the latter much wasted ; stomach and manslanghter of Charlotte Cardwell. Palmer is intestines healthy ; heart, lungs, and liver, some-“ herb doctor ;" he administered “Dr. Coffin's times all, and invariably one or the other, dis- medicines” to the deceased. After her death a cased ; the heart, in particular, being no longer large quantity of husks of lobelia were found in a firm muscle, but collapsing readily on compres- her stomach ; lobelia is largely employed in sion, and having the appearance of flesh that had Coffin's medicines ; Dr. Letheby pronounced the been steeped in water; the blood greatly dimin- quantity taken by the woman as sufficient to ished in quantity and altered in quality — not cause death. But Mrs. Cardwell had suffered more than twenty pints could be obtained from the from asthma, and after death the lungs were largest ox, and this thick and albuminous ; the found mnch inflamed ; medical witnesses adhands when plunged into it came out free from mitted that lobelia may be employed in asthmatie stain. The poison seems to grow in the blood, cases ; it is a modern medicine ; persons who and through it to attack the vital organs. All have taken it for a length of time can swallow domesticated animals, except goats, calves, and large doses with impunity. Mr. Justice Maule sucking animals, die from the bite of this insect ; pronounced the evidence insufficient to warraut man and all wild animals are bitten with im- a conviction ; and a verdict of “ Not guilty" was punity. This fly is confined to particular dis- returned. The judge then remarked, that lobelia tricts, chiefly between the 15th and 18th degrees was a dangerous medicine, and persons should of south latitude and the 24th and 28th degrees be very cautious how they administer it. — of east longitude, and is never known to shift. Spectator.